#this one’s not much but watch for the eye horror on the last panel

[luuxxart]

COMIC FURY | TUMBLR BLOG

#penitence update #student council au #this one’s not much but watch for the eye horror on the last panel #(it’s just black ‘blood’ leaking out of an eye #nothing grotesque or stabby or anythin.)

[gigabyte-flare]

Insatiable (Part 2)

Part 1

Summary: Your collages should have listened to you.

Word Count: 2k

Pairing: yandere plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Extreme violence and gore, biting, dubcon, forced breeding, gross las plagas-y things, death, mentions of un-aliving. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

A/N: Huge shout out to @chanif-art who's artwork continues to inspire me and this story. I am completely blown away with how well part 1 was received. Thank you to everyone who's liked, reblogged, commented and even simply read it. I didn't do a tag list for this one because I think well over 50 people asked and I completely lost track. Anyway, I hope this meets your expectations! I was listening to Little Girl Gone while writing this... for some reason it just fits plagas!Leon.

“Honey, I’ve changed so much since I last saw ya.”

You open your eyes, finding yourself inside Leon’s cell. You dart your head around, looking frantically when you realize you’re chained to the chair, the same chair Leon had previously been chained to. You hear Leon chuckle, a low chilling sound as he walks up from behind you, taking long, slow strides. He turns to face you, you notice the black veins sprawling his body have gotten darker, his eyes more red. He grins as he kneels down to be at eye level with you, his four canine teeth noticeably sharp. He runs his tongue along his teeth.

“There you are, sweetheart. I didn’t think you’d wake up,” Leon says with a purr. 

Your eyes are wide, taking labored deep breaths before you attempt to struggle. Leon laughs, shaking his head.

“That won’t do you any good I’m afraid, but don’t worry, I’ll get you out of those chains so we can have some play time.”

Leon stands back up, walking back behind you. You hear him break the chains apart with his bare hands. You waste no time bolting out of the chair and to the door. No matter how much you pull, the door won’t budge. You turn around to find Leon standing directly behind you. He grabs you by the waist pulling you to him. You flail your arms at him, trying to fight him off. Out of the corner of your eye you see Bryan on the other side of the clear panel holding a clipboard, taking notes.

“Bryan?! Get me out of here! I’m trapped in here with him, please! He’s going to hurt me!”

Bryan lifts his head, shaking it, “the data you’ll provide from this is too valuable to pass up I’m afraid. We need to know if he’s capable of procreating with a un-infected human and what the offspring will look like.”

“WHAT?!” you scream, “Bryan have you lost your mind?!”

Completely ignoring your pleas, Bryan continues, “remember what we agreed on, Leon. You are not to infect her with the plaga until she gives birth. After that, you can do with her as you please.”

“I remember the agreement, you fucking prick,” Leon growls next to your ear before he licks your earlobe. 

“NO I DID NOT AGREE TO THIS BRYAN, YOU LET ME OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW!” you continue to scream as you try to fight Leon off.

Leon, however, is much more powerful than you; he bites into your shoulder and makes short work of pinning you to the floor, his hands gripping your jeans and ripping them off you, leaving you with your pair of lace panties. You attempt to crawl across the floor towards Bryan, but Leon drags you back by your hips. Leon flips you over to face him, caging you with his body. He simply stares down at you, his smile wide. You watch as drool drips from his face onto your shirt, which he promptly rips apart to reveal your matching bra to him.

“Aren’t you just delicious to look at?” Leon says, licking his lips before locking his lips onto yours in a hungry kiss. 

To your horror, you’re returning his kiss, his hands grasping to both of your breasts. He pulls away after a couple minutes, sitting on his haunches as he pushes your legs apart, noting the dark spot that is now on your panties.

“Oh? You don’t want this? Then tell me why you’re so fucking wet, sweetheart?”

Leaning forward, he grabs your panties with his teeth, dragging them off you before tossing them aside. He then begins undoing the belt on his pants; before long he is pulling his hardening cock from his pants. He wastes no time climbing back on top of you, pushing himself inside you balls deep with ease. 

When the head of his cock kisses your cervix, your eyes roll into the back of your head as you let out a soft moan. Leon growls, thrusting into you with an insatiable ferocity, causing you to grip his arms, scratching into them with your nails. You felt like he was fucking you for an eternity when he let’s out another growl, pressing into you as deep as he could possibly go. You feel your cunt clamp around his cock, milking his cum into your body.

Leon stares back down at you, his eyes and grin wide as he laughs maniacally.

You wake up screaming, covered in sweat and tears streaming down your face. You take deep breaths, laying your hand on your chest to ground yourself.

It was just a nightmare.

Once you get yourself calm, you climb out of bed and go into the kitchen of your apartment, making yourself coffee and some toast for breakfast. Afterwards, you get ready for work and head out the door. On your way, you decide to stop at the pharmacy. Walking the aisles, you find the feminine hygiene products, grabbing an ovulation test off the shelf and paying for it. Once you get to HQ, you trap yourself into one of the bathroom stalls, taking the test and waiting for the results. You watch in horror as a little smiley face shows up on the little screen, confirming your hypothesis.

You collect yourself before briskly walking into Bryan’s office. You don’t knock, you simply push the door open aggressively, startling both Bryan and the researcher he’s meeting with, you think his name is Pierce.

“I am not going back down there, Bryan,” you say sternly. 

Pierce shifts uncomfortably in his seat before standing up to leave, “I’ll go check on the camera feed downstairs.”

You and Bryan stare at each other as the door swings shut. Bryan rubs his eyes.

“Not this again, I’m sorry but I need you to go down there, you’re still the only one Leon talks to. Is this about what happened yesterday? I assure you, we have taken extra precautions to ensure that doesn’t happen again.”

You stomp up to Bryan’s desk, slamming the positive ovulation test onto the desk. Bryan looks down at the test before looking at you and raising an eyebrow.

“The fuck is this?” he asks.

“I’m ovulating, this is why Leon keeps saying I smell good and wants to practically throw himself on me whenever I’m down there.”

“That’s absurd.”

“Can you think of a logical explanation, then? I’m all ears.”

“This is not up for debate, you are going to continue working with Leon; that’s an order!”

Suddenly, the lights go dim before red emergency lights come on followed by a loud, screeching alarm.

“What the hell?!” Bryan exclaims, looking around confused.

You’ve never heard this alarm during your entire time at D.S.O., you rack your brain around what it could mean when suddenly, Pierce bursts into the office.

“Pierce! What the hell is going on out there?!” Bryan asks.

“Kennedy’s escaped, sir!”

Leon opens his eyes and lifts his head, looking around his cell. Deep down he was seething in rage; he had gotten so close to getting out of this chair and having his way with you. Now, his chair had reinforced steel plating welded to it and they strapped a god damn muzzle onto his face. He could see he now had two men with guns guarding the door at all times. 

Fucking beautiful.

He tested the chains again, but found they had been tightened recently, angering him even more. He couldn’t stop thinking about you and hoped he would see you today. He hated the thought of you seeing him like this, but he desperately wanted to see you and inhale your sweet, sweet scent.

Out of nowhere, an excruciating pain jolts down Leon’s spine, causing him to cry out and writhe in his chair. His four canine teeth grow sharper, his fingers turning black and now taking on a claw-like appearance and a new, sharp appendage was peaking out of his lower back. The guards turned around to look at Leon. They immediately unlock the door and come into this cell to check on him. Leon stops writhing, slumping over in his chair, pretending to be passed out. One guard stays by the door, facing away from them while the other comes over to check on Leon, checking the chains to make sure they’re in place.

Unbeknownst to the guard closest to Leon, Leon’s new tail was extending from his back, coming around from behind the guard. It was very similar to a scorpion’s tail, but instead of a barb on the end, it looked like a blade. Within an instant, Leon’s tail wraps around the guard’s neck, snapping it instantly as four claw-like appendages burst from Leon’s back, breaking the chains holding his arms in place. Hearing the other guard fall to the floor the other guard turns around only to be faced with Leon, who is now up out of his chair and walking towards him, ripping the muzzle off his face, flashing a maniacal grin at the guard. The guard goes to shoot Leon but Leon is much faster, his tail whipping forward and impaling the man in the chest before flinging him aside. 

Leon strides out of his cell, looking down the hallway to see a pair of researchers coming down the hallway. Upon seeing Leon out of his cell, they start shouting at each other and turn to run in the opposite direction. Leon smiles, breaking into a sprint. He leaps, pinning one researcher to the ground with his body while his tail grabs the other by the waist, lifting him into the air.

“Where is she?!” Leon asks with a growl to the researcher he has pinned to the floor.

“Where’s who?!” the researcher stutters.

“Don’t play dumb with me! Where is she?!”

“Up-Upstairs! In Br-Bryan’s office!”

Leon’s mouth clamps down onto the researcher's neck, ripping out his throat as his tail squeezes the other until his spine snaps, falling to the floor as Leon lets him go. At that moment, all the lights dim before red emergency lights come on. Leon breaks back into a sprint to the elevator however, it was not working no matter how many buttons he pushed. He uses his tale to rip a hole into the ceiling, leaping up into it and climbing the elevator shaft. 

Once he reaches the top, he pries the elevator door open, swinging down, landing gracefully in the hallway. People are scrambling to get away from him, bumping and tripping over each other to run down the hallway. Leon’s red eyes scan the area, however, he sees no sign of you. More guards with guns show up, firing at him. His tale whips forward, deflecting their bullets with ease as he lunges forward. He impales one operative with his tail while his hand thrusts through the chest of another, gripping the man’s still beating heart in his claws before crushing it.

“Take her and get out of here!” he hears a man yell from down the hallway.

Leon’s attention is immediately drawn to the man that yelled, immediately recognizing him as Bryan. At one time, he liked the man, a brilliant scientist. Too bad he has to die. Leon watches as Bryan pulls out a pistol, firing shots at him. Again. Leon’s tail and back claws deflect the shots as he stands face to face with Bryan, his tail whipping around and decapitating the man with ease. He brings his tail’s blade to his lips, licking off the blood as he proceeds to walk down the hallway towards the entrance of HQ. 

A researcher is leading you out the front door, shoving you through the door with his back turned to Leon. He’s about to head out himself before Leon’s tail goes straight through his chest. Leon hears the man’s death gurgles as he flings him behind him, his body falling about 20 feet away with a loud thud. 

And there you are, cowering in the entry vestibule, your eyes locked on him, looking up and down his body. Leon straightens out his posture in hopes of making himself alluring to you, his tail whipping back and forth while his back claws flex. 

“Do you actually think you can escape me?” Leon coos, watching as you press your back as hard as you can into the glass doors as he comes closer.

“You never will, my love.” he continues with a grin, licking his sharp canines.

You stumble out of the door, bolting into the street and running as fast as you can to your car.

“I will find you.”

Part 3

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #yandere!leon kennedy x reader #yandere!leon kennedy #plagas!leon kennedy #plagas!leon kennedy x reader #gigabyte writes #insatiable

[gildedoak]

When I was rewatching the 1989 Little Mermaid earlier this year, I watched the fire reach the kegs marked "Powder" and I went, "Oh hey look, it's a Fluffernutter!"

So I had to draw it. Skipped a few frames, but I enjoyed the practice!

The Mighty Nein have such bad luck with their ships. I CAN'T WAIT FOR THE MIGHTY NEIN ANIMATED SERIES - I TEAR UP EVERY TIME I SEE THE COMMERCIAL.

Image descriptions and a small rant below the cut!

[Image Description Start: a sketchy series of Mighty Nein (Xhorhas outfits from Level 10) storyboards mimicking Eric's ship crashing in the 1989 Little Mermaid.

PICTURE ONE: Panel 1: Beau and Caleb stand aboard a ship as the clouds beyond grow darker and a bolt of lightning streaks across the sky.

Panel 2: "STAND FAST! SECURE THE RIGGING!" Yasha yells from above.

Panel 3: Another bolt of lightning hits the mainmast, and the sails catch fire.

Panel 4: "JUMP NOTT! JUMP!" Caleb stands amid the pouring rain, holding his arms upward.

Panel 5: "YASHA - YASHA HELP!" "I got you! Hold on!" Nott flounders in the water next to the lifeboat, and Yasha scoops her up in one giant arm.

Panel 6: Caleb tugs at his leg, his foot stuck in a broken part of the deck. The fire is spreading around him, and the rain continues to pour in torrents.

Panel 7: "CALEB!" Caduceus, Jester and Nott look up from the lifeboat.

Panel 8: Caleb turns to look back, as the fire reaches the quarter deck.

Panel 9: Two kegs marked "Fluffernutter" in Jester's calligraphy and the Tusktooth logo start to catch fire.

Panel 10: The deck of the ship explodes.

Panel 11: Yasha, Beau, Caduceus, Jester and Nott gape in horror, the light of the explosion illuminating their faces.

Panel 12: In the water below, Fjord gasps.

PICTURE TWO: Uk'otoa the Sea Serpent rises up above the waves, his multiple eyes glowing in the darkness. "SO MUCH FOR TRUE LOVE!!"

End Image Description]

TRIGGER WARNING FOR A SHORT DISCUSSION OF HOSPITALIZATION AND SURGERY

Soooo the last half of this year was a freakin' STRUGGLE. I got into a car accident in August, which then triggered a hiatal hernia that led to me getting emergency stomach surgery. I swear it was one thing after another for WEEKS, and I was exhausted. Thankfully, I didn't have any loss of motor function, but I didn't do art for a solid three months. My creativity was at an all-time low, and I was focused on mastering walking around on crutches more than I was at holding a pencil.

Getting back into the swing of it was a little shaky, but it's improving! Hoping to do more art and posting it online. Expect more doodly sketches this coming year instead of finished pieces. But also, look for new designs coming to my RedBubble account!

#my art #Critical role #critical role fanart #cr2 #the mighty nein #dungeons and dragons #m9 #beauregard lionett #caleb widogast #yasha nydoorin #nott the brave #jester lavorre #caduceus clay #fjord #fjord stone #storyboards #storyboard redraw #doodle #Uk'otoa #mighty nein fanart

[talewrites]

Dangerously Stupid

Part 1

I wrote this half asleep at 3am and have not proof read this at all, I’m so sorry.

Generation: Bayverse TMNT

Donatello x reader

Pronouns: Gender neutral

Warnings: fighting, blood, injury, not proof read

Summary: You watched the turtles stop the Foot from robbing a bank one night and step in to save Donatello while he’s down. What will happen next?

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Two months. You had lived in New York City only two months before you got caught up in a Foot Clan attack. Just your luck.

You were walking home late from your new, and already shitty job, when you heard loud banging noises from a closed bank up the road. Crossing to the other side of the street as you approached the building, you heard a loud crash of glass and paused in your steps. Waited, and listened. A robbery?

You didn’t have another second to process that thought when suddenly a loud explosion erupted from the building, the shock sending you stumbling back and falling on your butt.

