#tw: mild language

[moriiartist]

WRONG TURN (AT THE RIGHT TIME)

Masterlist

Taglist

PAIRING: Vampire!Ethoslab x GN!Reader

SUMMARY: It was simple, the arrangement you had with Gem. She would let you study in the library before it opened; you would be gone before her boss came in. So… how did you wind up with a vampire for a history tutor?

WARNINGS: Mild language, death mention, semi-graphic violence, non-consensual touching (you get manhandled a bit, nothing sexual), blood and injury, vampirism

A/N: Etho’s a little spooky in this one... had me feeling some type of way while I was writing him 🥴. This one is a bit longer than some of the other stuff I’ve written, and a bit scarier, but I hope y’all enjoy it anyways!

“Alright, time to pack up. You promised me you would be gone before my boss gets in, and the library opens in an hour.”

You jumped at the sound of a book slamming against the surface of the desk you were sitting at, jerking your head up and away from the paragraph you had been staring at for the past ten minutes. A figure loomed over you like the specter of death, impatiently drumming their fingertips against the flesh of their crossed arms. 

They- or rather, she- affixed you with a glare that could melt steel, green eyes flashing behind the thick rims of her glasses. It took a second longer for your sleep-deprived brain to boot up, but it was almost too easy at this point for you to recognize the face of the library’s chief archivist.

Rubbing at your burning eyes with a forefinger and thumb, you puffed a slow breath through your cheeks. After trying to read by the dim light of the desk lamp for God knows how many hours, they stung like hell. 

“Sorry, Gem. I must’ve lost track of time.”

The librarian, Gem, snorted but allowed her stern gaze to thaw, auburn hair rippling down her back as she tilted her head. “Are you sure you aren’t pushing yourself too hard? I know you want to finish up your degree, but I’m pretty sure you’ve studied here every day this week.” 

You chuckled dryly. Oh, she had no idea.

Your day job took up almost all of the ‘working day’ so to speak, leaving only the darkest hours of the night for you to attend college classes and catch up on homework. However, during those hours, there was nothing you could access beyond what little you could pirate on your shitty laptop and printed course material. 

Which is why Gem is the only thing standing between you and straight-up flunking college. 

Despite her devout adherence to the laws that governed your local city library, you had convinced her with a mix of bribery, guilt-tripping, and groveling to allow you to visit in the early hours before it opened. You were able to read and complete your assignments in peace, but most importantly: you were able to access legitimate, essential, official resources during the only time you had during the day to study.

You felt the muscles in your jaw twitch as you held your smile, hoping it didn’t look too vacant. Or desperate. 

“I’m fine, Gem. Just a bit tired.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Sorry- have you seen yourself? The bags under your eyes are big enough to carry my groceries.”

You winced.

“Can’t argue with you there.”

If you were being honest, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d gotten more than four hours of sleep in a row- and even that estimate was generous. You pivoted in your seat, making the tactical decision to retreat from Gem’s piercing gaze.

You sighed as you crammed as many books as possible into your backpack, forcing protesting muscles that had long remained stagnant into movement. Whatever didn’t fit you hefted in your arms, making a face halfway between a grimace and a look of abject horror as your back cracked under the weight.

Gem pursed her lips, and somehow you resisted the urge to groan. This was an old argument that the two of you had hashed and re-hashed ever since she’d let you come into the library during closing hours, and you were sick of having to defend yourself.

“You can’t keep burning the candle at both ends. You look like you’re going to keel over at any second.”

“Well,” you laughed airily, the lightness of your voice at odds with the abject exhaustion in your expression. “It’s not like there���s anything I can do. I need to earn my degree, and you know that night classes are the only thing I can afford to take.”

Pausing for a moment, you snorted. “Both literally and figuratively.”

“You’re going to kill yourself at this rate,” Gem sighed, her normally lively countenance as deadpan as she could make it.

“No, I don’t think so. Not if you get to me first.”

A beat of silence.

“... Fair enough.”

It was routine for you to haul your backpack onto your shoulders, Gem helping you with the straps, and wave a harried goodbye to Gem as you slipped out the library’s back door. At her insistence, you promised to text her when you returned to your apartment so she knew you had gotten back safely. 

You shivered, clutching your books tighter to your chest as the warmth of the indoors faded, leaving you to the mercy of Autumn’s chilled embrace. 

It was no exaggeration that your free hours landed squarely in the dead of night- because although you had been up for hours, the sky was still as dark as pitch. Only the barest hint of starlight shone through the inky blackness, and though logically, you knew it was because of light pollution, some part of you wondered if the entirety of the milky way had been swallowed whole.

While the library was laid deep within the city’s heart, it was directly at the center of the entertainment district. Meaning that, despite the late (or early) hour, the city streets surrounding the library were just as busy during the night as they were during the day. Restaurants, bars, nightclubs, and… other businesses lined the street, the light from their illuminated windows and neon signs shining like rainbows against the pavement.

Across the street, raucous laughter resounded from within a bar. The sound bounced eerily across the pavement and crowded walls of the buildings that rose like silhouettes from the ground. You flinched as you heard the sound of shattering glass, accompanied by loud cheering, wrinkling your nose against the sharp sting of early winter frost and the pungent scent of booze.

You quickened your pace, dodging and weaving through flocks of tourists that ranged from mildly inebriated to flat-out drunk, barely managing to keep yourself balanced under the awkward weight of your backpack. The idea of being caught up in whatever illicit business went down in the cramped alleyways and seedy taverns that garnished the area like sprinkles on a cake was far from appealing- especially with the whole ‘living alone’ thing.

At the next street, you finally made the turn that led you away from the throngs of frat boys and bar-flies into the residential areas that sprouted just a ways off from popular tourist destinations. 

Although you had made the journey countless times, it never ceased to startle you just how quickly the general cacophony of shouting and laughter faded away with a few blocks of distance. It was much, much quieter here; the only sounds were the gentle tap-tap-tap of your shoes against the concrete and the occasional rush of a car driving by.

Windows of houses looked more like dark, empty eyes as you passed them, and the further you got from the entertainment district, the easier it was to pretend that you were the only person on earth. A sharp gust of wind suddenly howled through the trees, rattling leaves and raking icy claws across your skin.

You gasped as a shiver snaked its way down your spine, instinctually clutching your books tighter to your chest in an effort to conserve warmth. Cursing softly, you shed through your coat pocket to find your phone, exclaiming in victory as your fingers wrapped around it. Clicking it open, you blinked in surprise once you spotted the time: 5:00 AM.

Huh. That was definitely waayyy later than you had originally expected… and you had to get to work at 8:30. A high-pitched whine rose in the back of your throat. 

Say goodbye to any chance you could’ve had at a (barely) decent sleep, because at this rate? It would be a miracle if you could get home in time to shower and eat.

You were so focused on your phone that you almost didn’t process the electric hum that filled the air, the lone streetlight ahead flickering in and out to the beat of your footsteps. Catching the flashing from your periphery, you glanced up with a frown. 

Now- you weren’t an electrician, or really anyone skilled in the engineering field, but… you were fairly certain that it shouldn’t be making that loud, electric humming noise. You halted in your steps, tilting your head and squinting your eyes at the malfunctioning lamp. It flickered one more time, weakly, before plunging you into shadow.

If you thought that the night was dark before, surrounded by light and the nightlife, it paled in comparison to the true darkness that descended upon you like a cloak. One moment, you’re perfectly fine, and the next, you can hardly see the shape of your body against the pavement.

Another shiver wracked your body- but it felt different from a chill. Something inside your brain had begun frantically ringing alarm bells, and you could only desperately search for some kind of stressor as the hair on the back of your neck rose to attention.

Shakily, you exhaled, spinning in one, slow circle. There was the faint outline of a parked car, engine silent and sleeping, the houses, the trees- nothing. Nothing that would make your anxiety levels swing from ‘manageable’ to ‘DEFCON one’.

You turned back around, your previously relaxed pace discarded in favor of a light jog. It was all you could do not to fall on your ass as your backpack shifted and bounced with your downstep, and your chest felt tight as panic began to seep in.

What the hell is going on?

Something clattered behind you, and your breath seized in your lungs. The burning was hardly an afterthought because you were sprinting, stumbling and dropping your own books in your haste to get away from something you couldn’t- or wouldn’t- see.

You were so close you could see the gleam of the next streetlight up above. Your inhales were more like sobbing gasps of air, and distantly you felt the dampness of your cheeks as tears sluiced down them. 

You were so close.

But it was never like you had the chance to escape, anyway.

A calloused hand wrapped around your wrist, yanking it and the rest of your body back. Hard. 

All of the wind was knocked out of you as you slammed into the ground, hands and knees shrieking with agony as the pavement grain shredded the skin. The books within your bag did little to soften the fall, their hard spines digging into your ribs through the material of your bag.

Spots danced in front of your eyes, and you felt like you were moving through molasses as a pair of shiny dress shoes strolled into view. You didn’t want to see their face. Something visceral within you begged you to make yourself as small as possible- not a threat, nothing of interest.

Still, your traitorous gaze drifted upwards, and you felt the blood drain from your face as you stared straight up into a pair of ruby-red eyes.

“My, don’t you smell divine.”

You tried to scream, but it came out more like a choked gasp as your lungs came up empty.

This wasn’t- you had to be hallucinating. This had to be something that your sleep-deprived brain had dreamed up, safe and asleep in your bed.

Vampires weren’t real. 

But, as it grinned with razor-sharp fangs, face alight with nothing but hunger, it was impossible to say it was anything else as it dug sharp, talon-like nails into your open wound.

Pain, quick as lightning and ten times more intense sparked through your nervous system, wringing a punched-out gasp from your throat. The periphery of your eyes darkened, and for a moment you genuinely thought that you would pass out from sheer agony as you desperately tried (and failed) to tear its wrist away. 

It chuckled, twisting its claws in deeper to draw a proper scream out of you, humming in approval before it pulled them out. You went lax, heaving for breath as it lapped at the sticky blood- your blood- coating its fingers.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you realized that it was watching you. Crouched on the side of the street, inspecting you with a calculating gaze not dissimilar from how a fox inspects a cornered rabbit.

“Oh,” it said, a grin that was entirely too wide creeping across its face. “Yes. You taste even better than I thought you would.”

Feeling your breaths come faster and faster as fresh tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, you pressed your palm to your mouth, only succeeding in smearing the blood that covered it all over your chin. 

So this was how you died. Alone, scared, and covered in your own blood, pinned down in the middle of the street by a creature you thought only existed in classical literature and trashy romance novels.

And, to top it all off, you had never even graduated college.

The vampire shifted, and you flinched at the sensation of its talons scraping at the soft flesh of your neck. You knew what happened next if the stories were to be believed, but terror had frozen your limbs as thoroughly as rigor mortis.

You swallowed, squeezing your eyes shut.

