#MY MUSE ISN'T DEAD GUYS

[fungifanart]

Hello there! Ive read your rules about requests just to make sure I dont request anything you dont like-

Anyway, Ive read some of your twst works, and I LOVE them! Their so amazing! Anyway can I request a riddle x m!reader just having a tea party date? That would be wonderful! Its ok if you dont do this request tho!

Tea For Two

Characters: Male reader, Riddle Rosehearts, Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade

Cw: Mild cartoon violence

Word count: 807

Notes: That's so sweet! Thank you for your kind words!

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Riddle paces back and forth in front of the gazebo as he mentally goes over the list of everything he'd done to prepare for afternoon tea with you:

Fresh darjeeling tea? Check.

Toast with your choice of jam or butter? Check.

A wide variety of cookies, scones and miniature sandwiches laid out on a tea tower? Check.

Ace and Deuce being ordered to trim the bushes on the FAR opposite end of the hedge maze? Double check.

Riddle stops pacing to look over the table underneath the gazebo one last time, ensuring that he's content with the placement of everything, which he is, although he can't help but feel a little sad at the absence of a tart of any description.

When Riddle had first made the suggestion of afternoon tea, you specifically requested he not have any tarts prepared, much to his surprise and disappointment.

But still, what is a relationship without making compromises?

And so, Riddle decided to respect your wishes and leave tarts out of the preparations.

Riddle is then pulled from his thoughts by the sound of footsteps behind him and he turns around to see his lovely boyfriend approaching with a soft expression.

"Y/N! Wonderful to see that you made it!" Riddle says happily as he walks toward you before noticing a small box you're carrying in your hand, "May I ask what you have there?"

You give a small giggle before responding, "It’s a surprise! Let's sit down first." You say while motioning to the table.

Riddle nods as he and you walk to the table while talking happily to each other, so happily, in fact, that neither of you notice the sound of rustling leaves slowly getting closer.

After you both sit down, you proudly place the box in front of Riddle and begin to speak, somehow still not noticing the leaf rustling getting ever closer, "It’s been a while since we've been able to be alone like this, so I decided to make something special for you! I spent a whole week looking up and trying different recipes to make sure these were perfect just for–"

Your sentence is cut off by Ace and Deuce crashing through the hedge parallel to your table while throwing punch after punch at each other.

Riddle's curiosity at your creations is immediately replaced by fury at his underclassmen as he stands up to reprimand them before the butter knife suddenly disappears from the table and finds itself forcefully embedded in a wooden plank between the two freshmen's faces, causing all parties to freeze in shock.

Riddle watches as you wordlessly stand up with a blank expression, walk over to where the knife is and yank it out of the wood before pointing it at the freshmen and then using it to threaten them by making a cutting motion over your neck as both of their faces go pale.

Ace and Deuce run off as you sigh and sit back down at the table while Riddle does the same, albeit very stunned and mildly impressed by how you handled the troublemakers.

"Anyways, as I was saying," You begin calmly, leaving the large hole in the hedges to be dealt with later, "I put a whole week into making sure I could make these perfectly just for you!"

Riddle's eyes widen as you finally open the box, revealing six miniature tarts of various colors looking back at him. He sees a lemon tart and a blueberry tart among others, but most importantly, he sees a bright red strawberry tart at the center that feels like it's almost calling out to him.

Riddle stares dumbfoundedly as you take the miniature tarts out of the box and lay them out for him in all their glory, "So this is why you asked for no tarts…?" He says in awe.

You scratch your cheek sheepishly while responding, "Heh, yeah. It made me sad to see you so disappointed, but I wanted it to be a surprise." You say while reaching over to take Riddle’s hand in yours, "And…what kind of boyfriend would I be if I couldn't do something special for you?"

Riddle feels his cheeks instantly turn as red as the strawberry tart in front of him as he intertwines his fingers with yours and maintains loving eye contact with you for several minutes before the cheesiness of the situation settles in, bringing an awkward atmosphere with it.

"So…do you, uh, wanna try the tarts now?" You say as you let go of Riddle’s hand to bring yours to the back of your head awkwardly.

Riddle can't help but miss the warmth of your hand in his, but he still smiles softly at your question, "I'd like that very much." He responds while placing the strawberry tart on his plate and grabbing his knife and fork.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst riddle #riddle rosehearts #twst x reader #twst x male reader #twst ace #twst deuce #ace trappola #deuce spade #why is this mushroom writing fanfics? #MY MUSE ISN'T DEAD GUYS #REJOICE

[queers-gambit]

Not So Heavenly Surprise

prompt: you share exciting news with your husband but don't receive the reaction you thought you'd get. and then, the Outbreak.

pairing: Joel Miller x female!wife!reader only height mentioned: you're shorter than Joel

fandom masterlist: HBO's The Last of Us

word count: 7.2k+

warnings: angst, angst, angst, slutty angst club, cursing, character death, major major major spoilers, death of a child, descriptive language - we talk about death and dead bodies!!! canon-level violence! NOT edited!!! (will get around to it) this work is super NOT FOR MINORS ❗️season one, episode one spoilers

September 02nd, 2002 one year before Outbreak Day

"You're going to have to tell him," you sighed to your reflection, trying to amp up the bravery. "He's gonna notice, you don't want him questioning anything, now do you? No, nope, no way, you don't. Okay, so, that's it - you're gonna tell him when he gets home. No big deal."

There was a knock at the door, Sarah calling, "Are you okay in there?"

"Girl!" You laughed, reaching for the knob and opening it to see her. "Ever heard of this thing called 'privacy'?"

"Not in this house," She smirked. "Can I get in? Wash my face?"

"Oh, yeah, totally," you moved out of her way, continuing with your nightly routine.

"So, who were you talking to?"

"Myself," you mused. "It helps me work out big decisions."

"Oh, so, you're finally gonna tell Dad you're pregnant?"

"What!?" You yelped, dropping the jar of night cream and groaning when it dolloped out from the fall - landing on your foot. "What the hell, Sarah?"

"What? You're surprised I figured it out?" She teased. "I found the pregnancy test."

"What? You were digging in the trash?"

"Well, if you must know, I dropped the toothpaste in there and found it when I was fishing it out..."

"Sarah," you sighed.

"You know he's going to be really happy, right?" She smiled at you, massaging her cheeks to curate foam from her face wash.

"Maybe," you sighed, stooping to clean your mess. "But I've been trying to figure out what to say."

"What's to say? Just tell him," she giggled. "C'mon, you guys have been married 8 years now! Isn't this, like, what was supposed to happen?"

"Well, yeah, but - "

"But nothing," Sarah laughed. "You're getting all nervous for nothing. It's just Dad, he loves you. He's going to be happy, I promise."

You sighed, nodding slowly, "All right, well, I'll try to tell him tonight."

"There is no try, only do."

"You did not just quote Star Wars to me!"

"Well, is Yoda wrong?"

You whined a little, "No..."

"So, get it done," she smiled. "This is really exciting."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she smiled, "I've always wanted to be a big sister."

"You'd kick ass as one," you agreed.

"Think how upset and flustered Dad will be when I teach Baby to curse!"

"Sarah, you teach the kid any curse words and I'll wash your own mouth with soap," you teasingly warned with a pointed finger. "I'm a little nervous, I think," you admitted.

"Why? Daddy loves you, he'll be really happy," Sarah defended. "Maybe a little shocked, but he'll be over the moon with joy."

"You think?"

"I know," she nodded. "Tell him tonight!"

"Tell who, what?" Tommy asked, appearing in the doorway to make you both shriek.

"What happened!?" You heard Joel, but then, everything was drowned out as you and Sarah started yelling at Tommy for scaring the shit outta you both. Joel appeared in time to see his little brother throw his hands up in defense, laughing at the two of you.

"Not cool, man!" You barked, shaking your head. "Didn't hear y'all come in, the hell's wrong wit'chu?"

"Y'all didn't lock the front door, again," Tommy smirked. "I came up real quick and quiet."

"Jackass," you muttered, wiping your hands on a towel before exiting the room. "Hi, baby," you muttered to Joel, pausing to rock onto your toes and plant a kiss to your husband's lips.

"Hi, honey," he mused, arm anchoring your waist. "What's with the screamin'?"

"Your brother's an ass," you pouted, giving your best exaggerated bottom lip.

"You had it comin', darlin'," Tommy teased. "Told you to lock up, huh?"

"Why're you even here? Why are you always! Here!?" You whined lightly. "Go home!"

"I'm staying the night," he mocked gently.

"You better not clean my fridge out," you warned him with slitted eyes. "I just went to the shop."

"You get them cookies you like?" Tommy perked a brother, watching your eyes widen a small fraction. "YOU DID!" Tommy laughed, turning, and bolting down the stairs - making you yelp and start yelling after him, following closely.

Joel and Sarah could be heard laughing from upstairs.

It was close to midnight by the time you and Joel finally settled for bed. Sarah's homework was done, whole family fed, Tommy was nursing a bonked head with a small ice pack, and you and Joel were turning your bed down.

"Hey, uh," you cleared your throat as you both got in the sheets, "so, I was wonderin' somethin'."

"What's that, sugar?"

"What do you think of when you consider the future?"

Joel paused, then shrugged, "We go to Nashville with Sarah this summer."

"No, baby, I mean the future - like, years from now."

Joel chuckled, "Uh, I don't know, baby, I just think of you and Sarah and Tommy... There's not many others left 'round."

"That's all?"

"I don't know, I think sometimes when Sarah goes off to college, that girl's goin' on a scholarship, you know? So, you and I could maybe take some time for a vacation. Finally take you on that honeymoon I promised."

You hummed, settling against his chest, "Where we goin'?"

"You know I'd take you wherever you wanted," he sighed, "but maybe we could afford... I don't know, trip to... Vegas?"

"So we can renew our vows with Elvis?"

"Why not?" He chuckled, squeezing your hip. "Might be fun, right?"

"You just wanna see the strippers."

"Can you blame me?"

You laughed and smacked his chest, "Easy, mister, you're on thin ice."

Joel laughed lightly, "You know I'm teasin', darlin'. C'mon, anywhere we could, where would you go?"

"Oh, the Maldives, without a doubt.," You smirked. "But how about we keep it simple? Go to, say, Paris?"

Joel snickered, "That's simple?"

"City of Love for our honeymoon? Baby, I'd say that's more cliché than anything. Besides, don't you wanna kiss me at the top of the Eiffel Tower?"

"'Course, sugar, but the food there?"

"Oh, like you've ever been!" You laughed, looking up at him. "Don't talk shit when you don't know."

"Hmm," he considered, "solid advice, sweetheart."

He reached out to caress the side of your cheek, making you sigh, "One thing's missin' though..."

"What's that?" Joel smirked.

"We'd have to find a babysitter."

"Sarah will be older than - "

"No, no, baby, not talkin' 'bout Sarah."

"Who, then?" He chuckled. "Tommy? Though he likes proving us wrong, he can take care of himself."

"No, I'm talking about a babysitter for us."

"Lost me again, sweetheart."

You stared at him for a moment, then admitted, "I'm pregnant. So, we'd need to find a sitter 'cause we'd have a little one by then." However, Joel just stared down at you, brows slowly furrowing as he processed your words. "Joel?" You wondered when he didn't answer, but instead, looked off past you. "Honey, you still with me?"

"I heard you," he grit, making you instantly sit up and off of him.

"Joel?"

He sighed deeply, "Why'd you have to do that?"

"I'm sorry?"

Joel sat up and swung his legs from bed, making you feel instantly smaller than you actually were. "Why'd you have to go and do that? Huh? Get pregnant?"

"Joel - "

"No, what the hell's this!?" He demanded, looking far too upset than you ever considered. "You're pregnant? You're really pregnant?"

"Yes - "

"God fuckin' damn it!" Joel swatted at a lamp, knocking it over, and waking the entire house - not that either Tommy or Sarah were asleep yet. "You can't seriously be pregnant!" Joel barked at you, and if he could, you knew he'd be gnashing his teeth.

"Why is this such a shock?" You asked. "This is what happens when you're married - "

"You were supposed to be on birth control!"

"It's only so much effective when you're cumming in me like some sex doll!" You snapped back, aware of your loudness.

"Don't turn this on me!"

"I'm not! Fuck's sake, I'm happy about this!" You stood from the bed, too. "I'm happy we're havin' a baby! Why're you reacting this way?"

"We can't afford a baby right now!" Joel looked enraged now. "We don't got the space - fuckin' Tommy crashes the couch! Where we puttin' a whole baby, huh? Where we puttin' a kid? How're we gonna afford more groceries? More schoolin'? You didn't think this through, now, did you!?"

