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n3on-graveston3s-calling · 10 months

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The Other Side of Paradise

[ a KNY lore building fanfiction ]

Rating: M Word Count: 4,896 Warnings: Canon-typical violence, Blood and Gore, Canonical Character Death, Murder, Attempted Murder, Domestic Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence (It'll make sense at the end I promise) Characters: Nakime (Biwa Demon), Nakime's Husband, Muzan Kibutsuji, Kokushibou, Gyuutarou, Daki Author's Notes: I… Genuinely don't have an explanation for this other than I think Nakime is a super interesting character. I mean, she's canonically stated to be one of Muzan's FAVORITES. Also, we love a girlboss who girlbosses too close to the sun. Anyways, the murder scene isn't all that graphic, but just in case please know that she DOES kill her husband. She also slaps him. Unhappy marriage. Uh anyways, enjoy!

“I wish you could see the wicked truth. Caught up in a rush, it's killing you! Screaming at the sun you blow into.” ────────── The boy was in control. Her castle was not answering to her despite the way she screamed within her mind for it to respond. HE was controlling her masterpiece! Panic clung to her form yet she remained still, frozen by his touch, by the damned seal placed upon her head, no doubt created by the Ubuyashiki family for this exact scenario. All around her, Demon Slayers invaded her sacred Infinity Castle. One hundred and thirteen years of craftwork, of being at Lord Muzan’s side, crumbling to dust beneath her very fingers. Lord Muzan, Nakime cried within her mind, I’m so sorry I’ve failed you. I’m so sorry that I’m not able to fight back. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so- ────────── The sound of birds chirping roused her from her slumber. Blinking in the early morning light, Emiko studied the ceiling over her bed. To her right was her husband, Kazuya. When he’d gotten in, she wasn’t sure. Sometime in the night long after she’d retired, most likely. Grimacing, she sat up to stretch. He wouldn’t be up for some few hours yet, giving her plenty of time to get her morning chores out of the way. Breakfast came first, though.

She’d need to tend to her biwa before the performance tonight. This one would be a make or break sort of deal, a stage before a large enough crowd meant money. Money meant saving to get out of the shithole they called home, away from the Entertainment District, away from the tea houses. That was her goal- and to get away from Kazuya, even if the thought made her heart twinge in sadness. It hadn’t always been that way, really. He had been a good man when they met; she was barely sixteen, he was seventeen. They’d agreed to marry to get both of them out of the situation they were in with their families.

The gambling started shortly after their marriage had been official. And it truly wasn’t bad for the first year! He hadn’t squandered their savings immediately; just a few coins here and there. But as the days wore on, as she struggled for work within the tea houses and her skills as a musician, he began to grow… Bored. Tired, perhaps; she wasn’t sure, really. Any time she attempted to broach the subject, he would shut her down almost immediately.

Then came the drinking.

Seven years of marriage. That’s how long she’s suffered with his addiction, how long she had spent smelling alcohol and watching as her savings dwindled down to nothing. Her gaze drifted as she washed the egg she’d taken from their lone chicken. One egg was better than nothing. She had salted pork left that she could fry for herself; egg and salted, fatty bacon. That would do her over until she was able to eat after the performance! Perfect, perfect, perfect. Humming to herself as she ate, her mind drifted to the argument they’d had before he left the night before.

He’d threatened to take her biwa and sell it. Her biwa, the one thing she treasured more than life itself. She’d bought it with her own hard-earned money when she was fourteen. She’d taken such careful care of it; waxing, oiling, tuning, keeping it tucked away in its case. And Kazuya knew how much she treasured it, but he still had the gall to ask- no, not even ask, but demand she give it to him to pay off some of his gambling debts!

“You want me to what?” Emiko asked, spoon paused halfway to her mouth, miso broth shaking subtly with the tremor in her hand. “I’m sorry, you want me to sell my biwa?”

“No.” Kazuya shook his head; he was sober, for once. But the manic look in his eyes was still there. “I want you to give me your biwa so I can sell it and get some money to pay off my debts.”

“Are you insane? No!” Emiko set her spoon down into her bowl, shaking her head quickly. “I will do NO such thing!”

“Why not?”

“Because that biwa is our only source of income!” Gesturing around herself at the shack they called home, an angered laugh escaped her. “Look at where we live, Kazuya! I’m trying to save us from this!”

“Could always join an Okiya down in the Entertainment District.”

The smack was deafeningly loud in the shack. Emiko stood, hand still hovering where she had hit Kazuya’s cheek. His head had snapped to the side, his eyes wide in surprise at the pain that now radiated from his face. Emiko’s breaths came in harsh pants as she pulled her arm back, grabbing his bowl of half-finished broth, and her own. “You want me to whore myself out? Ha! Go. Get OUT. Go gamble and drink! I don’t care! But LEAVE this house this INSTANT!” Her voice had ticked up in pitch, nearly a shrill shriek.

That had been the argument last night. She’d never laid her hand on her husband until then, but his idea… It made her blood boil. She couldn’t just join an Okiya! Was he insane? Probably, now that she thought about it; all the alcohol pickling his brain. Morning chores were done; Kazuya was still asleep. That’s fine, perfectly fine. She spent the next hour sitting outside of the shack, tuning and oiling her biwa, careful of the silk strings. She returned inside; the sun was beginning to go down. She needed to get ready if she wanted to be there on time. The performance tonight… Oh, her nerves were already spiking. She’d taken such care to clean her kimono, to find new fabric for her obi.

Except… Where was her kimono? Panic began to set in as she pulled every item in her closet out. Where, where, where?! “Kazuya!” She called to her husband, prompting him to enter back into their bedroom.

“What is it?” He asked, arms crossed over his chest. His cheek was bruised from her slap; he was angry, still- no, enraged. He was just trying to pay off his debts!

“Where’s my kimono?” She sat back, looking at the pile of her and his clothing. She had put it in their closet, right? Right. Back into the garment back to keep dust off of it, to keep the silk looking vibrant, to keep moths away from it.

“Which one?”

She paused; his tone wasn’t right. He took that tone when he was nervous. “The kimono I use for my performances. I have to get ready, I should already be dressed.” Emiko watched as his gaze flickered to the pile of clothes, to her, to the door. “... Kazuya, did you do something with it?” Her hands felt like ice in the moment as she rose. Heart hammering in her chest, she approached her husband, watching as he backed up until his back was against the wall. “Kazuya?”

“I needed the money!” He finally exclaimed, squealing the words out like a startled pig. “I needed the money and you wouldn’t let me sell your biwa and your kimono went for even more!”

“You sold my kimono.”

“I needed the fucking money!”

“The kimono I use for every performance?”

“You can wear another one!”

Something in her snapped at that moment. She wasn’t sure what triggered it; the high whine of his voice, the way he was curling in on himself like a child, the disappointment and rage of knowing that nothing she had was sacred. The first punch was thrown wide, hitting the side of his head, pulling out a pained yelp from him as he clutched his now-bleeding ear.

“Emiko, please!”

“YOU KNOW I DON’T OWN ANOTHER KIMONO!” Something, she needed something. Her hands grasped blindly, finding the handle of the hammer. She raised it- and swung. It connected with his jaw, creaking an ugly cracking sound, his blood splattering against the wall. He cried out, hands flying up to protect his face as he collapsed onto the dirt floor. “YOU KNOW I NEED TO USE THAT KIMONO FOR THE PERFORMANCES! YOU SELFISH MAN! YOU WEAK MINDED PIG! CAN I HAVE NOTHING IN THIS LIFE THAT IS MINE?! CAN I HAVE NOTHING?! WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS?! I WANT TO KNOW, KAZUYA, WHAT DID I DO?!” She screamed in a blind rage, wailing over and over on her husband’s body.

He wasn’t moving.

She dropped the hammer, hands shaking as the adrenaline circulated throughout her body. Blood was pooling on the dirt, saturating it. Brain matter had spilled out of his crushed skull. Rather than feel some sort of guilt… She felt lighter. Turning away, she cleaned her hands on the bottom of his yukata. She needed to go, to get to the stage. A new yukata- not new, old, dirty, nothing at all suitable for a biwa player of her caliber. She ran from the house, case in hand- arriving with five minutes to spare. She was a mess; mousy brown locks spilling free from the careful updo she had done. She was pale, shaking. Blood on her hands. Blood on her hands.

Kazuya’s blood. Her husband. She’d killed her husband. Oh, God, she’d killed her husband!

Climbing onto the stage, she could hear the disgruntled comments about her ratty appearance. She couldn’t help it, she wanted to cry out. She had no other choice but to look like this! It wasn’t her fault! Her husband! It was his fault!

No matter. The lights dimmed. She strummed the first chord, followed by the second. The song began, what was once a simple piece of mourning had become a piece of tragedy. The tension from her shaking hands had created a warble within the notes, giving tension to the song. The audience was enraptured by her performance; women dotting at their eyes from the pain felt within the notes. By the end, the applause she was gifted with was loud- louder than anything she’d heard before.

The performance of a lifetime; she was approached after by a man, who wanted to give her the main stage every weekend.

And that was how it began.

Kazuya’s death was rumored to have been done by one of the debt collectors; he’d been so deep in debt and kept digging deeper with no way to pay anything back. Emiko played the role of mourning wife well, moving out of the shack due to being “unable to continue living in such an awful place”. With the money she’d earned from her performance, she was able to rent a new house- an actual house, with tatami floors and shoji doors that closed and a front door with a lock.

The next performance went well, albeit not as good as the one before. The edge, the thrill, the adrenaline and anxiety that had followed after she’d murdered Kazuya- that was what made her performance better. Blood soaked hands playing pristine silken strings.

The pattern began; women and men alike who had come to her shows alone. She’d offer them a chance of a pre-show experience, a glimpse into the life, and they fell for it time and time again. It helped that she was able to clean up, to present herself in a much more appropriate fashion. Silken kimonos with intricate patterns, makeup akin to that of a Geisha, she was a sight, a spectacle. Coupled with the skills of her playing, she had quickly grown in popularity.

Two years. That’s how long this went on for. Before each large performance, she would lure in her prey after observing them, tracking them down. The deaths never took place on the grounds, but in the city around them. Sometimes with a knife, sometimes a hammer. A few times- her bare hands wrapped about their throat, watching the life fade from their eyes as they struggled against her hold.

It all changed that fateful spring night.

It was the last show for the season; she’d be going on break for the next four weeks before the summer performances would begin. The crowd was large- larger than any other she’d played. There had been many choices for her that night to pick from as she mingled, but one man drew her attention. He had come alone and remained near the back of the theater, as if he didn’t wish to be seen. “Miss Emiko, could you explain-”

“I’m sorry, could you excuse me? I just remembered I need to replace my Bachi before my performance!” She lied with ease, slipping away from the conversation. The man had left through a side door that led to the tea rooms. She’d just entered the hall when the door to one of the private rooms used by larger groups for private shows had clicked shut.

Creeping forward, her fingers clasped the knife that had been tucked within the folds of her obi. Slipping into the room, she closed the door, locking it behind herself, and approached her victim with the grace of a cat stalking its prey.

He’d caught her hand when she went to stab him. He hadn’t even been looking in her direction when the attack was sprung, yet he was able to stop her with ease. This close, she’d realized her mistake: he was a demon. “I-” she began, only to hear… Laughter.

He was laughing at her.