And promptly had them fly back open as the vampire shot back in a blur of snarling and snapping limbs, hitting the ground several meters away from you with a loud crack.

Transfixed, you could only watch with a dumbfounded expression as a cloaked figure appeared to teleport in front of you, hissing lowly. The vampire was on its feet before you could blink, its handsome features twisted into an animalistic snarl before it locked gazes with… whatever was blocking its path to you.

If you didn’t feel like you were about to pass out, you would’ve thought how quickly its expression changed from ardor to pure, unadulterated terror was hilarious. 

“You,” it breathed, every muscle in its body snapping with tension. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Sheer survival instinct had kept your focus solely on the vampire that had cornered you, but the fear that radiated it was enough of a surprise that you found yourself glancing over towards whatever was perpetrating it.

One time, after you had gotten off work and had nothing else to do, you decided to watch a documentary series about tropical rainforest animals. For the most part, it was just background noise to help you fall asleep, but you found yourself engrossed when a particular segment about leopards began.

All you could think of, now that you were looking at the cloaked figure, was just how still they were. They didn’t move a muscle, not even where a normal person would’ve begun to cramp after a few seconds. They didn’t even seem to be breathing.

They reminded you of those leopards that you had watched. Especially in the way that those leopards went when they were hunting.

“Who says where I can and can’t be?” they, or rather, he said, masculine voice smooth and calm. “It’s certainly not your job.”

Sensing an opportunity to get the hell out of dodge, you grit your teeth as you shifted onto your hands and knees, slowly pushing yourself up into a crouch. The raw and ragged skin on your knees screamed in protest as it pulled taut, and you had to bite your tongue to stifle your soft sounds of pain.

The vampire’s jaw worked, and even as it drew itself up to its full height, you noted it was much taller than whatever had decided to intervene. (Something was wearing that cloak, but if he was an actual human person, you would eat your hat.)

The cloaked figure titled his head. “If you know what’s good for you, you should leave.”

You froze in place, heart jack-hammering in your ribs. Was he talking to you?

He went on- “Wouldn’t want to break any more rules. The covenant will have your head.”

For a long, tense moment, nothing happened. The wind whistled down the street. In the distance, police sirens wailed.

You didn’t dare move- not when the air itself felt charged, waiting for something to snap.

Then, the vampire growled, lips pulling back from their teeth wolfishly as they reluctantly bowed. Flabbergasted, you watched as it reluctantly melted back into the shadows, the red gleam of its eyes the last thing to fade to black.

The only thing you could hear was your heart thumping in your ears.

After a moment, the cloaked figure’s head turned deliberately towards where your crumpled form was hunched over, and you hastily scrabbled to your feet, Balling your hands up into fists. you trembled, staring him down.

“Are you alright?”

You don’t know what you would do if he decided to attack you, but you weren’t going to take it kneeling- not when you still felt the burn of humiliation for remaining paralyzed by terror. To your continuing horror, he took your silence as an invitation to step forward.

“Stay back,” you bit out, adrenaline buzzing through your veins. “I will not hesitate to punch you in your stupid face.”

Impressively, although you couldn’t make out his face with the shadows that clung to the hood of his cloak, you could see him do a double-take. “... Sorry?”

“You better be,” you muttered, eyes flickering to and fro as you tried to find a good escape route.

To your surprise, he hesitated, murmuring something under his breath that you couldn’t make out. He cleared his throat, shifting on his feet. “I am, if that makes you feel any better. You aren’t supposed to be attacked like this, it’s… uncivilized.”

Gaze snapping back to him, your brows raised incredulously. “Really? You’re not just saying that so that I let my guard down? And then you kill me and steal all my blood?”

“If I wanted to ‘steal all your blood’ I would’ve done it already.”

You deadpanned. “That’s not as comforting as you think it is.”

He took another step, but before you could threaten him again, pulled the hood of his cloak down. By now, your eyes had adjusted to the light (or lack thereof), and you found yourself sucking in a harsh breath.

Although you had guessed, what you saw definitely revealed him to be another vampire. His hair, a close-cropped shock of white, stood out against the darkness of the surrounding street.

You couldn’t describe the way that he was looking at you if you tried. His eyes burned like hot coals, pinned on you with a kind of unyielding focus that made your arms prickle with goosebumps. It both struck you as similar to that other vampire’s regard, a predator watching prey, but it was distinctly different- more like he was cataloging the rise and fall of your breath, the grinding of your shoe heel into the pavement.

A black mask- one of those anime ones that you couldn’t bother to remember the name of- hung around his neck, ready to be pulled up without a second’s notice. It looked well-cared for, despite being a little worn around the edges, and he fiddled with it absently as your gaze swept over him.

The most glaring thing about his appearance was the fact that he was almost flawlessly handsome, skin unblemished, bone structure pristine. The only thing that marred him was the long, thin scar that cut across his left eye, splitting his eyebrow in half.

“Even if you are pretty, I still won’t hesitate to punch you in the nose.”

He barked a laugh, fangs- holy shit his fangs- flashing. For some reason, he seemed pleased at your jab, chest puffing out slightly. “So you think I’m pretty?”

“Do I look like someone that would be attracted to an overgrown mosquito?” you scoffed, eyeing his shrewdly. “And a vain one, at that.”

He paused for a moment, staring at you, and you felt the fear that had temporarily abated come back in full force. One of these days, you were going to take a vow of silence so you could never say anything stupid ever again. 

You swallowed, hugging your arms tight to your body as you leaned away. In a blink, he was suddenly, much, much closer, and you swore as you jumped. 

“No,” the vampire said abruptly, tilting his head in a predatory manner. A smile split across his face, and a confident gleam arose within his eyes as his hand came up to grab your chin firmly. (Privately, you were relieved to find that he clipped his nails like a normal human being.)

“But you do look like someone who knows something they shouldn’t.”

You thrashed in his grip, eventually stilling with your palms pressed flat to his chest. Although you were pushing as hard as you could, it didn’t seem to affect him. 

You laughed, a little bit hysterical. “Oh, so now you’re going to kill me?” 

His fingers drummed against the flesh of your cheek. Languidly running his tongue against the swell of his upper lip, he cocked his head to the other side. You winced as you heard the vertebrae in his neck crack. 

“What could I give you to keep you quiet?”

You blinked, taken aback by his jarringly serious tone.

“What?”

“What do you want? Money? Favors? What would convince you to keep your mouth shut?” he pressed, eyes narrowing, Distantly, you noted that his eyelashes were as pale as the hair on top of his head. “We’ve got kind of a secret society thing going on, y’anno, and we don’t need you blabbing.”

Confused, you shifted, and his hand came up to squish your cheeks until your lips puckered like a fish’s. You tensed but didn’t attempt to move.  “‘Oul’nt you j’st kill ‘m?”

He smirked, ruby red eyes gleaming. “Yes, but it would be a shame. You’re funny.”

You batted his hand away, staring at him. He… seemed sincere, or he could just be a very skilled liar. It was more than likely that both were true, and whatever you did, it would be a gamble.

“... A tutor,” you said after several moments of silence, voice laced with quiet certainty. “That’s what I need. A tutor.”

He stared at you. You stared at him. There was a lot of staring at one another.

“That’s it? ”

You shrugged. “College is hell.”

“Not cash, or fame, or… cash…” the vampire frowned. “Everyone asks for cash.”

“I guess I’m just built different,” you said, as if you weren’t running on less than half of the minimum sleep quota and hubris. 

You would be kicking yourself later when you sprung out of bed, wild-eyed as you beheld the healing cuts that littered your knees and palms, but right now? You were absolutely not in the right mindset to be making pacts with a creature of the night.

“Alrighty then,” he said after a moment, letting go of your face in favor of offering you his other hand. “It’s a deal.”

You, with all the bravado and lack of self-awareness that only a college senior could possess, took it.

He grinned, and in a blink, a solid chest bumped into your back. There was no heat to your proximity other than your startled flush, even as the vampire’s cold breath caressed the shell of your ear.

“The name’s Etho. I have a hunch that you and I... we’re going to have a lot of fun together.”

The crack of your fist hitting his face resounded through the street, drawing a startled hiss from the vampire.

Well, he couldn’t say you didn’t warn him.

@blufr0st​ @itsonlydana​ @amearla​ @bapthadapper​ @redactedsouls​ @sina-the-idiot @icarusthefoolish​ @blockyshieldmaiden​ @lunarheartsposts​

#mori's monster series #a meal for the children #hermitcraft x reader #hermitcraft x you #hermitcraft x y/n #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #mcyt x y/n #ethoslab x reader #ethoslab x you #ethoslab x y/n #c!ethoslab #c!geminitay #tw: mild language #tw: death mention #tw: blood #tw: non-consentual touching #tw: violence #tw: blood and injury #tw: vampirism

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

some Friendly Maintenance scribbles i forgot to post!

#(the paint he's touchin up home with is the wrong color <3 neither of them can tell <3) #but yeah yayyyyyy stitchin up friends! woohoo! #i would like to state! in this au the puppets Do Not Feel Pain the way we do! #at worst its like... intense pins & needles + sorta nausea + static but a Physical Feeling etc etc #its deeply uncomfortable and feels really fucking weird! but not painful! #but for a puppet who's never really experienced it... they may react the same as a person would to pain #is this based off of my lil theory that in canon they Do Not Feel Pain At All? yeah lol #but anyway! patchin up friends is a love language! #scribble salad #wh lights out au #tw stitches #tw body horror #(mild but i think it counts) #(also for anyone wondering - howdy had a close call with sally. he got slashed! hes fine!) #(wally just has to kinda... shove the stuffing back in and then sew the gash shut. easy slices!) #(putting the stuffing back in is the worst part. it feels... not great! like i said - not painful - but not great at all!) #(howdy is employing all of his willpower to stay put and not scramble away from the unpleasant sensation!) #i have this whole mental Mechanic for what certain things feel like when it comes to maintenance on the puppets #like reattaching limbs or stuffing falling out etc #ALSO RARE TWO-EYED WALLY CAMEO 🚨 #oh and #RARE AWAKE BARNABY CAMEO 🚨🚨 #(just his arm but yk. hes up!) #(and they saved a large candle for the occasion of reattaching his arm!) #(wally is so happy...)

[ash-whimsicalfanfic]

You Betrayed Me

Tom Riddle II X Fem OC/Reader

Word Count: 1832

Warnings: Mild Language, Violence, Death, Angst, Sad, Heartbreaking/Happy ending, Baby, etc.

Prompt: After graduating from Hogwarts, Tom begins to go down a dark and angry path. His love for you is questionable, however your main focus is your shared son, Mattheo...

“How is our future dark lord?” Tom asks, stepping into Mattheo’s nursery.

Things have been rocky between the two of us since we graduated from Hogwarts. He was unhappy with his current job and now was on an angry, dark path. I was fine with letting him do his own thing, however I draw the line when it comes to my son.