Brick and concrete were strewn across the street, thankfully not being launched far enough to hit you. But then you noticed something from the smoking hole in the building. A quick flash of movement, the sound of a thud and a loud shout. Eyes wide and stunned, you watched as several people in black tactical gear were thrown yelling from the hole in the building out into the street. They had swords?? And guns. They had guns.

Adrenaline kicked in and you scrambled to your feet and rushed for cover in the closest alley way. Shit. Dead end. Quickly creeping back to the entrance you peaked around the corner to the open street. The thugs had started to recover slightly and were raising to their feet, looking around quickly like they were being haunted and drawing their weapons. If you ran out now they would surely see you, so you stood still and watched for an opening.

Suddenly, something large climbed out from the smoking building and the men quickly aimed and fired their guns at it.

Your eyes shot open in horror and brought a hand to your mouth to stifle your gasp as you recognized too late that it was a person- or so you thought. The large being quickly turned around as the bullets came and you watched in disbelief as the bullets bounced off their back. What was that, a shell?! The smooth hard panels reflected light from the street lamp and the flashes from the guns.

A loud thud and a grunt of pain brought your attention back to the thugs. Another large being had dropped down from above and landed behind the men in tactical gear, knocking back two of them and in a flash of metal, sliced a gun in half. This one was a bit closer to you. From what you could see, they were bald… and green? Much like the other guy. You noticed he was wielding two katana, and was making quick work of the thieves.

The other green guy by the building had now recovered and was running over with a rageful battle cry to assist in taking out the last of the goons.

But to your surprise, more people were thrown out from inside the building with a cheerful shout of ‘booyakashaaa!’ and a third large green man jumped out from the building. This one was cheering and swinging around what looked like nunchucks in a flourishing display and made a cool looking pose.

Now you were just feeling comically confused. Your eyes narrowed to observe the orange band around his eyes and take in his outfit, which looked like hard armor on his front and… jean board shorts. Mouth drawn in a tense line, your brain helpfully concluded that these guys were just really weird green body paint wearing commando-type jock vigilantes. Or you just hit your head when you fell back from the explosion and didn’t notice. Either way, you felt yourself relax and mentally shrugged, seeming as the weird giant costumed turtle-looking guys were taking out the bad guys with guns. Maybe you could get home soon and address whether you were hallucinating or not.

It seemed like the battle was just about wrapping up, when suddenly another masked vigilante appeared from inside the building. He quickly pushed the orange one away and shouted “Get back!” just as a second larger explosion burst from inside the building. You ducked for cover as more brick and mortar rained down from the building, and watched as the purple masked vigilante was thrown harshly from the building out into the street. He landed with a groan on his side, not too far from your hiding spot. You could see his shell was equipped with old recycled looking tech, and a long metal pole he seemed to have dropped was laying not too far from him.

“DONNIE!” The three other shelled vigilantes yelled, and started to book it towards their fallen comrade, when suddenly a black van came speeding down the street and rammed into the back of the red masked guy, sending him hurtling forward as the car came to a screeching halt. The doors flung open and more thugs with swords jumped from the car and started to attack the blue and orange masked guys.

You shrunk back more in your hiding place, afraid they would spot you. But then the sound of another car door opening caught your attention. The tech turtle guy was still in your line of sight, unconscious in the street. A woman with black hair and a red streak appeared before him. She pulled out her katana and raised it above her head and prepared to strike-

“NO!!!”

In a flash, you had leapt out from the alley and sprinted into the street. You weren’t thinking, moving on pure instinct as you stood defensively over the prone form of the turtle man and raised up your arm to block the swing of the sword. Somehow, you managed to block the woman’s strike. Your forearm braced against the wrapped handle. The women stared back at you in shock, then turned cold at your interference and doubled down the power in her grip. That’s when you noticed the sharp pain shoot through your shoulder. You groaned as your arm trembled with the strain of the woman still pressing down against your blocked swing. You may have stopped the sword from reaching the vigilante, but you did not have the power to stop the blade from cutting into the flesh of your trapezius.

The woman angrily pulled back, dragging her sword more through your shoulder and you cried out in pain. You stumbled into a crouch in front of the downed turtle, gripping at your wound while she recovered her form. To your horror, she readied to mercilessly strike you again when suddenly, the red masked vigilante appeared from the side and bodily rammed into her, sending the woman flying into the hood of the car in revenge.

“Eat that.” you heard him grumble while he rolled his shoulder. The large red masked turtle turned his attention to you and his eyes regarded you steadily. You were panting lightly and held his eyes for a moment before you both heard the quiet groan come from behind you. You quickly turned around, and saw that the purple vigilante was starting to come around. You placed your free hand lightly on his shoulder as his eyes fluttered open, leaning down a little to get a better look at his face.

“Hey, are you alright?” You asked him. Now that you were this close, you noticed the shape of his face was quite different, and the smooth skin under your hand didn’t feel like paint. You tried not to think too hard on it.

Behind you, Leo jogged over towards Raph while Mikey finished tying up the last of the Foot. Upon seeing a human crouched next to Donnie, he shot Raph a questioning look, to which the red turtle simply shrugged. Leo turned his attention back towards you as Donnie started to pull himself up into a sitting position, and noticed the blood seeping through your fingers clasped on your shoulder.

His eyes widened and rushed over to the human and his brother. “Hey, you’re bleeding-!”

“Wha…?” Donnie was still only half conscious. He thought he was dreaming, opening his eyes to such a beautiful person looking down concerned at him. Carefully, he pulled himself into a sitting position and was startled by his older brother running over to him in concern. At first he though Leo was talking about him, and glanced down at himself quickly to check for any open wounds, but when he found nothing he looked up and saw where the leader’s eyes were leading and found the spot where your hand was pressed over the bloody spot on your shoulder. “Oh dear, let me look at that….” Donnie’s brain fully woke up and he quickly shifted into doctor mode, gently taking hold of your arm to pull your hand away from the wound.

You had shifted your attention and were carefully regarding the blue turtle that had rushed over to crouch next to you, when you were startled by the sudden contact of a large hand enclosing around your wrist. You made a little yelp of pain as your hand was pulled from the bloodied wound, and when you turned back to look at the purple vigilante, your breath caught in your throat by the intense golden eyes staring at you.

Raph came to stand behind you and Leo to overlook the inspection of your wound. “Karai tried to slice up Don while he was down, but this kid jumped in and stopped her.” He supplied a bit gruffly. Raph regarded the small human with mixed feelings. He didn’t wanna trust them, but he had just witnessed this total strange swoop in outta nowhere and save his bro.

The expression on Leo’s face shifted to surprise, eyeing Raph to check he was being serious before turning back to regard the bloodied wound this human had sustained in defense of his brother. He opened his mouth to thank you but was cut off-

“Donnie!! I found your glasses!! -Woah! Bro! Who’s the pretty face?” Mikey chimed in and came rushing over excitedly to join the party.

Donnie was focused on carefully inspecting the wound, and trying his best not to overheat under the gaze of the beautiful stranger whose shoulder he was carefully prodding. The small human flinched suddenly with a small cry of pain when he pulled at the skin a bit to check the depth of the cut. Donnie hissed and pulled back. “Sorry about that- Oh, thank you Mikey.” He reached his hand out and his little bro returned his glasses to him. A little scrapped but still wearable. “Your cut is pretty deep. You should go to the hospital right away. Do you need us to call you an ambulance?”

Donnie was already reaching into his pouch to pull out some spare gauze. His mind was racing a mile a minute, and was trying so hard to stay focused on his task. He didn’t hear Leo and Raph’s exchange. He still felt a little shaken up from the explosion. Slightly bruised, and judging from how flustered and distracted he was feeling, maybe a little concussed. Every time he looked up to meet the stranger’s eyes he felt his heart jump in his chest and his breath catch in his throat. Don decided he just needed to quickly finish patching them up and get home to properly check himself over for injuries.

You, on the other hand, were feeling just as dazed and awestruck at the being that was currently looking you over. You watched this large human turtle work intently on gently applying a pad of gauze over your wound to stem the blood flow, and couldn’t help but feel like you were dreaming. You watched him quietly while your brain helpfully commented on how cute he looked with his taped turtleshell glasses on. But you startled at remembering he had asked you something. “…hm? Oh! A-an ambulance? No thank you. I think I’ll be fine.” You barely noticed the red seeping through the make shift bandage, keeping your attention focused on studying the purple one’s face so you could save it to your memory as he finished up working on your shoulder.

Mikey, who had been waiting intently for his chance to talk to you, had caught on to the tension between you and Donnie. “Broooooo… you feeling alright?” He asked curiously.

Donnie startled at the question and turned away from you, looking a little embarrassed and adjusting his glasses. “J-just fine, Mikey. Maybe a little bruised.” He quickly supplied.

However, a huge grin startled to stretch across Mikey’s face as he connected the dots, and opened his big mouth to tease when Raph’s big hand suddenly smushed into his face and shoved him off away from the scene.

“Come on bozo, give them some room. Let’s go check on the Foot.” Raph had taken pity on Donnie and decided to quickly redirect his hyper little bro. The quicker they could finish up here and head home the better.

Once Donnie appeared to be finished, Leo had gotten up and reached down to offer you a hand up. You were feeling pretty overwhelmed now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off. But you quietly took the offered hand and stood on shaky legs, feeling your head swim for a minute you leaned more heavily into the support of the blue masked turtle as you steadied yourself, your shoulder giving you a painful throb.

Leo kept a careful eye on Donnie as the tech genius pushed himself to stand up after you. As he leader he had to make sure there were no outstanding injuries he had missed on his brother while looking after this stranger. But he noted that Donnie seemed pretty dazed, and wouldn’t take his attention off this person who had saved him. He raised a questioning eye ridge in the direction of his brother and looked between the two, letting a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth. He reached over a slapped a hand down on Donnie’s shoulder to jostle his attention. “Good work Donnie. Now, Mx….”

“(Y/n)… (Y/n) (L/n). Um… thank you for patching me up…. Donnie, was it?” You had to admit you were feeling a little dizzy from the blood loss. But you really wanted to remember this moment, so you did your best to focus on the purple terrapin.

“Donatello, or… Donnie, if you prefer.” Donnie found himself smiling down at the small person. He felt Leo shake his shoulder a bit and shot him a questioning glance.

“Well, aren’t you gonna thank them for saving your sorry shell?” Leo teased his brother, it was clear to him Donnie was developing a bit of a crush, so he thought he’d torture him a bit. “Raph said they stopped Karai from slicing you a new one. You’re lucky they got to you in time.” Leo said a little more seriously. He realized then just how lucky they were you had been here, or else Donnie might be in much worse shape.

Donnie’s eyes snapped wide in shock, his eyes darting between you and Leo. His gaze landing on the cut he had just tended on your shoulder. “R-Really…? You got this protecting me…? I… th-thank you!” Donnie seemed really flustered. He looked guilty, but also a bit awestruck a random beautiful human off the street had stepped in to his defense, and at this moment, didn’t seem scared of him. You just stared up at him, and when he reached out to take your hand to squeeze in appreciation, you didn’t flinch away. “I-if there’s anything you need, just let us know… d-do you need help getting help getting to the hospital….? I mean- the police will get here soon but once-”

You felt your face heat up at the contact, feeling your heart rate speed up a bit, but quickly remembered why you couldn’t take their advice and quickly cut him off. “N-No! Really, I’m fine. I’m just glad you’re okay. I can get there on my own.” You gave him and the other large turtle a reassuring smile, just as you heard the approaching sirens sound out in the distance.

“Okay, time for us to go. Mx. (Y/l/n), thank you for saving my brother. And please… don’t tell anyone about us. We’ll be in touch.” Leo hurried out, leaving your side to tug his brother away from you as Raph and Mikey hurried off ahead to expertly climb up the closest building.

You watched in awe at their skill, seamlessly scaling the fire escape and brick before disappearing above the sky line. But noticed the purple turtle… Donnie, had stopped to turn back and get one last look at you, before disappearing along with his brothers into the night.

“Hm…. Donatello…. I’ll have to remember that.” You said to yourself. You quickly turned to leave, making to start walking home, thankfully in the opposite direction of the sirens. You had no desire to spend the next two hours giving statements to the police and being dragged off to an overly expensive hospital tonight. You just wanted to get home and take care of this cut yourself, and save yourself a decade’s worth of medical debt. Yeah, that’s exactly what you’d do.

You slowly walked down the dark streets and made your way back safely to your little apartment.

And promptly passed out on the couch.

Part 2

#tmnt Bayverse #tmnt bayverse x reader #bayverse tmnt #bayverse tmnt x reader #bayverse donatello #bayverse donnie #bayverse Donatello x reader #tmnt bayverse imagines #tmnt x reader #tmnt fanfic

[blizzardfluffykpop]

Scaredy-cats

Summary: Trying to branch out of your comfort zone, you try a haunted house installation in the middle of March.

Oneshot

Fluff, Meet-Cute, Non-idol au

Trigger Warnings: It is a haunted house, so it has light/minor horror themes.

Word Count: 2,056

Jacob X Reader

[A/n: As @jinkoh said; we watched Wings of Escape together and well, here’s another addition of that brainrot we experienced there. To check out jinkoh’s addition(s) to it you can find ‘em on kebbi’s blog 🥰]

------

This year, you were determined to try things outside of your comfort zone. So when they announced a haunted house installation in March at an old youth hostel near you, you were all for it because “It’s just a haunted house. How bad can it be?” You were confident that it definitely couldn’t be spooky because it was becoming spring, daffodils were starting to bloom, and the outside ambiance would make for a non-scary experience. But what you underestimated was that it still was a haunted house. It wasn’t the outside that mattered. It was the actors and ambiance inside that did. 

---Pov Switch---

Jacob had applied for countless jobs and finally heard back on a security job. He was getting desperate, and anything would do for rent money at this point. So when he walked in, he wasn’t sure what the position entirely entailed until the person said, "You're aware this is for a security position watching live CCTV footage at a haunted house?" He nearly threw up, but considering it was also his last option, and that he was running low on funds, he could do it, right? "Yeah, that's fine." He should have never agreed to this. Although, he’s met all the scarers and has been friends with them long before this installation began. He still refuses to enter the ‘scarer floor’ after they decorated it, or he’d feel his stomach tie in knots. 