"Fuck's sake, Joel, do I need to give you a sex-ed course? Explain how you're just as much in this as I am? I didn't do this to myself, we both took risks - but I didn't think this was gonna be an issue! I thought you'd want this!"

"When have I ever said I wanted another kid? Huh? Don't put words in my mouth, woman! I got Sarah, ain't no kid better than that! Why would I even want to bother? Knowing our situation!? You think you're ready to be a mom? All you do is work, and it makes you a pretty shaky stepmother! Neither of us are in a place to just stop and take care of a kid, we're in too deep with our current bills!"

You felt too stunned to speak, every defense you had lowering in pure sadness as tears collected in your eyes. "You serious, right now?"

"Completely," he sighed, hands to his hips.

"So, you... You don't want this baby?"

Joel's jaw flexed. "Not right now, no."

"Okay," you sighed.

"I can't take care of another kid," he shook his head. "Look, why can't Sarah be enough? You've known her her whole life."

"Why is it so wrong to wonder what it's like to be pregnant? To have my own child? Since you have Sarah."

"We have Sarah," he snapped.

"No... We don't, since I'm only a shaky stepmother."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"No? How'd you mean it?" You wondered sarcastically. "Maybe that I won't be a good mother? That you don't want a kid with me, is it? Whatever, Joel, look, there's no compromise here. You don't want this baby, but I do... So, this it is."

"What is? To what?"

"Us," you sighed, gesturing between you. "If you really don't want this baby, then I don't see how we can still participate in a marriage."

"The fuck - "

"I won't stay where I'm not wanted."

"I want you, just not the baby!"

"So, understand this. Because I'm growing that baby currently, you simply don't want me. So, it's all right, now. I'll get my shit and get out, figure out what to do movin' forward, and I'll have the divorce papers sent - "

"Like hell, you are!" Joel raged.

"How're we gonna fix this then!?"

"Fuckin' Christ, woman, you really know how to piss me off! This ain't my issue - this is your problem. But we ain't gettin' a divorce, so, you better figure it out."

You scoffed, "Who the hell even are you?"

"Come again?"

You gestured at him, "This is not who I married."

"Neither are you. When we got married, you said Sarah was more than enough - "

"You know what? Feelin's change!"

Joel scoffed, "Yeah, fuckin' tell me 'bout it."

"Wow," you sighed, turning for the closet, muttering, "wow, wow, wow, wow, WOW!"

"Fuck!" Joel snapped. "C'mon, doll, don't do this."

He watched you pack a suitcase frantically, the fight continuing to wage farther into the night. Back and forth, you two went round after round after round, trying to make the other understand and see reason. To Joel, it was a matter of financials and space. To you? It was everything else.

By 3 am, you had finally packed your necessary belongings into two bags - a suitcase and purse - before you were charging down the stairs with Joel still hollering after you. Tommy was in the living room, pacing, and Sarah was laid on the couch, eyes red and swollen as she clutched a pillow to her chest. You came to a halt when you saw them both, Joel still sneering but silencing himself when he saw what you stared at.

Just like that, he understood his brother and daughter had heard every word he shouted at you, and never had he felt such shame. You swallowed harshly, nodding at Tommy before looking to Sarah. With a wobbling smile, you managed to garble, "I'm sorry."

"Mama, wait!" Sarah gasped, shooting off the couch as you fled for the front door; Tommy catching her around her waist. "No! No! Daddy, go get her! Don't go! Mama! Please! What's happening? Why won't you go after her!?"

But to Tommy's shock and horror, Joel silently descended the stairs to push the front door closed and locked it - bolting them inside and his wife outside. "Joel," Tommy shook his head, confusing marring his features. "The hell happened?"

But Joel only sighed, turned, and headed up the stairs again. Not a moment later, his bedroom door closed - making Tommy release Sarah. She rushed to the door but stopped, only staring out, and Tommy understood she could no longer see your car.

"Hey, Sarah?" Tommy called softly. "You can stay home from school tomorrow. All right?"

She only nodded silently, taking a seat at the front door and just watching. He frowned, wanting to shoo her off to bed, but understood that her child-like mind could only understand so much. She wanted to wait for you to come home, she wanted to see you coming... However, the following morning, Joel found his daughter slumped against the front door and his brother on the stairs from watching her.

His heart had plummeted to his feet when he saw them, more so when he understood you weren't home. The house already felt colder.

September 26th, 2003 Outbreak Day

Your daughter was barely a few months old by the time "it" happened. After leaving Joel, you went home to your parents and they were gracious enough to welcome you and the babe growing in your womb.

They made up your childhood bedroom into a nursery and let you transform their home office into a spare bedroom as your little brother was living in the guest room and older sister in the basement. It was an incredibly tiny room, but it worked for now; and your little girl was a ray of sunshine that you barely noticed how miserable you truly felt.

You hadn't seen Joel since the birth... And before that? Not since your fight. He really didn't want shit to do with your daughter, and while you always told him when your appointments were, he never showed. When you went into labor, your father was the one who called him because you only sobbed through the pain that you wanted your husband. So, Joel showed that day, but didn't go into the delivery room. He just waited outside it, listening, feeling his heart shatter again and again as you begged someone to find your husband, but no matter how your mother and father begged him to go in, he wouldn't. He couldn't.

It was only after the baby was born did he venture in.

You looked beat to hell and the sheets seemed bloodier than usual, but he didn't want to linger. He only nodded at you, hands in his pockets, "Good job... She's real beautiful."

You blinked, glancing over to where a nurse was swaddling the just-cleaned baby. "Thank you," you whispered. Then, he turned to leave, "W-Wait!" You begged, making him pause. "Don't you... I-I don't know, want to help name her?"

Joel sighed, glancing at you over his shoulder, "No, 's all right. Whatever you want, she's your daughter."

Your heart broke all over again, watching him leave. So much so, when the nurse brought your daughter over for you to hold, you broke down in horrendous sobs that the nurse actually shied away. You couldn't breathe from the pain, and it actually set off a few alarms on your hospital monitors.

Your mother watched in despair as a team of professionals had to sedate you in order to calm you down enough; holding her grandbaby and rocking her arms. She waited for days, hoping you'd ask to hold your daughter, but never did. Only when the lactation expert came in to help you nurse your daughter did you actually "willingly" hold her.

It just broke your heart to even look at her because she looked so much like Joel that it should've been illegal. Eventually, you came around and felt as if you couldn't set the baby down, but for the first few days were exhaustingly tough. Your parents were a huge help, but that didn't make it easier on you to try and process life without Joel. You loved your husband, wanted him back, but after his behavior, you couldn't fathom being within 6 feet of him again.

However, life had much different plans.

You didn't feed your baby formula, opting for breast feeding. Ironically, during your pregnancy, you had developed an intolerance to gluten and never wanted flour-products even after giving brith to your daughter. However, your father loved your mother's cookies...

It was nearly 2 am when it happened.

Your father had been the first "Infected" of the family, and only your mother was in their room with him. You heard the thumping and screams, peering out of your room only to see blood pooling from under your parent's closed bedroom door. "Get back," you hissed at your little brother, darting down the hall to your daughter's nursery.

"DADDY! NO!" You heard your brother scream a minute later, panic enveloping you as your daughter started to cry.

"No, no, no, it's okay, hey, hey, it's okay, sweetheart," you whispered, trying to shush her. There wasn't time to spare, and just as you secured your daughter to your chest with tight arms and made it from her room, your father came barreling out of your little brother's room - scaring the shit outta you. "D-Daddy?"

He snarled, neck snapping when he looked at you - but that wasn't your father. No, this creature was something else and while it was in your father's body, it wasn't your Daddy, and you weren't safe here.

"Down here! NOW!" Katie, your older sister called, making you shoot off down the stairs in a blind panic. Your father came crashing down behind you, knocking into your legs as you reached the bottom - forcing you to turn over and land on your back to protect your kid.

"OH MY GOD!" You screamed when your father bolted upright.

"STAY DOWN!"

Your sister swung her softball bat, knocking your father's head back with a sickly snap. He went down, and for a moment, it was all quiet. "What the fuck?" You panted, baby still crying.

"I don't know," Katie panted, reaching for your arms and helping you up. "I-I didn't - I didn't think," she stuttered, looking at your father, who's head was split open and spewing blood. "I-I killed him."

"Between us?" You nodded, "Think he was already dead."

"Where's Mommy? And Billy!?"

"Upstairs..."

"You don't think...?"

"Should we check?"

"What if they're alive and we just left them?" She worried, blinking back tears. "I-I don't know what to do."

"I think we need to get the fuck outta here," you admitted, looking around you two. "We aren't safe here, Katie, we should move."

Just then, there was a thud from upstairs. Your sister uttered your name in fear, and you had to steel yourself. "What do we do?" She whispered.

"Kitchen, there's only one door and the basement," you nodded, the two of you turning and hustling into the room. You looked around and found a long cerated knife, standing at the ready with one arm around your baby.

"What's gonna come for us?"

"Whatever the hell happened to Daddy," you gulped. "I still think we should run for it."

"But Mama - "

"She's probably dead!" You snapped. "But we aren't. We don't have to die if we play smart. I say, we get what we need and get the fuck out of here."

However, before she could answer, there was a snarling from outside the door. Your baby still cried, and soon, the door was bursting open with your mother's Infected body being hurled through the door. Your sister begged your name in a yell and you repeated at her that it's not really your mother - keeping the kitchen island between you three - and that she needed to swing the bat.

However, your little brother came barreling inside right after and knocked into you. It was a struggle as you had to let go of your baby to keep the 10-year-old demon off your body; hip teeth gnashing as pale tendrils came curling out of his mouth.

"NO!"

You couldn't look back at your sister, struggling to keep the suspiciously-strong boy at bay. You used your feet to kick him off you, snatch up the knife, and as he came back - snarling and screaming - you only stabbed the knife up into the underside of his jaw. Yanking free, blood and more came gushing out, and your brother when down.

When you turned, your sister was panting and leaning against a counter. Mother laid dead at her feet. "You good?" You asked.

"Yeah... You?"

"Yeah," you sniffled, moving to collect your baby from the bloody linoleum floor. "Can we get the fuck outta here now?"

"There's no more threat."

"Seriously?" You snapped. "Honey, if it happened here, it's happenin' elsewhere and we need to fucking move before we get left behind. Understand me?"

But then... There was a sickening sound from the only other door in the kitchen... The one leading to the basement...

"Katie?" You called your sister's name, "it's time to run."

"GO!" She screamed when a new body, that of your next door neighbor, came bursting through the door. You both ran, your daughter tight to your chest, and just made it outside your family home when a truck was screeching to a halt.

Joel leapt from the passenger seat, hollering your name in panic, and making you shoot off like a Roman Candle towards him. He caught you easily, holding you and your infant close to his chest as Katie came sprinting from behind you - taking cover behind Joel.

"What - "

"JOEL!" Katie screamed, pointing towards the body rushing from your home.

"Tommy!"

There came a gunshot, making you flinch into his chest as he turned you from the sight. "Get in the truck," Tommy called, Sarah opening the door from the inside to invite Katie in.

"We gotta go, darlin', it's time to go, let's go," Joel muttered to you.

"What the fuck is happenin'?"

"We don't know, but it's bad," he nodded, looking around frantically. "We need off the streets, baby, please, get in the truck."

But you paused, asking him, "You came back for me?"

"For the both of you," he sighed, caressing the top of your daughter's head - who still wailed in fear. "Please, baby, it's time to go - get in the truck." When you did, he rambled, "Thank you, thank you, thank you, all right, Tommy! Let's go!"

When everyone was in and doors shut, a new game began: Get the Hell Outta Dodge.

During the ride, Tommy and Joel filled you and Katie in with what they knew from the broadcasters that were once on the airwaves. Sarah held onto you tightly, infant child still wriggling in your lap and arms. You were trying to flee the suburbs, making for the highway, but it seemed, everyone else who hadn't been killed off had the same idea and created intense traffic.

"We're okay," you whispered to Sarah on repeat, almost in a chant. Katie frowned and slowly reached over Sarah's lap, taking hold of your daughter. You slowly let go only to latch full onto Sarah and try to comfort her with slow rocking and cooed words of encouragement. Joel knew that in your time apart, you and Sarah saw each other often - nearly on a daily basis - and could understand that you were her mother, through-and-through.

You both needed the comfort right now.

Someone to lean on.

Someone to be scared with you instead of saying "buck up."