“My, my,” he murmured, his voice a mere rumble in the silence of the room. “Aren’t you bold? I thought it was odd, the way you’d been watching me. I was expecting something a bit more risque,” taunting, he squeezed her wrist until she gasped, the knife falling from her grip to clatter upon the floor. “But instead, you find me, and you try to kill me. Quite impressive… If not stupid.”

“Please, don’t scream.” She whispered, brown gaze wide. Yet, she did not shake in fear, did not beg for her life as so many others did when in his presence.

Did she not know who he was? “Don’t scream?” Muzan questioned curiously, head tilting as his other hand came to cup her chin, tilting her head back. Her bangs fell away from her face as he studied her. No fear, not even the slightest scent. “You aren’t afraid of me, little moth?”

“No.” Her lips, painted a vibrant shade of red that reminded him of blood spilt upon snow, pulled into a frown. “If you wanted to kill me, you would have done so already. So you’re either going to play with me and make me suffer, or let me go.”

“You sound so sure of yourself.”

“You aren’t the first man I’ve dealt with.”

“... I want to offer you a choice,” releasing both chin and wrist, he watched as she took a half step back. “My name is Kibutsuji Muzan.”

“Muzan?” The name meant nothing to her, though the voice in her mind screamed that this man was dangerous- this demon was nothing to be trifled with. “What is your offer?”

“I could give you the life you want,” a gesture about himself; the scenery wavered. Oh, this was his power, she thought to herself. A large room, tatami mats and shoji doors. “No longer playing your biwa until your fingers bleed like they did during your last performance.”

“How did you know that?” Her gaze slipped to her hands, at the freshly healed wounds. Silk strings were sharp; could slice through flesh with ease. “I didn’t tell anyone-”

“I’ve been watching you for some time. You didn’t have to say anything. I smelled your blood the moment it happened. You wouldn’t need to do that any longer. Such a pretty thing like yourself- you’ve struggled with life, haven’t you?” He reached out with a tender touch, fingers brushing against her cheek before tucking her hair back behind her ear. “You would have the power you continue to seek. You could live comfortably with me, at my side.”

“At your side? That’s presumptuous.”

“I’m aware- but you, oh… I sense such strength, such intelligence. A flower as rare as you should be treasured-”

“A moth, now flower?” She reached up, grasping his wrist to hold his hand in place. A step closer, closing the distance between them. A trick she’d learned that could save her life. “Why should I say yes?”

“Eternal life and pleasure, or I kill you here, and now,” he leaned closer, lips brushing the shell of her ear as she stood still, “and I use your flesh as the main course of my dinner.”

Eternal life, eternal pleasure. To never have to work again, to never have to struggle… “Yes,” she sighed out, pulling her head back to meet his gaze. “Yes.”

“Good girl. I knew you would make the right decision,” nails pricked the skin of his palm, allowing for blood to well up to the surface. He reached out, grasping her jaw, forcing her mouth open. “Such a delight, to find rarities such as yourself.” He sighed, watching as his blood dripped into her mouth, onto her tongue.

The transformation was painful- she could never forget the feeling. Feeling her cells commit apoptosis rapidly, her body transforming itself to something no longer human. Her throat burned as if he had poured molten fire down it rather than blood; her heart raced hard enough within her chest, she thought it would burst. A scream of pain spilled forth as she doubled over, clutching her chest. A heart attack; this was what a heart attack must feel like! As her breath left her lungs as if she’d been punched, as her head felt as if it might burst, she collapsed to the floor. What she hadn’t known at the moment was the way the theater itself twisted.

The basis for what would become the Infinity Castle.

“Look at what you’ve created!” Muzan marveled, eyes wide as he turned in a slow circle. The room they had been in was now an open platform; above them, another room, the chairs and table on the floor, yet it was upside down. Rooms opened up before closing, pillars shooting up from the ground, down from the sky- or, what he assumed was the sky. He couldn’t see the stars.

She had created a pocket dimension, just like that.

“What-” Emiko gasped out, blinking hard. Her vision was clearer, somehow. “What happened?”

“You, dear. You happened.” Muzan crouched down, reaching out to cup her chin. Yes, the transformation happened without issue. She held no ranking within her… Eye. Singular. All seeing, he thought to himself. “You will learn how to control this power of yours. You’ve created yourself a new world in which… You are in control.”

“I did?” Looking around, she watched as the rooms settled. Oh. “This was the theater- oh, God, the people-”

“Are dead.”

“... I killed them.”

“You absorbed them into this… World of yours.”

“Oh.”

“Welcome, my dear Nakime, to the Kizuki.”

Nakime… That was her. That was her name. Such a pretty, musical sounding name. A smile curled her lips. Yes, she was Nakime, the biwa demon. The creator of worlds. ────────── There were six Upper Moons and six Lower Moons, making the Twelve Kizuki as a whole. The lower the number, the higher the rank. When she was brought in, she was given no number, no ranking. She was to be given the same respect, however, for the Kizuki now existed within her domain.

Her power was strange; certain notes changed the way the rooms were, changed the levels; others summoned Kizuki or sent them away to specific areas. It took quite some time to learn how it was all connected, many trial and errors.

The Kizuki were just as odd. Some were friendly, surprisingly so (Mukago, Lower Moon Four) was talkative when they were alone; Douma (Upper Moon Two) was talkative regardless of who was present. He was peculiar in his own way; preferences for eating women, specifically. Had she still been human, she would have made him a target. But she wasn’t human, and demons didn’t eat other demons (save for a few rare cases…) Akaza was Upper Moon Three; he was quiet, filled with a rage that laid just beneath the surface. He never raised his voice, however. A gentle spirit in regards to herself, which was rather surprising.

Kokushibō, she saw the most of. Upper Moon One; the strongest of all the Kizuki, and the oldest- aside from Muzan himself. He was more serious than the others. But he was kind, he spoke softly and listened when she spoke. Personally, he was her favorite. He preferred to remain within the Infinity Castle rather than roam the Waking World.

Lord Muzan was out and about often, attempting to find a cure for them all. He was a passionate leader, thoughtful and smart. His rage never extended to her, though that did not mean her own anger never bled through.

He sat in one of the many tea rooms, his gaze trained on the book before him when she entered. He didn’t look up as she approached, though his attention was drawn to her when the hammer she held thudded against the tatami mats. He hummed, setting his book aside. “Do you mean to kill me?”

“I could.”

“Do you truly think so?”

Nakime nodded, stepping forward. She reached out, her hand pressing against his shoulder, simply resting there as he watched her curiously. She shoved him back, and he went without a fight, falling back onto his elbows as she hovered over him, the hammer grasped once more by her free hand. “I could smash your head in.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Do you truly think so?” She mocked softly, even as he reached up to brush her hair back from her face. “You made me. Creations often kill their creators.”

“But you won’t. Because you know you couldn’t.” His hand cupped her cheek; she leaned into the touch with a defeated sigh, the hammer dropping once more. “You are one of my most unique creations. One of my most treasured. You realize this, don’t you, Nakime? You hold power to create worlds. Think of what you could do once I find a cure?” His words were murmured sweetly as she gripped the front of his yukata.

“... I apologize, Lord Muzan.”

“Sweet Nakime…” He sighed as she retreated, grabbing the hammer and slipping out without a word. This wasn’t the first time her compulsion had taken over; being unable to leave the Infinity Castle, he couldn’t blame her. She hadn’t killed anyone of importance, thankfully. An annoying lower ranking demon on occasion, perhaps. His attention returned the book as the Infinity Castle moved about him; the very room he resided in currently suddenly rising. ────────── One hundred and thirteen years, nothing had changed. And then, suddenly, it was changing far too quickly. Moons were being cut down one after another. It was happening before anyone could get a hold on it. And now? Now, there were Demon Slayers in HER castle!

She’d tried to fight. Had changed the rooms, controlled them, blocked off the Slayers and tried to confuse them. Tried to intervene where she could before that damned child of Tamayo’s arrived. And now-

The boy was in control. Her castle was not answering to her despite the way she screamed within her mind for it to respond. HE was controlling her masterpiece! Panic clung to her form yet she remained still, frozen by his touch, by the damned seal placed upon her head, no doubt created by the Ubuyashiki family for this exact scenario. All around her, Demon Slayers invaded her sacred Infinity Castle. One hundred and thirteen years of craftwork, of being at Lord Muzan’s side, crumbling to dust beneath her very fingers. Lord Muzan, Nakime cried within her mind, I’m so sorry I’ve failed you. I’m so sorry that I’m not able to fight back. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so-

Muzan panicked. He panicked as the boy took control of the Infinity Castle. The castle Nakime had created for them. Their paradise. And in his panic, he did the only thing he could think of to do to cease the control.

One moment, Nakime was alive.

The next, her neck was twisted, her head popping off her shoulders. “Sorry,” he murmured, though his attention was quickly taken away. All of his Kizuki were slain. His beloved demons, his treasures, they were killed.

Nakime blinked as her body began to disintegrate. Muzan had released her. Oh. Was her service done? Was she done working? Done, now?

Done? ────────── The sound of birds roused her from her slumber. No, not birds. Voices. “You’re gonna be late!” Ume called through the door, knocking loudly upon it. Emiko jerked up, blinking rapidly in the afternoon light. She’d laid down for a nap before her performance at the theater! “Emiko, are you awake?!”

“I’m up!” She called back, scrambling out of bed. Dress, dress… There! She rushed to put on the black recital dress. This was one of the biggest nights of her life: a solo with the university’s orchestra. She was the lone biwa player, had already created a name for herself. This was another stepping stone to her life.

But that dream… How odd. It had all felt so real, as if she’d truly become a demon. It must be from the reading her professor, Kagaya, was having them do. After all, Kagaya Ubuyashiki was a Japanese folklore and history professor, not some leader of a secret organization! Especially not one that would have existed over a hundred and twenty years ago! Throwing her door open, Emiko shuffled over to the bathroom, all but shoving Gyutaro out of the way. “Sorry! Gotta rush!”

“You aren’t the only one!” He complained, grumbling as he walked over to his younger sister to get help with his tie.

She’d met Gyutaro her freshman year attending Kimetsu U, a renowned university on the northern side of Tokyo. They clicked and became quick friends, deciding to rent an apartment together. He was the guardian of his younger sister; their parents having passed away due to an accident a few years back. She looked to Ume like a younger sister, too, now. There were others in their group; a freshman named Hakuji, a theater and religions major named Doma, and twins named Michikatsu and Yoriichi (Michikatsu was a history aid; Yoriichi was working on his Doctorate!). They made an odd bunch, but it was nice.

They’d all be there tonight; Gyutaro was working as a doorman; Ume had tickets, thanks to Gyutaro. Emiko blotted her newly-red lips before nodding to herself. It had become a signature of hers, to wear her makeup in a homage to the Geisha who had popularized the biwa and shamisen. A simple black and deep purple eye combination, mascara- and she was ready.

“I’ll see you there!” She called as she grabbed her case and keys before heading out. The apartment was close to the theater, thankfully. Her heart raced within her chest as she approached the side entrance used for musicians and other performers. There were other faces she recognized amongst the crowd; a few students from Kimetsu Academy, a few teachers. She waved to Uzui Tengen, one of her former teachers. He waved back with a grin, his partners standing with him.