Even driving to work made his stomach turn. His guts twist every time he puts his car in park. All he ever wants to do when he walks up to the building is turn ducktail and run to his car. But that’s money on the line he can’t risk. He goes down the basement steps, unlocks the door, and gets inside, quickly turning on the lights and locking it behind him. He sighed in relief before checking everything over, inspecting all the cameras to see if they were working correctly. Before turning his two-way radio on and going, “Good afternoon!” He hears ten friendly voices greet him back. And he asks, “Anyone on the floor? Or are you all getting ready?” Getting various answers of; “Getting ready.” “Waiting.” “Snacking.” He laughs, “Any good snacks?” “Gummies, you want some?” “Hell yeah.” A few minutes later, a knock rings through the door. He peeks through the peephole and sees Kevin, “You’re not in costume. That’s nice.” “Don’t need you sick.” He puts out his hand, “Gummies?” Kevin hands him the pack, and he asks, “Everyone’s doing the same routine as usual, right?” Kevin nods, “Yeah, as always. Hopefully, no dates go awry this time.” Jacob laughs, “It was cute to see Younghoon take them around, though. It was much more pleasant to watch than your gorey scenes~.” Kevin rolls his eyes, “All I do is chop jello.” Which makes Jacob shiver, “It doesn’t read the same on the CCTV. It really looks like guts.” Kevin shakes his head at him, “Later?” He nods, “Yeah, later.” 

He eats his gummies, looking over the main control panel as the ‘night’ starts at the hotel. “Overhead lights off in 3… 2… 1… Stage lights on!” There are little cheers before they get into character, and he refuses to look up, only listening to his two-way radio and hearing the random songs Haknyeon performs every time Haknyeon turns on his radio, “Spooky scary plumbers~” Which makes Jacob tune in and cackle over the radio. He looks at his designated camera and sees him singing his heart out into the plunger. Jacob shakes his head and carries on playing on his phone. He looks up occasionally, assuring no one is actually getting murdered there. And he laughs as he watches a couple cowering behind Younghoon as if that would help their case. Younghoon, as if on cue, turns around with a sinister grin, effectively spooking them. Which makes his nerves stand on end at the motion. He shakes it off and goes back to his phone. 

And that’s how he spends the majority of his shift until he hears a door slam over the two-way radio someone’s turned on. He looks up to see Juyeon and Younghoon staring at it curiously. When Juyeon goes over the two-way, “Jacob… Uh… Someone just ran right into the utility closet and locked the door. We can’t help them out. I think Younghoon terrified them too much.” Younghoon scoffs, “I did not!” Juyeon continues, “Sure. Anyways, you’re the only one who has keys…” Jacob couldn’t believe his ears. This was the first time the crew didn’t have the situation under control. And of course, because he refused to do a floor check when the decorations were finally up, a door was left unlocked. 

With haste, he looks at his keys and the panel before deciding to go and get you. And with nerves shooting through him, he goes over the two-way, “You all go to our assigned rooms and stay in there!” Eric calls back, “Where do you want me to go!?” “The other side of the building- I don’t care!” He throws the door open after flipping the overhead lights on and rushes into the building as he searches for the correct key. He refuses to look ahead, only down at the floor, “Fuck! Why are there so many fake mice!” He rushes to the room you’ve locked yourself in, and unlocks it. He tries to push it open as he calls out, “Hey!” Inside the closet he hears you yell back, “Leave me alone!” “I’m not a scare actor!” He hears your mumbles, but you still don’t budge from the door. He sighs, “Please come on... This building scares me so much. I want to be out of here just as much as you do.” You ask softly, “You promise me you’re not wearing scary clothes?” “Promise. I’m wearing a jean jacket with flowers on it if that helps.” You sigh, “Pinky swear?” “Pinky swear.” 

---Pov Switch---

You hesitantly lift your weight off the door, and he carefully pushes the door in. You cover your eyes with your hands and peek out of them to see his blue jean jacket with pretty painted flowers on it like he said. No blood in sight. And you whisper, “I don’t… I don’t think I can move.” He gulps, “You want to stay here for a minute with me?” You nod, and he walks in and leans against the door. He mutters, “I hate working here.” Thinking he meant because he had to save scaredy-cats like you, you apologize, “Oh, I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, “Oh, that’s not what I meant!” He looks at you and says, “It’s not your fault! I just get scared easily and like, uh… It’s just not good for a person who doesn’t stomach this well.” You giggle at him and go, “Really? Then why are you working here?” He sighs, “It was my last option left. No one else would hire me.” You shake your head, “Is it good money?” “Not in comparison to being scared shitless every day at work.” You look at him confused, “Why don’t you quit?” “Until I find something else, it makes due. Plus, I've known my coworkers since high school, so it makes it easier.” You shake your head, “Well if it makes due and they’re genuinely nice guys outside of work. I understand.” He nods before asking, “Are you okay to go back out there?” “You can get us through? No scares?” “Yeah, promise, they’re all away.” You hear his two-way radio scratch, “I’m getting bored!!” He rolls his eyes, “Eric, our gardener… He’s a little excitable when it comes to scares. So we better move before he decides to be a meanie.” You agree and he calls back, “We’ll be out in three, no funny business.” “That’s my job, though…” “Eric…” “Fine.” He laughs as he opens the door and looks down. 

You follow suit gulping as you exit the doorway with him to see the fake mice, snakes, and spiders on the ground, “Can um… Can you hold my hand?” He nods, waiting for you with his hand out. You quickly grab it and cling to his side. “Not that far, right?” “No, but look down. Mice and snakes are somehow easier to stomach compared to the rest.” You let out an, “Uh-huh.” But your curiosity gets the best of you. You look up and see the amber lights illuminating the spiders and spiderwebs above along with the netting with fake limbs entangled in it dangling down at you. You let out a small, “Yikes!” He laughs, “Told you not to look up.” And you quickly look down with him. Every time the building creaks, you shiver, and he does too. When you see the bottom of the curtain, he says, “Here’s our exit.” He moves the curtain, and the sunlight greets you as he opens the door. You nearly kiss the ground as you mutter countless thank yous. 

You don’t let go of his hand even though you’ve made it out. Feeling a sense of comfort with his hand in yours before you ask, “Um… is there any way I can stay with you for a bit until I get my nerve back up to drive?” He nods, “Yeah, that’s fine. I just need to go back to my security room.” “Is it okay if I go with you?” “Yeah.” He leads you along the side of the building and down the stairs. He unlocks the door and leads you in before calling on the two-way radio, “Back to business.” He flicks the overheads off, and you watch as everyone exits their rooms on the cameras. He gestures for you to sit in the spinny chair, “I’m gonna grab the chair from over there.” He points to the corner and lets go of your hand before getting it. He joins you, his knee touching yours under his desk. You watch the CCTV roll, seeing all of the scares live at once, making you feel sick to your stomach again. And he goes, “I wouldn’t watch that if I were you.” You gulp and nod before looking down at your shoes. 

He distracts you from it by asking, “So what scared you so bad you ran to the first open door?” “Uh… It sounds silly.” He laughs, “I’m just as much of a scaredy cat as you, so it’s not silly. I promise.” “So uh, the one with the doll face? Yeah… So he was stitching that Frankenstein or something together. And it freaked me out… And when the butler-dude turned away from me to show me to the next room. I made my break for it, thinking it was the exit…” He laughs, and you pout, “I thought you promised it wouldn’t sound silly….” He shakes his hand, trying to hold his laughter back, “No, it’s funny, 'cause I would have done the same thing.” You grin and end up laughing with him. You stay with him his whole shift as he tells you a little about each actor to ease your nerves. “And the doll guy?” “He's a good dancer. But he loves what the two of us would consider scary dolls.” “Oh.” “Yeah, and he calls them cute.” You laugh, “Of course he does. What about you: any weird hobbies?” He shrugs, “Well, it’s not weird, but I like to play guitar and sing.” You smile, “That sounds lovely.” He smiles, “Maybe I could play for you sometime?” You ask, “There’ll be a next time?” “I uh… well, I’d hope so. You seem fun.” You laugh, “You just watched me get trapped in a haunted utility closet.” He laughs, “Yeah, I did.” “But I’d like to hear you play sometime soon.” 

You exchange numbers before he turns the overhead lights on and the stage lights off as all the actors head to the basement to change back into their casual attire. You start to leave since you and Jacob already had plans to meet again sometime soon. You figured it was best to get going while the going was good. Until he asks, “Since we both had a scary experience, what do you say to getting some ice cream with me?” You grin, waiting for him to join you, “I’d love to.”

#jacob bae #jacob bae x reader #jacob bae fluff #jacob bae x you #the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz fluff #the boyz x you #tbz #tbz x reader #tbz fluff #tbz x you #the boyz jacob #tbz jacob #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop fluff #kpop x you #jacob bae fanfic #jacob bae fic #the boyz fanfic #the boyz fic #tbz fanfic #tbz fic #kpop fanfic #kpop fic

[milliestars4]

All the time they had

Azriel x Gwyn

Read on AO3

“They thought they had time - all the time in the world”

Warnings: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, DepressionGrief/Mourning, vomiting

This was the fifteenth apartment they had looked at, and it was raining outside.

Melodic scatters of thin and fat raindrops tapped against the old, peeling windowsill - they would need to re-paint that, Azriel thought. Once they'd moved in. The windows themselves were lovely: a mahogany-looking wood stretched across the four large glass window panels, from which provided the perfect view of an elderly lady perched on a bench outside, despite the drizzle and dark clouds looming above.

In the singular bedroom, Gwyn was accordioning the carpeted flooring, crouching and running her slender fingers atop it, when Azriel walked in. "It's the wrong colour." she said.

"That's not a problem," Azriel said. "It matches the drapes."

"Well, I suppose you aren't wrong." Gwyn smiled, rose colouring her freckled cheeks, her teel eyes glimmering as Azriel smiled back.

"I think this is the one." He told Gwyneth. "It's lovely."

“It needs a lot of work,” Gwyn started, but was soon cut short as her husbands’ lips pressed gently against hers. She pulled back, “It needs time.”

"Something we have a lot of," he gazed down at her "we can do it together."

++

It was raining outside, the sky's tears hit the top of the umbrella as a numbness washed over him.

The vague scent of sodden mud underneath the squelching of dark shoes overwhelmed his ears.

There was a sting at his already-sodden cheeks - another tear falling, mocking the wish to bleed dry of them. Many tears fell after that.

The stings brought him back to reality - back to the view of the mahogany coffin littered in flowers and soil. A final goodbye that he'd rather face burning tears tenfold than to glance at once more. A final goodbye burning greater than the haunting of a piercingly empty sky - vacant of any light.

A firm, calloused hand grasped his shoulder, then another the other side - holding tight. A grounding sense amongst a drifting mind, numbness the only grasping emotion as a cry broke from a sister's lips. A sister that felt the great vacancy as vividly as he did. He assumed.

"Goodbye," he told the coffin, "I love you, always." he told the sky.

++

"The place is a work in progress." Gwyneth said, folding her arms. Azriel found her enthusiasm admirable - she hadn't even been affected by the horrors of moving day; the two of them had been stranded in the elevator for three hours. Gwyneth laughed during the entirety of the whole ordeal.

"I'd hope so," Cassian laughed from the place on their new couch - most likely basking in the smugness of helping to load it in. "I am surprised Az's germaphobe ass hasn't had an aneurysm yet."

Gwyneth huffed a laugh, moving to sit beside him, shoving at his shoulder, "you'd be surprised to hear that Azriel only had positive things to say about this place, much to your dismay."

"There's a first for everything, then," his brother replied, "shove that in his face every time he cries about getting paint on those overly expensive gloves he wears."

Azriel finally cracked a smile, "shove it up your ass, Cass. This is mine and Gwyneth's work in progress." he said as he took the last remaining place beside his wife, draping an arm over her shoulders, before placing a kiss to her temple.

"Just don't let little Gwynie do all the heavy lifting, okay?"

"I’m bored of this banter, where is my best friend?" Gwyn got up and wandered over to adjourning kitchen - small to some, perfect for those important.

Cassian stretched his arms above his head, letting out an exasperated sigh at the action, "they're calling themselves sisters, you know?" he smiled.

"So, I have heard." but Azriel could only smile at the thoughtfulness of his wife. And he couldn't wait for their time together, while watching her soft, joyous features twisting into gleaming smiles, and bright eyes.

++

The dim light of the musty motel room he was staying at was the first he'd seen since she left.

Cassian and Rhysand dragged his sorry ass out of their darkened apartment claiming he was unwell and needed to sort himself out.

The floral-prints scattering the old wallpaper had been his warping entertainment for the past five hours - with substances now running rampant through his body, he finally felt sane.Normal.

Who even used off-white, flowery wallpaper nowadays?

A key turned in his door, but his head was too heavy to move - by the sounds of a muffled fuck and approaching footsteps meant it was most likely one of his brothers there to lecture him; tell him that she wouldn't want to see him like this.

"It doesn't matter," he slurred, the whites of his eyes bloodshot, "she can't see me anyway." he said to no-one. He said to the world.

"Who are you talking to?" his older brother asked him as he emerged from the completely dark foyer, moving to crouch In front of his sprawled form against the wall.

His hair hadn't been washed since the hospital - shed run her perfect fingers though it for the last time that day - he couldn't wash her touch away. his shirt fit him like a second skin - drenched in sweat after his body flushed the last of his escape out of him, before he relapsed once more. His hands still clutched his spliff limply, between two fingers - unfinished and idle.

"I think you should stay with me for a bit, hey?" Rhysand placed a hand on his cheek, moving his face to look up at him, "so we can help you. Properly."

Azriel couldn't find it in him to respond, to accept the grace that 'help' would entail - if it meant her memory wouldn't chafe at his every pore, every cell he didn’t want it. He didn't want to lose the only thing he had left of her.

"Come on," Rhys stood, hauling Azriel up with him, supporting his waist so he wouldn't keel over. "Nyx is waiting in the car for you, too."

++

Azriel held her copper hair back for the fifth time that night as she hurled her guts up in their newly renovated bathroom.

"Nesta will be smug at the fact she was right about your light-weighted attributes." He laughed, stroking her back in methodical circles as she dry-heaved the remains of her stomach. Hopefully for the final time that evening.

"I am never drinking again." she said, her skin flushed and clammy, as she sat back on her heals - her shoes completely discarded in her hasty escape to the bathroom.

Azriel stood for a moment, leaving the room before shortly returning with a cool glass of water, and pressing it against her lips. "You're okay, Gwyneth, I will stay with you." he passed a gloved hand though her copper strands, soothing his wife as she regained her breath.

++

Azriel stumbled into Rhysand's bathroom, a drunken attempt to empty his stomach of all his mistakes, but he didn't make it in time. Instead, he vomited across the tiled flooring and immaculate matte-finished shower, crumpling into a ball onto the floor. Completely covered in it all.

Someone must have heard his commotion as footsteps sprinted up the two flights of stairs to the guest bathroom, almost knocking the door for it hinges in the entrance. Azriel was too tired, too ashamed to look up.

"Oh, Az," they sighed sadly, "let's get you cleaned up, hm?" Feyre's motherly voice sounded in his ears, before she took one of his scarred hands in hers, and grabbing her phone with her other.

Rhysand was home ten minutes later.