"Take the field, Tommy!" Katie barked from the back, holding your screaming baby to her shoulder and trying to offer her warmth and comfort. However, it was impossible with the tangible panic and loud blaring of horns and cursing voices. "We can cut across and pick the road up on the west side."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. West, West, all right. All right, hang on," he turned the wheel, everyone bracing for the sharp movement before the bumping of the terrain became wildly uneven.

Around them, other cars followed suit, and the field was soon flooded with civilian cars trying to flee. "The fuck could be happening?" Katie asked you, gulping, "You're the doctor!"

"I-I don't fucking know, Katie, please," you whispered back, gulping in nerves as Tommy drove you all over the grass.

However, when they came over the hill to catch sight of their destination, there was a flooding of lights and choppers in the air. Tommy cursed, "Shit! Fuckin' Army!"

"Isn't that good?" Sarah asked from your embrace.

"It's good for them, but that's the highway we're tryna get to," Tommy explained, coming to a halt as cars flooded past them.

"All right, keep movin'. Head north," Joel advised quietly, his mind trying to settle.

"Could be a lotta people," Tommy argued lightly.

"Well, we can't go south, we can't go east, we can't go west," Joel pointed out. "Hell else we supposed to go?"

"Tommy, fuckin' drive!" You grit, Katie joining you in on the last word.

"Tommy, c'mon!" Joel followed right after. The tires squealed as Tommy pressed on the gas while turning his wheel, making the truck turn and speed off for a distant suburban town; lights in the distance guiding you. "Yeah," Joel muttered. "Yeah, I know that place. This can work."

"Yeah, all right, fine, cool, but then what?" Katie asked. "Where are we supposed to go then?"

"I don't know. Mexico. Just far, far as we can," Joel answered uneasily. "How much gas?"

"Three-quarter tank," Tommy answered.

"Go through town," Joel advised. "Golf course by the river, straight across, we pick up the highway on the other side of the blockade, then we're out."

"I'm gonna throw up," Katie whispered, head tilted back with her eyes closed.

"If you're feelin' sick, hand me my baby," you snapped, looking at her with fear.

"No, girl, it's anxiety," she snapped back. "I'm not sick."

"How can you be sure?" Sarah wondered.

"Cause it would've hit us the same as it did our family..."

"Who'd it hit?" Tommy wondered, looking back.

"We're all that's left," you sighed, saving your sister from answering. "Daddy turned first, then Mama... Billy after... We got out."

"They bite 'chall?" Tommy asked, glancing back.

"No," you answered, looking at Katie. "You bit?"

"Nope, I beat 'em to the punch," she sighed. "Ah, fuck, my stomach."

"Throw up in my truck, darlin'," Tommy muttered, sucking his teeth.

"Throw up on my baby, Kate, and I'll beat 'cho ass," you snipped, perking a warning brow at her.

"Girl," she sighed, glancing at Sarah - who had sat off you in contemplation. "Sarah?" She whispered in wondered.

"Maybe it's everywhere," she voiced, glancing at the two of you sat on either side of her. "Maybe there's nowhere to go..."

"Well, hey, we'll just have to find somewhere safe," you nodded back at her, but furrowed your brow. "Anyone hear that?"

"Oh, shit - "

"What the fuck!?" Tommy called over Katie, glancing up towards the roof as there came a deafening sound of a plane flying far too low to the ground.

"Cover her ears!" You begged Katie, reaching for Sarah to press your hands over her ears. Your sister held your daughter's ears closed - her still screaming bloody murder - as the plane flew over the truck.

"Fuckin' hell!" She looked back, noting the sky. Sarah whipped around, too, only to spy two more planes in the sky - all flying low and at odd angles.

However, ahead of them, cop cars were speeding around the streets and cutting off any route. "Son of a bitch," Tommy cursed. "Gotta go around. Grab somethin'!"

You held onto the designated 'oh shit!' bar over your head as Sarah leaned over to hold Katie and your baby. Tommy took a sharp right into an alley, between buildings. When you all rightened, it was only to see the people on the street running around, screaming, cars zooming past them all. Tommy took a left, then another right, and joined the bustle of the street.

"All right, keep goin', keep goin'," Joel pointed ahead, but tommy blew past a stop sign. "Shit - TOMMY!"

Another car came to a screeching halt, barely missing T-boning the Tommy's truck. They moved on, only to discover people mauling each other in the street - blocking most of their path. "Oh, my God," Sarah whispered, reaching for you as your arm came around her shoulders again as Tommy came to a stall.

"Tommy, you can't stop here," Joel reminded.

"I can't drive through 'em all!"

"Are you serious?" Joel barked. "Just keep goin'!"

However, ahead came the smashing of glass and a stampede of people - all running wildly and making you assume they were Infected, too. "Ohhhhhhh, shit," Katie whimpered.

"Go, go, go, go, back, back, back, back, back, back," Joel encouraged his brother, who hastily switched gears.

"I'm trying!"

However, when you and Sarah looked back to watch the crowd and stay out of Tommy's range of sight, you saw a distant threat and tuned everything else out. "Joel!" You begged, reaching for his arm as the sight of an airborne plane turning in the sky to head back your way was far too pressing right now.

"Dad!" Sarah echoed.

"Holy shit," Katie sobbed, cradling your baby tightly and without you even noticing, put her seatbelt on.

"Move. MOVE!" Joel told Tommy.

The plane took a nosedive into the ground, exploding, and send a flurry of parts around the surrounding area. One of those areas happened to the building you were driving past, and one of the steel parts ricocheted off it and into the truck.

Everything went black.

"Baby? Baby, can you hear me? Hey, hey, hey, darlin', c'mon, open them pretty eyes for me, c'mon, baby, please."

"Fuck," you wheezed, eyes slowly opening.

"Hey, hey, hey, there you are, hey," Joel whispered, Tommy, Katie, and Sarah already out of the truck. "There you go, c'mon, you all right? You hurt?"

"No," you blinked a few times, wiggling your toes and fingers. "Fuck's sake, what happened?"

"Car accident," he nodded, "c'mon, sugar, gotta get up for me," he looked around. "We ain't safe here, c'mon, baby, that's it."

You nodded and let him pull you from the wreckage, grunting when shattered glass pressed into your skin to create long drips of blood that resembled a child's melted-crayon canvas from elementary art class. When out, Sarah kept weight off her ankle and wobbled in her stance, making you frowned, "All right?"

"Ankle," Sarah sniffled.

"We gotta get off the streets!" Tommy called from the other side of the car.

"KATIE!?"

"I got her!" She called back, and then, you could distinguish her shrill crying. You sighed with relief before Tommy was profanely screaming and Joel turned you and Sarah from the car just as an out-of-control police car came smashing into the truck.

"I got her," you told Joel, taking hold of Sarah in full as he nodded in thanks before turning for the wreckage they couldn't get around.

"Tommy!? Tommy!? Katie!? TOMMY!"

The brothers found a glimpse of each other through the flames, Tommy telling his brother, "Head to the river! We'll find a way! Get them outta here, Joel! Go!"

"Take care of my daughter," he nodded back.

"C'mon," Tommy told Katie, and the two were taking off with Tommy's gun slung over his shoulder.

Joel turned back for you and Sarah, gulping nervously at you, "Darlin', listen, I'm so sorry - "

"Joel, now's not the time," you panted. "We gotta go. Okay? We're good right now, but we gotta stay good. Let's get the fuck outta here, please. We can talk later!"

He nodded back, looking at Sarah, who refused, "We can't leave them! K-Katie has D - "

"They'll be fine," Joel insisted. "Tommy's with 'em, they'll look after each other. Can you run?"

"No," she shook her head, making Joel sigh.

"Can you?"

"I'm good," you nodded, worryingly looking at Sarah. "I can carry her - "

"'S all right, darlin'," he muttered, sweeping Sarah into his arms and making her arms latch around his neck. "You keep your eyes on me," he told his daughter. She nodded. "Okay?"

"Okay," Sarah breathed.

"Okay," Joel nodded. "And you don't look anywhere else." Sarah buried her head in her father's neck, his eyes meeting yours. "And you..." He panted, swallowing nervously. "You stay with me, you stay right with me, all right?"

"All right."

"All right," he agreed, hurrying off down the alley. You were true to your word, keeping up with him easily, but both slowing when the end of the alley only lead to a group of Infected motherfuckers feasting on the flesh of other humans.

You panicked for a moment, looking around you, and nearly missing the sound of the a distant explosion - sounding more like a crack from this distance. However, it was enough of a sound to draw the attention of at least one Infected Fucker - who looked up to stare at you, Joel, and Sarah.

Joel lead you to a building behind you - but the Fucker followed. "Joel, go, go, go," you hissed, easily taking the lead to use your body to burst through doors. Joel followed, understanding that because he was carrying Sarah, you had assumed the role of "guide" and wanted to clear his path - but it also cleared a path to be followed.

It made horrendous sounds as it chased you three, literally hauling it's body around as if it had no real control over it. The feeling inside your chest was chaotic, the tension tangible through the air as you lead Joel through the closed-diner.

The creature still followed.

Finally outside, you didn't have to restrict yourself but couldn't find it in you to leave Joel and Sarah behind. If this was the end, it was only right you fell as a family - and while deeply stupid of you, it was oddly poetic. However, as you heard the beast in pursuit just nipping at your heels, so sounded a reverberating gunshot.

It made you pause, looking back to see a headshot had taken the Infected Fucker out, and yet, no obvious sign of the shooter. Joel comforted Sarah, looking down at you - making you nod, telling him you were okay - before looking around again.

Then, a flashlight blinded you as a Humvee's lights flashed on, a voice demanding, "Don't move!"

"Joel..." You whispered, holding onto his elbow as he readjusted so he was slightly in front of you.

"My daughter's hurt!" Joel called to the military man. "Her ankle!"

"Stop right there!" He barked again.

"Okay," Joel muttered, nerves being shared as you had a bad feeling about this. "Easy now. We're not sick!"

But the solider, instead, radioed in, "I got three civilians by the river, one of 'em injured... Ankle..."

"What about Uncle Tommy and Aunt Katie?" Sarah asked her father.

"We're gonna get you somewhere safe first, with your Mama. Yeah? Then we'll come back for 'em, okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay."

"I'm sorry, repeat?" The solider asked into his comms system - earning your attention again. Joel tried to step forward, but the flashlight was right back up into your face, the man snapping, "Hey! No one told you to move!"

"Joel," you worried. "They have shoot-to-kill orders."

"What?" He whispered.

"In the event of extreme violence, similar to this, they have orders to shoot-to-kill," you told him shakily, watching the man. "I know you wanna trust 'em, but they're not our friend right now. Get ready to run..."

"Darlin' - "

"Joel," you hushed, squeezing his elbow.

The solider answered his commanding officer with three, spaced out, "Yes, sir's," before he was slowly picking up his firearm and the light was again in their eyes.

Joel realized how right his estranged wife was in that moment. "We're not sick," he tried to remind. But the man approached, making Sarah's breathing pick up as she held on tighter to Joel's neck - blindly reaching out for you. "Sir," Joel begged, "we are not sick!"

But just like you had said, the orders were shoot-to-kill, and the rapid gunfire sounded in the knight - only barely masked by Sarah's high-pitched scream. You felt a searing burn in your thigh, all three of you toppling over down the short hill you were heading towards; all three rolling away from one another.

When you came to a halt, you seethed in pain, holding your thigh, but hearing a much worse sound. Sarah hyperventilating. You looked up as the solider leered over Joel, army-crawling towards her just as a gunshot sounded. However, when you weren't struck, you kept going, and reached your stepdaughter.

"Baby?" You whispered.

"Mama," she begged. "Mama, Mama," she repeated, barely able to swallow her saliva - much less her fear. "Hurts," she grunted, soon losing the ability to form words.

Tommy had seen the scene and rushed forward to shoot the solider, leaving Katie at his side with your infant daughter still in arm. "I got'cha, hey, hey, hey, I"m here," you whispered, literally whipping your shirt off to press into her stomach. "JOEL!" You cried, looking over your shoulder to spy him on the ground.

He quickly scrambled to Sarah's other side, taking in the situation, and looking at you with absolute devastation. You cried as you held pressure, but you knew, from the entry wounds, Sarah didn't stand a chance. Her aorta artery had been hit and shredded by a bullet, only giving her moments left in this life.

Watching Joel was possibly harder than watching him walk away from you in the birthing room. He was desperate, trying to save his daughter but only being able to hold her as she grunted and sobbed in pain; bleeding out in her father's arms. Joel begged you to help but you couldn't, unable to form words, so, he turned to his brother and screamed at him - and your sister - to help him.