“Stop calling him that, Tom. He is a baby and even when he is older, he won’t be apart of this.” I say seriously as I continue to rock Mattheo.

“He is my heir, Y/N. He will be a dark lord.” He says seriously.

“What has happened to you? You use to be the man I loved, but now your just a shell of the man I once knew.” I say in disbelief.

“I’m the same man you married.Your just being overdramatic.” He says, rolling his eyes.

“Just go.” I snap.

“Do not talk to me that way.” He yells, pulling his wand out and pointing at me.

Mattheo instantly starts to wail, however I couldn’t take my eyes away from Tom. His eyes that once shone with love and adoration for me, now held hate and a coldness to them. 

“You would actually kill me.” I say, still in shock.

“I am the dark lord! I will not tolerate your disrespect! You are with me or you are against me!” He shouts.

I look down at the son we share who was screaming louder. I gently shush him, rocking him slightly. This boy needed me. Tom wouldn’t give him the love and care he needed in this world. Tom would do what was necessary to keep him alive while forcing him to do whatever he pleases. 

“I will stand by you, but I do not want to be your wife no more.” I say, turning to place Mattheo in his crib.

He was calm now, looking around curiously. He didn’t look as happy as he did before Tom came into the room. I frown, gently caressing his cheek before I lift him enough to place a kiss on his head.

“Look at me.” Tom seethes.

“I love you, Mattheo. So much. Mommy is always going to be here for you, sweet boy. Get some sleep.” I murmur, gently caressing his cheek before I turn to Tom.

“You have betrayed me. Even my own wife can’t stand by me.” He says, tears welling in his eyes as he grips his wand tighter.

My own eyes water as I know what is going to happen before it happens. I didn’t even have a way to defend myself. My wand was put away in my room. 

“Tom, you don’t have to do this. Mattheo needs his mother. Please.” I plead.

“Avada Kedavra!” He shouts.

It all happened so fast, the green light filling the room. I stood and looked down at the floor where my body lied before looking at Tom. He was staring down at my body before collapsing to the floor as he sobs. He crawls towards my body, cupping my cheek.

“Wake up…wake up, Y/N! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I lost my temper! I’m sorry!” He cries. 

Mattheo starts to wail and I look over to see him standing in his crib, grasping the bars as he stared at me…not my body, me.

“Oh sweet boy. It’s okay. Mommy will always be here, watching and protecting you. Don’t you ever forget that mommy loves you.” I murmur as I step forward and stroke his cheek.

He quiets, looking up at me as he giggles and reaches up.

“Mattheo, what are you doing?” Tom mutters, standing at the end of the crib.

“Mama!” Mattheo cries again as he reaches up.

Tom looks at where I’m standing now, looking confused and lost before looking at Mattheo who was still looking up at me. I push a curl out of his eyes, smiling softly at him.

“Y/N…” Tom mumbles. 

“Mattheo! Choose a side! Just know your mother died choosing the wrong side!” Tom shouts. 

I frown, watching Mattheo. Choose his side. Choose it. 

“Mattheo! Please!” Narcissa pleads.

I smile sadly, she has protected him and raised him. I knew I could always rely on her.

“Issa…” Mattheo pleads.

“Your mother would want you to live.” She says.

“Choose a side son!” He shouts.

“I choose mom’s side!” He shouts back.

My eyes widen before I lunge forward in front of him as the spell casts. Everyone around us gasps including Tom and I knew they could see me. I looked at my hand to see it was translucent. It was like how ghosts in the stories were described.

“Mom.” Mattheo whispers. 

I turned around and saw that he was looking at me in surprise.

“My sweet boy.” I whisper, reaching out to caress his cheek.

He leans into my touch, a tear falling down his cheek. I smile softly at him.

“I miss you so much.” He says.

“I’m always with you, sweet boy. And I will always love you and care for you. I can’t tell you how proud I am of you.” I murmur. 

“Y/N?” Tom finally says.

I turn and face him, the smile falling from my face.

“You have lost your mind, Tom. I hoped and prayed that you would stop this reckless path of yours, especially after seeing the way you fell apart after you killed me. But, you’ve lost it. He is our son. I told you that I never wanted him a part of this dark and angry path you’ve paved for yourself. I wanted him to make his own choices. Even if he decided he wanted to follow in your footsteps, I never would let him.” I say.

“Mattheo, you will die just as an agonizing death as your mother.” He snaps and I see that Mattheo was trying to get closer to Narcissa that was sneaking off.

I nod at her and dive in front of Mattheo, taking her wand and pointing it at him. Narcissa’s hushed hurries to both Mattheo and her son, Draco were all I could hear. 

“Y/N, move.” He warns.

“Never.” I say.

“You chose the wrong side once, don’t tell me you're doing it again.” He says.

“I’m willing to sacrifice my life, even as a spirit.” I say, my eyes watering.

If I didn’t play my cards out right, Tom would remember some of the old legends about the spirit of a wizard. As a pureblood, magic ran through me indefinitely…even dead. It is what allows me to show myself briefly, however the killing curse triggered something to make me be able to show myself like I was now. This wasn’t brief…it wasn’t temporary…this was permanent. 

Tom seemed to be calculating what to do. He was trying to figure out how to get rid of me once and for all. I couldn’t let him do that. Mattheo has me and he is going to need me. He needs to be protected from Tom. Tom still held a place in my heart even after everything. I find myself reminiscing the love we use to both share, before it was just me.

“How are you doing this?” He asks.

“A mothers love is something no one can explain. I knew once I found out I was pregnant with Mattheo, that I’d die for him. He became my world in a heartbeat and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” I say. 

“Mom!” Mattheo shouts.

I glance over to see him throwing something my way. My wand. I throw Narcissa’s back and catch mine, quickly mouthing “I love you” to Mattheo. I turn back to Tom, gripping my wand tighter.

“Expelliarmus!” We shout.

A green stream of magic shoots out of his wand as a blinding white shoots out of mine. I step forward, gripping my wand tighter as my magic starts to overpower his. 

“You are not more powerful than me, do you not forget how you died.” He seethes.

“Don’t forget you played an unfair game. My wand was in the other room. Otherwise, I’m sure you’d be the one dead.” I seethe back, my eyes watching a young boy destroy the last horcrux: Nagini.

His magic begins to overpower mine and I focus on what I’m doing this for. Mattheo’s life. I focus on the anger I had for Tom taking away my ability to raise Mattheo. I focus on the anger of Tom killing me in front of Mattheo. I focus on my pain of loving and hating Tom Riddle. 

My magic overpowers him, sending his wand flying out of his hand. I catch his wand, glaring at Tom who looks at his hand that starts to turn to ash.

“It’s over Tom.” I say.

“I’ll be back.” He says.

I step forward until I stand in front of him and I grab his face as I look down at him with a blank look.

“No, you won’t. The dark magic you’ve used and using horcruxes for yourself, has ruined your chance of ever being a spirit. You're going straight to hell, Tom.” I whisper.

“And you say you loved me.” He says.

“I don’t love this version of you. I love the Tom Riddle I was with when we attended Hogwarts. That is the Tom Riddle I am in love with.” I say, stepping back. 

I watch as the rest of him turns to ash, looking down at the wand I held. My eyebrows furrow, noticing this wasn’t his wand. This was the Elder Wand. I turn and walk towards Professor McGonagall.

“I believe this goes to you.” I say.

“You always were…have been an incredible woman, Y/N. Go be with Mattheo…and then come back and let's talk about you staying here at Hogwarts.” She says.

I smile, before stepping away and turning to see that Mattheo was already watching me. He breaks into a sprint and I smile, opening my arms up and wrapping him in a tight hug. We sway back and forth, the both of us hugging each other like it was going to be our last time.

“I didn’t realize you were this tall. It’s different when I’m standing here with you and not off to the side.” I whisper.

“Please tell me you aren’t leaving me.” He pleads quietly.

“I’ll probably be joining Moaning Myrtle and the others here at Hogwarts. At least until I move on…but I’m not going to be moving on for a long while.” I say.

“Are you unhappy you can’t move on?” He asks quietly.

“No, no of course not, sweet boy. I’m here with you and that is all I could ever want. The day I move on is the day that you join me on this side…the spirit side. However, I hope that won’t be for a really long time. I hope to see you do many great things, Mattheo.” I say, smiling softly at him.

#mild language #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #mattheoxreader #harry potter #angst #tom riddle #tom riddle angst #tom riddle x reader #heartbreak #tw death #matheo riddle x reader mom #voldemort #harry potter angst #tom riddle x you #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle fanfiction #harry potter reader insert

[nando161mando]

#tw swearing #swearing cw #swearing warning #swearing in tags #mild swearing #swearing #profanity #language #slang #slanguage #funny memes #dank memes #best memes #relatable memes #memes #meme #dankest memes #dank humor #dank memage #meme queen #meme quotes #meme weekend #meme worthy #meme en español #meme edit #memeeconomy #meme redraw #meme reply #meme response #meme reference

[sayitaliano]

How to use the idiomatic sentence "Mi sono cadute le palle" in a speech.

Basically you use when you tell somoene else about something disappointing you have been through or someone told you. It could be used also with irony, so to tell this event with a ironic/funny acception (it's nothing too bad anyway, so you can "laugh" about it when you recall it)

For example, let's suppose you had an appointment with someone on a certain day and let's suppose they cancel it because they forgot about another plan or they actually didn't want to come with you (rude, yeah, but eg.). Your first direct reaction would be "Ma non me lo potevi dire prima?" = Couldn't you tell me beforehands?

So when you tell about this to your friend you could say "Dovevamo andare insieme a X (=posto) ma mi ha scritto la notte prima dicendomi che si era dimenticat* di avere un altro impegno/ch enon voleva più venire con me.... Mi sono cadute le palle" = "So we had to go together to X (=place) but they wrote me like the night before to tell me they forgot they had another plan for the next day/they don't want to come anymore... my balls fell."

Another example kinda from irl. Let's suppose you're telling this to your friend again: "Allora ho chiesto questo documento, ma mi hanno detto di andare a ritirarlo dopo 3 settimane. Quando sono andata a ritirarlo, mi hanno detto che dovevo ritirarlo da un'altra parte. Così sono andata là e quando sono arrivata, la guardia all'ingresso mi ha detto che quel giorno era chiuso... mi sono cadute le palle, non hai idea!" = So I asked for this document, but they told me to go come pick it up in 3 weeks. When I went to pick it up, they told me I had to go to another structure. So I went there, and when I arrived, the guard told me that on that day they were closed... my balls fell, you have no idea"

Ofc if you don't actually have balls, you could also add (not mandatory, as it's just an hyperbole you're using): Mi sono cadute le palle anche se non le ho = even if I don't have them. And to add more "fun" right after: Le ho sentite proprio fisicamente staccarsi dal mio corpo. = I really felt them physically break away from my body.