++

"I don't know how to make it better." Azriel whispered brokenly to Rhysand who sat next to him on the couch - Rhysand has cleaned both Az and the bathroom before dressing his brother and easing him to sit. "I only feel her."

"You will heal, you will get better, Az. This will get easier. With time."

#a court of thorns and roses #gwynriel

[hikennosabo]

trigun multiple bullets random thoughts

if you thought you saw the last of me in the tag... think again!!!

let's fucking goooooo... it's been a little while, so i feel like i'm rusty LMAO...

showdown with the dodongo brothers at honeycomb village (parts 1 & 2):

wow that's a mouthful of a chapter title. anyway.

seeing manga vash with fully blonde hair is... a little strange, now.

OH, SAME WITH SEEING WOLFWOOD... y'know... alive... i fucking MISSED HIMMMMMMM (<- i literally just saw him, i've been rewatching 98 again)

this is so fun i love it so much

oh there are SO many good expressions but if i post them all i'm sure i'll hit the image limit

vash's pout is so cute and funny but i NEED to draw attention to meryl in the corner... i love her sm

vash is twiddling his thumbs... he's so cute...

well these sure are names

even in the black-and-white manga... even though her hair was brown on the color page... we STILL get a blonde milly jumpscare?!?! really?!?!?

AAHHHH... HIS SMILE.... TOO BRIGHT......!!!!!!

they're so silly :( i missed this... waaaah...

oh my goodness, i am in LOVE with this page.

i love wolfwood scolding vash too, lol. it's a conversation they've had many times before, but it feels... idk, lighter than usual?

i love this page soooo much... their expressions are cute. i'm getting "he's an idiot, but he's MY idiot" vibes from wolfwood, lol :') they're in love your honor

and the cliffhanger reveal... i don't have that much to say about the plot tbh... hmmmm, i'm not separating these chapters in this post anyway.

they :)

it wouldn't be a nightow action scene if it was easy to follow, but i'm glad i examined this page in detail instead of letting my eyes just pass over it because

i LOVE this panel... the one in the middle of the spread is great too but i LOVE the angle of this... vash reaching over wolfwood to shoot, while wolfwood shields him... ugh... thank GOD for vashwood

oh my god...... he's so cute.......

GIRLLLLSSSS I LOVE YOUUUUU

OH YEAH, VASHWOOD, BABEY!!!!!!!!!! vash holding on to the punisher... :D

is vash shooting the rockets so they change trajectory... that's so fucking insane. i love it

THE SILLIES

man this was a fun one. i loved seeing vashwood being a battle couple again and just having a relatively low-stakes/light-hearted romp was a really nice thing to read after the horrors. which i am now a few weeks removed from, but they still haunt me...

trigun: the lost plant:

as someone who had (has!! i still love it!) an enduring dr stone obsession in 2021-2022, i am IMMUNE to boichi's art!!! this is significantly hornier than dcst though, not that i'm surprised in the slightest, dcst does have its own horny designs/moments unfortunately... this is the difference between shonen and seinen i suppose--hold on, that's not what this post is about!! *deletes entire other paragraph talking about dr stone*

60 years post-canon... vash's lifespan has been significantly shortened, but i do wonder how much he has left in him. he lived 150 years without any visible black appearing in his hair, so even if he has just a few strands of blonde left, they might last him a long time... well i don't think any of these stories are canon anyway so it doesn't matter LOL

as far as the plot goes...

the explanation for how plants produce matter is interesting but why did it manifest as a child and why is it a black hole and why this specific plant and how did vash even--oh, WHATEVER!! i suppose there is a reason boichi was the artist for dr stone and not the writer.

very cool to see vash drawn in boichi's style though! it's pretty similar to the early dr stone manga, even though dcst came 5+ years later... and the art style of dcst changed over time, although--wait, no, that's NOT what this post is about!!!

the denizens of the sand planet:

okay, this one is by... *googles* wait, this is the guy who did lucifer and the biscuit hammer?? and planet with??? HUHHH... i've only watched planet with, but i've heard VERY good things about biscuit hammer (manga)... anyway

this is a cute story. the found family is cute.

okay sorry this doesn't matter but it is bugging me (ha) a bit. these post-canon stories don't like... actually show us how the world changed after the battle. because it's something i've been wondering about... like, they show a guy cleaning a plant bulb, but would there even be any plants left in bulbs at this point?

and like, this...

wouldn't the exploitation end. like i suppose plants would still get "worn out" eventually, but i would expect more of a symbiotic relationship at this point. so what's with this imagery?

I'M OVERTHINKING IT!!!!! OKAY!!!! JUST ENJOY THE CUTE FOUND FAMILY STORY!!!!

les enfants:

i. am. in. LOVE!!!! WITH THIS ART STYLE!!!!!!

THEY ARE SO FUCKING SHAPED!!!!!!

legato?!?!?! :D :D :D :D :D

ohhh i love this redraw!!!!!! oghhhhhh!!!!!! oooooooogh!!!!!

i love this art!!!!! i love this art!!!!!!

EVERYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP HE'S SLEEPING!!!!!! ohhh i love this. i like the wording too. "decided to slumber"... he's fucking eepy. he's cozy.

ALSOOOOO

RAZLO (i'm assuming)!!! HE'S SO FUCKING. SHAPED. his GRIN!!! IS SO FUNNY. i'm in tears... i love him...

WAAAHHHH COUCH JUMPSCARE... I DONT NEED THIS WHEN I'M EXPERIENCING SUCH JOY GUSHING OVER THE ART...

the art outside the storybook is also lovely, it's very detailed and delicate...

i would like to believe merylmilly got married and grew old together... yeah...

DUDE, I'M GONNA CRY...... vashwood image... this is a really lovely story. definitely my favorite of all of them.

milly/meryl satellite tv:

so they chase him around for 24 hours straight once a week... poor vash LOL

hey hey hey hey hey this is supposed to be a silly goofy fun time why are you showing me this. i'm so sad. i'm glad the family is being fed at least.

i always assumed that "eriks" was a name vash chose for himself but this is way funnier

there is so much going on here

LIVIO LMAO......

yeah that was very silly

raijin: rising:

incredibly jarring tone shift from the previous story lol... i really enjoy the rai-dei focus though. he's cool but he didn't get a backstory in the manga so i appreciate this a lot. i wouldn't mind more stories like this focusing exclusively on side characters tbh.

it gets pretty brutal... i don't know what to say about this story besides that. it's an interesting look at what could've made rai-dei the way he is.

cutting is fighting:

we're ending this not with a bang but with a whimper... swapping meryl in for the haircut scene is... blegh. whatever. and they exaggerate her crush on vash too much. like yeah she's kind of tsundere in canon (moreso in the anime imo) but she's not a teenager yknow? the satellite tv story did that too but that one was supposed to be goofy and exaggerated so it was whatever.

the most interesting thing here is the lack of dialogue. that's a fun creative choice. and i like the gag with vash's hair being too nasty to comb LOL... and the haircut options. that's all...

overall i'd give this a... 6.5/10? 'les enfants' was definitely my favorite by far and nightow's story was a lot of fun too. the others ranged from "meh at best" to "sure, it was good" lol. i liked seeing the different art styles... i don't have much else to say.

#trigunbookclub #trigun talk #june speaks

[deludedfantasy]

Trimax Vol 7 Ch 1-3

Sooooo, the first half of this volume might have destroyed me. I spent a lot of time staring into space between panels because the horrors were getting to me. Prepare for lots and lots of yelling. Here goes.

Ch 1

With a story like Trimax, I get incredibly nervous when an entire volume is named Happy Days. I know I am being lied to. 

The way the crew comes out of their pods really reads like people clawing their way out of coffins. Very ominous. 

Wow, this guy is rude. Rem hasn’t talked to anyone but Plant children in a whole year and the first thing that happens when the crew wakes up is that one of them harrasses her. Ugh. He could’ve stayed asleep for another three years if that’s how he was gonna be. 

Argh, there are way too many people in this chapter and I can’t tell who’s talking when the whole crew is together. 

I don’t know what to make of it, but Rem’s eyes are completely white when she lies to the crew. I know someone pointed out that Wolfwood’s eyes are white when he’s in an incredibly emotional state so I wonder if this is something similar?

Knives just messing around with the thrusters because he was curious. So not only do Independent plants grow quickly, they’re apparently incredibly smart. But also still kids because he absolutely messed something up.

Ah, young Conrad meeting the twins for the first time. I like that Tristamp made him a more important character because of what happened to Tesla. 

Knives is so concerned with what humans think of him! Having him be so drastically different as a child really makes you wonder what happened to make him hate humanity as much as he does. 

Oh no, baby Knives is crying! He just wants to be loved and accepted. Both of them love Rem so much too. Oh my god, I just wanna cry. This chapter is the sweetest, nicest one we’ve had in a while.

Pages that make me wanna sob because of dramatic irony. Little Knives is so hopeful…he’s so full of love and understanding and naivety. I don’t wanna watch it break.

Ohhhh. Now that I know what’s going on, this part makes a lot more sense to me. Knives and Vash think they see one of the people in cryo chambers awake, and they follow her. I think this is actually a telepathic Plant thing. Tesla is still alive, so she’s projecting herself into their minds and leading them to her. 

She shows up right after Knives’s revelation about working through their differences with humanity. I wonder how much she hears and is aware of, because it seems significant that she shows up then, like a vengeful ghost that wants to show him how wrong he is.

God, I hate reading the report notes. They’re so chilling and dehumanizing. They keep calling her a “subject” but what we see is a little girl. And she looks so small and scared. Man, I really shouldn’t be reading this late at night. I’ll be up all night thinking about this.

“Trouble over a question of ethics.” Well, that’s a fucking understatement! Question of goddamn ethics, you scanned her so often you gave her cancer! Because you were treating a living thing—no, a child—like an inanimate object that could take as much abuse as you threw at it. 

110 days is just over 3 months. I’m raging. How many times did they use radioactive scanning equipment on this little girl to give her tumors??? I had to get one CT scan done and they were extremely reluctant to do it because I was young and they weren’t sure it would show what was wrong with me. 

My brain is only capable of producing screaming noises right now. These last pages are brutal and gory and…yeah, really messed up. 

All the notes have to say is “Project is closed.” PROJECT??? PROJECT????? That was a little girl you experimented on so much that you basically killed her! I’m gonna throw my laptop out the window. 

I’ve come back a little calmer and actually, I can’t tell if she’s alive or not. In Tristamp, it seems like she was put into cryo sleep to preserve her while she was technically alive. But here, I can’t tell. Thing is, she wouldn’t be able to do her Plant telepathy otherwise. Hmmm.

Ch 2

Oh no no no no, little Vash’s dead eyed face is too much for me right now. He’s had his doubts about humans, sure, but this is too much for him to handle. This is the revelation of humanity’s evil that he’s far, far too young to be able to handle. 

Oh God, and he’s alone in there with Tesla’s dissected body because Knives fainted. He can’t look away, he’s never been able to look away, and all he can see now is how different he is from humanity. Right now, he doesn’t see any way they can reconcile their differences. 

This page, where Vash looks like he’s floating curled into a ball while tormented by those staring eyes, is a nice juxtaposition to a similar panel in the last volume. There, he was peacefully floating in zero-g and feeling safe. Here, is the exact opposite. Here, it’s the loss of his innocence. 

Vash is so angry. Rightfully so! What was done to Tesla was horrible and what proof does he have that the same won’t be done to him? Rem has been lying to him his whole life. He’s found out just how cruel the world is. It’s so easy to forget (and honestly not always easy to see) with adult Vash, but at heart, he is driven by anger. And I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing, because in his case, his kindness comes from that deep-seated anger. Remind me to write a longer post about that later. 

Still, it’s so interesting to see that anger and realize it’s always been in him, from the very beginning. 

But this is also the start of something worse—Vash’s suicidal ideation comes from here. He doesn’t see a point in living if the world would treat beings like him with such cruelty, forever leaving him marked as other and inhuman. He doesn’t want to live in a world of only humans. How does he become the man who will do anything in his power to defend humanity when all he has right now is fear and hatred? 

Vash refusing to eat because he just doesn’t see the point and doesn’t want to live—I see where Tristamp got Vash’s feelings about deserving to eat from. 

Oh my God??? OH MY GOD???? Vash was gonna stab himself. Like yes, I’ve read this before, and yes, I know he’s actively suicidal here, but just—this is the first time we’re seeing it exposed like this, the very depths of his despair. The past few pages, the way he’s been drawn, with his cheeks hollowed and his eyes without expression or emotion, it’s A Lot and I’m not okay. 

And Rem just fucking grabs the blade to stop him. She’s willing to hurt herself to keep him from dying. He learned all of this from her, every part of his ideology, and it wasn’t in abstraction. He saw it and, not only that, it was what Rem did to save him. He really becomes her continuation. 

Vash has this moment where he becomes very unhinged and actually sounds a bit like future Knives when he hurts Rem by pulling the blade away from her. He learns how powerful violence is, the relief and catharsis it can bring. But immediately after he has these thoughts, he sees how he hurt Rem and that snaps him back to himself, to the little boy he is who just loves his mother. 

He has her blood on his hands and that’s too much for him to take. She might be one of the humans that hurt Tesla, but he still loves her and it scares him to see her like that.  

He patches her up and gets something to eat….my heart is breaking. He’s just a little baby, why does this have to happen to him?

The blank ticket story is going to make me cry. There’s so much hope in it, especially when you consider the situation Rem had that dream in. She was depressed as hell, she’d lost someone she loved and probably didn’t see a point in going forward either. And it’s a reminder that there’s more to the world than evil and darkness. There’s kindness and goodness too and that’s what Vash needed to hear. 

I also think he needed to see Rem’s tears and remorse to remind him that he knows her. She might have made a mistake with Tesla but she never did anything to them. She’s trying to make up for it, with everything in her being she’s trying. 

Also, “If you hadn’t stopped me then, I never would have known that when you cry, Rem, you look like you’re laughing.” WOW, Vash you really picked up all your best and worst qualities from your mom, huh? You learn to do the same thing.

Knives wakes up with a dead-eyed look and then says he doesn’t remember anything. Yeahhhh, no, I don’t think so.

Ch 3

The chapter titles in this volume are going to be the death of me. I don’t know if I can handle reading something called “King of Loneliness” after that last chapter. Send help, I’m doing it anyway.  

“She hung her head low.” What happened weighs on Rem so much and you just know she ended up taking care of Knives and Vash as some kind of penance. I don’t think she expected to love them as much as she did by the end. But she also never intended on telling them any of this and just forging ahead with them into the new world, disappearing without ever having to face up to what she did.

I can’t blame her though. Is there a good way to tell a child a truth like that? But it would have been better if she’d told them all of this rather than Vash and Knives finding out on their own. Much like it would’ve been better if Vash was honest about who he was and what his mission was with Meryl, Milly, and Wolfwood from earlier on. Hiding things from the people you love rarely ends well. 