But in that moment he had looked away, Sarah's life had left them. "Joel," you whimpered, making him look down and realize what happened. He sobbed, drawing her in tightly; rocking helplessly on the ground as he couldn't fathom what had just happened.

However, amongst his mourning, there came a sound you never wanted to hear again. Whipping around, you caught sight of your sister starting to twitch and leapt to your feet; limping in hurried motions to snatch your screaming baby from her tightening grip.

"Katie," you begged in a sob, backing up towards Tommy, "oh, God, no... No, please."

But the bite on her forearm had turned a sickly black-and-blue, alerting she had been bit at some point and never voiced it. Before your very eyes, she turned from your dear, sweet older sister into a blood-thirsty monster. Yellowed and dead eyes, snarling and uncontrollable twitching, limbs that turned up in odd angles as the infection took over completely.

When done, you sister gave a shriek before you pleaded, "Tommy!"

He took aim and fired once, putting Katie out of her misery; sending her corpse crumbling to the ground. You panted, tears in your eyes as you couldn't process this night, but then... The unexpected.

"Oh, God, no," you gasped, wrenching your daughter from your chest as she started wriggling uncontrollably. "No, no, no, no, no, no," you sobbed, dropping to your knees and laying her down. Quickly opening her baby blanket, you noted the adult-sized bite on her whole shin, sobbing harshly. "Delilah! No, not my baby, no, no, oh, fuck, no, c'mon, not you, too. Not you, too, Delilah, please, my angel, oh, fuck, no, God damn it!"

"Darlin'," Tommy stuttered from behind you. He looked up in fear, finding his brother's confused gaze and calling, "J-Joel!"

"Delilah, please, fuck, h-how do I fix this!?" You begged. "No, fuck, God damn it! Why can't I help my daughters!?" You snarled at Tommy, sobbing until your chest hurt. "Why!? Why can't I save them!?"

"Doll," he whispered, his older brother slowly letting go of Sarah to lay her down, shut her eyes, and rest her arms over her stomach before turning for you.

"Not her, too, please," you begged. "That's everyone, please, no, please, th-this can't - please, this can't be happening! How do I help, Delilah, baby, please?" You still begged, looking at her bite. "I-I can - I don't know what to do! Wo-Would amputation work? Oh, fuck, no, no, it's - no, please!"

Joel stumbled to his feet, nearing you, but pausing as he could only stare as his infant daughter, whom he had only just seen, twitched and convulsed as the infection proved too great for her little body. It also wasn't lost to his that you had name her after his own mother, long since departed from this world and who would never meet her granddaughter.

"Oh, my God," Joel whispered, slowly nearing you as you sobbed over your daughter; hands hovering all over as you weren't sure where to touch her.

"Please!" You begged nobody, sobbing uselessly as Delilah came to a slow but jarring halt. "Oh, my God," you squeaked, leaning back in shock. "Oh... Oh, my fuckin' God, no... Not our kids, c'mon, no, God, please, fuck - this has to be some fucked-up nightmare. Right?" You looked desperately at Joel. "This... This isn't real, right? This isn't really happening? Please, Joel, you have to fucking tell me this isn't real - this can't be real."

"I'm sorry," Joel wheezed, slowly reaching for you.

"This didn't happen," you shook your head. "O-Our daughters - what the fuck just happened?"

Tommy slowly took the seat on your other side, Joel easily tugging you into his embrace as your sobs wracked your whole being. There were no words to be shared, only the grief of two parents who had just lost everything. Sarah's blood stained both your skin, Delilah laid perfectly still in her baby blanket right in front of you, and Tommy, who felt his gun weighed more than himself after failing to protect those he loved most in this world.

Joel, who lost his daughters but kept his brother.

And you... Who lost your husband a year ago and both your daughters, your mother, father, little brother, and older sister all in a single night. You, who would carry this night of great loss with you, for life. You, who felt confused on how "moving forward" was ever possible. You, who would eventually lose feeling in your head and heart that would result in years of violent turmoil.

You, who would eventually find a path to redemption, but for tonight, you, who grieved loudly and openly in the bloody arms of your estranged husband.

requesting rules and masterlist

TLOU masterlist

#joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller tlou #joel miller hbo #the last of us #the last of us hbo #hbo the last of us #the last of us x reader #tlou #tlou hbo #hbo tlou #tlou joel

[redflagshipwriter]

Check Yes (to go on a date with a dead guy) ch3

“So, what’s your deal?” Jason asked, when Danny’s mouth was full of food. “You’re dead, I notice.”

Danny choked. He gave Jason a betrayed look with big blue eyes, a hand clapped over his mouth to contain any mess.

Jason smirked back, unrepentant. “I died once,” he shared. “Got better though.”

“You got be-”

“You were surprised about what it’s like to fight humans,” Jason continued. It was hard not to laugh at the confused outrage on his date’s face. “So that implies you fight someone else? You’re fighting ghosts or something? Or do ghosts have some kinda natural enemy? Vampires or some shit?” He might have been a bit flippant but sue him, it sounded a lot more magical than his daily life.

Danny opened his mouth and no words came out. He looked like he was in pain when he grudgingly admitted, “I do have a lot of beef with this one vampire guy, Vlad.”

Jason threw his head back and laughed. That was such a vampire guy name, what the hell?

“No, no, it’s not funny,” Danny protested. He waved his hands wildly, flinging a bit of bean from his burrito across the roof they were perched on. “He’s also a ghost- well, he’s a half of a ghost, but that’s a long story from when he was in college.”

“The half-ghost vampire has an undergraduate degree?” Jason interrupted. He needed to know what this fucker studied. Was it like, social science? Literature? Theater? That might explain Danny’s implied belief that a theme was an inherent rogue thing. No, wait, business administration?

Danny gave him a withering look. “He’s got a Doctorate.”

Jason flung his hands up in defeat against the world. That made more sense than an undergraduate degree somehow. There was just something about the type of person who got a Doctorate that made them, you know, creeps.

‘Or maybe they’ve just got enough specialized knowledge to act on latent creepiness,’ he mused. ‘...Shit, am I developing an anti education stance? Can I blame this on Crane and Quinn?’

Danny was continuing with his explanation of the vampire’s background. Every word made it nuttier. “He’s a scientist, actually, and the mayor of a small town. And he lives in a cheese mansion.”

This was a sharp divergence from vampire stereotypes and he needed to know everything.

“Is the mansion made of cheese?” Jason interrupted. He was leaning in, intent on every word. Why was this vampire the most interesting man in the world?

He got a weird look for that. “No, it just belonged to the Dairy King,” Danny said, like it was everyday knowledge that you could expect a layperson to have.

“Of course, the Dairy King,” Jason said wisely.

"Enough about me though!" Danny flailed a bit. "How did you get my uh, number?"

Ah. Jason took a big bite to delay while he chose his words.

There was no point in trying to hide his vigilante identity from Danny. The guy probably didn't even understand the concept.

So he might as well top whatever story Danny had.

"The bat guy who taught me all about being a child soldier got grabbed by this group of loser cultists, right?" He gestured in a way that did absolutely nothing to illustrate the situation.

Danny cocked his head. "This is off to a good start."

"They tried to sacrifice him. You gotta remember him - big ugly guy, dressed in black and gray, underwear on the outside of his pants in a way that's never been cool?"

Danny didn't seem to have words, but he lifted his hands to make two ears on top of his head.

He pointed with both hands. "That's the guy," Jason agreed. "At the time, we didn't know what kind of sacrifice it was. We were thinking more along the lines of blood sacrifice?" He shrugged as if the idea of B biting it meant nothing to him.

Danny made a pffft sound of air escaping between his lips. "I tossed him back." He flailed in place. "I- isn't- wasn't that- that was a while ago," he stuttered. "I kinda forgot about him."

"...You got offered a cape, then a few weeks later a bunch of others, and you didn't make a mental connection?" Jason checked.

Danny flushed. "Time doesn't match up between the realms and anyway, I'm really busy!" He crossed his arms and accidentally knocked over his drink. "I've got a lot going on in my life. Anyway, for a ghost?" Danny blew a raspberry. "I'm sorry to break your heart, but none of you dress wild enough to stand out in the Infinite Realms. We've got robot dudes and child pirates and giant eyeballs and stuff." He gave Jason a smug look. It was cute.

Jason acted on impulse and reached out to ruffle Danny's hair. He realized what he was doing too late. His hand froze above Danny's head.

Danny tilted his face up and made an inquisitive sound.

"There was a bug." Jason pulled his hand back. What was wrong with him? He didn't go touching other people just because they were cute. "It flew off."

"...Right," Danny said. "You're being very normal." He seemed delighted by this, the little gremlin. "So. You were a child soldier too?"

Jason nearly fell off his perch.

Danny shrieked a laugh and pointed. "Ha!" He crowed. "I win! I shocked you first!"

"There wasn't a competition!" Jason lied. His face was bright red. It was too late to save face. "What do you mean too?" He demanded. "Were you a child?"

"Somewhat recently," Danny said. He gave Jason a catlike smile. "Adults come from teenagers, teenagers come from kids, kids come from babies. Do you need to know-"

"I know where babies come from." Jason cut him off. He tried to look off put at the way Danny laughed at him but fuck it, it was funny, in a dumb way. "Of course you were a kid, that was silly of me," he admitted. "Ghosts are made from humans, right?"

"Well yes, but actually no," Danny said, philosophical. "Some of us. I was. Other ghosts are made from like, vultures, or ideas."

It kinda seemed like ghost taxonomy was more complicated than he was ready to get into at the moment. Those two things were pretty fuckin disparate.

Jason sighed heavily and picked up his food again, just to have something to do with his hands.

A thought occurred. He didn't let it show on his face but he felt sick to his stomach.

Danny was dead. Danny said he'd been a child recently, and a child soldier.

Someone needed their ass kicked.

Danny: we are having such a whimsical time!

Jason: sirens screaming

#dp x dc #red check yes #dead on main

[powdermelonkeg]

But Mystra WASNT right to ask Gale to kill himself. She still told a guy who cared about her "hey. if you love me, destroy yourself for me"

You're right, she did do that. And that's horrible, and shows exactly how little value she places on Gale's life.

And that's the point. She thinks she's in the right. She thinks hurting him is worth everything else she would take out in the process. She thinks she's giving him the best option.

It's very hard, from a mortal perspective, to picture how the gods see things. You can throw analogy after analogy before them to try to comprehend it, but in the end, the gods have power on such a scale that we, as readers and players, do not have an equivalent answer to compare them to.

What we bring to the table, through Tav, is that mortal perspective: we don't care about the greater good of preserving Faerûn's Weave. We don't care about the grand battle between Shar and Selûne that's lasted since the beginning of time. We don't care about the balance of life and death. We're so far beneath eternity-spanning events like that that the here and now are what we care about most.

And that's what the Origins need most. That's what Gale needs most.

Mystra's perspective, what goes on in her head, is a measured, calculated list of facts, weighed against each other:

Gale would do anything for her.

Gale possesses a weapon that needs to be destroyed.

Gale is going to die of that weapon without divine intervention.

The Dead Three are a threat.

The Dead Three have Karsus' crown.

The Dead Three could kill her again.

The scope of her power is such that a single mortal life is worth very little. Ketheric was onto something when he said "We are copper pieces in their belts. Tokens to be traded for scraps." Because that's what Mystra's doing, isn't it? She's cashing in on Gale's devotion to her.

Mystra sees a problem. She realizes she holds the solution. She thinks she's making it right by offering eternity. She fancies herself as being patient and kind by letting that solution choose to work for her.

That's the divine perspective.

The mortal perspective, the perspective that matters most, is best summed up by two lines of Gale and Mystra's conversation in the Stormshore Tabernacle:

Mystra: You discovered what lies at the Heart of the Absolute—the Crown of Karsus—and you disobeyed my instruction. Why?

Gale: Because you had no right to ask that of me!

She didn't. She doesn't.

The divine perspective is the one that lacks love. It lacks the ability to see value in a person, for being a person. It quantifies what worth something has by what it can do for you. And it is dangerous, because it cannot be told it is wrong.

Gale and Mystra were always an unbalanced relationship. When he was young, she was his teacher: she knew things he didn't, withheld them until he was ready to learn them, and directly controlled his interaction with her craft.

When she was his muse, she was the font of his creativity. He made things in her name, for little but attention in return. He gave, and gave, and was wholly devoted to her. Such is the nature of gods that it's foolish to expect them to give back to you at all.