#italian #it #langblr #italian language #italian langblr #italiano #language #languages #parole words #traduzioni #italian idiomatic sentences #idiomatic expressions #idiomatic sentences #idioms #modi di dire #sayings #tw swearing words #mild swearing

[frostwork]

He did not get a special treat for winning both places in the same week.

#pokemon #scovillain #pokemon meme #frostpost #my art #frostart #tw cursing #i need to give my trainer a special name but im living cringe free pokemon life now #trainer named him for the pepper because his mom grows them in their garden #and when he evolved with the two heads trainer felt a need to distinguish them that was special so mild and spicy are their nicknames #im only gonna tag language in my own pokemon art because kids like pokemon man i wont be that guy

[duodipersponsh]

Izzy Hands as a semi-verbal character. Hear me out.

Izzy Hands using sign language, half of which has been rawly developed by their previous and current crew to communicate the basic stuff and half of which was invented by him and Edward, which is why they sometimes engage in very heated arguments that no one else understands. Edward is gesturing and yelling simultaneously while Izzy is signing silently and threateningly, refusing to back down an inch. Of course Izzy sign-swears a lot.

Izzy Hands with his menacing look. It's been obvious that he's terribly talented since he was young, and nobody on earth can look down on him and walk away with all limbs. He is respected, and when he approaches without any word, you better notice it immediately. He is feared, and there are almost as many legends about the silent pirate as there are about Blackbeard.

Izzy Hands pinned to the wall by an especially angry Ed, frozen, not making a single sound, just watching with his eyes wide open and his breath barely audible. He cannot sign from this position, but he wouldn't know what to say even if he could. Edward somehow doesn't notice the implications and decides this is what Izzy looks like when he's scared.

Izzy Hands finding himself on the Revenge. This is the first time in ages he remembers he's not actually that tall. Turns out it's much harder to successfully threaten a person if said person is a muppet. Jim can communicate with him almost immediately, most of the others are just low-key ignoring him, but Lucius sees him for the touch-starved teenager he is and teases him all. the. time. For some reason, it's been three days and Lucius is still alive. Must be a miracle.

Izzy Hands forced to communicate with Stede with only nods, rolled eyes and unsheathed daggers (Stede is not impressed. Ed snorts and is not impressed either. Humiliating.). Stede is mostly polite and does his best to learn from Ed as quickly as possible, but the awkward silences are still there during the first couple of weeks cause Izzy is NOT making it easier for S-t-e-d-e Focking B-o-n-n-e-t. The arguments are there as well. Somehow, Stede deciphers Izzy's resting face as smirks.

Izzy Hands finally entering the muppet policule. His repressed soul has absolutely no idea what to do now. It takes him so long to come to terms with the new reality where he only needs to ask his boyfriends and he'll be cuddled all through the night. He never does.

Instead, Izzy Hands comes to the captains' quarters one day and stands still without any sign or sound, longing to be loved but knowing no way to express it (he looks like a sad soaked puppy but he doesn't know it so please don't tell him). Stede and Ed are extremely careful, guiding him inside, ofering him a seat, kissing him very very gently so as not to scare him.

Izzy Hands cries silent happy tears.

I haven't been able to watch the whole show due to how triggering the visuals sometimes get but I hope I didn't miss anything, also i only have rare times of semi-verbality so tell me if anything bothers you!

#izzy hands #steddy hands #ofmd #ofmg #edward teach #stede bonnet #lucius spriggs #jim jimenez #semiverbal #sign language #ofmd prompt #tw mild language

[ruleofexception]

A Moment Apart

Largely inspired by Intro & A Moment Apart - Odesza.

~

Thousands of lights – clusters of cities that stretch out across the globe like a network of constellations – begin to dull and flicker. Extinguish themselves as the sun crests over the curvature of the planet and brings with it a new dawn. A new day.

It’s as beautiful as it is harrowing. A sight that still manages to leave him breathless, even as it marks the two-hundred and thirty-sixth day of his being up here in the void.

At least, according to the tallies he’s scratched into the hull of the service module, that’s the number of days he’s pretty sure have passed. Difficult to keep track, when the sun doesn’t really rise and set the same as it does down there. Days and nights all sort of blur together; time, broken down into moments in which he is asleep and those in which he’s not.

Read more on A03

#obiyukibingo23 #ans #obiyuki #akagami no shirayuki-hime #space au #gonna be short and sweet I said #500 words for a fill i said #if my muse continues to cooperate you'll get a second chapter of this #tw: mentions of suicidal thoughts. depression. anxiety. mild language.

[bigswigrollerexpress]

[Curry Carnivore AU - CWS: Mild Body Horror, Distress, Mild Language]

The morning of the first strike was one that Aloha sure as hell didn't want to remember, but the events all too easily came to mind. Even when his arm was recovered and fully grown back, the pain that morning would match even his most painful wipeouts.

The morning was foggy and so was Aloha's mind as he awoke slowly in his ruffled bed. Well, he was awakening slowly, until the dull pain in his left arm came through that haze and thoroughly shot through his nerves. What? What had happened? Aloha's eyes opened wide, sleepiness still in his eyes as he pulled himself to sit up, using one arm to feel over where the pain was, only to find... There was no arm there.

The pink inkling blinked, taking a moment to process before adrenaline finally sunk into his system. His arm was- it was GONE? Like, GONE gone. No way... How?! It was even bandaged, too... What kind of madman would do this?! Aloha waved his hand where his arm would normally be, trying to figure out if he was hallucinating or if there was some kind of illusion going on. Nope. Nothing like that. His arm was actually missing. And whoever had the gall and disturbed mind to do this had half a thought to patch him up. His ink didn't even stain the bedsheets...

The distressed partier would reach to his phone on his nightstand, still plugged in from last night and thankfully charged. Opening up his phone, he'd scroll through his contacts as fast as he could to find one of his teammates- Snorkel. He's practically always up. And if not, his phone wakes him up.

It's a good thing he usually texts with one hand to impress the girls, though that didn't keep the agony from keeping his hand steady and his head clear. There's no way he would be able to type right, so he wouldn't.

[Snork.]

[Dufde.]

[Dude.]

[You uip?]

[Plzs.]

[I need hjelp.]

Suave persona put aside, not that Snorkel would really care, there's be the smallest tinge of relief as he saw that his teammate was typing up a response.

[Lolo, it's 3 pm!! <3 Of course I'm up!] Of course he slept in- partying does that to an inkfish. Ha, at least that means he won't be alone. But, on the opposite hand that he didn't have, he'd be seen by plenty more inkfish. There wasn't much time to debate the thought on if Aloha wanted that or not.

[What's up, my guy?]

The inkling would shudder, eyes closing shut to feel the dreaded throbbing pain of his wound. This is so... So fucked up. Uncaring of his misspellings, he'd send his next few messages with urgency, silently apologizing for the distress he'd cause to Snorkel... And very likely, the rest of his team.

[Myy arms GONE!!]

[Likjk GONE gonew.]

Aloha's pink eyes would tremble as he watched the elipses that denoted his friend typing. There was a weak laugh that faded into a groan. He hated this. He hated feeling like this. He felt... Helpless. Unsafe. The inkling could feel his head start to spin from the stress of his own room not being protected enough to keep an arm-chopping inkfish out, barely holding himself together by means of his teammate on the line- who responded fast. Clearly the concern was rising.

[You're kidding.]

[Like, you're joking, yea?]

[Like. Haha funny, right??]

[Wishj I was.]

Aloha would sift through his phone apps, quickly finding and opening the camera app. He raised his working arm, taking a selfie with his the arm he still had. He wish he could give a peace sign like he usually would, but... Hey. Can't really have peace with a missing arm, right? The image made him look pale- sickly, even. Ugh... So unflattering. Not even filters would fix him at this point.

Snorkel had sent multiple concerned messages by the time the injured had sent the image of his current condition, though they weren't read as Aloha was more pressed on showing what's happened to him. With the image sent, he could only wait with his chest tight as he watched his phone screen intently.

[COD DAMN???? ARE YOU OKAY???]

[DID YOU PATCH YOURSELF UP???]

[Wojke up like thisd.]

[OHHH MY COD]

[OKAY OKAY]

[I'M GETTING HELP N COMING OVER LOLO]

[It's gonna be okay, Lolo]

That last message... It stung more than it helped. It felt like a false pretense, just something said to make him feel better. Aloha would given a shaken sigh as he pulled his legs to his chest, trying to wrap his arms- well, arm- around his legs and finding it more awkward than helpful. Even so, he stayed that way.

"...h-haha... Girls... Girls love a-a guy with... Wh-whatever you call this..."

#curry carnivore au #coroika #swig write #inkling #snorkel coroika #aloha coroika #cw language #tw mild body horror #ask to tag

[mosscloakenthusiast]

Treebark Week day 6 - win/lose

It doesn’t hit either of them what has happened when Ren kills Grian. 

It doesn’t hit them as they walk back to Dogwarts to regroup and plan their next move.

It doesn't hit them as they realise how late it is and settle to rest in the cave under Renchanting. They sleep in shifts. Because it hasn’t hit them yet.

It hits Ren when he checks his comms to see who’s left. Martyn is asleep. He could kill him, he’s asleep, can’t defend himself. He doesn’t. He doesn’t share with Martyn his realisation.

It hits Martyn when Ren starts acting more relaxed, more domestic, working beside him rather than insisting that one of them stays on watch. He wants to pretend it hasn’t. Let them live like this forever. He knows he can’t.

—

They both realise that the other knows. They both wake up each morning to the sounds of the ghosts on the wind, begging for a fight. They try their hardest to ignore it.

Without people to rule over, Ren slips from The Red King back to Ren, who happens to be red. Without a king, Martyn loses his position as The King’s Hand, becoming Just Martyn once again. It does very little to appease the red in both of them, but it is nice to just be Ren and Martyn, who don’t have a banner or domain or title, just each other and the fast-setting sun.

Ren and Martyn love each other more than they could ever properly express. Ren and Martyn don’t have to worry about keeping their people safe, or making deals, or Grian’s hidden bombs. Ren and Martyn are a single togetherness against the echoing empty world.

Not a word is spoken when they start sleeping in the same bed. It’s for warmth, for protection, nothing more, they tell themselves. They both know it isn’t true. They both keep it to themselves if they notice how inseparable they become, rarely in separate rooms, knees touching under tables, holding hands and not letting go. It’s so they know they haven’t lost each other, they say.

At some point they feel able to talk about what has happened again, talking of wars and scars and beheadings. They realise that, if they’re honest, it was never The Red King’s kingdom. It was always Ren and Martyn’s. Always.