“There’s so much we have to do to make sure it never happens again.” Now that’s what I call foreshadowing and dramatic irony. We all know what Knives means by that. 

But Vash knows something’s wrong with Knives. And we see it too. This is the first time in these chapters his face is obscured in shadows, just like it was when we were first introduced to this younger version of him volumes ago. This is the first moment where Vash feels like he doesn’t know his brother. 

Knives is losing it. He’s painting himself in his own blood as he no doubt plans the Big Fall. His descent into fear and darkness here is masterfully done and so unsettling. 

The juxtaposition of these pages too, with his fearful face covered in blood and tears and the triumph as he watches the ships fall from the sky. This was an act of evil, yes, but it was driven by fear and helplessness. 

Knives claims all his decision making as rational, but these last few pages have shown that to be untrue. Certainly, there was logic behind it, but most of it was driven by emotion. 

Ohhhhh, I finally understand this bit! Knives merges with the Plant! He asks her for help and shows what he’s feeling, his anger at humanity and, ultimately, his plans. Last volume, he realized he doesn’t have the power to achieve his goals alone and this is how he plans to fix that. 

At the beginning of this chapter, I thought the King of Loneliness was going to be Vash, but really, it’s Knives. He pushed everyone away and destroyed the colony fleet. He pushes away the Gung Ho Guns and merges with the Plants to achieve his goals. Ultimately, he is still a scared lonely boy who never processed the terrible things he witnessed and learned. His trust was broken so completely, he never recovered.

#trigun #trigunbookclub

[inaconstantstateofchange]

sweet, once.

A/N: This is a project I've worked on over the last few months, which is not reflected in the length so much as the content. Warning for canon-compliant Dark Urge backstory events, dark themes, and violence (referenced).

AO3 link

Was I sweet, once? 

Kelis turns the question over and over in their mind, comparing it to the bits and pieces they have gleaned of their previous self throughout the past weeks. Crouching down, back against the wooden panels of the pavilion on the roof of the Elfsong, they look up at the sky, searching for the few stars visible through the lights of the city around them. 

Flashes of the memory returned to them earlier in the day trickle back in past the attempts to shut them away, first in drips, and then a flood. 

A modestly outfitted room, furniture scuffed but well cared-for, charming signs of a loving family scattered around, visible from every angle. And covering it all — blood, and viscera, and other, less pleasant fluids. They don’t want to turn, to see what they know lies behind them, but it’s a memory, not a vision, so they are a helpless passenger — just as they felt on the day itself. 

The empty sockets of their foster mother’s eyes meet their searching gaze first, face a rictus of some emotion more complex than horror and closer to despair. One hand is clenched around a worn pendant, held as steadfastly in the grim strength of death as it so often was in life. They try to remember which of the gods she’d held to with such devotion. Would she speak to Kelis, were they to seek her out in that domain? 

The Kelis-of-now notes with despair to match the woman’s the way she has no weapon, no shreds of blood and scale under her nails. She would not raise her hand against them, even as they killed her for her weakness. For her love. 

The Kelis-of-then turns further, moving with robotic evenness through the nearest doorway. The pools of blood underfoot squelch unpleasantly beneath their bare feet, and yet simultaneously send a shiver of perverse delight through them. 

The sight before them stops them in their tracks — or it would, were they free to do so. Their childhood form steps unrelentingly closer to the bed, and they cannot turn away. For a moment, the small tiefling body in the bed is Mol’s, glaring furiously up at them with a single eye glazed over in death. 

A blink, a heartbeat, and it’s not, of course it could not be. They don’t even know so much as this one’s name, and the only real similarity is in the horns, stunted and small. 

Well… horn. 

One of them has been broken off, jaggedly, at the root. Slowly, through a fog, a tough, ridged texture that matches the striation of the single remaining horn on the child filters into their consciousness. They can’t look down – of course they can’t – but they know what is held in their fierce grasp all the same. 

The lack of blood around the broken horn stub is the only small mercy they can find. Of all the things that happened to this child – their sibling, in this house of peace turned blood offering – this at least did not take place while they were alive. In truth… They look with clearer eyes now, whilst their staring memory-self seems disinclined to move them. The tiefling child is covered with blood, their heart torn from their chest and placed tenderly within their own hands, but — despite all the wounds, all the blood, it is clear that only one was the cause of their death, and that one, a single clean gash to their throat, predates the others by at least an hour.

The Kelis-of-then stays for long moments more, watching the unmoving body of their one-time-sibling, as if observing some reality even shared memory cannot return to the Kelis-of-now. At last, at some unknown cue, their body turns, leaving the still form in the bed without a backward glance, trailing sticky blood behind them as they step into the open doorway of the room across the hall. This room is surprisingly unsullied by the carnage of the rest of the dwelling, but Kelis is not able to catch a glimpse of more than a neatly made bed and a green-covered book resting atop a pillow, before their body is moving forward with purpose, directing their attention neither to the right nor left. 

There is another door on the other side of the room, barely ajar and rocking back and forth slightly in the wind. Here the evidence of violence is visible: smears of blood in clumsy patterns at a strangely low height. 

The Kelis-of-then presses the door open further, mechanical and composed, emerging onto a terrace resplendent with greenery, a vibrant – albeit clashing – assortment of cushions piled invitingly across one entire corner. There are other houses visible through gaps in the greenery, but no lamps are lit in windows, no calls come from distant streets. Their crime is as-yet-undiscovered. 

Their childhood form moves to the cushions, and sits — more like a collapsing string-puppet than anything living. Their hand moves to the side, slow and scrupulous, until it meets a cool, furred form, previously disguised by the darkest of the cushions and the blanket of night. They look, then and now, out into the darkness, the claws at the tips of their scaled fingers passing delicately over unfeeling fur in a visceral mockery of loving sense-memory. 

Kelis-of-now comes back to themself, shaking off the lingering trappings of the memory. Their hand flexes, the ghost of fur beneath it still, and they restrain the urge to claw and bite at their own flesh to remove it. A bitter taste of bile floods the back of their throat, and their eyes prickle in a way they are unfamiliar with. A thought bubbles up ponderously from the depths: is this a cruel vengeance on the part of one of the many gods they’ve wronged, that they would regain no memories of anything but blood, and darkness, and more blood?

In the next moment, they hiss out a rasping laugh that dissipates sluggishly into the muggy night air. Just as likely to be a simple game of numbers. How to fish one gem out of a sea laden with corpses? More likely for the hook to emerge choked with maggots. They were a fool indeed to expect otherwise. 

Kelis settles themself for a doomed attempt at meditation. They consider, for a moment, seeking solace from their lovers, but… They’ve burdened both Astarion and Halsin enough already. They should be able to handle these, the consequences of their own actions, themself. Kelis knows better, now, than to think there is anything of value within them worth the excavation. 

Their first indrawn breath is ragged, breaking a fraction on the inhale, then forcefully smoothed out on the exhale. All will be well. They just need to hold to that.

All will be well. 

#my writing #angst #hurt no comfort #there WILL be comfort #just... not in this fic #kelis #the dark urge #bg3 #bg3 fic #my fic #dark urge/astarion #dark urge/halsin #durgestarion #dragonborn #dragonborn durge #my durge #my tav

[the-pen-pot]

Love is never lost for the wip ask game (ps, I've been loving Hiraeth! <3)

So glad you're loving Hiraeth, lovely! And thanks for this! (WiP ask game is here!)

Love Is Never Lost is also called "The Flogged Merlin" one, where Arthur finds out that Uther had Merlin flogged because he decided that their friendship was not to be borne. (And because Uther's a bastard)

Arthur did intend to confront his father about it, but Merlin couldn't let him defend a sorcerer without Arthur knowing about his magic. Cue a magic reveal fic, an increasingly desperate Uther, and the future of Camelot's throne hanging in the balance.

Summary:

Uther Pendragon has never approved of Arthur’s friendship with Merlin. There had been disappointed sighs and whispered warnings, but Arthur had never thought it would come to this: scars on Merlin’s back and a manservant made hollow and thin by cruelty.

Yet Uther’s efforts to drive a wedge between them instead bring Merlin’s greatest secret to light, and once the wound of secrecy has been purged, their healing brings them closer together than ever before.

Much to Uther Pendragon’s horror.

When Merlin disappears, Arthur is left questioning the true honour of the crown and the value of a kingdom forever stained by his father’s tyranny. Will he answer the call of duty, or will he sacrifice everything to chase the cries of his heart?

And a snippet under the cut 😉

Arthur Pendragon sat at his desk, tapping his quill against a scrap of parchment as he stared at the report before him. He was meant to be giving it his full attention, and yet his mind dwelt elsewhere. Namely, on his manservant. Merlin had been distant, these past few days. Last week, everything had been normal. There had been the fond insults, the occasional gentle punch or ruffling of hair that marked the affection of their friendship, but now all that had changed. And he had no idea why. Maybe Merlin had seen the ill-hidden longing in Arthur's gaze. Perhaps he had realised that Arthur looked at him with more than friendship in his heart. As a servant, Merlin could not technically say no to his prince. It was one of the reasons that Arthur had never dared to breach the distance between them. He couldn't bear the thought of Merlin being with him out of duty, rather than desire. It was possible that Merlin had withdrawn in an effort to dissuade Arthur without having to voice anything out loud. He doodled absently on the parchment, his hand moving without any input from his mind as his thoughts whirled. Could someone else have laid claim to Merlin's heart? Arthur grimaced, a hot surge of jealousy rising in his throat. He considered his knights, always quick with their smiles and friendship when it came to Merlin. Gwaine, especially, was a merciless flirt, and Arthur clenched his fist at the thought that perhaps Merlin had fallen for his charms. Not that he had any right to feel that way, but it galled him all the same. Or perhaps it was one of the townsfolk, a pretty girl he had met on his rounds with Gaius? Except, wouldn't he be happy if he were in love with someone? If anything, Merlin seemed miserable, bleak and withdrawn in a way that made Arthur's heart ache. It hurt to see him like that, those once bright eyes downcast and his fair skin pale as chalk. There was something brittle about him, as if one harsh word might break him apart, and the not-knowing was driving Arthur to distraction. A rattle at the door made him look up, and he watched Merlin carry in his midday meal on a tray. Once, he would have been all smiles and jokes, kicking the door shut in his wake. Now, he balanced the tray on one hand and eased the panel closed on its hinges without a sound: the perfect vision of servitude. Arthur hated it.

#Merlin #Merthur #My fanfic

[zyris]

Late to posting this (my first draft got deleted and I lost motivation lol) but wow the new episode was amazing and I shed some tears Honestly I just wanna give a little love letter to Teruki's character because he's one of my favorites and I always just appreciated him being on screen as a support cause he's just an absolute sweet heart and seems like someone who seems like a pleasure to be around. And I wanna appreciate how far he's come cause this character conclusion was so good for him

One thing I always loved about him was his constant drive to genuinely want to improve himself as a person.

I think we all know him trying to humble himself after having such a heavy superiority complex is a big part of it. But I feel like we don’t remind ourselves enough that Teru’s superiority complex stemmed from trying to hide an inferiority complex. It’s not JUST a struggle about going over your head even if that’s apart of it. But it’s also a journey of discovering what it truly means to be equal with others. It’s a concept I really appreciate being explored here because it’s something I struggle with myself. And while his arc is subtle for a lot of the series. It’s definitely there.

This is why his dynamic with Mob is so important. How he feels about Mob throughout the series perfectly captures his character arc. Seeing him as a threat to his ego and life and needing to establish “the hierarchy” but then putting him on a pedestal and admiring him greatly and essentially labelling Mob as someone “Above him” There’s still a lot of little things in the series that adds up to him still viewing the world through this hierarchy he’s made in his head even if he’s trying to rid of it.

This moment was really great and you can see the horror in him as he truly has to take in what’s happening and the dangers with it. I adore that the way Teru finally sees Mob as an equal is also seeing him at a very low point in his life. He’s not above mistakes, and everyone has their bad days and things they want to hide about themselves.

Calling himself a common constantly is pretty blunt and perhaps harsh in some peoples eyes. But it means what it means, he’s not above or below anyone, he’s just like everyone else.

Also note I’ve been anime only for Mob Psycho since I’ve started watching in middle school though I have read a few chapters of the manga and plan to do a full read when the anime is done. But for this arc I’ve been reading the manga chapter right after the episode and I just wanted to talk about this line that was cut

(The last panel) I’m really sad about this change because it really says how much Mob hates himself and all it does is break my heart and make me reflect on how innocent all this started. He spent so much time trying to gain the courage to ask his crush out flowers and everything and he ended up with a near death experience and destroying everything around him and hurting his friend. I might make a seperate post talking about him in this episode or perhaps wait for the next to do so.But Teru refusing to hurt him and claiming his victory through saving the people around him is honestly so amazing so many ways. Not only is he easing the pain of his friend and making sure his worst fear doesn’t happen. But it truly speaks where his values now lie.

Originally a gang leader drunk on power and participating in fights because it was the biggest boost for his ego to someone who wants to whole heartedly help other people.

Those other psychic kids from the awakening lab in season one he took upon himself to train, he always tries to help take claw down, his absolute refusal to be brain washed and let that happen to the city, he always tries to help Mob out when he’s in trouble.

When Teru says “I win” he did. It’s an amazing victory for him because he accomplished his goal of protecting others and wants to make the world a better place and he’s become a true leader in the process.

I can’t help but think back to season 2’s Toichiro when thinking of Teru. The idea of being so drunk on power and dismissing the importance of others he expresses. Human connection is a very important theme in Mob Psycho and I think human connection is also very important to Teru’s arc for the reasons stated above

A while back my friend showed me some things in the fan book that didnt contain manga spoilers and I think the last line stuck with me because of this idea. It also took me back to that omake with him and Reigen of him having a fun summer after seeing them as boring.

I’m very very proud of him for not closing his heart off. He did a great job.

#mob psycho 100 #teruki hanazawa #mp100 #txt post

[emotionalcadaver]

Part 6: A Tale of Two Monsters

Fandom: The Dark Knight Trilogy

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x OC

Summary: How far will two secret serial killers go to create their own personal house of horrors?

Word Count: 5,309

Notes: Warnings for depictions of murder, unethical experimentation, mild sexual content, drugging, and references to suicide.

Masterlists: Main • Series

Previous Part • Next Part

Chin resting on her palm, Vanessa watched with glazed over, bored eyes as the guards ushered her patient away, the chains around his ankles rattling with every step. Twirling her pen with pale, freckled fingers, she scribbled down a note to up the dosage of his medication before slamming her case notes shut, stacking them in a neat little pile that she hugged to her chest as she left the sterile, white room where the doctors conducted their sessions with the more volatile patients. The guard flashed her a polite smile as he held the door open for her. Boots making little more than a whisper of a sound against the tile, she walked briskly down the hall and to the elevator, punching the button to send her up to the offices. 