A glance to the right showed Hakuji speaking with Rengoku Kyōjurō, another former teacher. He laughed at something Hakuji had said before spotting her. He gave an enthusiastic wave and shouted out, “Break a leg!” She flushed, shaking her head before ducking backstage. She was lucky enough to have her own dressing room. A sigh escaped as she entered, not bothering to close the door behind her. She only needed a second to prepare.

Knuckles rapped against the door, drawing her attention, though she didn’t look up from tuning her biwa. “Yes?” She called, brows furrowing.

“A delivery,” a voice purred.

She froze; her heart hammering in chest like a war drum. That voice. That voice had been in her dream. That voice belonged to that man. What was his name? She slowly looked up, gaze tracking over black dress shoes, black slacks, up to a hand holding a bouquet of red roses and red spider lilies, with a singular blue spider lily in the center. Further up, forcing herself to look. Dark hair, pale skin, a gaze of near-pink, the brown was so light.

Kibutsuji Muzan.

“Emiko, is it?” He mused as he stepped in, glancing about the dressing room. Amusement colored his features; what a familiar setting. In the exact same spot as the former building had stood, even! What were the odds… “I was told to bring these to you by Michikatsu.”

“Oh.” Of course. Just flowers. She stepped forward, moving the small hammer she’d grabbed out of reflex to hide within her skirts. “Thank you so much. I’ll have to find him afterwards,” as she reached out, she glanced up, meeting his gaze. “Have we met before?”

“Perhaps.” His lips curved into a smirk as he bowed a touch, fingers brushing against her own. “Though, you’re holding the hammer in the wrong hand this time, Nakime.”

Her heart stopped.

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spite-and-waffles · 2 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman (Comics), Batman (Millerverse) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Jason Todd/Rena Characters: Jason Todd, Rena Summary:"You can ignore this if you like. Make something better up."

#I miss this teeth and darkness and humanity in Batman fics #heck I miss it in the actual comics #tw: canonical character death #pregnancy #dark-adjacent #fics from the '00s #bat fic #fic rec #Mary Borsellino #Jason Todd #Red Hood #Rena #Pre-Crisis #death in the family #batman #DCU

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kaysdenofchaos · 8 months

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Do you have adult designs for the tmmt boys? :)

I MEAN.