When they kiss it feels as easy as breathing. As if they’d always done it, just off-camera. They stop making excuses for not crafting an extra bed and always holding hands and wanting to be so close. They feel almost at peace. They get better at ignoring the ghosts.

They tell eachother everything, pretty much. Loud stories told under a burning sun as they replant their crops, confessions whispered in the dead of night. They forgive and they hold each other close and they repair anything broken from the times they found the hardest.

Ren doesn’t tell Martyn that with each day that passes he feels the scar on his throat grow larger, threatening to rip open. He doesn’t tell Martyn he’s been killing small animals to keep the bloodlust at bay, that the red in him begs for a death, even if it’s his own.

Martyn doesn’t tell Ren the eyes he feels settling on his face, the force pulling him to Watch. He doesn’t tell Ren about the part of him that cleans his axe every day, practices the motion of bracing to be killed.

— 

It hits Martyn when Ren takes his hand and pulls him outside to the Altar.

It hits Ren when Martyn hands him an axe and kneels.

It hits them that this always had to happen. They’ve both been preparing for this, without telling the other.

It hits them when they’re both begging the other to kill them that they were never going to get away with living.

They argue. They scream at each other. Sit softly and hold hands and the axe lies between them like a promise. 

Martyn caves. Part of him knew this would happen, he will always do what Ren asks. He thinks, he hopes, that death is better than winning and being left alone. That Ren forgetting he exists is better than remembering he no longer does.

Ren feels familiarity kneeling on the Altar. He doesn’t feel afraid. He has been ready for this for a long time. It’s even the same axe.

Martyn hates himself. But he can’t let Ren down.

—

It hits Martyn that Ren is dead. And he is alone.

#treebark #treebark week #adventreebark #adventreebark 2022 #tw for very mild body horror #and descriptions of violence #ren and martyn are the last two in third life au #i have a lot to say about this one so buckle up #i am very ill and tired atm which means we get my writing Special Edition #ie. flowery poetry language that doesn't make sense half the time #also made an appearance in that one pearl fic i wrote #that being said this is the longest one i wrote so far bc Flowery Poetry Language does get me in the writing zone a lot more #this is very vaguely inspired by wearing thing by sparxwrites

[moriiartist]

LIKE INK IN WATER

Masterlist

Taglist

PAIRING: Ghost!Eret x GN!Reader

SUMMARY: Get a job as a tour guide at the local historic castle!’, they said. ‘It’ll be fun!’, they said. Well, now a specter of the last monarch to be crowned in its old halls has decided you’re the best thing since sliced bread, and you have to live with it.

WARNINGS: Mild language, implied/referenced death, implied/referenced murder, body horror, fainting mention

A/N: Okay- I know the warnings look bad, but in my opinion the fic is a lot lighter than it may first appear. Don’t judge a book by its cover, or... something. Anyways, enjoy, and remember to take care of yourselves y’all!

When you stepped into the darkened, cavernous expanse of the great hall from the brightness of the front lawns, you had only two things on your mind: a fresh cup of coffee and your need for a new jacket.

The squeaking of your sneakers echoed off the high stone walls and reverberated throughout the room, no doubt audible throughout the empty building. It was difficult for sound to permeate the castle’s infrastructure; the birdsong, the wind, all of it was muffled. You could almost forget that there was a world outside of the site’s sprawling grounds, that you hadn’t been transported back into the dark ages.

The emptiness was unnerving, especially during your first few days on the job, but you’d quickly grown to love it while it lasted. The serenity wouldn’t last long- not when, in about an hour, the castle would be swarming with tourists and their ankle biters.

“‘Morning Sam,” you murmured blearily as you dumped your bag onto the security kiosk’s counter, rifling through it for your employee ID. 

“Guess again,” a cheery voice greeted you, and you paused. Blinking up at the person behind the glass, you felt your eyebrows shoot up so fast that it almost hurt. The grin that spread across your face was painful in its own right, wide and broad.

“Tubbo! I didn’t know you were working today,” you beamed, sleepiness forgotten as you greeted the teen. His grin, coupled with a bright gleam in his eye, was even brighter than your own.

Tubbo shrugged, a mirthful gleam in his eye as he took your offered ID and scanned it into the security system with deft fingers. The bright glow of the computer screen illuminated his youthful features and compact, soft face, turning his skin a ghostly shade of pale blue. Catching your eye, he grinned mischievously.

No doubt about it. If Tubbo died and somehow came back, he’d be a poltergeist.

Although he was only eighteen, he’d been working at the site for three years; much longer than you, barely a month in. Security, site maintenance, guiding tours- he’d done them all. The two of you had grown close, what with all the time you’d spent around each other, and although you would be hard-pressed to admit it, you had begun to think of the kid as a little brother.

“Sam was sick today, and couldn’t come in.”

You nodded sagely. “Ponk?”

“Ponk,” he agreed.

Despite the fact that you could count the number of times you’d met Ponk on two hands, it’d been enough for you and the rest of your coworkers to develop a healthy fear of her. She was perfectly nice, if a bit of a prankster, but when it came to Sam’s workaholic tendencies…?

You winced. He definitely needed the rest, but you did not want to know what atrocities Ponk had committed in getting him to stay home for the day.

The computer beeped, and Tubbo slid your ID back through the slot in the glass with a grin. “I heard you’re chaperoning some ghost hunters this weekend.”

Rolling your eyes, you chuckled. “Yeah. It’s kind of stupid, but I’m getting paid overtime for it, so.”

“Really?” he hummed, tipping his head to the side and cupping his chin in his palm. “Sounds like someone’s a skeptic.”

You hesitated.

“I don’t… know,” you said, drawing the words out. “As far as I’m concerned, the spookiest thing in this castle the lack of air conditioning. I’ll mind my own business, and so can the ghosts- spirits, or whatever.”

“Fair,” Tubbo snickered, his grin widening into something with entirely too many teeth. “You’ll have to tell me what show came by. I want to watch the footage when the episode releases.”

“Yeah, yeah. See you later, Tubs,” you sighed, ignoring his blatant attempt to psyche you out.

“Good luck!”

Kentillie Hold was many things to many different people. To you, it was the place where you spent your working hours, spouting scripts to visitors and their bored children. To historians, it was the crowning jewel of an ancient kingdom to rival Britain’s own, and the setting for one of the most brutal executions in history. To tourists… it was pretty and a good place to pose for Instagram pictures.

And it was, apparently, one of the most haunted places in England. At least, according to all the ghost hunters and paranormal enthusiasts that swamped the place, it was.

If you had been asked if you believed any of those claims a month ago, you would’ve called bullshit. Since your childhood, ghosts had always been a scare tactic that’d been used against you to, whether it be just to elicit some sort of reaction, or coerce you into doing something out of fear.

Years had passed, and you’d long since come to the realization that ghosts weren’t something to be afraid of- because they weren’t real. It was kind of ridiculous, the idea that the spirits of the dead had returned to the world of the living to just… hang out?

However, since your time spent at Kentillie, you were beginning to reconsider your stance on the subject.

It was easy to imagine that a place like the Hold was filled to the brim with ghosts. It was old- very, very old. Though there’d been no written record of when it was built, it had been estimated to be around 1040- almost twenty years earlier than Berkhamsted Castle. The stone walls and portcullis were crumbled and grey with age, with vines of ivy and climbing roses continually threatening to overtake the structure entirely.

Entire sections of the castle were forbidden for both staff and visitors to enter because of the rot that had done away with the castle for years before its restoration. One of the maintenance men actually had to quit because, while taking a shortcut through the restricted rooms, he had fallen through the floors and into the dungeons.

The Hold needed a lot of maintenance, too. It seemed like every other week something needed to be repaired or replaced. In fact, you’d heard that over the weekend the mirrors in the King’s Chambers had needed to be deep-cleaned. Something about the metal backing rusting and causing red fluid to start leaking out of the glass?

You had only held your job for a brief time, but that was more than long enough for you to begin to notice the… odd happenings within the site’s halls. Stuff- yours and your coworker’s- consistently disappeared and reappeared in spots they definitely weren’t in before. Guests mentioned hearing disembodied voices near closing hours, footsteps that followed them down the hall; movement out of the corner of their eyes that, when they turned to investigate, revealed nothing there.

The earnestness with which they recounted these events was enough to make even the most hard-core skeptic waver in their beliefs. Unnerving to say the least- especially when you were a witness of some of these encounters yourself.

You did your best to put it out of your mind, but more often than not you felt watched. The sensation of intangible eyes boring holes into you during your work shifts was a familiar one. Random chills, goosebumps, and running into inexplicably cold patches of air, even more so.

Acknowledging it only invited childhood fear back, so you didn’t. At least, not consciously.

More importantly than the Hold’s age or the toll that time had taken on it in reinforcing the mythology of paranormal happenings was the history held within its hallowed halls; the long, winding tale of one of the most powerful (and obscure) royal lineages to ever exist, and of a betrayal that rivaled the drama of the Ides of March.

“Do any of you know who the last reigning monarch of Kentillie Hold was?” you asked politely, gaze sweeping over the faces of the tour group you were leading. They stared at you, faces blank and uncomprehending. Someone coughed.

After checking in with Tubbo, you’d been launched into the routine that dictated your day-to-day work life: you stowed your stuff away in the staff room (which was really just a repurposed part of the cellar), changed into your uniform, and prepped for the tours that you were slated to corral. It was well past noon and you were leading your fourth- and most boring- group of your shift.

Despite the difficulty, you kept your smile staunchly plastered across your face. It wasn’t very often that you met someone who knew, given how deep the Herobrines were in the British monarchy’s shadow. However, having to explain the same thing over and over again to people who rarely cared was… tiring, to say the least.

Since it was a weekday, there were fewer people visiting. The ballroom was quiet, the hushed voices of guests barely audible against the rush of wind outside the small, port-like windows. Your voice was the loudest by far, all those Drama lessons you’d taken helping you project your voice to every corner of the space.

Before you could continue, resigned to your fate, a tiny hand shot up into the air. “Eret Herobrine!”

Your eyebrows flickered up as you gazed down at the little girl who’d answered your question, a determined gleam to her eye as her gaze met yours. Softening, you graced her with the most genuine smile you’d given throughout the duration of the tour.

“Very good!” you enthused. “They were the seventh and last reigning monarch of Herobrine.”

Stepping to the side, you gestured to the painting that’d been hung directly behind you. At your cue, the light coming through a nearby window strengthened, setting the bold colors that comprised the work alight with a fiery vibrance. “This portrait here depicts him at the height of his rule, right around the time of his coronation.”

The tourists ooo’d and ahhh���d, some of the more industrious taking out their cell phones or cameras to snap a pic. You couldn’t blame them for their enraptured reactions- you’d felt much the same the first time you’d seen it.