Her office was the last door on the right, kept neat and orderly, a couch and two armchairs in the middle of the room for sessions with patients or meetings with family members. A large filing cabinet was shoved into one corner behind her desk, the window shaded by a sheer black curtain. 

She wasn’t a big fan of sunlight. Too much of it, and it was blinding. Gave her a headache. Made it hard to focus.  

The office was notably devoid of color. Everything was either black or white or gray. Had one looked into the room knowing nothing about its occupant, it would have been almost impossible to discern much about her. Everything was staged carefully. No personal items in sight. No photographs of loved ones, or sentimental objects or knick knacks tucked away on the shelves or on the surfaces of the desk or tables. The only trace of personality in the office was the little white paper origami cranes, sitting in a careful line along the windowsill. 

It was all purposeful, of course. The people who came into this office were there to talk about themselves, or whatever unfortunate family member they had committed to her care, not her. And the less people knew about her, the better.

Pulling a ring of keys from her pocket, she unlocked one of the drawers in the filing cabinet, thumbing through the alphabetically organized files before sliding her latest patient’s file into its proper place, closing the drawing with a slam and locking it again. Thumbing through the planner set on the far right corner of her desk, she ran her finger down the page, double checking that she didn’t have any more appointments for the day.

Straightening with her shoulders pushed back, she ran her hands over her hair, pushing a few uncooperative locks back into the bun she had it twisted into at the top of her head.

Fingers clenched around the cool, sharp metal of the keys in her hand, she stepped from her office, locking the door behind her. On her way down the hallway, she hesitated for a moment at the door to Jonathan’s office, fist raised to knock on the heavy wood before remembering that he had an appointment downstairs with a patient in the intensive care unit. Dropping her hand, she instead whisked back to the elevator, but rather than press any of the buttons she instead slid one of her keys–a dulled, silver one–into the slot at the very bottom of the panel. The doors slid closed as she began to descend down, down, down.

Every doctor had a key to the basement. Standard protocol.

Utterly annoying, was what it actually was.

They’d been given more or less free reign of the basement to use for their research. No one came down there anyway, and they didn’t use it to house any of the patients. But still the chief administrator insisted that all doctors have a key and access to it. Even though she and Jonathan were the only two staff members with permission to conduct experiments involving the inmates. 

It meant that they had to be careful. Rare as it was for the other doctors to come down into the basement, the possibility of someone wandering down there, whether out of curiosity, a desire to snoop, or just plain stupidity, was still there. A constant threat to the work that they were doing. They’d already had to take care of a nosy nurse who’d managed to sneak down there to see what they were up to so late at night. And the administrator liked to come down unannounced every once in a while to check in on their work. 

So they kept everything locked up. Hidden away in closets and drawers that only they had the keys to. Always ready with a cover story or explanation of any strange things someone might see if they ventured down there.

If anyone caught a whiff of what they were really doing, being fired would be the least of their worries. They’d be arrested, surely. Probably even committed to the asylum. That could be funny. Arkham did seem to have a penchant for its staff ending up on the other side of the bars. Even the head architect, who’d begun development and construction on the hospital, had lost his mind and hacked his workers to death with an ax.

But their work was far, far too important to be outweighed by the risks. They would be fine. They just had to be careful. Keep an eye out for anyone who might be snooping around where they shouldn’t. 

The elevator dinged, doors sliding open, and she stepped out into a cold hallway. Taking an immediate right, she headed down the hall until she came to another door that she unlocked, stepping inside.

Sliding the smaller of the two lab coats onto her shoulders, she smoothed it out as she headed to the desk they had set up in the lab, opening the drawer and pulling out one of the journals stored within. Flipping through the pages, covered in varying colors of ink written in her and Jonathan’s typical, near illegible scrawls, she came to a page that contained a list of names. At the top was written just three words:

Potential test subjects.

Scribbling her latest patient’s name on the next available line, her pen hovered over the blank space of the page just to the right of the name, used for important notes on each subject. Head snapping up at the ding of the elevator, then the thud of footsteps in the hallway, she set down the pen and notebook on the desk. Biting her lip, the pads of her thumb and index finger rubbed together. Hoping that it wasn’t the chief administrator who was about to walk through that door.

Sighing in quiet relief as the door opened and she was greeted with the familiar mop of dark hair and the gleam of Jonathan’s glasses, she took a step around the desk towards him.

“Hi,” she settled a hand on his forearm, pecking him swiftly on the lips in greeting. 

“Hey,” he tilted his head down so she could more easily reach him, chasing her very lightly as she pulled back in a way that made her heart warm. Hand cupping the side of her face, he rubbed a thumb along the puffy skin just under her eyes. “Long day?”

“Mhm,” she just hummed, leaning forward until her forehead met his chest. Jonathan chuckled, wrapping an arm around her waist and kissing her temple. She was half tempted to just snuggle up right there and take a little nap. He was warm, and despite how lithe his physique was, surprisingly comfy. “I put another name down on the list for subjects.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm. He has a rather debilitating phobia of being suffocated. I thought it would be interesting to see how that manifests itself under the influence of the toxin.”

“Good work,” he kissed the top of her head, Vanessa tilting her face down in an attempt to hide how she bloomed under the quiet praise. Pulling away enough for him to tug his lab coat on, she tucked a stray lock of hair that had freed itself from her bun behind her ear. As he went to the cabinet to haul a microscope onto the table she returned to the desk. Sitting, she handed him another notebook pulled from the drawer to her left. Pen twirling between her fingers, she picked back up the journal she’d been writing in before Jonathan had come in.

“What did you think of the potency of the last batch?” Jonathan asked, keys jingling as he unlocked the multiple locks on the cabinet that housed samples of deep amber liquid.

“I think that it wasn’t convincing enough. The subject knew that they were hallucinations she was experiencing, so the fear response wasn’t as genuine.”

“Agreed,” he picked up the most recent sample, closing the cabinet before setting up a slide of the liquid to examine under the microscope. For a moment, Vanessa just watched him as he pressed his eyes to the lenses, only leaning away every few moments to scrabble something down on the open notebook beside him. He was so handsome when he was at work.

Shaking her head in an attempt to clear it, she forced her gaze to pull away from him and down to the journal still open in front of her. Skimming her finger down the line of names, she scanned over the little notes written by each one. Katz would be good to use as a sort of baseline, but she was particularly interested in what would happen if they strapped Levinson in the chair. Hm. Decisions, decisions…

“Arkham cornered me on my way down here,” Jonathan commented, pulling away from the microscope, leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest. Vanessa pulled a face. 

Jeremiah Arkham was the nephew of Amadeus Arkham and had inherited the asylum and the position of administrative director and chief psychiatrist after the founder had lost his mind and been admitted to his own madhouse. Jeremiah had ruled over the asylum ever since, albeit with middling results. Patients were often escaping, and the rates in which any were actually cured or showed substantial improvement were minimal at best. Good as the man may have been at following regulations and rules, he had no real drive or vision for the place. And he was too soft on certain patients and too hard on others.

And his affinity for looking over Vanessa and Jonathan’s shoulders was beginning to put her on edge. There had been a handful of close calls with him; moments where he got a little too close for comfort in figuring out what it was they actually spent most of their time doing down in the basement.

It was beginning to become inevitable: he was going to have to be dealt with.

“What did he want?”

“He doesn’t like the way that Thomas has been acting since we ran those experiments with her two weeks ago.”

“Ah, shit,” she rubbed a hand along her neck. Thomas had a rather severe reaction to the batch of toxin they’d exposed her to. They’d hoped that with time the lingering effects would abate. Clearly they had not. “What did you tell him?”

Jonathan shrugged. “That she seemed fine when we were working with her. I told him that if he’s so worried, he should talk to Sinner about it. Thomas is technically her patient, after all.”

Not likely that Jeremiah would find much fault with Dr. Sinner, of course. She was his little pet, after all. His protégé and second in command. An obnoxious, snobby little thing, really. With the stupid ribbons that she wore in her hair and the glances of superiority she shot at Vanessa any time that they passed each other in the hallway.

“We’re going to need to deal with him eventually.”

“Yes,” he leaned forward, crossed arms resting on the table in front of him. “But if he’s removed, Sinner will just take his place.”

“If Sinner isn’t a factor, you’ll be made chief administrator,” she commented with a smirk.

“You think so?”

“Well, they’re certainly not going to put Carver in charge.”

“What about you?”

Vanessa snorted. “Please. If they have a chance to pick between the male genius and the female one, they’re going to pick the man,” she rolled her eyes. Jonathan shot her an apologetic look. She just shrugged. Not much either of them could do about it. At least for now. “But that means that we’ll have to deal with Sinner too.” 

“Yeah?” he raised an eyebrow. “You have any ideas on how to accomplish that?”

Vanessa tilted her head, sliding from her seat and stalking towards him. Jonathan chuckled, leaning back so that she could easily settle herself into his lap, fingers curling around his shoulders for stability while one of his palms made a home for itself resting on her thigh.

“Oh, I think I might have a trick or two up my sleeve…” giggling as he leaned forward to kiss her, she lifted the hand not braced around his shoulders to cradle the side of his face.

The smile he pressed against her lips was delightfully wicked; curling cruelly across his face.

She wouldn’t have had it any other way.

∗ ∗ ∗ 

He stepped out of the elevator, and was greeted with chaos.

He’d been downstairs in the intensive care unit to check on a patient who had been recently transferred to the asylum following a suicide attempt, and then had headed up to the block where they housed most of the more docile, harmless inmates. Brow raising, Jonathan sidestepped a few nurses rushing past him and into one of the rooms. Following them, the hum of frantic voices began to grow louder. But nothing could drown out the booming, furious shouts of Jeremiah Arkham 

Dr. Sinner was standing in front of him, ribbons weaved in her hair, and eyes downcast like a scolded child as she allowed Arkham to yell at her.

A peek inside the room that the nurses had rushed into greeted him with the frantic sight of Vanessa and Dr. Carver bent over a patient lying in the bed, the nurses bustling around them. There was a rather sizable puddle of vomit laced with blood covering the floor, the smell making his nose wrinkle as he leaned back. Vanessa had her hands pressed over the patient’s chest, doing compressions.

“--can’t believe that you would be so unimaginably careless–” Arkham was still shouting at Sinner, voice echoing in the halls.

“Sir,” Jonathan interrupted, eyes taking in the other patients gathered at the doors to their cells, listening with wide eyes. “Perhaps you should have this conversation upstairs in one of your offices?”

Both Arkham and Sinner turned to look at him with startled eyes, as if they hadn’t even realized that he was standing there. Jonathan met their gaze unblinkingly.

“Crane–” Arkham started to say.

“You’re upsetting some of the inmates,” Jonathan said, with just enough force behind it to make Arkham pause. There was the squeak of a shoe against the tiled floor behind them, and they all turned to see Vanessa standing in the doorway to the cell. A few black locks of hair had fallen from her bun, sleeves of her turtleneck pushed up to her elbows. Glancing at Arkham, her lips pressed into a firm line at the silent question in the administrator’s eyes, shaking her head once. Behind her, the nurses and Dr. Carver had ceased their frantic movements, someone moving to cover the patient’s limp body respectfully with a white sheet.

Arkham sighed, pinching at the bridge of his nose, breathing in deeply. “Sinner. Go to my office and wait there.” 

Sinner opened her mouth to say something, then closed it, instead turning and heading down the hall to the elevator, shoulders slumped. Arkham moved to stand in the doorway of the cell, staring at the body laid out on the bed there. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he huffed.

“I’m going to have to call that girl’s parents.”

“I could do it, sir,” Vanessa offered, but Arkham shook his head. 

“No, no. I’m the head psychiatrist. I should be me. Just,” he looked between them. “Get back to work.”

Jonathan watched his back as he retreated down the hallway.

“What happened?” he asked. Vanessa glanced towards the cell where the nurses and Dr. Carver were still positioned. Linking her arm with his, she drew him away, down the hall in the opposite direction that Sinner and Arkham had gone.

“It would appear that Dr. Sinner gave her poor patient the wrong medication.”

He shot a knowing look at her, biting back a bark of laughter. “Oh, is that so?”

“Mhm. Massive dosage too,” her lips formed into a mock pout. “So sad. But, you know what they say about hiring incompetent doctors,” tsking, she shook her head. “I imagine that this will be the last straw for her. She’s been mixing up all of her files, misplacing things…” 

Ah, yes. Poor Dr. Sinner had been acting rather scatterbrained lately, bringing the wrong files to meetings, the wrong case notes to sessions with patients…and always claiming that she was so sure she had put the right ones in her bag.

Vanessa really was very good at sneaky manipulations. It was always such a pleasure to watch her work. 

Served Dr. Sinner right, anyway. For being such a snobby bitch all the time.

“And now this?” Vanessa continued. “Arkham isn’t going to have much choice in the matter.”

“No, no I don’t imagine he will,” he kept his facial expression schooled into concerned seriousness. But he couldn’t help but brush his lips across her temple. This clever, wonderfully wicked woman. “You have an appointment you have to get to?”

“Yeah.”

Pity. He was half tempted to drag her to the nearest supply closet or maybe one of their offices and really show her the extent of his gratitude for getting rid of Sinner. “See you in the lab, after?”

Vanessa shot him a smirk. “Sure.”

Just before she pushed open the door to the stairwell, he caught her by the arm, pulling her close to him and letting his mouth slant over hers in a kiss just a bit too hungry to be fully innocent. 

Pulling back, her face scrunched adorably with her smile, fingertips tracing his face as she nuzzled at him one last time before fully stepping back.

“I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah,” he watched as she disappeared through the door leading to the stairwell, working hard to swallow down the giddiness that made him feel as if he were nineteen again; just a gangly school boy with a crush on his pretty lab partner.

How lucky he was that lab partner had turned out to be just as–or quite possibly even more–insane than he was.

∗ ∗ ∗ 

"I figured it out,” he said, brushing his lips and his nose along the shape of Vanessa’s shoulder. 

“Mm. Figured out what?” she asked, tilting her head to give him better access to her pale white, freckles skin.

“How to deal with Arkham,” he said, pressing a kiss to the spot between her shoulder and her neck that he knew made her toes curl. Vanessa looked at him with dark, lazy eyes, pupils blown wide.

“How? “ she asked, voice barely a husky whisper. Rolling them until he was seated firmly on top of her, he braced his hands on either side of her head.

“Let me tell you.”

∗ ∗ ∗ 

Jeremiah looked the huge, glittering tree up and down, nodding to himself, swirling the amber liquid in his drink around and around, ice clinking against the edges of the glass before he raised it to his lips and took a deep swallow. 

He had never been a particularly big fan of holiday parties, least of all those for work, but it was a good opportunity to pump investors and charitable organizations for a little extra money, and that wasn’t an opportunity he was going to turn down.