KIND OF???

~~~

(READ THE TAGS DONT KILL ME)

TMMT Iteration Masterpost

#NOT CANON JUST A LAST RONIN AU #was feeling silly goofy one day #I’ll give y’all happy adult designs I promise 🙏#teenage meddling mutant turtles #tmmt #tw character death #tw implied death #tmnt angst #tmnt donnie #tmnt leo #tmnt mikey #tmnt raph #tmnt au #tmnt iteration #tmnt fan iteration

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bonefall · 21 days

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would whitewater end up getting dark forested for her support of mudclaw, her hypocrisy, and her neglect?

There's a VERY high chance of it. She's almost certainly damned unless someone defended her VERY well (which is unlikely)

When StarClan makes a ruling, they aren't neccesarily deciding if you are Guilty or Innocent. They're determining if you are worthy of their ranks. You have to prove you belong in Heaven, NOT that you're not bad enough for Hell.

For most warriors this is a very simple yes, and no trial is required... but if you so much as OFFEND StarClan with your bad vibes, they might damn you just for that. Whitewater has a really bad reputation for everything she's done.

The Queen’s Rights actually work "legally" on the assumption that judgement is outsourced to StarClan, because mortals (Oakstar) can't be trusted to be impartial on this specifically. The birth of kittens cannot be used as evidence of codebreaking behavior... on the mortal plane.

StarClan was ALREADY going to give her a review just based on her affair with Mudclaw. If it ended on the Great Journey like they initially planned and she invoked QR with her Ba-less litter, there wouldn't even be a trial.

But that's not how this story goes. She was a ShadowClan cat involved in Mudclaw's rebellion, because she wanted to support him.

SHE might have only done that because she wanted to avoid ThunderClan "putting their paws in another Clan's business" or some other excuse, but StarClan says

"L + Ratio + Supported your baby daddy's coup + Set the peat on fire + What were YOU doing putting your paws in another Clan's business"

StarClan didn't even accept MUDCLAW'S explaination. They didn't even accept VIXENLEAP'S excuse, just some Thistle Law-loving RiverClan warrior who joined because Hawkyfrosty asked her to. They were always going to give Whitewater a hard time for this.

Whitewater might have been able to wrack up some goodgirl points by being a very loyal ShadowClan warrior..... and she did, a little.

But she kept her head down. No spectacular feats of redemption. Just tried to live quiet. That doesn't incur a lot of favor.

And then, the part you've been waiting for... how she treated Owlkit. Theyyyy didn't like that.

If she was sooo unattached to her mate, why did his smiting BOTHER her so much, hm?

She might have won favor for doing something very noble and giving the kittens to the bereaved Torear, but she KEPT Owlkit. Any love she had that influenced that choice drained away

and she didn't do the "right thing" for him by asking for help. She just did the bare minimum at best, and hid her abuse at worst.

Unfortunately though, the neglect and emotional abuse did not earn as much ire on their own as you're hoping. StarClan is (and was) full of much worse abusers. Hillrunner, for example.

Most of StarClan's condemnation would be based around Mudclaw's Rebellion... but they've been waiting a LONG time to process the surviving non-WindClan rebels. So... she's probably doomed.

Unfortunately I cannot imagine she takes it well. She completely ignores that Owlclaw was just a footnote in her condemnation, and uses it to confirm everything she ever believed.

"That kitten WAS meant to die that night. I should have dragged that child out into the storm with the rest of its cursed siblings. I've been shoved into the spot where Owlclaw should be!"

Hmm... maybe I should axe her shortly before the Great Battle, and actually have HER be the one who attacks Owlclaw's kittens. It would be pretty horrifying if she was the one who killed Weaselkit, her own grandchild.

#Canon will be like ouuuugh shes a bad mom bc she didnt smile at her baby every day for 500 years #Ill WRITE you a bad mom #BB!Whitewater #BB!Owlclaw #Better bones au #BB!OOTS #Poor Owlclaw lmaoooooo. Say hello to this simple bully character Jaypaw deals with haha!#(PUTS HIM THROUGH THE HORRORS)#Cw child abuse #Tw child abuse #Child abuse #Child death #Cw child death

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mickules · 2 years

Text

The (After) Life of the Party by @metamatronic Chapter 16: 2 Birds

the winner of my fanfic contest, where I asked for folks' fic recs and their fave scenes and picked one at random to draw

All credit to @metamatronic head over to their blog to check out their fics and wonderful art! They've got a bunch of extra ghost au interactions, as well as just tons of great stuff in general!

---

“ Don’t ,” Mondo said. His voice sounded weak, and for once he didn’t care. “Please, Kyoudai, please. Just don’t go in.”

For a moment, Taka hesitated. Mondo held his breath, watching as the prefect’s hand hovered over the doorknob. Then, mechanically, Taka leaned back and checked his watch.

“Right on time,” he said with a twinge of relief, before grabbing the knob and pushing his way into the room. Mondo’s feet felt like bricks, but he followed.

For a moment, it looked like Taka was alone. Taka huffed, checking his watch and straightening up. No amount of white hair or fake curse words could change his thoughts on punctuality, it seemed. Mondo let out a choked laugh.

Maybe Hifumi chickened out , Mondo thought. Maybe the plan fell apart, or Chihiro got through to him. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

But the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up, and that unease in his stomach hadn’t settled. His eyes darted around the room, before catching the glint of glasses as a figure stepped out from behind the open door.

Hifumi was wielding a large hammer as he shuffled over to Taka. As he lifted the mallet over his head, Mondo let out a snarl and went in for a tackle.

As he phased through Hifumi, he heard the nasty crack behind him and felt his blood run cold.

Mondo fell to his knees at Taka’s body. He paid no attention as Hifumi let out a small noise of disbelief before shuffling out of the room. He watch Taka’s eyes flutter— he was still alive, he realized, bile rising in his throat.

“C’mon, somebody, anybody ,” he whispered, trying to will a witness to come through the door and help the man bleeding out on the floor.

Taka groaned, trying to push himself up before collapsing. Mondo watched as his hair slowly darkened back to its natural color. Mondo reached out, before recoiling. He was terrified that he would actually make contact, that he’d somehow drag Taka into this ethereal hell he and his other classmates were living in.

“Don’t die, just hang on. Someone’ll come, someone’s gotta come,” Mondo said. There was so much blood. It was just like Chihiro, just like Dai—

Mondo shook his head, trying to violently shake the thoughts out. He couldn’t do this, not again, not now.

Taka murmured something and Mondo snapped to attention.

“It’s okay, Taka, you’ll be okay. Just hold on,” Mondo said.

“Mon…do…” Taka’s voice was quiet as his eyes slowly fell shut. Mondo stomach twisted.

“No, no, no,” Mondo whispered frantically. Just as Mondo leaned in, something flew up with such force that it smacked his chin and sent him reeling backwards.

Sitting up and rubbing his chin, he looked over. He froze.

Taka was sitting up, rubbing his head and frowning deeply. His eyes opened before locking with Mondo’s. He stared for a quiet moment before the tears started.

“Mondo!” Taka shouted, tripping over his feet as he practically launched himself into Mondo’s arms. Taka buried his face in his shoulder, and he could feel his hands clutching onto the back of his jacket so tightly he thought it might rip. He was sobbing.

Mondo, for a brief moment, let himself be selfish. He wrapped his arms around Taka and squeezed. He’d never wanted this to happen, not to Taka, but there was a small, terrible part of him that was so thankful to at least get one more conversation with him. God, he’d missed him.

“What happened?” Taka asked, finally pulling away. “H-How are you here? I saw you…die.” He choked on that last word. Mondo stared at him, mouth agape.

“You, uh…You’re not…Um.” Mondo stuttered. Taka seemed to have noticed Mondo’s eyes flick briefly over his shoulder, and slowly turned.

Taka screamed.

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tightjeansjavi · 3 months

Text

Slow Hands | Chapter 10

“the lone moose”

A/N: disclaimer before we get into this chapter, this is a very emotionally/mentally heavy chapter that might not be suitable for everyone. The main topic of this chapter and the next is focused around Joel’s attempted suicide and Tommy’s C-PTSD. This content maybe triggering for some, and if that is the case, please do not read if you feel triggered. Warnings will be marked appropriately. Take care of yourselves first. And as always, a huge thanks to my beta @angelofsmalldeath-codeine 🤍

~word count: 6.9k~

Summary: the wolves of Jackson are lurking

Pairing | Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: !DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! thoughts of suicide, semi-graphic depictions of attempted suicide, brief moment of stigmatizing suicide (Tommy’s reaction) canon-typical violence, graphic depiction of an injury, semi-graphic depictions of childloss (and the trauma that comes with it) angst, grief, guilt, anxiety, heavy topics, anger, overwhelming emotions, C-PTSD responses, fear responses, no age gap, readers nicknames is Beanie (coffee beans) +18 minors DNI! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANYTHING!!

Slow Hands Masterlist

Two days had passed since Joel and Ellie took the steps together to make up. Joel already had a visible pep in his step, and a lightness in his eyes that Tommy hadn’t seen in his brother for over 20 years. Joel’s back still ached, but the pain was subdued.

Patrol was long and uneventful. The two brothers only had a handful of evidence gathered to present to Maria, but neither would give up hope. After untacking Tex and Timber, Joel and Tommy turned both horses out in one of pastures just outside the stables. Tess was grazing alongside the fence when Timber and Tex went to greet her.

A wave of melancholy washed over his features as he watched Tex and Tess nuzzle one another affectionately. He thought of you, of course.

“Hey, Joel?” Tommy asked alongside him with his arms resting along the wooden fence. “Y’wanna have a drink with me real quick at the Tipsy Bison before y’head home?” He rasped softly.

“I’d love to, but I promised Ellie we’d have a movie night tonight. Can’t go and let her down, y’know? How about tomorrow?” Joel suggested with a grin.

“Ah, movie night with the kiddo. Hey, I think that’s great that y’all are movin’ forward. Tomorrow sounds good.” Tommy responded with a genuine smile. It was a relief that he and Joel were growing close again. He missed his brother terribly.

“Yeah, and Beanie as well. I let Ellie pick out the movie. Think she said we were gonna watch Curtis and Viper 2.” Joel stifled a chuckle as he glanced down at the toe of his boots.

“Aw shit, that’s a good one! Well, you enjoy yourself, okay? Adios, big brother. See ya in the mornin.’” Tommy reached over and gave Joel a side hug before he pushed himself off the fence.

“See ya in the mornin, Tommy.” Joel mumbled to himself with a smile slowly creeping over his lips. Truthfully, he was rather excited for this movie night with you and Ellie. He couldn’t picture a better way to spend his evening than with his two favorite girls.

“Hey, Tex? Y’keep a good eye on your gal tonight. Y’hear? I’ll see ya in the mornin’, pal.” He spoke softly as his horse lifted his head from where he was grazing. He let out a snort in response as his tail swished away at the pesky flies.

The weight of Tommy’s letter in Joel’s pocket felt ten times heavier than when Joel first had written it. He thought about making a quick pit stop at the Tipsy Bison to give it to him, but tomorrow was a new day. He’d give the letter to Tommy first thing in the morning.

Ellie’s carved wooden fawn was tucked away in the inside pocket of his flannel. He brought it on patrol to show Tommy, and because he liked having a piece of his baby girl with him. Tonight he’d give her the gift, and to you, his precious star, something that twinkled like the night sky; matching charm bracelets. Two golden hearts dangling from the chains. Appearing brand new, untouched. The names Peggy carved into one, and Steve into the other. Lovers from the past, and now lovers in the present.

He couldn’t wait to see the look on your pretty face when he would present the bracelet to you. He said one last goodbye to the horses. He’d pass by your home en route to his own as he usually did every evening after patrol. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until he noticed a figure looming in the distance. He squinted his eyes through the harsh rays of the setting sun. He approached the figure with cautious steps.

As far as he was concerned, no one ever hung around your home like this. It raised suspicions immediately. His boots crunched under loose dirt as the figure stopped their pacing and seemed to pause in thought.

“Cody?” Joel’s tone ran cold, edged with a sharp suspicion as his footsteps stopped a foot away. A balmy breeze sifted through his salt and pepper streaked tendrils.

The younger man looked around for a moment as the gears in Joel’s brain began to work on overdrive. He knew Cody, or so he thought. He believed Cody was a good man. They shared many meals, conversations—

“Have y’seen Beanie around by chance?” Cody asked casually as he ignored the obvious suspicion that Joel was facing.

Joel’s hackles raised on instinct as he watched Cody lean up against your fence with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Haven’t seen her since this mornin.’” Joel responded flatly. He knew right then and there that he had to play this cool for the time being. He didn’t need Cody knowing that he was onto him.

“Right. Well, thanks anyway, old man.” Cody muttered the last bit as he turned on his heel to walk away.

“What’re you doin’ hangin’ around her place anyway? Y’know I could have you—”

“Reported? Yeah, sure you can. What would you even report me for, Miller? Cody scoffed. “All you had to do was not get yourself involved. Coulda just kept your nose out of things, but that’s not how you play your game, right?” He turned to face the older man once more just as a distinctive crash was heard from inside of your home.

Joel moved quickly, but Cody was quicker. Stronger, and trigger happy.

Cody was pouncing on the older man like a predator does to their prey. They tousled in the dusty dirt before Cody had him pinned down. His fists rained down on Joel’s face and the pained groans only seemed to spur Cody on further.

“Just had to go and get yourself involved with that fuckin’ cunt, huh?!”