And then she was his lover. And she was untouchable. She cannot be told "no" definitively; the only guarantee that she'll adhere to a "no" is her own personal moral code, or lingering admiration for the person who says it. She can't give herself to someone. She can spend time with them, but she can never give equally. She is a god. She exists to be served.

Gale's life, before the tadpole, was defined by Mystra. He was destined for greatness, spoke personally with Elminster, wielded the Blackstaff—and yet, he says he had no friends, and few colleagues. He's had mortal lovers, but they barely get a footnote in the story of his life. His social circle was "the size of a pinhead."

Mystra, by nature of being a god, intentionally or not, isolated Gale from his peers. You could argue any number of reasons why—my own personal bet being that he was so enamored with her that everyone else fell to the wayside—but he is alone. Even Lorroakan, down in Baldur's Gate, knew about him, and defines him only by nature of his relationship to Mystra.

The nature of gods is that anyone they speak with is now worlds away from anyone once called friends. How do you hold conversations with people when you're everyone at the table's god's favorite?

Mystra's very presence eroded away Gale over time. His friendships suffered. His joy in mortal sides of himself withered. His outlook on his own merits was restricted to what he could do with the magic at his command—did Mystra only see value in that, or did his peers and former lovers only care for what she gifted him? Both are likely. Especially with this line in his romance: "To know you love me for the man I am, and not the magic I command—none have loved me so purely."

And that isolation tore him open after his claim of the Netherese Orb, because he locked himself in his tower for a year. He didn't have those connections to reach out and ask for help, because being a god's lover burned that all away.

And then, after silence, after her fury leading to his terrified misery, after he thinks he's going to die any day, she comes in with a double-edged sword, putting the Orb to rest, at last, while telling him to fall to it anyway. The power imbalance is on full display, here: her expectations are so unrealistic that it will destroy him, in the name of forgiveness. If he loves her, he should give everything for her.

And he is going to do it.

There's such a tangled mess of emotions that explode from that.

She stabilized him. She could have done that whenever. She didn't, because it didn't serve her needs.

A year of silence, Gale thinking she'd taken everything from him and Mystra not caring enough to explain otherwise, and the first thing she says is die.

He's a pawn. Literally. She wants him to go to the other side of the board and trade his life for the winning move.

He doesn't want to die. But he's terrified that that's what's best for the world.

The divine perspective is that he gets what he deserves. The divine perspective is that she's being merciful, because she's giving him a home afterwards with her.

The mortal perspective is that she's cruel. That this is cruel. That Gale is only worth what he can give to her. That his death is more useful than his life. That ending that beautiful man with all his wants, and hopes, and dreams, at the drop of a pin, is nothing to her.

If you explode Gale at Moonrise, the Sword Coast falls to the Mindflayers. Mystra is a god, she can see that outcome. But she is a god of magic, and as such, it's not her problem. Her problem has been dealt with.

Let me go back to Withers' question:

Withers: And so, I ask again: what is the worth of a single mortal life?

Tav: Each life is of infinite value and merits sacrificing everything for.

Withers: And thus, balance is achieved.

Mystra cannot answer this question correctly. A single mortal life could never be worth the sacrifice in her eyes. She uses people as a means to an end, because the ends justify the means retroactively to her. Dornal Silverhand's suffering and Elué Silverhand's death begot her seven powerful Chosen. Two people for the wellbeing of many. She'll continue to use people like this, because that's what she is. That's what godhood entails.

Gale could likely answer this question properly, though not act on it perfectly. If his Netherese blight could save people, even if it's terrifying, he would blow himself up. He has to be talked down from it. He doesn't realize that he is one of those lives of infinite value.

What about God Gale? Can he answer it?

Of course not. He wouldn't sacrifice his godhood to come back home to mortality. He looks down on mortal life. He thinks he's above it. He, a newly minted god, is a perfect window into the basis of how gods perceive things.

Mystra asking Gale to kill himself betrays her lack of value in him as a person. Like God Gale, she looks down on mortality, just much, much more subtly. He's a means to an end. All mortals are.

Pawn to Cleric Four.

#bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #mystra #long post #ask bee #there's also something to be said of the player being literally put into mystra's shoes at the end #gale could blow up the brain. he could save everyone. for you #he offers it #and you could be the new Mystra and tell him to do it #god gale is a great parallel to gale's past with mystra before the orb. but tav is a parallel to AFTER the orb

[ckret2]

Chapter 34 of human Bill Cipher not making friends with Stan during his imprisonment in the Mystery Shack, featuring: the tooth fairy and her dentist attempting to steal Bill's teeth in the middle of the night. Stan would care a lot less if he weren't still handcuffed to Bill. And also: Stan and Bill have a friendly chat. As you can see.

####

Even though Bill and Stan were trying to watch the same TV as they had dinner, Bill refused to sit in the living room with Stan; so he sat on the bottom step of the stairs in the entryway, Stan perched on the end of the couch, and they strung the handcuffs around the doorway with their little plastic microwave dinner trays balanced on their knees.

Both of their dinners had come out undercooked. Both of them were too proud to complain.

After picking through maybe a third of his meal, Bill decided he'd rather go to bed hungry than eat something he didn't enjoy, dropped his tray on the floor, and kicked it into the kitchen. "Hey Stanley, still glad you went with the cuffs instead of the bracelets?"

"Shut up."

Bill smirked victoriously, and looked back to the TV. "No mayonnaise in Ireland."

"What?"

Bill pointed at the screen and the rows of blank letters waiting for contestants to fill them in. "The round that just started. That's the solution."

"Oh." Stan counted out all the blank letters, frowned, and said unconfidently, "It can't be that. It doesn't make any sense."

"You're wrong," Bill said lightly; and then fell silent, running the tip of his tongue over the new gold spots on his teeth. 

When the contestants had guessed enough letters that one could hesitantly offer, "Is it... 'no mayonnaise in Ireland'?" Bill smirked triumphantly at the sound of Stan's silence. He just barely waited until the next board of blank letters flashed on the screen, and then announced, "Tip your waiter."

Stan counted the letters under his breath. "Man. I thought I was good at this, but we'd clean up if we put you on this show. No one would ever figure out how you're cheating."

Bill laughed. "Listen to you! If you were Ford, you'd just be mad that I'm giving away all the answers before you can guess. That's the great thing about you, Stanley: you don't get irritated at me for stupid little reasons. You're more fun." He took a deep breath and shouted, "Hey Ford, did you hear that?! Stan's the fun twin—!"

"Keep it down, you idiot. Ford's in the basement, he can't hear you." Stan had thought Bill was finally sobering up from the sedative; maybe not. (Then again, maybe this was just what he was like sober.) "And what are you talking about? You irritate me all the time!"

"Oh, well, I guess I just don't care when you're irritated." Bill laughed.

Stan grumbled, planted his chin in his hand, and tried to focus on Cash Wheel. It was difficult when he already knew the solution.

He tolerated the silence for less than a minute before sighing, looking toward the doorway, and demanding, "What's with you, anyway? Why are you so obsessed with my brother?"

Bill spluttered in disbelief. Stan could feel his handcuff chain jerk over. Voice even shriller than usual, Bill said, "Excuse m—Excuse me?! Obsessed? Moi?! I don't know what you're talking about!" He forced a loud laugh.

"If Ford's in the room, he's the only one you talk to, and when he isn't here you're yelling across the house for him—"

"Is it obsession to sometimes pay a little more attention to the human here I happen to know best and to whom I happen to be a teacher, muse, and friend—"

"Oh that's a load of bull," Stan snapped, "you're not any of those things! Friend? Friend? He wants you dead, you crazy—"

"Well if he does," Bill said, louder still, "then wouldn't it make perfect sense to keep my eye on the guy who killed me? There's no big mystery—"

"That's it! That's just it!" Stan tossed down his TV dinner and stood so he could face Bill properly. "He didn't kill you alone, remember? That was a two-man con you fell for! But you keep talking like Ford was the only one there!"

Without bothering to stand, Bill looked up at Stan and said, quite confidently, "Only one person killed me. You're just the place where I was killed."

"I wh...?" Stan fell silent, blinking at Bill in disbelief.

"Do you even remember what happened inside your brain? After you took my hand?" Bill asked. "You don't, do you?"

Stan glowered at Bill, but he shut his mouth and said nothing.

"I knew it." Bill laughed nastily. "We were both trapped in there when Fordsy fired the gun. Completely powerless. You were weeping and begging for a way out when the flames got too close, but there was nothing I could do by then—"

"All right," Stan took a threatening step closer, "I know that that didn't happen! I would never—"

Bill leaned back, hands raised palm out in appeasement, "Okay okay okay! All right, you got me—just embellishing the story a little—we actually had a big psychic laser battle. Imagined up all kinds of futuristic weapons. It was very 90's action movie. You did... fine, you were fine."

Stan considered that. "Ehh... sure, that sounds more like me."

"But it was all imaginary," Bill snapped. "It was a vast illusion! At that point there was nothing either of us could do to the other. We were just two victims locked inside a burning house as it came down around us. You didn't kill me, you never even had the power to kill me."

"Huh." That was all Stan said. But he kept looking at Bill, frowning distrustfully, studying him.

Bill's shoulders slowly went up under the pressure of Stan's gaze. "Oh—oh wow, okay, I see what's going on!" He gave Stan a crooked, mean smile. "You're jealous, aren't you? You thought offering up your body to be the scene of a murder finally made you a co-star instead of a sidekick! All your lives, Stanford got more attention from daddy, more attention from the teachers, more attention from the whole world... and you thought you'd finally get at least a little attention from the big bad living nightmare. Just because you let your brother shoot you in the head!" Bill laughed. "You weren't special enough for anyone else—why do you think you're special enough for me?"

Stan jerked Bill to his feet by the handcuff's chain. "I bet I'm special enough to break your face!" He dragged him into the living room, fist raised. "Let's see if you stay down this time—"

Bill scrambled back as far as the chain allowed him. "NO!" Horror filled the one ragged syllable. His free arm was raised to shield his terrified eye.

They froze, staring at each other.

Bill straightened up, forcing a nervous, rattled laugh. "Come on, I just got all this dental work done. At least give me a couple days to enjoy it before you pound it in!" He was talking fast to fill the silence. "Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't mind having a flatter face, all these bones and cartilage jutting out never did feel right—"

Stan feigned a punch.

Bill flinched.

Stan laughed at him, slapping his knee. "You big chicken! Look at you! Baw-baaawk-bgawk! HA!"

Bill tried, very hard, to explode Stan with his brain. This usually worked on people who dared try to insult Bill Cipher. "If I had one billionth of a billionth of my power, I'd have already destroyed you—!"

"But you don't, sucker!" Stan laughed louder.

Bill screamed in frustration, turned his back on Stan, and stomped upstairs to sulk.

Or, he would have, if he hadn't gotten one step up the stairs before the handcuffs yanked tight. He stumbled back, landed on his butt, and inadvertently jerked Stan down on one knee with a yelp.

Bill cast a resentful look at Stan—who was rubbing his shoulder and finally looking as irritated as Bill felt—and then he lay down and deliberately stared straight at the ceiling. "Whatever. I don't even care about your pointless mammal posturing. It's fine. It doesn't bother me. I'm calm. You're just making yourself look stupid." Bill shut his eyes. "I wanna go to bed."

####

"Bill," Ford said.

Bill cracked open an eye and peered up at the form looming over his makeshift cushion bed. "Mrm?"

In a very calm voice that suggested he was not calm at all, Ford asked, "Why are you sleeping on the floor in front of my bedroom door."

"Oh. Right, you missed it." Bill yawned and sat up. "Well, you see, Stanley got us handcuffed together until tomorrow morning," he pointed at his cuffed wrist and rattled the chain, "and I tried to be accommodating, but he doesn't want to sleep in the attic and won't let me sleep in the guest room—"

Stan yelled through the door, "And Mr. Accommodating here still refuses to sleep on the sofa bed."

"—so the best compromise we've got is sleeping on the floor with the chain under the door. Not my idea of a fun evening, but." Bill shrugged ruefully, like an adult resigned to indulging the whims of a petulant child. "Do you want in? It'll take us a little coordination to get the door open, but we've already done this once, so—"

"I'm not messing with this," Ford said. "I'm sleeping in the basement. Good night, Stanley."

"Night, Ford."

Trying not to sound miffed at being snubbed, Bill said, "Hey, do you still keep your cot on that rug you used to channel me better?" He laughed.

"Nope. I burned that rug." Ford turned the corner and left.

Bill stuck his tongue out at his back. He didn't actually know whether Ford was lying. He wished he'd thought to check out Ford's study before heading down to the portal back when he'd had his time tape.