That painting- ‘Winter After The Coronation’- was one of the many mysteries of the Hold. It was ancient, but somehow throughout the years, it had managed to remain as pristine as the day it was framed. Whether it was because it was found stored within the walls of the castle, far away from the elements, or through some method of sealing or making paint that made it immune to weathering, the artistry was pristine.

And oh, was it breathtaking.

Brought to life on the canvas was the likeness of a tall, aristocratic figure, clothed in a furred red cape and dripping with gold. They were standing in a garden, snow falling in thick flakes and tangling in their long, curly dark hair; catching in their eyelashes and clinging to the branches of holly and yew that framed their face like a thorny crown.

Somehow, the painter had managed to capture the texture and feel of the expensive fabrics draped across his form, the play of light across his face, and the cool flush that the biting wind brought to his face. Eret’s eyes were dark and warm, his brows arched and expression serene. The suggestion of a smile lingered around the lines of his mouth- like he knew a secret that you didn’t.

“As you all can see, she’s not wearing a crown,” you extrapolated after allowing the visitors to admire the work for a few moments, drawing their attention back to you. “This is just one of the many mysteries surrounding Eret and her reign. Paintings were extremely expensive to commission, and so most royals in the Herobrine line only had their portraits taken once or twice in their lifetime.

“So, why would Eret choose not to appear in their crown, as so many of their predecessors did? Why would they remove their most defining mark of status, one of the only things that could’ve been used to identify them once they’d passed on?”

The little girl who had spoken up frowned. “Maybe he thought it was ugly.”

You laughed, turning your head to look at the canvas once more. The painted eyes almost seemed to stare back, hidden truths swirling within their depths.

“I guess we’ll never know. It’s not like we can call her up and ask her,” you joked, earning a few smiles from the peanut gallery. It was muscle memory to glance away from your tour group while they chattered amongst one another and make a sweep of the room, checking for any guests that might’ve wandered away. 

Movement from the corner of your eye drew your gaze.

Squinting, you hazarded a step closer to the source of your distraction, one of the many mirrors that dotted the walls. Some insane interior designer had gone absolutely crazy with mirrors- almost every vertical surface was covered with them, and they were large. We’re talking floor-to-ceiling, non-stop reflective action.

Now that you were looking at it, nothing seemed amiss… but you could’ve sworn you saw something. You were confident enough in your suspicion to draw even nearer, close enough to touch the glass surface if you reached out.

There- at the very edge of the mirror, you barely caught the flutter of a cape sliding out of view.

You blinked once, twice, three times, feeling your heart pick up in pace. You glanced behind you. Nobody was wearing anything resembling what you’d seen- except, perhaps, the elegant old woman in the red trench coat that was perusing the floor, arm delicately linked with her husband’s.

Leaning back, you smoothed your hands down the shirt of your uniform, taking slow, measured breaths. Nothing else appeared in the mirror, and you felt yourself begin to calm down. You even managed to force out a breathy chuckle.

Oh, you would be having words with Tubbo later. The dude must’ve been more effective at freaking you out than he really was.

You pointedly ignored the prickling sensation as every hair on your body stood on end.

Ushering the group along, you led them through the dark hallways that wound throughout the interior of the Hold. Your path was lit only by the flickering beeswax candles that dotted the walls every ten paces or so; you pointed them out to your tour group, remarking how, back in the day, they used tallow candles made from animal fat instead.

Only one place was left for you to visit before this particular tour was over, and that was the Hold’s most famous room: the Royal Suite.

Located on the uppermost floor, the sprawling chambers took up almost the entire level- with only a little bit of space for the receiving room, where guests could sit and have tea. 

Unlike the rest of the castle grounds, the Royal Suite and the adjacent areas were completely forbidden for guests to enter by themselves. Only tour groups were allowed to access them, so the delighted gasps and assorted sounds of awe that arose as you pushed open the heavy cherrywood door were… pretty par for the course, actually.

If you had to pick which part of Kentillie grounds was your favorite, you’d be a dirty liar if you didn’t at least mention the opulent rooms that awaited you beyond the open doorway.

When the castle was restored, the most work and effort was put into the Royal Suite. According to what records were available, this was where the Herobrine family’s reigning monarchs ate, slept, and lived; it was a testament to the wealth they’d gathered throughout their long stewardship of the British Isles.

You watched with keen eyes as the guests spread out, gaping at the craftsmanship that had gone into every inch of the connected chambers.

Detailed paintings of wildlife covered the walls, depicting everything from gnarled forest trees to different kinds of birds, foxes, and weasels. The floors were polished to a mirror glaze, made of some type of dark red granite. Overhead, porcelain chandeliers that burned with a thousand little candles cast rainbow-colored light throughout the room.

Plush carpets, woven thick enough that your feet hardly made a sound as you walked across them, padded the center of the space. Right on top of it was the canopy bed- one of the biggest beds, in fact, that you think you’ve ever seen.

Were you to lay down upon it lengthwise, you would have at least another half-meter or so of space on either end. The mattress was overflowing with pillows- the expensive horsehair kind that looked so overstuffed they might explode at any moment; each richly colored and embroidered with delicate furls of ferns.

To the right, you could see the short hallway that led to the cordoned-off bath chamber. Although it was forbidden to enter- something about structural integrity- you could still make out the play of light against the multicolored ceramic tiles that dotted the floor.

If your memory served you correctly, the majority of the space inside was taken up by a gargantuan claw-footed bath that the royalty would use to immerse themselves in perfumed water and flower petals. It was actually quite a flex in the olden times to have a room solely delegated to bathing, seeing as most people couldn’t afford to take them too often. Heating up the water, having servants haul it upstairs, and then only using it once before it was drained… 

Yeah.

To your left was the study, which also had a barrier to prevent any tourists from wandering in and breaking something. Tall bookshelves lined the walls, bracketing a lone desk covered with papers. One of the most interesting things about the Herobrine family was their value of literature and literacy; You think that Eret even wrote a book before she died.

You smirked. Right, you were just getting to that.

There were a few more rooms beyond that, used to hold meetings with local knights and lords- but you weren’t interested in those. No, you were much more focused on the room you were standing in. The one where they were murdered.

Clearing your throat, you gathered your audience before you, herding them into position at the foot of the bed. You spread your arms wide, and with the same amount of drama as an actor about to perform a soliloquy.

“This was His Royal Highnesses chambers,” you exclaimed, allowing your smirk to grow. You winked at the little girl from before, peeking out from behind her mother’s back. “Though some of you might’ve already known that.”

Earning a few chuckles from your audience, you allowed your arms to fall back into a neutral state. “This was where Eret Herobrine at the height of her rule ate, slept, bathed, and occasionally held court. One could say that is was the primary backdrop for her life.

“It was the backdrop for the end of her life as well.”

Stepping to the side, you circled the canopy frame, stopping right beside the headboard. Reaching behind it, you heard your tour group collectively inhale as you drew a long, wicked-looking dagger from out behind it.

“Only two years after their coronation,” you went on, spinning the blade between your fingers, “Eret was slaughtered in cold blood.”

Someone gasped as you stabbed the dagger into the pillow, just about where someone’s head would be if they were laying down. You laughed wickedly, enjoying their momentary shock. It had to be the most emotion you’d elicited from the group yet.

“Their very own personal advisor, a former knight by the name of Dream, snuck up into their chambers late at night and killed them. His plan was to put a new ruler into power: his lover, a lord by the name of George.”

You shook your head, sighing internally at the sheer audacity.

“Of course, he didn’t succeed. Both Dream and George were executed, while those who were accused of aiding them fled the land.

“Ultimately, though, Eret’s death was too much for the kingdom to take, and it crumbled into obscurity not long after. The remains of Kentillie Hold are all that remain of the proud Herobrine legacy, so thank you for booking a tour with us.”

The visitors all clapped politely, and you bowed.

“If you’d like to donate money, please deposit it in the boxes on the first floor.”

As the group dispersed, their hour long tour finally finished, you surreptitiously checked the blankets covered the bed. Although the blade you’d used was obviously plastic, you would still get in trouble if you damaged anything- and you could not afford the hundreds of dollars it would take to fix it if it got torn.

You jolted as something brushed your shoulder lightly, head snapping up to stare suspiciously at the empty space that surrounded you. Before you could begin to question it too much, however, you were distracted by a tug on your pants.

“Can I help you?” you asked, staring down at the little girl whose hands were securely fisted in the fabric of your clothes. Her parents rushed up behind her; the mother pulling the girl away and into her embrace.

“Sorry, she’s still learning about personal space,” the father said sheepishly. He turned back towards his daughter, face softening. “Didn’t you have something to give the nice tour guide, sweetie?”

Shyly, she extracted her arms from her mother’s hold, holding out a crisp twenty dollar bill for you to take.

“Oh!” you said, your previously bemused expression shifting into a gentle smile. “Thank you!”

You shivered as you crouched to take it from here, the temperature of the room seeming to have gone down by a few degrees. Rubbing at your arms, you offered her one last grin before her parents swept her away to the safety of the sunny outdoors.

Or- not so sunny. Shit.

How late was it?

Pulling out your phone, you blanched at the time that blinked up at you from the screen: 6:00 PM. It was well past the point you should’ve been making your way back to the staff room to get changed and drive home, and if you waited any longer you wouldn’t be getting back ot the house until at least midnight.

“Damn it,” you cursed. Luckily, no one else was around to scold you except yourself, the rest of the visitors having long since exited the room.

Starting the long trek to the first floor, you couldn’t dispel the goosebumps that had surfaced all over your body. Normally they would only last so long before they inevitably relaxed- but it was somehow different this time. Like you were reacting to something much different than what you normally dealt with.

The last of your tour group were exiting the building when you finally made it all the way down, breaths heaving and shaky as you momentarily braced yourself against one of the cold stone walls. You frowned down at your wobbly legs, bemoaning your lack of athleticism.

Most of the staff had already left. The majority of the work done in the Hold was either in the mornings or on the weekends, so on days like this the only people left at this hour were you and the security guards that patrolled the grounds. Tubbo was going to pack up soon, probably in about thirty minutes, so you had to be fast.

Maybe that was why you didn’t notice the electricity in the air when you barged down into the cellar-turned-staff room, complaining about the freezing air temperature as you slipped into the changing room.

Maybe that was why you didn’t notice the droplets of blood dotting the floor as you padded to your locker, checking the time once more with a harried expression. The soles of your feet were stained red, leaving sticky, bright footprints like a breadcrumb trail behind you.

Maybe that was why you didn’t notice the figure floating behind you until it was too late- until your hind-brain was screaming at you to run, to hide, to do anything but stay here. 

You could ignore a lot of things, but not your instincts when they were this insistent. Which is why, when the air behind you chilled in an upside-down facsimile of body heat, you finally recognized the storm brewing.

Your body went as still as the grave when you made eye contact with it in the reflection of your phone, breathing shallow. Your heart felt like a bird bludgeoning itself against the cage of your ribs, broken and bloody, and you whimpered softly when it blinked.