Joel tried to fold his arms over his head to block out the swift punches to his face. Cody was ruthless, and Joel wasn’t as strong as he once was. Years ago he would have snapped Cody like a toothpick, but his age was beginning to catch up with him and this was the result.

Through gritted teeth Joel attempted to use his weight to throw Cody off of him, but it was no use. “I’ll fuckin’ kill every last one of you. I’ll rip you limb from fuckin’ limb and scatter your remains to the wolves—”He growled.

“Yeah? And how do you propose you’re gonna do that, Joel? Y’ain’t the one with the upper hand here, old man! You’re not takin’ this from me! Imagine how proud he’ll be when I not only bring in the moose, but your precious Beanie too.” He sneered conceitedly.

That’s all Joel needed to get a second wind of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He growled between his teeth as he used what little remaining strength he had left to force Cody off of him. He was reaching for his concealed pistol tucked in his belt loop under his shirt, when Cody kicked it from his grasp just as the two men inside of your home came rushing out.

“Jesus! fuck, Cody! What the hell are you doin?’ This wasn’t part of the plan!” The one man, a burly fellow with scarred tissue from third degree burns that covered nearly half of the left side of his face yelled urgently. Through the rushing of blood, and pain stabbing every inch of Joel’s face, he recognized this man too. He recognized the man next to him as well, smaller in stature, but stocky. Alex and Oliver.

“Fuck the plan! I’m not gonna waste this opportunity!” He sent the heel of his boot right into Joel’s gut causing him to double over into the crimson speckled dirt with a pain ridden grunt. “Well?!” He threw his hands up in the air. “Was she in there or not?!”

Alex and Oliver slowly looked over at one another before their shoulders simultaneously slumped inward. “No, but—”

“FUCK!” Cody snarled out of sheer frustration. He couldn’t let him down. He was told he couldn’t show up empty handed. It wasn’t an option.

Just as Joel’s fingers weakly grasped the handle of his pistol, that lay only a short arms distance away, Cody sent his boot right into his face. There was a sickening crunching sound of bone matter and cartilage being crushed as Joel’s body stilled. He was knocked out cold from the impact as blood leaked down his face and soaked into the dusty earth beneath him.

Neither men moved as Cody began to pace in contemplation. He paid no mind to the consequences he would face for his actions.

“Cody, we need to get the fuck outta town right fuckin’ now! If anyone sees—”

“And show up empty handed?! Fuck no.”

“Cody, she wasn’t there. We have no fuckin’ clue where she could be. C’mon, let’s just go back and regroup before someone shows up and finds Joel layin’ in a pool of his own blood.”

Cody ignored his counterparts as he continued to pace in a tight circle. He suddenly stopped when the lightbulb went off in his sick mind. He turned towards the two men, with a smirk that could only be described as sinister, “Angie.”

Ellie was curled up against your body with her cheek pressed gently into your shoulder. Her eyes flickered towards the windows in the family room. She watched the last bit of sunlight dip behind the horizon as a warm summer breeze blew through the beige curtains.

Joel should have been home by now.

She waited with alert ears for the sound of the front door to squeak open any minute now. It never came.

She shifted against you before your gazes met. “Beanie, he should have been home by now.”

You understood full heartedly that this movie night was important to Ellie. This was the first time that she and Joel were going to be spending some quality time together after everything they had gone through. This was a big deal.

“Kiddo, I’m sure he’s on his way now. Maybe he and Tommy just got caught up in something?” You wanted to reassure her and yourself that Joel was in fact on his way, and maybe he was just running late.

“Beanie..he—promised. What if he’s ditchin’ me? God, this was so stupid.” She went to bury her hands in her face, but you stopped her.

“Ellie, he’s not ditching you. He would never do that to you. He loves you. I’m sure he’s just running late is all.” Your own fears began to crawl up into your subconscious. What if something was wrong? What if something had happened?

Ellie wanted to believe you, she really did, but her own fears were making an appearance as well. It didn’t help the fact that her last conversation with Joel had been about his suspicions of Lucas..

“I’m gonna go check the stables, okay? You stay here. Lock the doors.” Ellie was up from her spot on the couch before you could even attempt to stop her.

“Ellie,” you started, voice wavering from the building nerves, “be careful, okay?”

The teen looked over at you with a small, yet confident grin, “Always am.” Her face twisted back to a serious one as she tucked her gun in her hoodie pocket. Joel surely would have scolded her if he had seen it.

You listened to the soft click of the door opening and closing. Your eyes drifted over to the unoccupied spot on the couch where one of the pillows was smashed down. Joel’s spot. .

Please. Please just be running late.

Please be okay, Joel.

Tommy found himself reminiscing on the good ole days as he nursed his glass of beer. Condensation dripped down the outside of the glass like tear drops on cheeks. The noisy chatter that encircled him was drowned out by his thoughts. Joel had always been the protector, the planner, the guardian. And as a young boy, Tommy viewed Joel as his hero. His own beacon of light through the darkness. And when Sarah died? It all changed. He was angry. At the world. At himself. And now, here in this peaceful community, he was getting to see those small glimpses of the old Joel that had laid dormant for so many years.

The Joel that he knew and loved so deeply.

He left his glass half empty as he said his goodbyes to some of the patrol guys, and the barkeep before he walking towards the door.

He was heading in the direction of the home he shared with Maria when he noticed a mass laying just outside your home. He thought that his brain was playing a cruel trick on him, and the approaching dusk might have also played a role in what he was seeing.

Gravel and dirt particles crunched beneath his heavy boots as he started his approach. As he drew nearer, he was able to make out the outline of a body. And, oh—god

Tommy remembers the moment he heard the shot ring through Joel’s house as if it had happened just yesterday. While he gathered supplies in the garage, his big brother was upstairs with the barrel of a revolver pressed against his temple.

How could Tommy not have known? How could he have missed the signs? The indications that Joel was thinking of taking a drastic measure to end his life. How could he have missed it?

“Joel!” A younger Tommy Miller yelled in fear. He threw down the tool box in a haste. Tools of all shapes and sizes clattered to the concrete in a harsh crescendo.

“Joel! Please, no. Please.” He chanted weakly under his breath as his feet carried him up the staircase. He stumbled on the top step as a wave of nausea made its presence known.

“Joel!” He yelled again, more desperately than the last. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing his brother so soon. He couldn’t. Not when just days ago they laid Sarah to rest. He couldn’t do this without Joel.

Sweat pooled at the back of his neck the closer he drew to the ajar opening of Sarah’s bedroom. He held onto the wall for support as his knees began to inevitably buckle from the dread crawling up his throat.

“Joel.” He croaked, “please. Please be alive in there.”

With a shaky breath, and through a mess of tears, Tommy pushed open Sarah’s bedroom door.

“I missed.” Joel murmured in disbelief. Disappointed that he couldn’t just do one thing fucking right. He couldn’t just follow through with his promise. His final wish to be with his daughter. His baby girl.

His palms trembled as his dull brown eyes flitted down to the revolver still in his grasp. He paid no mind to the blood slowly trickling from the right side of his head. Just a graze. Missed completely.

“Joel, what the fuck did you do that for?” Tommy wasn’t sure if he should laugh, cry, yell, all of the above? “You’re bleedin’, brother.”

“Oh.” Joel responded flatly. He brought his fingers up towards the right side of his head. He hardly flinched when his fingertips dragged through the flowing blood. He brought his hand back down to his eye level, fingers soaked in crimson. Then, the ringing started. Tommy’s voice started to sound fuzzy from the right side. “I flinched, Tommy. Thought I could do it. I was so sure—”

“Joel. Stop it, please.” Tommy nearly begged his brother as he cautiously moved in closer.

“I wanted to die, Tommy. I ain’t have anythin’ left to live for.” He refused to make eye contact with his brother purely out of shame.

“Killin’ yourself ain’t gonna bring Sarah back, Joel. Its fuckin’ selfish that you—” His words were bitter, jaded, sharpened with intent to harm. “I fuckin’ need you, Joel. I need my big brother to keep us alive. Is he still in there?” He pointed to Joel’s chest, symbolizing his heart.

When Joel finally brought his chin upwards to face his brother, the look on his sunken features shattered Tommy right down to the core. A broken man, father, brother. The same man that helped Tommy with his homework. The same man that taught him how to ride a bike. The same man that Tommy viewed as his hero. Where was he now?

“He died along with her.”

“Joel!” Tommy felt his voice get lodged in his throat at the sight of his older brother laying motionless in the crimson stained dirt. Panic began to swell and fester like an untreated wound the second his eyes landed on Joel’s handgun just an arms length away.

“No. No. Please— what happened, Joel!” He sank to his knees alongside him. “We were just—talkin’ about how much you were lookin’ forward to the movie night with Ellie and Beanie, remember? You said that you would see me in the mornin’, dammit!” He yelled, slamming one of his fists in the dirt before he took a shaky inhale. “Remember?”

He wouldn’t hurt himself, would he? The thought flashed through his mind briefly. He remembered finding Joel in a pool of his own blood after Sarah died. Tommy brushed away strands of Joel’s hair that were congealed together with blood. His brows furrowed intently when he found there was no bullet hole in Joel’s skull before he pressed his middle and pointer finger right against Joel’s pulse point.

Please. Please. Please still be in there, Joel.

When the faintest pulse was detected, Tommy let out a visible sound of relief. His big brother was alive, but Tommy knew he had to act fast.

“S’alright, big brother. You’re alright. Gonna get you fixed up.” He murmured to himself just as he heard approaching footsteps.

“Tommy?..” It was Ellie. Her voice wavered at the sight of her uncle and father on the ground. “J—Joel?!” Her eyes were wide with oncoming tears brimming when she locked in on Joel’s unmoving body.

“Tommy, wh—what the fuck happened?!” She blinked away her tears just as Tommy stood up from the ground. “Is he fuckin’ dead, Tommy?!”

“Ellie, I don’t know what happened. I was on my way home and—found him like this. He’s alive, kiddo. He’s alive, but we gotta get him to doc right away.” Tommy never felt like he was all that great at taking on the protective role, but his niece needed his comfort and reassurance that everything was going to be okay.

Ellie wasn’t listening to a word Tommy was saying. All she could focus on was Joel’s bloodied face and still body. Her emotions were consuming her entirely before she felt Tommy’s warm embrace wrapping her up. She let her tears soak into his shirt as she clung to him for dear life.

“Ellie, I know you’re scared, kiddo. But I need ya to be strong for me, and for Joel. We gotta get him to doc right now. I need you to help me carry him okay?” He spoke in a soft tone, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “He’s gonna be just fine. Your old man has always been a fighter.”

She squeezed her uncle tightly before pulling away from his embrace. She wiped what remained of her tears away on the sleeve of her shirt. “I’ll—I’ll take his legs?” She questioned rather than suggested. Seeing Joel like this, bloodied, weak, on the verge of—

“Ellie, he’ll be okay.” Tommy firmly reassured her again. He bent down over his brother and gently hoisted him up under his armpits while Ellie lifted him up by his legs.

Joel felt like dead weight, but his brother and daughter’s determination helped them power through the dull ache and strain in their muscles.

Tommy hated hospitals just as much, if not more than his brother did. The pungent stench of bleach, the droning hum from the overhead fluorescent lights. It was unappealing, cold, and overall a dreadful experience. But out of all of the late night visits to the ER after another bar fight, this by far was the worst of all to see his brother unconscious, dried blood crusted on his skin. Yet appearing peaceful while Doc checked his vitals and any signs of internal injuries

Ellie was seated next to her uncle nervously fidgeting with her fingers. Her leg was bouncing up and down frantically, until Tommy gently placed his palm over her knee in an attempt to soothe her.

“Well, he might have a bit of bruisin’ to his ribs, and his nose is definitely broken, but it’ll heal. There’s a chance he might be concussed, but I won’t know that for certain until he wakes up.” Doc said while tucking his clipboard under his armpit.

“I’ll stay here till he wakes up. Don’t want him wakin’ up alone.” Tommy said with a slight nod in Doc’s direction.

“I’m staying, too.” Ellie was defiant, of course. It was in her nature, and she couldn’t fathom not being by her dads side—

“Ellie, I’m gonna go and find someone to walk you home, okay? One of the guys on patrol..maybe a couple, given the circumstances.” He needed to make sure his niece got home in one piece, first and foremost.

Ellie clenched her fists, lips pressed tightly together as her eyes met Tommy’s in an intense stare. He could see residue of dried tears on her cheeks, and fresh ones beginning to brew like an oncoming storm. “Tommy,” she started, voice low, yet stern. “I’m not fuckin’ leaving him. I’m not. You can’t—”

“Ellie, I know you want to stay here with him too, but somethin’ about this ain’t right. You and I both know that there’s been some suspicious activity happenin’ as of late. Joel is goin’ to be okay, kiddo. He’s as stubborn as a mule.”

Her lower lip wobbled under the bright fluorescent light. She wanted to be angry at her uncle for telling her what she needed to do, but he was right, and there really wasn’t another second to waste. “Don’t you dare even think of leavin’ his side, Tommy. Don’t you dare.” She wiped her eyes along the back of her hand before making the final decision to get up from where she was sitting.

“I won’t, kiddo. I promise.” Tommy reassured her.

She walked over to the right side of the bed where Joel was lying and gently ran her fingers through a few stray curls that were stuck to his forehead. Dried sweat, dirt, and blood littered his hair and face. She leaned down, whispering something while she pressed her lips to his temple, squeezing her eyes shut.