"Hey." He rapped on the bedroom door. "I thought we weren't asking Sixer for help so he wouldn't find out about the handcuffs." They hadn't actually discussed it, but he'd taken it for granted. "Now that he knows, why aren't we getting his help?"

"What, you think I need his help to solve all my problems? Ha!"

"Okay, fine. Doesn't matter to me, I'm used to sleeping on the floor." Bill lay back down and sighed.

He shut his eyes and tried to go back to sleep.

####

Bill wasn't quite dreaming, but for a few seconds it was something very close to a dream. He saw points of light in darkness. One of his earliest, oldest memories. He'd memorized the constellations outside of his plain when his starblind species didn't even have a word for "constellations."

But these weren't those points of light in darkness. Some nearer, some farther—he could sense their distance—and all of the lights were calling to him. All of his eyes. He could see so many more than he had last night.

One was just a few inches away. He could almost reach out and grab it. 

But those few seconds of light-in-darkness were in the gray twilight between the dreamscape and the physical world, and Bill only fleetingly glimpsed them as he passed from sleep back to wakefulness. He opened his eyes.

To see a person looming over him.

And the taste of thick metal tools in his mouth.

"Hi," Bill said, for lack of anything better to say under these circumstances.

It was enough to make Dr. Illing gasp and stumble back from Bill. "Jeez." He clapped a hand over his heart. "I'm sorry— I-I didn't want to—"

"Uh-huh." Bill sat up and took the abandoned tool out of his mouth—pliers. They'd been gently clamped around one of his canine teeth. "Not the most unpleasant thing I've had aimed at my face in the middle of the night," Bill mused, "but it's pretty high on the list." He tried to lift his other hand to feel his face for damage—and only remembered the handcuff when the rattling chain caught his wrist in place.

They both looked at the cuff. As Dr. Illing realized Bill was trapped, a change came over his face—a desperate, crazed fury.

Bill shook his head. "Ohhh, no no no—"

"Give me that!" Dr. Illing lunged for Bill, one hand reaching toward the pliers and the other toward his throat, trying to pin him against the door.

Bill shoved his feet in Dr. Illing's chest, trying to hold him back. "Stanley!" He pounded on the door with the pliers. "We have visitors, wake up!"

"It'll only take a second," Dr. Illing insisted. "You were going to give me one anyway! And that tooth is already loose! You can handle the pain! Just—hold still, I can't damage it!" He managed to get his thumb in Bill's mouth—he cringed when Bill bit down, but didn't back off—and pulled a fresh set of pliers out of his tool bag.

Bill parried the pliers with his own pair. "STAAAN—"

The door unlatched and Bill tumbled backward into the room. He twisted out of the dentist's way, slid the handcuff chain out from under the door, and skittered behind Stan.

"Wha—what's—?" Stan squinted into the dark hallway. "The heck's going on?"

Bill stretched to Stan's nightstand and grabbed up his glasses and hearing aids. "Put your face on!" He shoved them in Stan's hands, then reached back for his dentures.

Stan put his glasses on first. "What the— Illing? What are you doing here?"

Dr. Illing stood forlorn in the hallway, trembling all over, eyeing Stan nervously. "Uhhh," he said eloquently. "I just..." He gestured around Stan's shoulder toward Bill, "wanted to check her fillings. I thought one of them might be a little loose—"

Bill's cackle cut through his excuses. "Oh, come on! I know your boss put you up to this! What does the little lady want with my mouth?"

Dr. Illing's eyes widened. All he managed to produce was a squeak.

Stan said, "What 'little lady,' this guy's self-employed. What are you talking about—"

"The tooth fairy, genius!" Bill flung his free hand in the air. "Why did you think your dentist pays you to pull your teeth! He lives in a van, who'd you think was funding him?!"

"Uh," Stan said. "You know, I sort of just took his whole 'creepy sadist who bribes people to let him pull their teeth' shtick at face value." (Dr. Illing's shoulders slumped.) "But—I know things are weird around here, but the tooth fairy's gotta be fake, right? That's the stupidest..."

A fairy popped out of Dr. Illing's bag—just large enough to use an adult man's hand like a chair, with a bob cut so white it almost shone, giving off a glowing toothpaste-blue aura, wearing a necklace of baby teeth like a hunter who'd taken trophies from the bones of her kills.

"Oh," Stan said. "Well. Never mind. Just one more crazy thing in this town."

Bill's back went stiff, his eyes widened, and he curled his fists into the fabric of Stan's tank top like he was holding his shield in place. "Oh, she's here." He lisped an inhuman swear under his breath.

Ignoring them, the tooth fairy glowered up at Dr. Illing. "How did they know? What did you tell them!"

"Nothing!" he protested. "I swear! I'd never!"

"Well, you must have let something slip—"

Bill swallowed hard; but then he straightened up, let go, and stepped into the open. "Why, if it isn't Miss Pearl E. White, in the fae flesh! To what do I owe such an honor?"

Dr. Illing and the fairy both flinched. She asked, "How do you know my...?"

"Oh, Pearl. I know things you couldn't even dream of." Bill favored her with his best, widest, most unnerving grin.

And got the creeping sense that she'd stopped looking at his face, and started staring at his teeth. He pressed his lips together. "And here's just one thing I know: lady, if you were toeing the line of your treaty any harder, you'd be tripping across it. So tell me what you're doing here and what you want."

She huffed defensively, wings buzzing as they lifted her several inches in the air. "I'm well within the terms of the treaty! I haven't laid a hand on you and I'm not about to start, and I've been offering more than adequate financial compensation—"

"Oh, right," Bill laughed, "I'm sure the queen of your court would be thrilled to hear you ordered your legally-dubious helper to rip out someone's teeth in the dead of night—"

"Hi," Stan said, "question. What the hey are you guys talking about. Treaties? Queens?"

"Oh, this is all going over your head, isn't it! I'll catch you up." He turned to the side to point accusingly at Pearl, "Little miss enamel-happy here has a thing for teeth. To the extent that she started stealing them straight out of humans' mouths. She went so crazy that the local human settlements actually declared war on her court over her dental kleptomania—and the fairies she dragged into the conflict weren't any happier about it than the humans were. So now, under the conditions of a human-fairy peace treaty, she's only allowed to acquire already freed teeth that are voluntarily offered to her by their owners—which is why she started bribing children."

Pearl crossed her arms, fuming. "That's a very biased version of events. You're just trying to paint me in the worst possible—"

"Save it, sparkles! I woke up with your minion's pliers in my mouth, I'll be as biased as I want!" He shifted his attention to Dr. Illing—who seemed to wilt under the force of Bill's glare. "But she's getting deep in a gray area working with this guy. Once a tooth is handed to a dentist, he's its 'owner,' and can freely give that tooth to the tooth fairy—but him extracting the tooth puts the whole operation on shaky legal ground. Really, I think the only reason you've gotten away with this racket so long is because nobody's filed a legal challenge with the fairy court yet."

"Nobody's complained about it," Pearl said hotly.

"None of your victims know about it," Bill countered. "Hey Fisherman," he jabbed Stan's arm, "how do you feel knowing your teeth were sacrificed to the tooth fairy?"

He considered that. "Well—it was free."

Pearl crowed, "Ha!"

Ignoring Stan's reply, Bill blithely moved on: "But by any reading of the treaty, hiring a human to steal teeth straight out of someone's mouth is beyond the pale. So you'd better have a good explanation for this!"

"Yeah. I do have a good explanation." She sucked in a deep breath. "I want your teeth!" She launched herself toward Bill; Dr. Illing had to grab her around the waist to hold her back. "I'd do anything for those teeth! They're the most amazing teeth I've ever seen!" She clawed at the air, hissing and straining as she tried to reach Bill.

"My lady, please," Dr. Illing said pathetically. "The treaty—"

She aimed a swipe at his face. "I know about the stupid treaty!"

Bill stared at her, baffled. His perfectly normal human teeth? But he shook his head, smiled, and said, "Well okay, fantastic! It's been a while since I've bargained with the fae, but I'm not too attached to this body—so how much gold do you have on you, kid?"

"We're not bargaining. You already know too much," Pearl snapped. "I'm not about to get blackmailed by a human, and I'm not going back to fairy jail. So here's what's happening." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder toward Dr. Illing. "I'm gonna have my guy rip out every one of your teeth, and then rip your head apart so you can't talk, and the only negotiating you get to do is whether or not my guy uses the local anesthetic before he starts. So what's it gonna be?"

Dr. Illing went deathly pale and his knees shook as he verged on fainting.

"Hey," Stan waved at the fairy, "listen, I'd love to see this guy's head get ripped apart, but—crazy thing, long story—it turns out there's fifty-fifty odds that killing him could end the world. So, maybe let's talk this out—?"

Pearl gestured dismissively at Stan. "His mouth has nothing left of interest to me. He's a witness. Kill him, too."

Dr. Illing swallowed hard; but, with trembling hand, he reached into his tool bag and slowly pulled out a large power drill that definitely wasn't designed for teeth.

"Right," Bill said. "Okay. This'll be fun." If he said it convincingly enough, maybe it would be true. "Hey, Fisher—you know that spell Sixer's got on me? If I cast it on Frankie here, can you..."

"Yeah, I see where you're going."

Pearl's eyes narrowed. She pounded her tiny fist on Dr. Illing's finger. "Hurry up, before they—"

Before she could issue a warning, Stan charged at them, fist raised. Dr. Illing flinched, shielding his face with the drill; but Stan dodged around him, heading for the hall. Bill seized Dr. Illing's upper arm as he passed—"Amnesia Limina, Stupidi Digiti, Occultus Locus!"—and then Stan yanked Bill out into the hall by their chain and slammed the bedroom door.

Dr. Illing gasped. "What?"

Blue light radiated through the cracks around the door as Pearl darted around, shrieking, "Open the door, you idiot!"

There was a moment of futile scrabbling. "How?!"

Bill and Stan retreated to the entryway. Bill said, "If we get outside, we can lose 'em."

"Or get the car and run them over," Stan said.

"You don't wanna be the guy who kills the tooth fairy! She might be in the doghouse, but she's still old fae nobility. Her court would—"

Bill cut off as Stan opened the door. Instead of leading to the porch and the forest beyond, it now opened into a bone-colored cathedral, the arches and vaulted ceilings constructed out of what looked like small irregular pebbles: teeth.

Stan gaped at the vast chamber. "Where the heck...?"

Bill looked at what had once been the outside of the door; the numbers "13 / 32" were carved into the wood. "Nowhere we want to go! Shut it!"

Stan slammed the door.

"That explains how she got in," Bill muttered. "There's no time to un-enchant this exit, we'll need another one."

Stan pointed toward the living room. "We can go out the—"

"The floor room exit." Bill dragged Stan back toward the hallway they'd just left.

"What?! That's the other end of the house, you idiot, the gift shop's right through here!"

"But it's a straight shot down the hall—" Bill stumbled to a stop.

The tooth fairy was clawing her way out from under the bedroom door. She caught sight of Bill, and her wings raised in a sharp V like a wasp preparing to attack. "You!"

"Never mind."

Stan dragged Bill back toward the living room. "Now can we go—"

Bill saw the living room—that familiar dark room, the familiar walls and carpet, the familiar armchair facing the doorway as though welcoming him back, the pale blue light from the fish tank climbing the walls like flames—and Stanley Pines, dragging Bill by a chain toward this tomb—and he grabbed on to the staircase railing. "Up."

Stan jerked to a stop. "That's a dead end!" He tried again to pull Bill toward the living room. "Are you insane?!"

"Yes." Bill locked his hand around the railing like a corpse in rigor mortis. He'd break his fingers before he let go. "We're going up."

"We are not—"

The tooth fairy shot past them like a glowing blue bullet, streaking into the kitchen. Stan started, and Bill took the opportunity to drag them up the stairs. Stan finally followed.

"You're not getting out of here with my teeth!" Pearl screamed after them.

"Ignore her," Bill muttered, "she can't risk touching us and she knows it. She's powerless without her minion." He stumbled on a step and just kept climbing on all fours.

"I wouldn't bet on her self control!" Stan struggled to keep up, his cuffed wrist in the lead. "Why are we going this way? How do you expect to get out from the attic?!"

"I don't know! It just seemed like a better idea! Do I have to think of everything?!"

"This was your plan!"

"There's got to be a ladder in the storage over the kids' room, we can get down out a window."

"I don't keep ladders—!"

"Well maybe Jesús does, do you know everything in the attic?! Come on!"