Turning slowly around, your breath halted completely when you came face-to-face with that of a corpse. There was no way that the thing standing- floating- behind you was human, although it took the shape of one. 

It’s skin was grey and lifeless, flickering with an inner light. It’s eyes were a pupil-less, pure white that glowed in the room’s shadows. It’s clothes, a loose ruffle shirt and thick woolen pants, were tattered and torn. The shredded edges swirled around it as if buoyed by an invisible wind.

For some reason, it seemed oddly familiar.

But most importantly- most horrifyingly- was the dagger sunk deep within its chest, covering the entire front of its shirt with crimson, viscous blood. As you watched, frozen with a mixture of shock and terror, small drops of it dripped onto the floor and landed with a spatter.

It inhaled, the sound rattling in its ruined lungs, before speaking. If you had to liken what its voice was, it was like the whistling of wind through the Hold’s ruined towers; the sound of the tree leaves rustling, the sound of the beeswax candles guttering.

“Hello.”

You shrieked.

The ghost, because that’s what it was, a goddamn ghost- winced, drifting slightly further away. “Ah. That is… not ideal.”

Half-convinced you were about to pass out, you braced yourself on your locker door, curling up like you were considering shoving yourself inside to escape this entire situation. You actually might, if it got any closer.

It raised its bloodstained hands out in front of itself placatingly, grimacing. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You looked at it, caught in the middle of taking another shuddering breath to scream for help. “Do you expect me to believe that?”

The ghost sighed, which was weird now that you thought about it because it didn’t need to breathe. It smiled awkwardly, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was nervous. “... Hopefully?”

“You’re doing a terrible job at convincing me!” you laughed hysterically. You were kind of starting to hyperventilate at this point, and if you didn’t stop you were going to pass out. The ghost seemed to agree.

“You need to calm down.”

You glared at it. “Thanks.”

It hesitated for a moment. “This is… not how I wanted this to go.”

“How else could this have gone?!”

Pausing, it seemed to be thinking for a moment. You took the time to begin to edge out from your spot, angling for the door. If you moved quickly enough, you might be able to make it out of the building with your life intact.

“You have a point,” the ghost mused. Before you could blink, it was right in front of you again, pale lips curving into a grin. “Let’s try this again, shall we?”

Oh.

You froze, heart leaping into your throat. You realized why it had seemed so familiar, why its appearance had niggled at the back of your brain. The ghost’s visage was a haunting echo of that shown in the same painting you’d seen over and over again for the past few weeks.

The sharpness of its smile, the secretive cast to its face, the way in which it dressed- down to the last detail, you realized. Ghosts are the spirits of the dead, back to walk the earth once more.

“Hello,” Eret Herobrine said, taking your hand in her own. The sensation was weird, to say the least. It was similar to when you would stick your hand out of the car window and feel the wind pushing at it like a physical barrier.

This was like that, but in the shape of a hand.

You shivered as they pressed a chilled kiss to your skin, feeling the curve of their grin like a physical brand.

“Eret,” He murmured, pallid eyes locked on your own. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

@blufr0st​ @itsonlydana​ @amearla​ @bapthadapper​ @redactedsouls​ @sina-the-idiot @icarusthefoolish @blockyshieldmaiden

#mori's monster series #a meal for the children #dream smp x reader #dream smp x you #dream smp x y/n #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #mcyt x y/n #eret x reader #eret x you #eret x y/n #c!eret #c!tubbo #c!nihachu #c!jack manifold #tw: mild language #tw: implied/referenced death #tw: implied/referenced murder #tw: body horror #tw: fainting mention

[most-definitively-a-human]

I find it very funny that I enjoy reading Corpse Knight Gunther yet stopped reading a romance because the couple was slightly mean to each other and their friends.

Maybe it's all about my expectations? Promise a sweet kind relationship and give subtle cruelty that's never addressed and I am out. Promise grimdark and have the character be just slightly less of a relentless asshole twenty chapters in? Hell yeah I am cheering for them.

Brains are weird man.

#webtoons #corpse knight gunther is great hoghly recommend #is quite dark (tw for violence mainly) but due to the core friendship slowly developing #and many valient side characters given full humanity and personhood even if just for a brief moment #before being taken out #somehow bolsters and reassures me in a way that things claiming to be sweet but are shallow and cruel (even just mildly) don't #just #bizarre really #brain why are you like this #I think it might be because in Corpse Knight the callousness is why the world is called grimdark #it's acknowledged you're allowed to grieve for it #but in that romance book it was subtle and I knew it would never be adressed #no one in the comments even noticed #personal log #oh hey look brain is braining again #aha words are mine to comprehend once more #I can play and revel and delight in language I have missed this sort of clarity I hope I get to hold onto it for a while #mild analysis mostly rambling

[th3p0rtalmaker]

WIP Ask Game! I wanna know what TTS System AU is, as well as The Silent Scream! :)

Thank you for the ask, @meechatuck ! I apologize in advance for how long my answer is; I'm gonna have to split it into two posts. But I hope you enjoy it all! This first half will be about my TTS System AU, and the second half will be about my parody of "The Silent Scream."

Part 1: TTS System AU

(TW/CW for child-abuse; trauma; discussion of DID; use of artistic license concerning a mental disorder in narrative format to promote better understanding of said disorder as well as the nature of healing from trauma)

This is my most ambitious au, given the amount of research it requires and my partial understanding of the disorder(s) it focuses on. (Forgive me cause there will be some technical terms that I'll do my best to define, and certain parts of this lack proper grammar/sentence structure.) This au was inspired by my love for the Moon Knight series, as well as my own mental health journey. Hector, instead of being a singular individual, is a member of a "system" (more than one unique personality inhabiting/sharing the same physical body.) This is a result of intense trauma he experienced as a young child, which caused the emergence of an "alter" (a separate and complete personality), whom I named 'Vedis' after the fifth Brotherhood member from The Rise of Flynn Rider book. Their system is relatively small, with only two alters present.

Alters Present: 

Hector: - Original personality that was born into the body/began coalescing first; acts as the dominant host; emotionally-driven in his actions and struggles to control himself because his emotions are so intense; desperate for acceptance/approval from authority figures; struggles with black-and-white thinking/perception of the world; acts as the "muscle" of the system when in an extremely (physically) dangerous situation; highly trained in multiple forms of combat and significantly stronger than Vedis physically - Hector doesn't have the skills/coping mechanisms to contain and release his rage in a healthy way; as a child, his anger and reactivity to abuse (and/or when he was overstimulated) was often used as an excuse for his father to physically beat him; when Vedis first emerged and started taking control of their body, Hector resisted and tried to fight it because he didn't understand what was happening; eventually the two were able to communicate and work together, bonding as they helped each other survive  

Vedis: - Splintered, emerged, and developed as an alter who can take control of the body and become submissive in order to appease a threat that Hector can't handle, and/or take physical abuse so Hector doesn't experience it; is also an athletic fighter but not as much as Hector - Vedis has much better control of himself because his emotions are less intense and his actions are more logic-driven; has stronger negotiation/diplomatic skills than Hector; serves as the system's caretaker/protective older sibling; has beef with Edmund for favoring his personality over Hector's because Hector has spent decades working for Edmund's approval, but the king doesn't seem to notice or care; has done a lot of research about "multiplicity" (in-universe term for Dissociative Identity Disorder) and has a much stronger grasp of how and why alters form

Plot So Far:

1 - Vedis awakens as the "fronter" (member of the system who is actively controlling the body at a given moment) after Cassandra uses the Mindtrap to take control of Hector and essentially puts him into stasis, along with Quirin and Adira

2 - Confused and concerned, Vedis seeks out Edmund for help and discovers he's left the DK ruins to visit his son in Corona, without having checked on any of the Brotherhood after the Moonstone's theft

3 - After Vedis crashes Eugene's birthday party, and is allowed a proper introduction, the DK and Corona characters try to contact the other Brotherhood members and figure out exactly what's going on

4 - Eventually Cassandra uses the Mindtrap to awaken Hector and sic him on Raps and co as a test; Hector's personality, controlled by Cassandra via the Mindtrap, fights Vedis's personality so he can front the body and carry out Cassandra's will.

5 - Vedis is temporarily overpowered and trapped by order of Cassandra in their "shared headspace" (a special safe-space in their brain that they've consciously carved out as a place for their personalities to live and interact in), but he eventually tries to stop Hector/regain fronting control

6 - Cassandra then sics Hector's personality on Vedis's personality under the assumption that one of them could be destroyed by the other; this is actually impossible, and the conflict becomes so severe/overwhelming for both personalities that they both dissociate from the situation simultaneously; a new "perpetrator introject" (a type of alter that resembles a past abuser) is formed, and Hector's personality is freed from the Mindtrap's hold (maybe the Mindtrap itself cracks in the real Cassandra's hands?)

7 - Hector and Vedis come out of dissociation with no memory of what just happened, but upon registering the perpetrator shard's presence, they perceive her to be a threat and work together to take her captive in their shared headspace

8 - Vedis, who has a greater understanding of "multiplicity", explains to Hector that this new shard isn't a fully developed personality, just a container for the memory of whatever event preceded her emergence; despite her delusion about being the "real"/original Cassandra, she is in fact a member of their system, a part of them, and if allowed to develop into a full personality, she'll mimic Cassandra's harmful behavior and could be able to take control of their body so she can report to the real Cassandra

9 - Vedis is also shocked and confused because all of his research indicated that "splintering" (in-universe term for when personalities split) only happens during childhood as a result of intense trauma, so a new shard emerging shouldn't have been possible now that they're adults; Hector insists that there must have been magic involved - dark magic

10 - Vedis insists that they have to figure out what caused the perpetrator shard's emergence, so they can absorb/fuse with her before she has the chance to develop a will of her own and the ability to front as a whole personality; knowing how sensitive and emotionally-driven Hector is, he decides to front the body and gather info while Hector stands guard; this is a manifestation of Vedis's caretaker/guardian role - he believes he should protect Hector from the initial shock of remembering what happened and then guide him through the fusion process

11 - Of course this takes a toll on Vedis, who is triggered by descriptions of what happened and bears the brunt of remembering first; after reliving the memory of Hector attacking him and trying to choke him to death, Vedis puts their body into a meditative/sleep state so he can return to the shared headspace and explain what happened to Hector

12 - Hector is extremely grieved upon reliving his own memories of the real Cassandra using the Mindtrap to sever his free will and take control of his mind/personality/body; he's also ashamed that he tried to "kill" Vedis for not submitting to Cassandra, especially since he wasn't capable of stopping himself like when he fought Adira for committing treason

13 - Once both of their personalities are able to own these overlapping traumatic experiences, they successfully absorb the perpetrator shard; she may or may not need to believe that all 3 of them are safe from the real Cassandra in order to participate in the fusion, depending on what kind of perpetrator she is and how developed she is...