Please don’t die.

Tommy left the room to give Ellie a bit of privacy. He flagged down a nurse in the hallway and quickly explained that he needed someone to ensure Ellie safely got home. It was decided that two patrol members would escort her home.

When Tommy returned, he was with Jesse and Liam waiting outside the open doorway.

“Ellie?”

Her head snapped in the direction of Tommy’s voice as she quickly wiped away the remnants of her tears.

“Jesse and Liam are gonna make sure you get home safe. Okay, kiddo?”

“Sure.” She muttered. Agreeing with her uncle didn’t mean that she had to act happy about it. Despite her feelings, she made a point to hug her uncle before she left the room.

Don’t leave him. She reminded him.

Sunlight warms his skin, birds chirping in the high treetops, a soft breeze rustles through his hair, kissing his temple. He knows this place, where he stands. It’s—

“baby girl?” He chokes out, stumbling forward in an uncoordinated motion.

She’s there. She’s alive. She’s got daisies in her curls.

“Dad?”

He nearly drops to his knees right at the spot where he and Tommy dug her grave all those years ago. He stops in his tracks as she turns around to face him. She’s wearing the same clothes that she died in, except there’s no blood. No bullet wounds. She’s untouched. Bright, glowing under the rays of sunlight.

“Are you really here? C-can I hold you? Are those daisies in your hair? Baby girl, I’m so sorry.” The words tumble past his lips like an avalanche of word vomit. His heart lurches in his chest, leaping from the confines of his ribcage.

Sarah’s feet carry her swiftly to her father before she’s wrapping her arms around his middle, hugging him tightly with her cheek pressed firmly against his chest. “I’m really here, dad.” She squeezes her eyes shut.

Joel’s arms wrap around her immediately, hugging her to his chest as tightly as he can, he’s trembling, tears blurring his vision, dripping down his cheeks and landing softly on her head of curls. He pulls away only to gently cradle her face in his strong, calloused, gentle hands.

She’s here. She’s alive. His baby girl.

“Dad..you—you remembered our favorite spot?” Her smile is beautiful, radiant, full of life.

“Of course I did. Our hikes, the fresh air. We—we loved it out here. I—I never forgot. Baby girl, I haven’t forgotten you. I—I think about you everyday. I’m so sorry. I miss you..I miss you so much.”

Her hands come to rest against the patches of his now graying beard. “Dad, you don’t have to apologize. I’m okay, I’m happy. I miss you too, dad. I miss you so much, but Ellie, she needs you. I’ll always wait for you, I promise. I’m always going to be right here.” She drops one of her hands from his face to then point to his heart. “I’m always with you.”

His face falls as his thumbs gently stroke her cheekbones. He’s not ready to leave, not yet. Not so soon. Too soon. He needs more time. Time. Time. Time.

Ellie.

“You—you would have loved her, baby girl. She reminds me so much of you. Her smile, her laugh. I see you in her. She’s—she’s my blessing. My second chance..my light in the darkness.” He sniffles, leaning down so he can press his lips to her forehead.

“And she needs you more than ever now, dad. She needs you. You have to forgive yourself, okay? Please promise me that one day, you will forgive yourself, dad. Promise me.”

“I promise you, baby girl. I promise. Daddy loves you, okay? He loves you so much.” There’s so much more he wants to say, so much more he wants to tell her, but there’s not enough time. He knows it.

“Dad, I love you so much. Tell Tommy I miss him too, okay? I’ll see you again one day, when the time is right.” She hugs him one last time as he buries his face into her mess of curls, holding in his sobs as more tears begin to fall.

“When the time is right, baby girl.” He murmurs.

—

“Well, brother. Guess it’s jus’ you and me now, huh?” Tommy wants to laugh, but he can’t. His emotions are all fucked. Everything is so fucked.

“That kid of yours really loves the hell outta ya. You’re like two feral cats.” He continues, forcing himself to stand and walk over to his brother's bedside. “And I know how much you love her.” He murmurs as he glances down at the nightstand where the contents of Joel’s pockets are laid out.

The two charm bracelets, the wood carving of a fawn for Ellie, and a folded piece of paper now tarnished with blood and debris.

“One of these for Beanie?” He asks while gently picking up one of the charm bracelets. “I’m so happy you listened to my advice and went to her coffee shop. I jus’ had this feelin’ that you two would hit it off.”

“You love her, huh? Like..really love her? I’m glad, Joel. I’m glad that you’re finally allowin’ yourself to love, and be loved. If anyone in this fucked up world deserves that, it’s you.”

He sets down the charm bracelet alongside the other before he picks up the wood carved fawn. One of the delicate ears had broken off during the fight, but it was fixable. “Ellie is going to love this when she sees it. You’ve always been..a giver, Joel.. Always thinkin’ of others before yourself. Puttin’ your heart out on the line. I know it hasn’t been easy for you, but I’m so grateful that you met Ellie when you did. You saved her, but she saved you just as much. Turned that cold heart of yours into somethin’ good again.”

He placed the fawn down gently before he eyed the folded piece of paper. “Y’still writin’ those letters? Have they been helpin?’ Y’know, I thought about writin’ a couple myself.”

Something in his gut tells him that this letter..is meant for him.

He swallowed the lump rising in his throat as he reached for the piece of paper and picked it up with trembling fingers. He sees his name written on the outside, and his vision goes blurry with tears. “You..were gonna give this to me tomorrow when we said we were gonna meet at the Tipsy Bison?”

He slowly sinks down along the side of the bed, unfolds the letter and begins to read it silently.

Tommy, this is the third letter I have written thus far, so hopefully this comes across the way I have intended it to. Ever since we were just two little boys scraping our knees up on the playground, telling each other secrets, and holding each other tight when mom and dad would argue into the odd hours of the night, I always found myself being protective over you. I ain’t even sure if it had anything to do with age, and more to do with the fact that it’s been instilled in me since birth that I'm a natural protector. I’d do anything to keep you safe.

I’ve never told anyone this, but the day you told me that you wanted to join the army, and make a difference in the world, I wept. I soaked my pillow with my tears that very same evening cus’ I realized I couldn’t protect you anymore. You were eighteen, and ready to take on the world. Selfishly, I didn’t want you to go, and I know that war changed you. I know what it did to you, and you were no longer the little boy hiding under the covers from the thunder and lightning. You were molded into a man right before my eyes, but you’ve always been my little brother, and ain’t nothin’ gonna change that.

I know you blame yourself for the night that we lost Sarah. I still remember the grief in your eyes. You tried so hard. So fuckin’ hard, and I’m so sorry for what I became after she died.

A stray teardrop fell along the thin paper as the word ‘died’ began to blur from the sudden moisture.

You literally had to pry her cold body from my arms because I refused to let go. Even when we dug her a shallow grave near the woods she loved to hike in, you had to stop me from crawling into that goddamn hole with her.

24 hours. 1 day since the outbreak. 1 day without his baby girl

“She’ll be happy here, Joel. She gets to rest in her favorite place.” Tommy murmured as he set the shovels down next to the grass covered earth that would soon be dug up to create a shallow grave for Sarah to finally be laid to rest. The younger Miller brother hid his grieving behind a stoic face. He didn’t want Joel to see how much pain he was in. He wanted to be the strong one for once in his life, especially since he blamed himself for Sarah's death. If only he had been there sooner. If only he had acted quicker, maybe she would still be alive.

Joel was unmoving as he held his deceased daughter, who had long since grown cold and stiff in his arms. She was wrapped in a sheet, as Joel couldn’t bear to see her unmoving eyes any longer. He had shed his last tears, as he watched his brother begin to dig a shallow grave. As the minutes ticked by, Joel was realizing that after Sarah was to be buried, he no longer would be a father, and the thought made him feel queasy. What did he have to live for if he was no longer a parent? What was the point?

“Tommy..” Joel croaked, “I–can’t let her go.” He choked up as the weight of the world was beginning to press down on his shoulders. He held Sarah close to his heart where his chin came to rest upon her covered head. “Tommy, we–”

“Joel, we have to let her go. Brother, please. She’s gone, and there’s nothing we can do to bring her back. I’m sorry.” He was. If he could go back in time and take Sarah’s place, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

Joel’s eyes began to glaze over with fresh tears as he began to frantically whisper to Sarah as if she could hear him from the other side. “S’okay baby girl. You’re okay. Daddy has you, and he’ll see you soon. I promise. I’m coming for you, baby girl.” He pressed a firm, promising kiss to her covered head before he slowly lowered himself onto his knees along the edge of the hole in the dirt. He could feel stomach acid rise up his throat at the thought of the earth, and mother nature consuming his baby girl. He wanted to go with her.

Tommy watched with a heavy heart as he watched his older brother gently place his baby girl into the shallow grave. His own tears began to silently fall as images of a newborn Sarah flashed in his mind. He remembered the pure joy and love that radiated from Joel the moment he got to hold his daughter for the first time. No parent should ever have to bury their child.

As Tommy willed himself to begin shoveling the dirt he dug up into the grave, he watched in horror as his grief-stricken brother nearly had crawled into the hole. He dropped the shovel in a haste as he grabbed ahold of the underside of Joel’s shoulders and yanked him back.

The soul-shaking, torturous, anguished sound that cascaded from Joel’s mouth, was one that chilled Tommy’s blood. It could only be described as a grieving parent refusing to let their only child go.

Tommy still has nightmares of it.

I’m sorry I put you through that. I’m so sorry that I couldn’t just fuckin’ pull myself together for both of us. I know how scared you were, Tommy. I was scared too. I was terrified. I was supposed to be the big brother then. The one who had all the answers. Who could come up with a plan at the drop of a hat to keep his little brother alive. Instead, you had to fill that position. You stepped into that role because I gave you no other choice. If you didn’t force me to leave that spot where she died, I would have rotted there with her. I never thought for a moment about the pain that you were feeling. I lost a daughter that night, but you lost a niece, and a brother all in one night.

48 hours. 2 days since the outbreak. 2 days without his baby girl.

It was Tommy’s idea for him and Joel to return home to gather up as much food and supplies they could get their hands on. Joel was apprehensive, but Tommy reassured him that they wouldn’t have to stay long. So, Joel reluctantly agreed. Their neighborhood was dead silent with no signs of life to be found. The bombs that the government had dropped only impacted the major cities, and left the small neighborhoods untouched from their destruction. It would have just been another day if it weren’t for the familiar bodies scattered in the street. Both Tommy and Joel avoided looking at the deceased body of Nana Adler as they crossed their front yard.

“I’m gonna grab what I can from the garage, and then I'll meet you inside? Grab a couple of backpacks and stuff it with clothes, and anything else you think we might need. Okay, Joel?”

The older Miller brother could only meekly nod as a non-verbal response. He was too focused on remembering that he had stashed a revolver in his office drawer for safe keeping. At least it would be quick.

Tommy was unaware, clueless to Joel’s plan to end his life. He knew his brother was mourning, but he never had thought about the drastic measures he would take to be reunited with Sarah.

As Joel ascended up the stairs, memories of his life before the outbreak leaked into his mind. A five year old Sarah running down the stairs to avoid bath time after playing outside all day. Sticky with sugary sweet syrup from a popsicle, and dirt and twigs stuck in her head of curls. Joel patiently demanded that she needed a bath. Well, Sarah had other plans of course and Joel would have to catch her first.

He could hear her gleeful giggles now; almost sweet music.

Soon, baby girl. I promise.

His footsteps were soft, and undetected as he padded down the hall to his office area. His hand grasped the handle as he slowly turned it and pushed the door open with ease. Everything was right as he left it. Blueprints for a new project he and Tommy were working on. A school paper from Sarah that she had left for him to proof read. A stale cup of coffee. Tommy’s note tacked to the corkboard that Joel kept from when they were kids. A life preserved in time. He reached for the note as he gingerly plucked it from where it was pinned. He folded it carefully before slipping it into his pocket. He wanted to have a piece of his brother with him, always.

Joel didn’t feel nervous as he opened the file cabinet drawer that contained his concealed revolver. He greeted it like an old friend as he grasped it firmly in his palm. The coolness of the metal diffused his clammy skin. He could do it here, he thought silently. No, he wanted to be closer to Sarah. To be comforted by her familiarity. So, he left his office and went straight to her room.

As he brought the barrel of the gun to his temple, he felt calm. He felt ready. More ready than he had ever felt in his entire life. He felt sorry for leaving Tommy to fend for himself, but he knew that his brother would survive, and he’d be better off without him anyway.

As his finger hovered over the trigger, he observed Sarah's untouched room. From the crumpled sheets along her bed where he had tucked her in for the very last time, her discarded backpack, her posters, trophies from soccer, and all of her photographs. Photos of her and Joel. Her and Tommy. She was the happiest kid ever, and that’s how Joel wanted to remember her.

As his finger gradually applied pressure to the trigger, he flinched. The bullet missed, and grazed the right side of his temple. His right ear was profusely ringing as he dropped to the carpet like a bag of bricks. He could faintly hear Tommy’s shouts and footsteps racing up the stairs as blood slowly trickled down his face.