Bill kicked the door to the kids' room until Stan opened it. After a short argument about who should climb to the storage loft ("I have to look, you can't see in the dark!" "And you can?! Since when!" "Since always! You didn't need to know!"), Bill scrambled up the makeshift rungs nailed to the wall while Stan climbed halfway up to give the handcuffs a little slack.

As Bill started searching for anything useful, Pearl's ranting filled the shack: "Those teeth are too good for you!"

"I think she's getting closer," Stan said. "Find anything?"

"Not yet." Bill pulled out a broken umbrella with a hooked handle. He clung to it like it was his only defense as he scanned the loft for any signs of a ladder.

Pearl went on, "They're the most beautiful, pristine, unblemished, perfect teeth I've ever seen in my life!"

Bill asked, "Are they really that great?" He'd never paid that close attention.

"Eh..." Stan shrugged and made a so-so gesture with one hand. "A little weird-looking, honestly. They've got those jagged bits in the front that make 'em look like kids' teeth?"

"Huh."

"They're pure," Pearl snarled. "I've never seen adult teeth so pure! And you're ruining them by drilling out chunks of perfect enamel for unnecessary fillings! You don't have the right to those teeth! I deserve them!"

"Hey Bill," Stan said. "So you knew my dentist works for the tooth fairy, right?"

Bill was dragging aside a large box to see if anything ladder-like was hiding behind it. "Yes."

"And you knew she goes crazy for nice teeth."

"Yes." No ladder; he moved to another stack of boxes.

"And it didn't occur to you that she'd be furious that you carved up your new teeth."

"It's in the past, Stanley! Focus on the present!"

"—and I don't even know how you got magic teeth," Pearl continued. "Fully adult teeth in a fully adult mouth, but somehow they're barely a month old! It's impossible! I could barely believe it myself until I saw your mouth with my own two eyes! I must have those teeth, as soon as possible, so I can preserve them exactly like this, who knows if I'll ever find such a novelty again—"

"Ahh, so that's it," Bill said. "Welp, nope, didn't see that one coming at all."

"She's been shouting a while without actually coming after us," Stan pointed out. "What's she up to?"

Bill paused. "Check." He lay down and stretched his cuffed arm down from the loft to give Stan enough slack to peer out the bedroom door.

Stan frowned. "Huh. Weird."

"She's upstairs?"

"Yeah. But she's just flying in a circle. With... I think a veggie container from the fridge?"

Bill sucked in a breath. "Do we have mushrooms?"

"Wh—yeah? How'd you..."

"What!" Bill half-climbed half-fell to the attic floor. "That little cheater's making a fairy ring! That's not fair!" He leaned out the door with Stan. "She's probably already made the matching ring downstairs. We have to destroy it before—"

The circle of chopped portobello mushrooms glowed white; and with a glittery puff, Dr. Illing appeared in the ring.  He coughed out a lungful of fairy dust.

Pearl pointed at Stan and Bill and screamed, "Get them!" With a murderous scowl and terrified eyes, Dr. Illing stared them down and revved his drill.

Stan yanked Bill back into the bedroom and slammed the door.

Dr. Illing whined. "Aw, f—again?!"

"Just break through it!" Pearl commanded. "It's just wood! You have power tools!"

"He can't do that," Bill said confidently. "Doors don't work like that."

Stan said, "He can do that." A power tool whine announced Dr. Illing beginning his assault on the door.

"Oh." Bill considered that, eyes scanning the bedroom from one side to the other, mouth set in a grim line. "I have an idea." He pointed toward the window with his umbrella. "Stan, open the window." He hooked the umbrella over his elbow as he ripped the bedsheets off Dipper's bed and started tying the corners together.

Stan shook his head in disbelief. "You don't really expect us to climb out that window on bedsheets, do you?"

Bill dragged Stan closer and murmured in his ear, just quiet enough that their assailants wouldn't hear him over the power drill, "No, I expect them to think we climbed out the window, while we hide in the closet in the alcove. Once they're past us to check the window, we can sneak out and run downstairs."

"I don't like hiding like cowards instead of fighting. Illing's rickety, we can take him."

Bill kept tying bedsheets. He picked up Dipper's zodiac blanket, flinched, and tossed it to the floor on the other side of Dipper's bed rather than add it to his chain. "Funny—you didn't seem to have any problem hiding for a week while I had your brother prisoner."

Stan grabbed Bill by the shirt, dragging him closer. "You wanna say that again?"

Bill's hands shot up next to his face in surrender. "Sorry, sorry, sorry—"

"There were people in this shack I wanted to keep safe," Stan growled. "I'm not half as fond of you."

"Got it," Bill squeaked. He pointed toward Mabel's bed. "But I can see a dozen futures that end with our brains splattered across Mabel's dolls. I do not want to fight power tools."

There was a crack as the drill flung the first few splinters of wood free from the door. Stan's scowl deepened, but he let go of Bill and nodded.

They tied the bedsheet rope to a table leg, opened the window, and flung the rope out the window; then retreated into the alcove at the other end of the room, pulled shut the ragged curtain that hid it, and closed themselves in the closet to wait for the tooth fairy and Dr. Illing to break in.

####

(Thanks for reading!! If y'all enjoyed, I'd love to hear what y'all think! Next week we conclude both with the tooth fairy and with whatever the heck is going on between Stan & Bill.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #grunkle stan #stanley pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher #(i traced 90% of Stan from the canon death punch because i wanted to make the parallel As Blatantly Obvious As Possible lmao)

[moraygrotto]

btw. you guys know your kink posts are good because they're from you, right? everyone's mind is so unique, there's really no such thing as good art & bad art, high quality posts and low quality posts here, there are only posts coming from you and posts coming from others

if people like your voice and interests, they'll follow and interact, and i guarantee everybody has at least one fellow out there who'd be head over heels to hear their specific thoughts. (this isn't to say instant popularity is easy to come by on tumblr, if it's interactions you want, then you will have to advertise urself a little and be patient as your blog grows)

but please, don't ever hold back on putting your art, musings, and feelings out there for any reason!! firstly, because it's very "two cakes!!" on this side of the internet—we're all horny here; we all want more posts to read and reblog. second—what you write on here, what you're passionate about, what your specific dreams & desires are, that's all part of who you are!! if you've ever made a post, reblogged something, or interacted with a member of this community, you've enriched it; your presence is really special in and of itself.

i'm not saying this to mean "ugh y'all need to post more good stuff my dash is dead" (it's not; i follow some fantastic blogs) i'm saying this bc it hurts my heart every time i see someone mention being too shy to post or lamenting that their ideas or art skills are too underdeveloped to share !! your posts have inherent value bc they make the community richer!! i love you!!!

#moray speaks #moray rambles

[vqrtualheartss]

"𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖" — 𝑬42 𝑴𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒙 𝑭𝒆𝒎!𝑩𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌!𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

ᴅ☆ᴇ'ꜱ ꜱᴀʏ|

Do not question why the time is going so fast part two

Yes, your friends are low-key bimbos but they book n street smart

Y'all I'm so happy that my page is growing 🥹 I love y'all fr

—Warnings: I have never been outside this country so I am NOT familiar with Brooklyn slang., Use of N word —hence why the title says it's for black readers

𝓘𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓭𝓾𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 | Throughout Brooklyn Visions you were known as 'antisocial' —always wearing a mask even after the end of COVID, never at a party or a school function, 'dead socials', and the one that seals the deal: never seen with a boy.— Truth is you weren't even like that, up in that school the way everyone thinks is basically copied and pasted and not in a good way. It wouldn't take much to be viewed differently and not being too interested in interacting with almost anybody, you just kept to yourself. And no, this isn't some typical white highschool movie where you're bullied and apart of some loser, nerd squad, if anything it was far from that. Y'know those pretty, melanin-queen it-girls? Yeah, that's your crew, don't get it twisted though, you weren't some 'accessory friend' used by them —you we're just as pretty if not more— but you've seen how guys treat pretty girls in comparison to those "average" and who would want to be with someone like that? Definitely not you

It was the day before the mid-term break and your friends —Shadae, Nia, Kiara and Lailah— were nowhere to be found. Coming to the conclusion that they were at a party being held for whatever reason an exasperated sigh left your body closing your locker. "So that's really what they doing now? It's their lives soo if they don't care why should I?"

The sun's rays barely illuminated the hallway being hid behind clouds, playing into the gloomy theme. Walking through the large, empty spaces, head held straight going to your third/fifth class, you noticed someone staring at you through your peripheral vision—Miles Morales. A little introduction on him, he was apart of a group basically the male version of yours, minus you. Girls gushed at him, sliding notes into his locker and stuff, typical party animal, you heard through rumours that he hooks up with a new girl every other week. One would think it's false news cause that sounds absolutely atrocious but they came prepared with receipts ―But even those could be made up― and to no surprise, there were girls wanting to be one of his bi-weekly flings. Come to say though, it was a little weird how his gaze situated on you as you walked but you decided to brush it off as nothing. There's no way you could see yourself interacting with him. Ever.

In class

Since it was the last day so far all teachers gave a free period. As usual, you remained silent scrolling through whatever the media had to offer, even though having admitted that it was a boring ritual, you refrained to do otherwise. Time passed and the bell rung with you not wasting a second getting out the door, stuff already packed.

Moving along the steps going down to the next classroom, the deafening screech of the intercom went off as the minority of students covered their ears including yourself waiting for it to end, seeing a person take down their hands, everyone did too before the announcement went off.

"Attention students and staff: In light of the reduced teaching activities and productive learning for the day, we have made the decision to conclude school early. We believe that providing you with this extra time will allow you to enjoy a well-deserved break. Make the most of this unexpected opportunity and enjoy your extended free time!"

The halls erupted with cheers, laughter and talking as people made their way outside the school, although intending to head straight home, a few necessary stops to some stores had to be made before doing so. Heading out, you opened the phone still in your hand to make a list of things that came up to mind

Braiding hair

Gummy Wax

Bonnet

More coconut watrdf

"The fuck?" The words slipped from my mouth under a whisper at the sudden jolt of my body -can't even write a list in this school-, looking back I saw someone holding onto my arm, stopping me from going outside. It was Miles, -what could he ever want from me?- my eyebrow lifted, "hm?" "Sorry, I just wanted to talk to you" he released his hand off my body, leaning on a locker with his bag hanging off his shoulder "Um okay, about what?" I crossed my arms, noticing his eyes widened slightly before returning to their natural, slightly seductive state. "You actually talk?" "Nope" Trying to escape, he caught onto my hand, our eyes piercing into the others before he added "Alright that one was my fault, but I just wanted to ask if you're doing alright"

I glanced over his shoulder, searching for his friends, a camera, or any signs of people giggling, this had to be some sort of prank. Finding nothing, I gave in -one conversation can't hurt right?- "Yea I am, why do you ask?" "I didn't see your friends- wait" he tilted his head towards the door, hinting for us to go outside "You ain't tryna be seen with me or you good right here? " I looked around the room, dragging a hand down my face acknowledging the little clusters of people staring. Facing him again, I nodded and together we made our way out.

"So where we going first? Am I getting punk'd? I saw the lil' list you had" Rubbing his palms together, he anticipated my response as we crossed the road. Using my hand as a sun blocker, I squinted before answering

"You're very nosy and I will be-" "We" I stood taking a good look at the boy, blinking slowly. Realizing that he didn't plan on going anywhere else I caved in, "We will be going to the hair supply store first" he smiled at my renewed sentence.

"His dimples are cute- " "Nah shut the fuck up actually." "But he is though"

Shaking away the thoughts going back and forth with themselves, I focused my attention back to Miles who was already looking at me. To be fair, I was still skeptical of the sudden interactions and wanting to waste no one's time, I went straight toward my point. "What do you want? If you want something with one of my friends I can give it to you y'know" I kid you not when I say that this boy burst out laughing.

He held a hand at his chest before we stopped walking "That's what you think of me f'real?" I shrugged replying "That's what I think of most of them" I made a popping noise with my mouth, his hands digging deeper into the jacket's pockets. A playful smirk dancing on his face as he bit his lip, he was fine and I'm sure he knew it― Girl, no

Still standing, I continued. "Word in the street says that you copping a new chick every two weeks" he narrowed his eyes as I loosened my bag straps. "I be in the streets everyday and I never heard that" crossing his arms, he sent me a jest-filled glare before continuing " and how YOU hearing what's going on in these streets Miss Mysterious?" He pointed at me in the middle of his sentence to which I scratched my neck nervously with my index finger, avoiding any eye contact. Finishing his sentence he urged for my response with a "huh?" before looking down at me with half closed eyes, still chewing on his bottom lip

Counting on my fingers, I started to explain myself "Okay one, I don't gossip but the friends I hang around do and I have working ears, so what? And number two, I have a name sir" "Are you going to tell me it?" "It's (y/n)" "Well, (y/n) to answer your first question. Your crew? Nah, they okay but you though, you caught my eye. And I ain't trying to serve up that 'you're unique' cliché but real shit, that's what got me wanting to talk with you" "Okay I'm sure I'm not that interesting" my hands now rested on the curve of my hips, blankly looking at Miles who couldn't seem to take his eyes off of me. "Let me be the judge of that, tell me more about you"

I shook my head as I went to approach the other side of the pole he was on, worst mistake . He yanked me by my bag, dragging me over to his side as he stared at me with wide eyes "we don't do that shit around here" he extended his hand , pointing to the path infront him.