14 - Vedis later speculates that, because they are living as a system instead of a singular individual, and because he himself never took the Brotherhood oath, Cassandra couldn't establish and maintain control over both of them, hence the emergence of a perpetrator shard and Hector regaining his free will when they simultaneously dissociated 

15 - Unfortunately, Quirin and Adira are stable, singular individuals who took the Brotherhood oath, and Cassandra will have no problem controlling them; she must be stopped/the Mindtrap must be destroyed in order to protect the rest of the Brotherhood.

Regrettably, I don't have any full scenes from this au written yet, but I have a beat outline for the one where Hector and Vedis face their Mindtrap-related trauma and absorb the perpetrator shard. I've literally brought myself to tears just thinking about what the two of them go through and how they overcome that situation together...

Hector: (gutteral panting and gripping his hair) "I feel like SHIT!"

Vedis: (standing calmly with tears streaming down his face and voice trembling) "So do I. But we did it; the perpetrator shard is no longer a threat."

Hector: (turning to Vedis and extending his arms) "I-I need…can you…"

Vedis: (steps forward to embrace him tightly) "Of course."

Hector: (cries into Vedis's neck/shoulder crook)

Vedis: "We'll both feel like shit for a while. But we'll be alright. It's alright. We're safe now."

Hector: (voice muffled) "I'm sorry, Vedis, I'm sorry!"

Vedis: "I know, Hector. I'm not angry with you. I'm angry for you." (gently lifts Hector's head so they can touch foreheads) "We're brothers; we take care of each other. We forgive each other, even when we make mistakes. And we don't hold each other accountable for things the other can't control."

Total Fusion:

Hector isn't comfortable with pursuing total fusion. He knows Vedis is protecting him from some truly horrendous memories that he's not sure he wants to relive. He also knows (from Vedis's pre-Great Tree research) that fusion would result in one of their personalities being absorbed into the other and no longer existing. Hector sees Vedis as his older brother, and assumes that because he was the second personality to emerge, he would be the one to "disappear" in the event of their fusion. To Hector, this scenario feels like killing/sacrificing someone he loves.

He also has a lot of questions about the process: Would Vedis "disappear" immediately if Hector agreed to relive the memories Vedis is protecting him from, or would they have time to work through those memories together? Why does the healing process have to hurt and be so scary, since whatever happened was already so horrible that Hector couldn't handle it and Vedis had to emerge to protect him? How is he supposed to live in/cope with the outside world without Vedis's company and support?

After leaving the Great Tree to seek help for Hector, Vedis took the opportunity to continue his research, and discovered more possible results of total fusion. They could fuse into a whole/singular Hector, a whole/singular Vedis, or an entirely separate individual who represents the combination of all their traits and traumas. Whoever the unified individual ends up becoming, they would be able to learn new coping skills as a singular being, without dissociative support. And if Hector and Vedis somehow manage to force their fusion before one or both of them is completely ready, their unity would be unstable and likely to split again from another overwhelming event.

Vedis is willing to let himself be absorbed into Hector's personality and cease to exist as an individual. He knows he originally emerged to fulfill Hector's needs, but over time he and Hector were able to grow and develop into full personalities who loved and supported each other as brothers. Vedis was able to pursue his own interests separate from Hector's, and as adults they figured out how to share their body so they both could serve the royal family in professional capacities. Vedis's main concern is that Hector's reliance on him for protection from traumatic memories (and as a coping mechanism in general) is preventing Hector from reaching his own full potential. He believes that Adira and Quirin would make a worthy "external system" (ie a traditional kind of support system - made up of singular individuals supporting one another through love and friendship) if Hector could resolve his issues with them. The possibility of Hector's personality ceasing to exist as a result of their fusion terrifies Vedis because he doesn't view himself as the dominant owner of their body. The thought of having to front the body he once shared with his alter/brother, and spend the rest of their lifetime alone, saddens and intimidates Vedis. He would also be devastated if Hector didn't get to live out the rest of their lifetime and experience the world beyond the Dark Kingdom.

[Hector: (gutteral panting and gripping his hair) "I feel like shit!"

Vedis: (standing calmly with tears streaming down his face and voice trembling) "So do I. But we did it; the perpetrator shard is no longer a threat."

Hector: (turning to Vedis and extending his arms) "I-I need…can you…"

Vedis: (steps forward to embrace him tightly) "Of course."

Hector: (cries into Vedis's neck/shoulder crook)

Vedis: "We'll both feel like shit for a while. But we'll be alright. It's alright. We're safe now."

Hector: (voice muffled) "I'm sorry, Vedis, I'm sorry!"

Vedis: "I know, Hector. I'm not angry with you. I'm angry for you." (gently lifts Hector's head so they can touch foreheads) "We're brothers; we take care of each other. We forgive each other, even when we make mistakes. And we don't hold each other accountable for things the other can't control."]

Also here's the web resources I used to research DID for this au (so far):

#ask game #wip ask game #tts au #tts hector #tts vedis #vedis tts #hector tts #tts oc #kinda #dissociative identity disorder #DID #TW child abuse #TW mild language #CW child abuse #CW mild language #ask answered #wip ask answered #tts fanfic #fanfic writing #fanfic au

[camping-with-monsters]

this is still the funniest fucking insult anyone has ever called me.

What’s funnier is that they were 100% serious

Then the next day they just disappeared off the face of the internet.

Wonder what happened to that guy.

#the kiwi speaks #ableism #tw abelism #tw ableist language #tourette syndrome #tw grooming mention #‘’ mild-tourretes motherfucker’’ #i think about this a lot #two years later still the funniest shit I’ve read trying to ‘out me’ #when this guy like #borderline groomed me #sorta?? #it’s hard to pinpoint #all I know was that I was literally 17 #like…. BRUH. #weird how they just fuckin disappeared suddenly but #they were fucking creepy #tried to tell me that we’re 50% romantic 50% platonic #WHATEVER THE FUCK THAT MEANS???? #bruh I didn’t fuckin agree to that #but it was fucking hilarious honestly #this would be a stepping stone to helping me push out OTHER toxic people too !! #oh and dw like I said this was two years ago #so it’s not a worry now!!! still funny tho LOOOLLL

[verykaiotic]

note 1: where visiting the past can be creative liberty or mental destruction…alternatively, malachi visits hope world for the first time.

he could remember the first time he entered into…hope world. the first time his brain found itself wandering aimlessly, distracting a young malachi from the woes of his worlds. it was always filtered in by music that instantly calmed the raging in his veins, and even as he sat in front of his production equipment he could faintly hear it charming its way into his subconscious.

2007

“alright man, i’ll see you.” hakeem said as he began to jog off back towards their apartment complex. his old jordans thudded against the ground in a natural rhythm, fading away into the distance until malachi was left with himself and the asphalt of their decaying court. he was two blocks from home roughly, far enough to not hear the screaming and breaking of things that was being tossed between jaime and her new current ‘boy toy’. he could add this guy to the list, steadfast on being his ‘dad’ while simultaneously treating his mom as if she hadn’t birthed him. his bushy mustache and trash southern accent was foul to his northerner ears. he found it especially gross hearing it curl around his and his mother’s name. staying out for a few more hours so they could get high and pass out on the couch was an easier feat than drowning them out in his room. 

the ball kissed the ground in a light pattern as kai toyed around with it. his own worn shoes of the same brand scuffed and squeaked as she shuffled around, faking out moves with invisible players and dabbing up lebron in his own little world. but the screams of his imaginary crowd was snuffed out by the uneven sounds of more sneakers entering the court. this would go one of two ways but malachi would pretend like he wasn’t tense and on guard as the other boys began to crowd his space. “fuck.” he murmured, language much too vulgar for a kid his age, but truthfully all of them were talking just the same. 

“we don’t even gotta tell you how this is about to go, do we?” said what seemed to be the ringleader of the group that joined him. he was light skinned, freckles auburn the same color as his eyes and brows. things moved much too fast for him to understand after that, punches being thrown in each direction, malachi being dragged off a kid who was now holding his teeth in his hand, blood pouring from every orifice it could fight its way out of. and that made them mad. all at once they came at him, the fourth grader finding his back to the concrete, and then his skull, the world’s  noise suddenly muddled into one piercing sound. it felt like he’d been dunked underwater, the sound of some passersby’s screams for them to stop and malachi simply laid out on the asphalt, floating in the waves that just tried to drown him. “we didn’t do nothing, we lost the game and it got heated, we cool. right anime boy?” 

for a moment he hadn’t registered where he was, forgotten the blood that was shed, only followed the colors that danced in his vision and indulged into the music that had wafted seemingly from no where. it was a small moment of bliss, one where all the rage simply melted off of his skin. the red he saw had melted into the hues of yellows, greens and blues. accented by oranges and violets and merged together by indigos. it was quick, only a few seconds he was sure but he’d felt it. he felt the way he drifted away…just for a moment there was bliss, quiet, but tantalizing music. maybe they’d knocked him out and he’d just come to, but slowly he realized the world didn’t fade, but simply lowered it volume to the symphony that was beginning to swell in his mind. it began to warp its way into his new reality and before he knew it he was back as if he’d never left. 

“what?” he said finally, eyes finally registering that he’d been staring at  not only his aggressors but a kindly, dark-skinned woman with purple box-braids. she couldn’t have been any more than thirty and the look on her face showed that she didn’t believe anything the other guy had said.  “i said we just got into a heated thing about the game…we cool right anime boy?”

“i’m not japanese,” kai answered, as if that was the issue at hand here. “what happened?” the woman finally asked malachi, the one on the ground, but probably better off than the two that were currently being led home faces in hand. “um, fuck i went up for a lay up, came down on dude in the yellow shorts. it was an accident, but we were losing and it just…blew up from there.” she seemed to not believe malachi either, but the look of anxiety on the other boys face faded into some form of acceptance and malachi hated how that made him feel. it was only a moment later where she’d taken her leave, leaving kai and the other three remaining boys to their own devices.

the ring leader surprisingly helped him to his feet, rough hands dusting off malachi’s hole-y band tee. he assumed he’d be left alone, a reward for ‘not snitching’, but he simply took a step back and smiled that dazzling white grin, “aight now homie, go ahead and run me them shoes, you can bare foot it to the crib i’m sure.”

#xx. stories #mild offensive language tw #violence tw #blood tw #the mild offensive language is the 'anime boy' line #his friends most def know better know lmao #but i didn't proof read this because i NEDED IT GONE #*needed #this is also technically pt. 1

[clownsindresses]

I hate reblog bait. Especially stuff that guilt trips. Sometimes it's nice like "reblogs are appreciated" and such, but goddamn all my mental illnesses really fire up when I see something implying I'm a shit bag for not immediately wanting to share something

#mild rant #tw: language