Tommy, I was selfish. I was selfish for wanting to take my life and leave you to fend for yourself. My baby brother. The same brother I swore to protect till my last dying breath. I was a coward, Tommy. A weak, selfish, pathetic coward. I wanted to take the easy way out. The cheap way. I just hope you still don’t hate me for it. I hope you don’t hate me for putting you through the trauma and pain of almost losing me too. Sometimes I wonder if my attempted suicide triggered your thirst for blood. As if I am the direct cause for the carnage you partook in when we joined Tess and her raider group. Sometimes I wonder if all those times that we murdered people, that you pictured me on the other end of the gun. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the brave big brother that you always believed me to be. I’m sorry that even over twenty years later, I’m not me. I’m not the Joel that you looked up to. I’m not sure if I'll ever be that version of myself again, but I am ever-so grateful that I am still your brother. Your flesh and blood.

I hope that one day you’ll be proud to be my brother again. Till then, I'll always have your back.

-Your big brother, Joel. The one that held you when things went bump in the night.

Tommy isn’t even aware of how much time has passed while he reads Joel’s words over till they're practically burned into his brain. He doesn’t feel the shifting of the coarse sheets, or see Joel’s fingers twitch at his side.

“Tommy..” Joel croaks, voice hoarse and barely audible.

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quitealotofsodapop · 3 months

Note

"that his mate has passed through the Bridge of Naihe into the next life. Wukong spends the next thousand years waiting."

So in the SBSE, should Mac actually be reborn, what could happen? :0 would Reborn mac feel the need to be closer to the city where the monkey kid is and sightings of the monkey king? if wukong saw him would he want to form a friendship with him? or let him be since he is a reborn version?

Referencing this Slow Boiled au post about Macaque's death.

Wukong *thinks* Macaque has moved on and reincarnated.

Lady Bone Demon lives at a level of Cold Naraka (Buddhist Hell) outside the influence of the Ten Kings. She has a canonical castle/domain - as seen in S2 when Wukong is "on vacation" and whereever the Mayor drags Macaque to.

Macaque doesn't appear in Diyu's records because he, by all accounts, isn't in Diyu... nor is he technically dead. He got dragged away physically down into LBD's layer of Hell.

Stone Monkeys are pretty resilient.

#slow boiled stone egg au #canonical character death tw #death tw #sun wukong #six eared macaque #liu er mihou #shadowpeach #lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk aus

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waywardsunlight · 2 years

Photo

Little Hunter

#the owl house #toh spoilers #toh fanon #toh canon adjacent #tw death #tw character death #hunter toh #emperor belos #philip wittebane #belos #spoilers #hunter wittebane #hunter deamonne

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 1 month

Text

Words Fail

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell Summary: On one of the most difficult days of his life, Maverick finds support in an unexpected place. Word Count: 568 TW: Canon Character Death, Funeral, Grief Notes: Written for day 14 of @whumpthemusical's event for "Words Fail" from Dear Evan Hansen. Thank you to @green-socks for beta reading and being my TG fact-checker 😘

Maverick opened his mouth, but he was unable to speak.

He had stayed up all night working on what he was going to say today. He had gone through draft after draft until the morning light began to creep across his papers and his hand cramped painfully. However, he had thought he had finally settled on something he could be proud of.

Yet, as he stood next to the portrait of the man who had been closer than a brother to him for over three decades and stared down at the shiny mahogany box in front of him, those perfectly crafted words failed him.

He knew his elegy would give Ice the farewell he deserved, however, it still wasn’t good enough. How do you condense 30 years of loyal friendship down to a few lines on a page? How can you recall every laugh, every tear, every moment of support or encouragement in just a few minutes? How can you say a final goodbye to the person who was always there?

Maverick opened his mouth again but the words refused to come out. They remained lodged in his throat, making it nearly impossible to breathe. He tried to swallow, but it just made it worse. Tears threatened to slip from his eyes and wondered what everyone else saw as they stared expectantly at him.

Scanning the crowd full of friends old and new, his eyes were drawn to one person in particular. He hadn’t consciously sought him out—he hadn’t even known where he would be standing—but when Maverick locked eyes with his godson, he paused.

For a moment, they held each other’s gaze, almost daring the other to make the first move. Bradley looked stoic and strong as he held his head high, but even despite their years of separation, Maverick knew him well enough to see the clenching of his jaw and the tightness in his shoulders. It seemed like he wasn’t the only one struggling to keep his composure.

Then, so slightly that Maverick almost wondered if he imagined it, Bradley nodded his head.

The gesture was so small, yet so meaningful, that Maverick’s knees almost gave out as a wave of relief and calm washed over him. The last time he and Bradley had talked was back on the base when Bradley finally confronted him about pulling his papers. Maverick had always known when that moment came, it would be painful but he never expected to hear Bradley say the things he said that night. If Warlock hadn’t interrupted with the news of Ice’s death, he could only imagine what else his godson would have thrown furiously in his face.

And yet, at this moment, when Maverick needed it more than he ever had before, Bradley gave him an olive branch. It might be small and it might be fueled by the loss of someone who meant the world to both of them, but it was a sign that there still might be hope for them after all.

Glancing down at the casket before him, a smile slowly spread across Maverick’s face. Even in death, Ice had found a way to help him one last time. They might have always disagreed about who was the better pilot even until the very end, but there was never a doubt about who the better wingman was.

Clearing his throat, Maverick opened his mouth and began to speak.

Taglist: @green-socks, @lorecraft, @heart-0n-fire, @mayhem24-7forever @the-untamed-soul, @inglourious-imagines, @airhogger, @piscesvancouverite, @straightforwardly, @bonnieelizabethparker, @srry-itshockeyszn, @flyinlove, @fandomhopped, @yjwnoot, @wanderdreamer, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @callsign-phoenix, @shanimallina87, @forever-sleepy-sloth, @blue-aconite, @notroosterbradshaw, @dezthegeek, @blessupblessup, @cherrycola27, @phoenix1389, @nicangelinee, @smells-like-perfect-senses, @boringusername3, @petlaufeyson, @cycbaby, @topguncortez, @fantasticcopeaglepasta, @writercole, @onebigfangirlworld, @wkndwlff, @ravenmoore14, @roosterforme, @clancycucumber230, @mamachasesmayhem, @slightly-psycho-multifan, @kmc1989, @ohtobeleah, @deppresseddyslexic, @horneybeach1, @mandylove1000, @aczhang777

#fic #whump: the musical #pete maverick mitchell #maverick #pete mitchell #tom cruise #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster #bradley bradshaw #miles teller #iceman #tom iceman kazansky #tom kazansky #angst #hurt/comfort #hurt & comfort #canon character death tw #funeral tw #grief tw

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ca-8 · 2 months

Text

・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・

𝕐𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖!𝔹𝕦𝕟𝕫𝕠 𝔹𝕦𝕟𝕟𝕪 𝕩 𝕋𝕠𝕪 ℝ𝕒𝕓𝕓𝕚𝕥!ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣 (ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟚)

・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・

(This is a yandere fanfic meant to portray behaviors seen in fiction and fiction only. This is not to represent people who have real mental/personality disorders and/or trauma that cause them to gain obsessive behaviors. Please do not romanticize any behavior like this seen in real life, and do not actively seek out a relationship with someone who is prone to hurt themselves and/or others. Keep fantasies in fiction. Thank you.) (Major Trigger Warning: Implied abuse, descriptive human gore, ingestion of human insides, body hacking) .

The pile was gone.

Little Hoppy was licking up the bloodied stains on the floor. (Y/n) had forgotten she was there until they realized they had been staring down at her for the past half hour. Their vision became stable again, their body was no longer trembling, and their stomach growled with reluctant, sickly relief. So they sat there, filling their shriveling lungs with air that was curing out its hellish stench. Just like on the day when they all feasted on Devils.

Which made this impossible. (Y/n) and presumably every other toy in Playtime Co. gorged on hundreds of bodies for years, until they ran out. One minute they were bathing in a victorious bloodbath, the next their stomachs begged them to turn on each other. That's why it was always so empty. That's why (Y/n) and little Hoppy always hid. So…who…?

Gloved hands coated in red rested on their shoulders. And his godawful voice whispered in their ear, "Hello, darling."

Get up. Run. Grab Hoppy and run as far away as you can. But no matter how loud their inner voice screamed at them, they sat right in place. Little Hoppy had curled up in their lap and fallen asleep.

(Y/n) opened their mouth to scream, but Bunzo quickly hushed them as he leaned in to rest his head on their shoulder.

"Look how peaceful she looks. That must've been the first meal she had in a long time." They whimpered; he was so close that their cheeks touched. His breath reeked of Devil. "It must've been your first meal too, right, (Y/n)?"

His voice lowered when he said their name. There was so much pleasure laced within his tongue, they could feel him practically trembling as each letter spilled out. He gripped their chin with such force, as if he would break their jaw open if they even attempted to move from him.

No, he would. He'd have them writhe in agony and drag them back down to his little "playhouse". They looked down, their breath hitching. Bunzo's bloodied hand was caressing over the line of stitches connecting their beautiful (f/c) fur-covered thigh with a raggedy leg of another toy on their line.

It hurt. It stung so badly feeling the needle go inside and outside their leg It hurt. It stung so badly feeling the needle go inside and outside their leg with the thread harshly chafing against each hole. But what hurt more was tearing off a leg from another (Y/n)'s decaying corpse.

"You've been starving for so long, all because you thought you didn't need me. But now look at you, so filled with energy and beauty and life again. I was so considerate to look past the fact that you abandoned me, and brought you and your little pet back from the brink of death."

That God they praised was him. "Where did you get it?" their voice croaked from their voice box. It was the only thing they could push from their mouths that wouldn't make him harm them.

Bunzo's smile widened, and he brought his mouth closer to theirs. "A former employee was roaming around Playcare, all alone in the dark. I saw them, and I thought of you," he explained.

"How did you find me?"

"Oh, it wasn't hard. Who can go far with only one leg, anyway? And your only notable quality is how absolutely captivating you are, my dear. Having beauty that only I can admire."

Something was caught in the corner of their eye, and they glanced up. It was a rotting poster splattered in decomposing blood, but the most disgusting thing on it were the cartoon versions of (Y/n) and Bunzo embracing each other, surrounded by hearts and drowning in once better days.

Suddenly, he held their hand. "I'm so tired of worshipping your leg, it only makes me crave the rest of you. Come back with me, (Y/n). You and your pet. We can be a family together," Bunzo whispered. "From the second we were made, we were meant for each other. I can take care of you two. Other people will want to look for that former employee. You won't even have to lift a finger, I can kill them for you!" He wrapped his arms around them, forcing their hands to dig in their sides, and the maniac began to squeeze. "Do you know what you made me do when you left? I was so scared, so- so angry, I hurt so many little friends, so many of me!"

Little Hoppy's ears rose just a bit as soon as Bunzo rose his voice. She slowly rose from (Y/n)'s lap and looked up at their parents' trembling figure getting so painfully squeezed by the strange, bloodied bunny man. A low snarl erupted from that wide, toothless grin.

"It was so bizarre seeing myself bleed out by my hands - seeing so so much pour out from such tiny little bodies - but I had to do it. I had to! You are the one assigned to me, it's not my fault theirs are all dead, it doesn't mean they should have you-!" She leaped from their lap and flew straight to his face, sending him back on the ground. (Y/n) didn't look back, but their ears were doused in howls and curses as Bunzo tried to pry the little one off of him. She was little, but she wasn't prey. (Y/n) sprinted down the hallway and around the corner. They heard a gut-wrenching wail from little Hoppy, but their legs just kept going. It was pointless - when the Devils were wiped from this place, when the toys' only source of food were digested, all of their friends, their family, everyone only saw each other as either food or foe. The naive against the desperate, the weak against the strong.

And Bunzo was right, they were weak. They couldn't even take care of a little bunny. They could only run and hide and pray to a cruel God that he would disappear so they could fall asleep and never wake up.

The pitiful rabbit pushed open the door to a small, dark room and locked it behind them, then laid beneath a desk and held their mouth shut.

It had gotten quiet. Too quiet, and for too long.

Then, the silence broke far outside (Y/n)'s blanket of shadows.

"(Y/N)!" Bunzo screamed. His target stifled a sob. "I can't do this without you… I can't live without you! Don't you remember how beautiful we were together before The Hour of Joy? We knew how those Devils really saw those children, so we gave them the best life possible! We were one big happy family! We can be that again! We don't have to live out our final days in misery!"

'Go away. I don't care. I want nothing to do with you.' Yes, in the past, things were different. They were both powerless, but still made each orphan feel so loved and special. Just like how he made them once.

"I don't want you to die a hypocrite, (Y/n)," he continued. "You killed just as many as I did! I saw it all, the way you tore their jaws opened to silence their screams, how your breathtaking eyes blazed with fury as you ripped out their spines… it was heavenly."