Putting the thing together had been more stressful than usual this year. He hadn’t fully realized just how much Sinner had done around the asylum to make his life easier until she was gone, and all of those extra burdens fell onto him. He would need to find a new second in command. Before he lost his damn mind. 

He’d taken into consideration just promoting one of the current doctors, but, well…

Carver was too young and inexperienced still, Arnell was too soft on the inmates, and none of the other doctors seemed interested in taking on more responsibilities.

Crane or Sullivan would have been ideal choices, but they were both so young…and there was something about them that caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand up. It was no secret that Crane wanted Jeremaih’s position at the head of the asylum, and he often caught him staring at him with those ambitious, unblinking cold eyes. Not to mention the way that some of the inmates behaved around them. Like they were scared stiff.

No, no. Either of those two would get close to ruling Arkham Asylum over his dead body.

He had interviews set up already with two new young doctors anyway. Perhaps either of them would be ideal for Sinner’s replacement.

Taking another deep drink of his whiskey, he looked out over the crowd of people in nice suits and dresses, sipping drinks and munching on food from trays carried by waiters. There was an ample amount of people crowded around the bar. Good. The more alcohol donors drank, the more money they were likely to spend.

Ambling back over to the bar for both conversation and a refill, Jeremiah smiled and nodded to the people he passed politely. A few of the people he brushed past seemed to jump out of their skin in response to his unexpected touch. And several people at the bar seemed to be displaying anxious symptoms: darting eyes and fiddling fingers, jumping at every little thing. Hm. Strange. 

“Hello, Dr. Arkham.”

Oh, crap.

Why did he hire them, again? Oh, right, because who in their right mind would have passed on not one, but two prodigies wanting to work for them?

Didn’t mean that he had to like them, though.

“Dr. Crane,” he nodded. “Dr. Sullivan,” he fought hard to keep his eyes respectfully focused on her face. Not an easy feat, considering the very low cut, close fitting black dress she was wearing. She tilted her head in acknowledgement, eyes looking rather bored as she clung to Crane’s arm.

Jeremiah had never liked it; that they were in a relationship. It was unprofessional, unorthodox.

He did not approve.

They moved closer, to stand beside him at the bar, and he almost took a step back at how strong both Crane’s cologne and Sullivan’s perfume were. Jesus, had they bathed in the stuff before coming here? Ugh.

“How are you, sir?” Crane asked.

“Fine. Are you two doing anything interesting for Christmas? Visiting family?”

The pair shared a look, both of their lips twitching upwards. “No. No family,” they shifted a little closer, and the sickly sweet scent of their combined perfumes seemed to invade his space almost violently. Already he could feel a headache beginning to develop from the overpowering scent, nose tickling with a building sneeze.

“Ah,” he wasn’t sure if Crane meant that they weren’t seeing family this year, or if they didn’t have any family. Crane murmured an order to the bartender, glancing at Vanessa.

“You want anything?”

“No. And if you have any more, I’m driving tonight.”

“You most certainly are not.”

“It’s illegal to drink and drive, Jonathan,” she was fumbling with her handbag.

“So is driving without a license, Nes.”

“Pfft,” she blew out her dark red painted lips in a raspberry, pulling from her bag with a slight flourish a bottle of perfume. Oh, no. No. She could not possibly be thinking of applying more of the stuff. Angling the perfume bottle towards her neck, she pumped the spray once, and–

Jeremiah choked, then coughed as a burst of the perfume sprayed directly into his face. But it didn’t smell like any perfume that he’d smelled before. There was a deep, plainly chemical scent to the concoction, and something even worse beneath it. Something rotten and terrible. He gasped, looking up at his two employees, stunned.

“Oh, Dr. Arkham, I am so sorry,” Sullivan was saying.

“Really, Nes, you should check to make sure which way you’re aiming that thing before you spray it,” Crane said, even as he started to pull her away. “We’ll leave you to your evening, sir. Lovely as always to see you,” he and Sullivan began to melt into the crowd, but not before Jeremiah could have sworn their faces began to change, twisting and molding into something monstrous. His palms were sweaty, fingers beginning to tremble. His head spun. All around him, the faces of the people were beginning to change, the room spinning and altering. His chest hurt, heart pounding far too fast or hard to be considered healthy.

“Sir, are you alright?” someone caught at his arm, and when he looked up and into their face, he screamed.

∗ ∗ ∗ 

Jim watched as they loaded Jeremiah Arkham into the ambulance, hands on his hips, frowning.

Not everyday that an old man had a nervous breakdown and then collapsed in front of his entire staff and donors at a holiday party.

“I don’t suppose that you noticed anything strange tonight?” he asked one of the guests. She shook her head.

“No, nothing strange, officer. Though…” she trailed off, biting her lip.

“Yes?”

“I don’t know…it’s probably nothing. But I’ve just been feeling anxious for most of the party. Jittery. It’s strange. Normally these types of functions don’t bother me,” she shook her head. Jim nodded and ushered her along to speak to some of the other guests. And while no one had seen anything out of the ordinary, several more reported feelings of anxiousness or unease that they couldn’t explain. He approached a couple standing a little ways away from the rest of the crowd. A slender man with glasses and dark hair, wrapping his suit jacket around the shoulders of a short, freckled woman with black hair piled atop her head in a bun. When she looked up at him, he could see that she’d been crying, her makeup running down her fair cheeks in black smears.

“Hello…”

“I’m Dr. Jonathan Crane,” the man said, he nodded to his companion. “This is Dr. Vanessa Sullivan.”

“Hello, Dr. Crane, Dr. Sullivan, I just have to ask you a couple of questions. Procedure, you see…”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Crane said, though he kept a firm arm around Sullivan. Their answers weren’t all that different from any of the others, though towards the end, Sullivan started crying again.

“Oh, poor, poor Dr. Arkham. Is he going to be okay? Did they say?”

“Um, they’re not…the paramedics aren’t sure…”

“The asylum just won’t be the same without him,” she shook her head, looking down. Crane’s face was grave. Jim looked them over. They were both very young. Perhaps Arkham had been some kind of mentor to them. They certainly must work closely with him at the asylum.

“Why don’t you both head on home,” he suggested. Sullivan raised a hand to her face, trying to wipe away her tears while Crane nodded.

“You’ll keep us at the asylum all informed?”

“Of course.”

It was only after they’d gone that he realized that a sudden wave of unexplained anxiousness had settled unshakably in his chest.  

∗ ∗ ∗ 

They scrubbed furiously at their skin in the shower, constantly jostling and bumping each other in the cramped space of the shower.

“Ugh, that stuff stank,” Vanessa complained, rubbing a hand up and down her neck where they’d applied the perfume.

“At least we know that the antidote works properly,” Jonathan said, dipping his head back into the stream of hot water.

“Mm. Shame that it only lasts for a limited time.”

He rested his hands on her waist, pulling her close. She laughed as she knocked into his chest, arms raising up to curl against the wet strands of hair at the base of his neck.

“We aren’t done yet,” she reminded him.

“Almost, though.”

“Mm, yes,” she sighed as his hands splayed out over her back. “Almost.”

∗ ∗ ∗ 

“Can you hear me, Dr. Arkham?”

He groaned. Even just cracking one eye open to see who had decided to disturb him hurt, his brows creasing with the pain that shot through his head. 

Crane loomed over him. How did he get in here? 

“I don’t want you to worry about a thing, Dr. Arkham,” Crane said. He set something heavy down on the edge of Jeremiah’s hospital bed. “The asylum will be well taken care of. I promise,” there was a snapping sound, as Crane continued to fumble with something. Jeremiah attempted to muster up the strength to shout, or at least spit at him, but he couldn’t even find it in him to move. Crane had something in his hand, something brown. It looked like a bag. He flashed Jeremiah a sadistic grin. “We’ll take good care of you too, sir. You have my word,” he leaned in close. “Which of us would you rather have? Hm? Me or Vanessa?” when Jeremiah didn’t answer, Crane tilted his head. “I think that I’ll give you to Vanessa. As a thank you present for all of the help she’s been lately.”

A throb of dread bloomed in Jeremiah’s chest, but when he tried to sit up, the rest of him wouldn’t cooperate. No, no, no, no–

“I have to give you a more concentrated dose, you see? The one we were able to fit into the perfume bottle was really just a taster. Just enough to induce a cardiac episode. Nothing unrecoverable from. But now, I need something a little more…permanent.”

He glanced at the door. The nurse. The night nurse who was making rounds. Where was she–

“Vanessa is watching the door, sir. No one is coming to save you.”

“Now, do me a favor, and breathe deeply, will you?” Crane pulled the bag over his head, and pressed a button on the thing he’d set on Jeremiah’s bed, and a burst of smoke sprayed into his face. His chest screamed with every bursting cough, and the thing hovering over him was no longer his employee, but a monster made of burlap and straw, grinning down at him in gleeful joy as he began to scream.

∗ ∗ ∗ 

“Congratulations, new chief administrator,” Vanessa said, clinking her wine glass with his before taking a sip of the deep red liquid. Jonathan looked at her from the other side of the big desk, glancing around his new office in silent delight. The asylum was theirs; Jeremiah Arkham safely little more than a catatonic vegetable, admitted to his own asylum, just like his uncle before him, placed under Vanessa’s care. 

“I couldn’t have done it without your help,” he said. Vanessa scoffed, sliding from her chair, roaming around the desk and settling herself comfortably in his lap. It was late out; the sun long disappeared beneath the horizon.

“We do make a pretty good team,” she remarked, taking another sip from her wine before setting her glass down beside his on the desk, wrapping her arms around his neck. Jonathan rested his cheek against hers, closing his eyes.

“It’s all ours, Nes.”

She smiled up at him, bright and wicked and loving, touching his cheek with the cool tips of her fingers.

“Yes, it is.”

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

Previous Part • Next Part

Masterlists: Main • Series

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x oc #the dark knight trilogy #vanessa sullivan #vanessa sullivan x jonathan crane #my ocs #my fanfiction #fanfiction #a tale of two monsters

[galaxyghostr]

warning: long story idea about 4th wall breaking and ‘narrative levels’

i thought up the idea of “what would happen if a character became aware they were in a story” and ran with it.

so theres a dude thats just like, the most average dude to exist. the kind of dude u could call jon mcjonface and it would fit.

this dude, kevin, is friends with a guy who has a total main character complex, because he genuinely is and he knows it (i call him MC for funsies). MCs life follows all of the stops, cool adventures, a cliche love interest, a 90s jock of a rival, all of it. MC occasionally jokes about it to kevin, who doesn’t think too much about it.

the first few chapters just follow kevin watching MCs hijinks from a 3rd person pov, adding context and commentary while it happens. occasionally cuts between kevin watching it happen and his normal people things.

the main problem starts when MC starts breaking the 4th wall. it starts off small with pointing out cliches, then goes on to pointing out plot holes, and eventually the media format. whenever MC does this around kevin, he gets super confused until he realizes the existence of the audience. i sorta imagined this as multiple panels of kevin staring at what would be the camera in increasing horror, the background turning blank.

after those panels, MC would pop up in the foreground playing those last panels off as a gag but some of the text would be cut off by the panel boarders.

the next page would be blank except for one sentence:

“what have you done to me?”

the next chapters would continue like the previous ones but with kevin’s commentary changing to be more sparse and desperate. lots of panels will swap between the base art style to more abstract and scribbled versions. any shot that includes his note book would have it be filled with scribbles of eyes and messy sentences

MC and every other character will go on with the story like nothing happened

the pages would devolve into blank pages interspersed with single sentences a la house of leaves.

eventually one page will have kevin facing away from the camera. then MC walking over and standing next to him.

kevin punches MC repeatedly, screaming “what have you done to me” every few panels. MCs face is unreadable.

another empty page, only this time with kevin crying, knelt over MC

kevin looks up, then at the audience. one more blank page.

“you watched me.”

“you watched me and did nothing.”

“what have you done to me?”

lmao i have no idea how to end this ill come back to this at some point

#story ideas #short story #<kinda #cosmic horror #madness #idk #lmao

[saellefanwork]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕋𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕋𝕚𝕞𝕖

Reminder: This fic is rated Mature (adults only) for canon-typical violence and eventual suggestive or explicit sexual content

Return to Chapters List

Chapter 4: The Darkest Night

One day, after one of their usual training sessions, Kyojuro is overcome by an unsettling sense of foreboding as he watches Kanoko walk away…

Author Note: Chapter 3/5 of the Flashback Arc. Here comes your daily dose of angst and drama.

The winter of your fifteenth year was drawing to an end, and you had been training with Kyojuro in the meadow for hours. Just like in your previous fights, you had failed to land a single blow on him, and he, in his usual fashion, praised your efforts generously, encouraged you to persist giving your best and offered advice. Despite your dissatisfaction in your martial skills, you tried to gather all the maturity and humility you could muster to take his remarks into account and express your gratitude.

Watching you depart for home, Kyojuro was gripped by a sense of foreboding. His instincts had sharpened greatly since becoming a Demon Slayer, yet they could sometimes deceive him —there was a fine line between constant vigilence and paranoia. He dismissed his thoughts, attributing his unease to mission fatigue, and hurried home to join his younger brother in preparing dinner. Despite his tender age, Senjuro had a knack for housework; he was extremely skilled in cooking and maintaining the household. He had taken over the kitchen duties and Kyojuro had gradually been relegated to the role of cooking assistant. Unlike his younger sibling, Kyojuro's attempts to cook for his family had yielded unappetizing results, while Senjuro effortlessly crafted delicious meals after a few attempts.

Even after the meal was completed, Kyojuro's restlessness lingered. He contemplated visiting you to alleviate his conscience when suddenly his crow appeared, squawking urgently.

"Caw! There's a demon nearby! To the north of the meadow!"

Kyojuro's insides twisted. That direction led straight to your home. The demon was probably not overpowering, as his father would have been summoned instead if that was the case. But it still posed a deadly threat to humans.

Without hesitation, the Demon Slayer grasped his sword and dashed toward the indicated direction. His fears were realized as it brought him to the secluded residence on the outskirts of Ebara-gun, where your family had established generations ago.

Upon arrival, an eerie silence enveloped the place, and a menacing aura hung in the air. Even without heightened senses, Kyojuro detected the scent of blood. A familiar sensation made his hair stand on end, screaming that a demon lurked nearby. Prepared to draw his sword at any moment, Kyojuro meticulously searched each room of the ancient building. There were signs of struggle, claw marks on wooden panels, and blood... so much blood, splattered everywhere. However, there was still no trace of you or your family.

Opening the last shoji, he came face to face with a lifeless, shredded body. For a moment, his vision blurred and panic surged, making him believe it was your wrecked corpse. But it wasn't; it was your grandfather's, his eyes bulging and drained of blood.