(Y/n) clawed their face. They hated those Devils. They hated seeing their plans for those innocent children, they weren't fit to be called human! They had to protect them, they had to! They couldn't stand to see another one go! Those screams, they were like music - wonderful enchanting music! - even when living so beautifully, they've never experienced something so delightful before hearing such howls melt into choking groans as a Devil's blood flooded from their broken mouths. They didn't deserve to live! If those children knew what they were going to do to them, they would've done the same thing. THEY DID NOT DESERVE TO LIVE.

And then they saw the looks on their little faces. They looked at them as if they were the monster. They weren't, (Y/n) was just trying to protect them! But when they smiled and approached them and outstretched their arms for a hug like they always did, the children only screamed in utter terror, breaking that lovely song.

"So how can you give me that face when you've committed the same sins as I have?"

They couldn't kill again. When the children ran from them, they couldn't bring themselves to harm another. All of a sudden, that hatred had diminished, so they turned and hid, and the screams went on. They only stopped when Bunzo found and urged them to eat. They were starving, and they didn't mind it at the time because if they hurt those children, they only deserve to starve. But he dragged them out and fed them bitter Devil remains.

That's when they knew he had changed along with them. They saw what the children had seen and they did not like it one bit.

But now he fed them again. And they were hiding again. And another child got hurt because of them. If a cruel God was gazing down at this pathetic rabbit, they had hoped He could end its miserable life at at that moment.

But the cruel God kept living up to His title.

Bunzo's footsteps grew closer, and little Hoppy's mewls amplified along with them. (Y/n) let go of their stinging face. 'She's alive.'

"My dear, you're not just going to leave our poor baby to die, are you?" he called right outside the door. "I can't bear to tear this cute little thing to pieces. But I will if I have to. If you really are so selfish as to break apart our precious family, it only makes sense for you to die alone."

Footsteps walked past the room and little Hoppy's whines slowly began to fade. (Y/n) laid there, their stomach becoming more and more twisted and sick. Then, they rose, and exited the room.

"WHERE ARE YOU?" Bunzo bellowed. In one hand, he held little Hoppy's paw, making her dangle upside down. In the other, he held a half of her ear, letting small droplets of blood trail right behind him.

(Y/n) bit their quivering lip before softly saying, "Right here."

Bunzo whirled around. Little Hoppy's blood spouted across the lower wall beside him. "My beloved (Y/n), there you are!" he said cheerfully, his harsh and sadistic personality quickly fading. "You had me so worried for a second!"

Lights were flickering above them, but (Y/n) could still get a full view of him now. The green of his overalls were completely overshadowed by old blood every inch of its fabric, with little hints of fresh gore peppering a few areas. His yellow fur was completely dulled out and gave into the ugly mixture of whatever disgusting horrors he granted upon his other victims. Dirt and grime plagued his long ears, and surprisingly, (Y/n) spotted a bite at the tip of his left ear. But was most shocking was the fact that his right eye was missing.

They jumped when they realized Bunzo had moved much closer to them. "Hmm, you've must've noticed my own changes, is that right?"

"Yes, your…your eye."

"Oh! That old thing. That employee actually put up quite a bit of a fight."

"S-So…that wound…it's recent?" They glanced down at Little Hoppy for a second.

Bunzo face melted into a warm, enamored smile. "You're worried about me! That makes m e so…so happy!" He suddenly pulled them into an embrace, earning a fearful gasp from them. "You….me….this little one…" Pulling away only slightly, he brought up little Hoppy and made (Y/n) hold her along with him, dropping her half ear. It splattered only the ground, slowly uncurling like a wilting flower. "We'll be perfect together!"

They bit their tongue to keep themselves from crying. "If I stay with you…if w-we both stay…You won't hurt us?"

Bunzo's smile dropped. "Hurt you? Oh no no no no no no no! My dear, everything I've done, I did for you! To help you realize you need me as much as I need you. And it worked! Your eyes tell me you want to stay with me forever and ever!"

That crazed smile returned once more as he pulled them into another embrace. Little Hoppy whimpered and buried her face into (Y/n)'s stomach. "We'll have so much fun every day! I can show you the shrine I made for you! A-And you can give me more pieces of you so I can worship every single part of you every day!" He just kept going, on and on and on. "We'll never be apart again. We'll die together. And if you ever die before me, I'll tear open your body and make myself fit inside you, then close you up so I can suffocate against your wonderful skin. And you'll do the same for me! Doesn't that sound perfect?" (Y/n) tensed up. Their legs were aching to run away again, but they couldn't let him harm about thread on her body. Maybe this cruel God was giving her another chance at redemption. Protect the child, no matter what. Even if it means living every day in a hell with no rising sun. Even if it means becoming a slave to someone's sick fantasies. Even if it means wasting away your own life. It's time to repent for your sins. "Yes," (Y/n) said, "perfect." . . . Days have gone by. Or weeks. Or months. (Y/n) didn't care anymore. They and little Hoppy sat a table, kneeling over ragged carpet. Echoes of droplets sang close and off in the distance as they splattered against the cave floor. Sometimes they wondered what color they were. Behind them, a candle light flickered amongst the few that decorated Bunzo's masterpiece. (Y/n) always tried to avoid looking at it, as it just made them sick to their stomach, but sometimes they had no choice but to gaze upon its repulsive glory. It was a giant shrine of corpses spelling out their name, bodies once belonging to other Bunzos and (Y/n)s. Their faces were painted in such horrid agony, their mouths forever drawn out in an eternal silent scream. Each of them had their eyes gouged out as they were forced in a position to have their handless arms reach towards the shrine's centerpiece: (Y/n)'s precious leg. It was dirty and smelled absolutely appalling. Every inch of it was covered in smears and hand prints made from blood, like someone had gotten a little too personal in order to worship it. Even though asking was the last thing they wanted to do, Bunzo went ahead and whispered everything he did to it to them every night, in terribly excruciating detail.... (Y/n) released the breath they were holding and turned toward little Hoppy. Her previously damaged ear was sewn back together, and both ears were flopped over behind her head. Though she held her usual wide, toothless smile, the life in her eyes had greatly diminished. (Y/n) scooted closer and gently made her head lean on their side. "We'll be okay," they whispered. Turns out, Bunzo somewhat kept his promise; when they were good, he didn't lay a finger on Hoppy. If he was satisfied for the day, he treated them a little too well in fact, always going off into rants about how much of a good father and husband he was to his family. Always pulling (Y/n) into sudden, deep passionate kisses that had them gasping for air while he was off in a daze. It was so hard not to throw up once they were given a chance to breathe again. If he wasn't satisfied... They took in as much musty air as they could when footsteps began to approach. Bunzo emerged into the candlelight, holding yet another plate of throbbing Devil organs. The room instantly became poisoned with iron, and they held in a gag and sat up straight. "Thank you for waiting, honey!" Bunzo said enthusiastically, setting the plate down on the table and wiping the red streak off his face. "It's like this place is getting bigger every day...but we're so lucky. That employee has a lot more friends than I thought!" "Really?" (Y/n) stared at their meal. Bleeding rivers coursed through each crevice. Little Hoppy cautiously approached the pile. "We won't have to worry about food for a while!" Bunzo looked down at the bunny, who recoiled as soon as she saw him staring at her. He smiled. "Go ahead, dear, eat up. Your parents want you to grow up big and strong!"

She didn't move. (Y/n) grabbed a handful of intestine and held it up toward little Hoppy. She sniffed their hand and nibbled the contents slowly. "Aww, how adorable!" Bunzo cried happily. He scooted next to them and firmly grabbed their shoulder, pulling them toward him. "You're absolutely perfect... I can never get enough of you. Everything you do is so precious, so..." His breath clung to a gasp and broke out into quick, manic giggles. (Y/n) pulled back a bit before he grabbed their face and pressed his lips against theirs. His grip was so strong, too strong, they used their free hand to try to pry his hands off of them, or at least get him to let go.

Thankfully, he did, and he moved back just enough to let them have some air. With his half-lidded eyes swimming in morbid longing, Bunzo stared deeply into theirs, studying every smidgen of movement, every sliver of their dulling soul, every thought they could possibly be thinking and making sure it was only of him. They opened their mouth, and Bunzo cut them off. "Which reminds me," he started, "I'd like another piece."

His victim's heart stopped, and after a long, quiet moment that was only broken by dripping drops, (Y/n) picked up little Hoppy and sat her on the table next to their meal. She stepped towards them, almost putting one of her paws on their shoulder until they stood up and left the room with Bunzo following close behind. "I know you used to dream about escaping this place one day, my dear (Y/n)," he said. They entered another room with a bed and a table with various sharpened tool. The overhead light still made the fluids glisten. "When I saw you scurry from place to place, trying to ascend from our home. The more I watched you, the more confused I became." They laid down on the bed, holding out the arm fused with (f/c) and bright yellow fur from their side. Their and Bunzo's fingers trembled in sync. Bunzo grabbed a butcher's knife and ran one of their fingers against the blade. "You'd get killed the second you step outside of this place. You could never become adjusted or find someone to trust...or to love. Thinking about that made me so, so, so sad." He stepped to the side and laid his completely yellow hand firmly against the surface. "You had the nerve to leave me, then run off to get yourself killed? It hurt me. It hurt me so much. So much-" and he heaved in a gasp as he raised the knife, "-All I could think about was-" He hammered it down on his finger. A revolting crunch bounced off the walls. "How COULD you? How DARE you?" The knife flew back up and slammed back down on his finger, over and over again with each word and unstable gasp. "There wasn't ANYTHING I wouldn't do for you, and you still LEFT? After all we've BEEN THROUGH?" And with one final, painful CRUNCH, his finger laid severed in a pool of red. Bunzo gasped heavily, staring up at the wall whilst trying to regain control of his quivering arms. "...And..." he finally spoke in a haggard whisper. "And....and...and...and and and and....and you came back to me." Bunzo turned around, smiling ever so widely. Blood dripped off his teeth with pride. "And...and...and...and we started a new life together. C-CatNap was kind enough to- to...to lend us this part of the cave as our home, he...h-he, he only asked us to praise th-the...the the the Prototype, i-i-in exchange...." He pushed himself off the table and wobbled over to (Y/n). They only watched in silence, biting their lip to keep them from crying again. "I-...I don't..." He stumbled over, quickly catching himself before he could fall. "...I don't...g-give a single sh...shit about whatever he wanted, I don't care about the Prototype! I-I can't st-stand doing his...his little favors f-for his joke of a god..."

Supporting himself with his arms on the sides of their head, Bunzo hovered over them. Disgusting gore dripped onto their face, and they couldn't look away from that perfervid, boiling, doting glare. "Y-Y-You're my only God... I'll prove, I'll prove it to you...! W-We'll exchange pieces of each other and truly, truly become inseparable!" He grabbed their only good hand and brought one of their fingers up to his lips, dousing it in his saliva sighing so contently. (Y/n) was whimpering. Their heart was pounding and they couldn't keep themselves still. "Just do it already," they choked out. "Get it over with." "Aw, don't be so scared, my little bunny..." Bunzo reached over and kissed the top of their forehead. "I'll make this quick." He raised the butcher knife, and (Y/n) squeezed their eyes shut. His voice whispered within the darkness before the burning, unimaginable pain.

"After all, you've been so good for me. I love you so much." ・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・ Hey guys! Like what ya saw? Well you can commission your own private piece now!! Read more about that here! Thanks so much for reading, and have a great day!~ 💜💜💜 So this was so much fun to make, and again, thank you to @zinnia1506 for requesting!! (But again, seriously guys, don't go actively looking for relationship like these in real life. A lot of people are saying "ugh I wish I could find a crazy yandere gf/bf" and I'm just like, no. No you don't. For one, it romanticizes people with obsessive behavior stemming from trauma and/or mental/personality disorders, and two, it will NOT be the relationship you want. Trust me, I know. So every time I'm gonna make a yandere fanfic, I'm gonna put that lil PSA in the beginning. Keep yourselves safe.

Okay! Also, you guys can now request CatNap because:

I've been researching about him and people have been saying that he was 7 years old by the time he turned into CatNap, and since this game takes place ten years later (as the game implies that the toys can age), he has aged ten years mentally and emotionally, technically making him 17-18 years old (Update on that: @atiz57 just informed me that he may be in fact older, as he was turned into CatNap at age 7, stayed in that body for four years before the Hour of Joy making him 11, and 10 years later when the game took place, he would be 21. I wanna say thanks to them for giving me that info!)

I kin and am hyperfixated on CatNap and I wanna write about him pLEASE GIMME SOMETHING THAT INVOLVES HIM/nf

For the most part, I ask you guys to keep it mostly platonic (because I still speculate on his true age from time to time), and I'd love to hear from you all!~ 💜 Next up, we have a requested DogDay fanfic! I'm so excited to write it and show you guys!!

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