"Kanoko!" he called out, his heart pounding with dread. "Where are you?"

Only silence answered him. However, by straining his ears (his hearing had never fully returned to him after his first mission), he could discern the clashing of a sword. Someone was engaged in a fight outside the house, near the edge of the forest. Exiting the premises, ready to draw his sword, he hurried toward the source of the steel's resounding symphony.

Upon reaching the scene, the sight that unfolded before him constricted his chest, despite his desensitization to various horrors over the past two years. You were drenched in blood, numerous lacerations marring your once fair skin. Trembling, you brandished a Nichirin sword, its silver and lapis blade glimmering under the moonlight. Standing before you was a contorted demon, draped in a torn and blood-soaked kimono. Recognizing the grotesque figure twisted by demonization, Kyojuro's face turned pale. It was your grandmother.

"Grandma! Stop, it's me, Kanoko!" you pleaded, parrying her claw strikes.

Kyojuro's heart tightened. Despite its horrendous appearance, the demon wasn't particularly strong; you could easily overpower her, and yet you remained on the defensive, gasping for breath, refusing to attack the woman who had diligently raised and trained you. But it was too late for her, the Demon Slayer knew.

As a particularly fast attack threatened your vulnerable throat, he leaped before you with a blazing jump and swiftly decapitated Muzan's spawn in one fluid motion.

Fire Breathing, First Form: Unknowing Fire!

The scream that escaped you upon witnessing your grandmother's headless body sent a chilling shiver down your friend's spine, sinking his heart into the pit of his stomach. You struggled against him with the strength of a condemned soul as he restrained you from approaching the disintegrating corpse. Even without their heads, demons could still claim victims as long as they were not completely obliterated. He also hoped to shield you from the horrifying sight of your grandmother's crumbling body. Nevertheless, you managed to grasp her kimono sleeve, despair painted all over your features.

"No!! Grandma! Please, don't go...!"

The body disintegrated into dust inexorably, and there was nothing you could do to halt it. The demon fought in vain against the inevitable, writhing in agony before gradually succumbing to stillness. As the final ashes scattered in the air, the faint echo of your grandma's voice resonated one last time.

"Forgive me, Kanoko..."

"Grandma...!"

You curled up, clutching the now-empty garment, shaken by sobs. Kyojuro held you tightly, but you seemed oblivious to his presence, consumed by grief. Your body rested limply in his arms, resembling a lifeless doll.

"Kanoko... I'm here. You are not alone," he whispered repeatedly. It seemed he could speak softly when necessary. "Look at me, Kanoko," he pleaded, almost begging. "Come back to me."

You didn't respond, still huddled and sobbing uncontrollably. He tenderly cupped your face and gently compelled you to meet his gaze. Blurred by tears, your eyes struggled to connect with the two glowing embers of your friend.

"The cleanup team will arrive soon. You are severely injured, so I'm going to take you to the Butterfly Estate, alright?"

Summoning an indescribable effort, you managed to nod slightly. With utmost care, yet a determined resolve, Kyojuro helped you stand and lifted you in his arms before darting away at full speed. Nestled against his neck, you continued to sob incessantly, your hands gripping the lapel of his gakuran jacket until your knuckles turned white. Somewhere during the journey, your consciousness surrendered to the heartache and blood loss, and merciful darkness enveloped you as you blacked out.

What would a character from the Demon Slayer universe be without their family members already dead, brutally slain by demons, or changed into one... right? Well, there are a few exceptions, but you get the idea, don't you? ;D

I trade blood and tears for likes, reposts and comments, thank you very much <3

Next Chapter: "I swear to the kami!"

#rengoku x reader #rengoku x oc #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer oc #reader insert #rengoku kyojuro #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic

[translationandbetrayals]

My relationship with Junji Ito's work.

I'll be honest with ya'. I haven't read that many manga books. But what I have read the most I think must be Junji Ito stories. And well, Berserk, but not in its entirety. Anyway, I just like horror in general, and Ito's imagination is one of a kind in that manner. What I love the most about him is that he's actually very sweet and mannered. There even are memes about him being so gentle and creating such horrific stories, next to legendary Hayao Miyazaki, who in real life is someone very stressful, and who actually doesn't deal that well with others (and his creations are some of the sweetest anime out there).

In the summer of 2019 (I think), I went with some friends to Quilimarí, a little town next to Pichidangui, a little north from me, where we stayed at some friend's granny's house. We were just 4 guys. There, something really funny happened: we were posing for a pic next to a cliff, in the border of an abandoned bridge (we were young), and my cellphone happened to fall off the cliff, taking its last photo downhills, and being destroyed by the impact. Then, I was left uncommunicated from the rest of the world for a while...

All I had was my ethernet-less tablet, where I had downloaded a bunch of mangas (which to these days I have not still read), some of which were Junji Ito's "Tomie" series. They are not my favorite from the author, but the experience of being in such an isolated place (literally in the middle of the desert, next to the sea), with some friends at an old house, reaading these chapters, was actually beatiful.

"Tomie" revolves around a girl who is capable of manipulating men around her thanks to her beauty (mostly her long, black fringed hair, her iconic mole in her cheek and her white skin), which she uses for destroying them, and/or feeding her ego. I remember loving a lot his artwork, which represent dark, roaming ideas depicted through the black and white pages with an actual brilliance from the mangaka.

I don't remember if it was after or before that, but I began to buy some manga books with his short horror stories, some of which have been translated (pun intended) to anime media, at Netflix. I remember having read some of this stories and actually having a lot of fun. Some of them had such an interesting artwork, like the classical snail-tongue girl one, or the one with the girl trapped in a family full of people with really greasy skin...

In general, the stories I have liked the most have female protagonists in them, which can say a lot about the artist and myself I think, though in general feminity is vastly represented in horror media (there even are some video essays I've watched about this in youtube). There was this exception, where the protagonist was a boy who had to watch his town being emprisoned by some kind of mist, from wich a really sexy looking guy came from it, and called the girls from the town and then devoured them, I think (don't remember that well, just how hot that guy was jjj).

So, as you can see, in Junji Ito stories you can see a lot about the anxieties of Japan's young people, focusing on small towns and their dark beliefs, joined with the sexual repression which creates literal monsters at the fog...

And THEN, you have the most sweet and funniest of them all: a short story about Junji Ito's struggle to cohabite his home with his two cats and his girlfriend. It has one of the most iconic panels of his artwork (the one with the cat biting his fingers and him screaming). I gave this one to a close friend of mine for her birthday (she loves cat as much as I do jj).

I was beginning to read the classical, all-iconic "Uzumaki", a tale about a town cursed by the spiral... Everything in it becomes a spiral, even people. It has this panel with the girl and the eye being absorbed by a hole in her head. It's dark, heavy, and brutal. I've had this book for years now, but I hadn't opened and read it. Tonight would be one hell of a night to do it. But I gotta finish my last projects for the semester. When it ends, I know I'll finally finish it.

By Jorge Leiva

pd: They'll finally make an anime about Uzumaki !! So cool !!!

#Anime #Manga #personalstory #essay #submission

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

chapter 5

taglist: @illiana-mystery, @iobsessoverfictionalmen

AN: this started getting longer than I wanted so the next part will introduce Malcolm McDowell properly and be the actual con. Warnings: comic con, talk of horror movies, swearing, confusion on feelings, Loki's scars

Rushing around, I double checked my backpack and nearly ran into Loki as I ran back into my room for my portable charger.

"Sorry!" I yelled and shoved it into a pocket in my bag. Loki stood in my living room watching me with a smile on his face. "Ok. I think that's everything. Ready?" He nodded and opened the door. "Oh shit! Wait a sec. I need the passes." I ran into my kitchen and grabbed them from where they hung on the fridge handle.

"Got them?" Loki asked when I reappeared in front of him. Nodding, I handed him one and threw the other around my neck.

“Alright. Let's go." Loki stifled a yawn as we made our way to my car. "So first off, something you need to know about Malcolm. He is a little protective of me. Since day one. Gods knows how many years ago now. He will question you and he will try to intimidate you." I looked over at Loki as I drove us to the convention center. "Especially if you try to hold my hand." Loki blushed and looked out the window at the mention of our awkward stage. We weren't dating per se but we also had moved past just being friends at this point as well. “Malcolm can and will kiss my cheek. Don’t question it. He will get pissy with people especially if they treat me like shit. I have candy in my bag for him. Don’t touch it unless I ask you to get it. Uhm…” I trailed off as I pulled up to the parking garage.

“He sounds delightful. Remind me why we’re doing this?” Loki grimaced. I chuckled and smiled over at him.

“Because it’s Malcolm McDowell. The man was my first… client technically. There’s a lot of history with us and he looked out for me. I owe him a bit. Plus it’s easy money.” I loved over at him as I grabbed my ticket from the kiosk and laughed softly. “Well for me it is. I have no clue what he’s having you do.” Loki rolled his eyes and I laughed as I pulled into a spot. Shutting off the car, I grabbed lokis hand. “Listen just get through today and you don’t have to come back tomorrow. I’m going to do the whole weekend. Malcolm is like my con father. And he’s the best adult figure I have in my life. So I’m going to spend as much time with him as I can.”

“I understand.” Loki murmured. I nodded and got out of the car. He trailed behind me as I got us through security and over to check in.

“Hi Karla.” I greeted the older lady sitting at the checkin table. “How you been?” She stood up and hugged me. I blushed a little as she pulled away only to brush some hair out of my face.

“Good. You?” I nodded and smiled at her. “Good. Malcolm ask you to work?” I nodded again and showed her the text.

“He got my friend a job too.” I pointed over my shoulder at Loki. “He here yet?” Karla checked us in and handed me the packet with Malcolm’s itinerary.

“Still up in his room as far as I know. Agent was in the hall earlier but I don’t think he’s sticking around for the whole weekend.” I nodded and flipped through. “He’s got a panel today at three and a photo op at five.” I nodded and grabbed a pen off the desk to mark what I was being told. “There’s a photo op at noon tomorrow and one at ten Sunday.”

“Sounds good.” I nodded before flipping the file shit. “We’re gonna go set up. If you see him or the agent, let them know we’re walking around.” I gave her one last hug before entering the hall. Smiling to myself, I started to walk around the room.

“So where’s the table?” Loki asked as we passed another table that wasn’t ours.

“That’s what I’m looking for.” I explained. “This also lets me see who is where. Guests will ask where someone is and it’s best to help them out.” Loki nodded next to me. “Basically being nice and doing something you would want done for you if you were paying to be here. Some handlers aren’t that way and it makes guests think we all are rude. I try to be the exception.” I passed another table and tapped it. “Here we are.” I walked behind the table and dropped my bag. Flipping the table skirt down, I grabbed the banner and unfolded it. Loki watched as I tilted a chair back to find the tape. “Alright tall person. I need you for this.” I handed him the banner and showed him where to hold it. “I’m gonna grab the chair and tape it. Just hold it up and make sure it’s level.” Loki nodded and held the banner up. As I put the last bit of tape on, I jumped off the chair and stepped back.

“Looks good.” Loki mused. I nodded in agreement. “Now what?” Ducking down behind the table, I pulled out a black file folder. Smiling, I held it up. Loki stared at it in confusion.

"This has a bunch of 8 by 10 pictures that guests can pick for Malcolm to sign. We lay out the ones that tend to be incredibly popular." I shrugged as I opened it up. "I tend to do a lot of Clockwork Orange and Halloween. His agent isn't here to tell me otherwise so I just do it. Tomorrow morning there will be more from when his agent comes down to check on the table. If he comes." Thumbing through the pictures, I grabbed sets of ten and started laying them out.

"What's in this bag under here?" Loki asked as he pulled it out. I looked up and nodded when he went to open it. "DVDs? Scripts?" I nodded again and grabbed the bag of markers from the back of the file folder.

"Yeah. He sells copies of Clockwork Orange and whatnot as well. Scripts to that and a couple other movies. They're a big hit." I shrugged as Loki started to put them out. I tested each marker and threw out the ones that didn't work. Reaching into my bag, I pulled out replacements. Finally finishing my end of the table, I looked over at Loki who was contemplating what else to pull out of the bag. Grabbing the tape, I picked up the sign with Malcolm's prices. I tapped it to the wall at the end of the table. Grabbing a sheet of paper out of my bag, I copied everything on the sheet before taping it over at the head of the table. Loki tossed the bag back under the table and I stepped back with my hands on my hips.

“That all?” I nodded and turned around to start walking around the con. “Where are you going? Don’t we have to wait for Malcolm?”

“Nope. Malcolm will either call or text me when he’s on his way down. Until then, we get to walk the floor.” I smiled over my shoulder at him as we started walking. “See what they’re selling and get prices. Plus it helps to see where everyone else is.” Loki fell into step next to me and I reached over to hold his hand. Loki blushed as he squeezed my hand and tugged me closer. “Is there anyone here you would want to meet?” I asked as I kept an eye on the tables lining the walls of the con. Loki shrugged.

“I haven’t kept up with modern movies. I prefer the older ones.” Loki mused as he watched me. I laughed.

“Loki, most of these actors are in the older movies.” I looked over at him and smiled. “Look. This table will be for Doug Bradley. The one next to him is Kane hodder. Next to Malcolm is Heather langenkamp. It’s mainly people in horror movies from the 80s and 90s.” Loki laughed awkwardly and scratched the back of his head.

“Then I must admit I didn’t watch many of the horror movies.” I smiled at him again.

“I didn’t either. Until I was a teen.” I shrugged and continued walking. “Depression and anxiety does something to you. Grief too.” My face turned stoney as I turned down an aisle. It was silent for a while as I looked at the booths. I smiled and said hello to some of the vendors that I recognized.

“I’m sorry.” Loki said as we headed back towards Malcolm’s table. I looked over at him and frowned.

“For what?” I asked. Loki smiled sadly at me.

“For whatever it was that was you went through that horror movies no longer scared you.” I took a deep breath and nodded.

“Thank you. But you don’t have to apologize.” I squeezed his hand and let go when I saw Malcolm come into the hall. “Besides, I’m fine now.” Smiling at Loki I nodded towards the table before running towards it. “Malcolm!” I called as I ran into him and hugged him. Malcolm hugged me back tightly.

“(Y/N)! How have you been my dear?” He asked as he pulled away to look at me.

“Never better.” I smiled at him. Shaking his head, Malcolm kissed my cheek and hugged me again. “It’s so good to see you.” I sighed out. Malcolm nodded against my shoulder. Pulling away completely, I turned towards Loki. “Malcolm, this is Loki. He’s my friend.” Loki put on a fake smile and held his hand out for Malcolm to shake. Malcolm looked from me to Loki before shaking his hand.

“(Y/N) has told me about you.” Malcolm said with a sly smile. “We have a bit to talk about.” I looked between the two and swallowed thickly.

#Loki #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki imagine #loki x reader #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #cast out #cast out series