I looked back at him in disbelief, my eyes and eyebrows being the only features to express my astonishment, looking at my half expression, he laughed. "My bad, just please use your sense next time" "You talk too much, we need to get going" he raised his hands in defense "Alright ma'am" I rubbed my temple smiling underneath my mask, my lips making some type of imprint beneath it

Walking there was pretty interesting, getting bombarded with questions about myself and not about my friends. It was the first time I'd actually had a conversation with someone outside my circle, and you know what? It wasn't half bad. I found myself laughing and smiling at something that wasn't some dumb cat falling and it was quite nice.

Approaching the door and opening it, I joked "Ladies first" "Oh so you got jokes now? Guess I'm rubbing off on you" Rolling my eyes whilst walking inside, he wiped away an imaginary tear entering the store behind me. Taking a quick stroll through the aisles I saw Miles taking up some stuff too —some combs, wax, and a durag—

Shopping didn't go so smooth for me though, being stuck between three colours to choose from —1B, 30 and 350—."What's up?" Standing clueless, Miles came over to my area, positioning himself beside me, waiting for me to say something. Raising my hands with the braiding hair before slapping them on my thighs lightly, I complained "I can't choose" Taking the hair from my hands he started to put each one beside my head before speaking "You'd look like a doll in this one, go for it"

While he returned the hair back to their original positions except the one he picked —which was colour 30— I raised my eyebrows, internally questioning his choice of words before speaking up "you have such a smooth mouth don't you?" Crossing my hands as I gave him a mild, sidelong glance traced with amusement that turned into confusion when he placed his hand atop his head, biting his lip. "I woke up Chris Breezy, oh my God I'm the man" Mouth agape, I dragged a hand over my mask to stifle the laughter "Alright cool cool I get it, you spit lyrics like that. Get up" "shoulda known it's been that way, now let's go. We have more stuff to buy" He took two more packs of hair before we walked over to the cashier — the place where I had to find out how stubborn this boy is—

"Let me pay for it" "No, it's my stuff. I'm more than fine paying"

The cashier cleared her throat, annoyed at our 5-minute long bickering

"Oh sorry, here-" I shuffled inside my bag for my purse, completely oblivious to whatever Miles was doing "Here" "Thank you" I looked up hearing the cashier's words, completely shocked that Miles Morales, a 17 year old just handed the woman a black card. It must be nice.

Bagging the items he turned to face me, "See, I told you I'll pay" "Here, I'll pay you-" "No, think of it as.. a us becoming friends gift, plus we have more things to buy so save up"

Stretching my mouth underneath my nose I teased "Who said we're friends" he deadpanned while handing me my own bag with items "Don't play with me. I know your favourite colours, music, food, and more. I'm real friend material" I laughed at his reaction, not to mention his remix on the "real wifey material" part.

But he was right though, we had more places to be, taking out my phone to check the updated list we comprised together, glancing at the time, I cursed 4:48 PM. "Shit um, I really have to go home. Bye, and thank you" my words dragged themselves louder as I ran down the road waving at him frantically.

You hurried along your usual route back home, "Why the rush?" Well, the aim was to snag a 5 PM package. It might sound like a flimsy excuse to part ways with Miles knowing that girls would kill you in the armor of envy for him, but the package would be returned to facility if not claimed and who wants to wait months again? He'd understand. After securing the package you went home, fortunately enough it started to rain, the pattering of the droplets masking the sound of your attempts sneaking into your room to avoid any confrontation from your parents.

Usually when it rained you found the atmosphere peaceful— having been in a night gown with your bonnet on— but this time, it felt different. For some unknown reason you couldn't shake Miles off your mind—the sensual energy that radiated from him, his seductive stare he always wore or the husky laughs that echoed between you two— Everything about him was alluring, slowly drawing you in and you did not like it.

Miles, on the other hand didn't suppress his feelings, having to physically wipe the smiles and cut the laughter he created each time he thought about you. Ironic enough, he hadn't a clue what it was about you that had him this way. Shit, he doesn't even know how you look. He was sure of however, what it would take to even have a chance at holding your hand given the rumours that you've heard about him, but he was hell-bent on giving it a try.

#Spotify #black tumblr #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles x you #miles morales #vqrtualheartss #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #dae #miles molares #e42 miles #earth 42 miles fluff #earth42miles

[getousatoruu]

Must reads:

i’d like the sun to set with you by @chuuyasoup (T, 8.8k)

What changes is this:

Geto Suguru does not say, how arrogant. He does not say, kill me if you want, there’s meaning in that too. He does not look at Gojo Satoru with unfamiliar indifference and he does not assume that he won’t understand.

Or, Suguru extends an offer on that day in Shinjuku. Satoru accepts it.

愛のある場所; river of light (that brings me to you) by cosmichorrour (T, 66k)

A lesson in love is a lesson in swimming. Except for Suguru, it's getting dropped into the deep end with the tide licking at his neck, no kickboard or life preserver keeping him afloat.

(Or: This is how Satoru finds the ocean.)

Caesura by cielelyse (M, 85.5k)

The first time they meet, Suguru and Satoru do not like each other. Arrogant, cocky, insufferable, they think. Despite the smirks Shoko gives Suguru, or the sighs Yaga gives Satoru, they do not like each other.

Until a mission changes that.

paper cuts by HamsterQinghua (T, 36k)

“Hey,” he starts. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.” Understatement of the century. “My name’s Suguru Geto, what’s yours?” It’s a question asked purely for formalities, and he’s sure Gojo knows that, but he’s still unprepared for the other’s answer.

“Your mom,” Gojo drawls out, and Suguru realizes he’s starting to see why people want this kid dead.

or, Suguru is a contract killer. his final target is Satoru Gojo. this isn't a problem until it is.

The Traveller's Song by No_Ir (E, 23k)

When it comes, the death of summer is vapid and quiet. It tastes like stale water and smells like memories gone bad in the heat. Nothing mourns it and the air is speckled with bits of seawater that cling to the dampness on the back of his neck.

Crickets chirp throughout the night and the bed is too warm to sleep in, so he buries his face into pillows that smell like dust and salt and ignores the stabbing behind his eyes till he can feel the irritating warmth of another day on his back.

I miss the sea, he thinks, staring at the familiar outline of the window, palm resting on the friend-shaped dent on his bed. Exhaustion drapes itself over his shoulders and sweat beads like pearls at the roots of his hair.

I miss the sea like I miss my friend

Punishment For A Monster by @duckiemimi (T, 8.1k)

“Yeah! Oh, my name is Gojo Satoru, by the way.” He hides the hurt behind his teeth, his grin wide and friendly. He thought he’d only have to introduce himself once to someone he called his best friend. It’s strange to repeat words from more than a decade ago to the same person. “You can call me Satoru.” He hopes he calls him Satoru.

“I’m Geto,” he says back. You were Suguru to me, Gojo thinks. “Nice to meet you, Satoru.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” He leans against the wall beside him, tries to look nonchalant as he does. “So, do you come here often?”

Geto thinks Gojo is just a lonely guy who wants friends. Gojo just wants to know if he remembers him, even just a little bit.

bang bang, kiss kiss by bunkuto (E, 12.7k)

Suguru brings men home and Satoru wonders if, judging by the pangs in his chest and the sudden overwhelming urge to punt these hookups into the sun, he’s homophobic. They figure things out slowly.

Puppet On A String by @killjoyproductions (E, 6.8k)

Huh,” he muses. “Are you… saving yourself for marriage?”

“Nope.”

“Are you asexual?”

Satoru shakes his head. “I’m not asexual, just a virgin.”

Golden hour by damiselart (E, 38.6k)

the one in which Satoru doesn't run away at sunrise and has an existential crisis over morning sex.

love is all I ever yearned for; not this affection carved in stone by getoswrongs (juyang) (T, 15k)

“You’re a menace,” Suguru mutters.

“You do this all the time? Making clay dicks before you turn them into bowls and vases? And it took some loser dude you met at age 27 for you to realize you like dick?”

--

Suguru is a potter and Satoru is in love.

smile like brass by @chuuyasoup (T, 15k)

Upon arriving at the scene, it’s hard to say whether turning up just five minutes earlier would have made much of a difference.

As it stands, there is a lot of blood. Too much blood to be explained away, and too many strong residuals to be traced back to anyone other than Satoru.

Or, Suguru arrives at the Time Vessel Association hideout a little too late. This changes things.

#geto suguru #gojo satoru #suguru geto #satoru gojo #satosugu #sugusato #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu geto #jujutsu sorcerer #geto x gojo #suguru x satoru #satoru x suguru #gojo x geto #stsg #sgst #gego #goge #suguru geto x satoru gojo #satoru gojo x suguru geto #fic rec #fic recs #geto #suguru #gojo #satoru #gojo satoru smut #geto suguru smut #gojo satoru angst

[crownmemes]

Criminal Sentences, Vol. 8

(Sentences from various sources for criminals and/or dangerous muses. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"If you want to kill someone, just choose your victims carefully."

"Have I pissed you off in a way that's more than normal?"

"I find a dash of danger titillating."

"I sincerely hope you are not suggesting that I have something to do with this."

"I never fathomed a moment would come when I would need to end your life."

"All I did was what no one else had the guts to do!"

"How many peoeple have you killed?"

"I'm the one that kept you alive!"

"What are you going to do? Shoot me?"

"What do you know about fair or right? You're a coward."

"I want you to do me a favour. It's not negotiable. Either you do it or I kill you. You understand?"

"You've become awfully trusting for a man wanted by the FBI."

"He would make a lovely corpse."

"How long are you going to refuse to trust me?"

"So, do you want in on this opportunity or not?"

"We're all capable of evil."

"You question my sincerity. You think I'm heartless."

"I don't care what you do, or who you do, or who you have to grease - I need that information, and I need it now. Are we clear on that?"

"You didn't strike me as the serial killer type."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Have you forgotten how this works between us?"

"You can corrupt men, but you cannot corrupt innocence."

"You may want to leave the room. What I'm doing isn't exactly legal."

"So I'm the bad guy because I'm trying to do what's right?"

"You can't hurt a man when he's got nothing left."

"You're going to Hell, just like I am."

"Would it soften your opinion of me if I confessed that I've always had a particular affection for you?"

"I don't get any satisfaction from seeing you hurt."

"I've endured my hatred than you'll ever know. My enemies are legion."

"He can't tell you anything if he's dead."

"I have seen my share of the hideous, of the disgusting, and the repellent, but you are the most perfect expression I will ever see of all that is vile and hateful in life."

"You can kill a man but you can't kill what he stands for... Not unless you first break his spirit."

"I took care of it myself. I can do that, you know."

"You want to see me snap?"

"I've destroyed a lot of things in my life, including the people most precious to me."

"I killed him, and I would do it again."

#rp meme #rp memes #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #rp prompts #roleplay prompts #sentence starters #assorted; #criminal;

[kitkatscabinet]

PROMPTS I'D LOVE TO WRITE

Credits to the following for certain prompts: @leneemusing @novelbear @creativepromptsforwriting @soulprompts @flovprompts @memesomething

FLUFF

' i don't want to spend any time apart from you. ''

'' i really need you to know that [that i love you]. ''

“ wait, you knew? “ “ you haven't exactly been discreet... “

'' so, do you... love me back, or? ''

“ do you have feelings for me or something? “

“ i think i'm falling in love with you. “

“i love it when you smile! i wish you’d do it all the time… ”

“ you can’t get rid of me that easily. i’m gonna be here every day to remind you how wonderful you are! ”

“ you know me. you… you see me. i’m never totally myself unless i’m with you. ”

“ we all have our flaws. you stayed with me in spite of mine. now i’m doing the same… ”

“ of course i remembered! i remember everything about you! ”

“ don’t make this weird, but… i saw this in the store. figured you’d like it. ”

“ whoa… hey, now, who made you cry? where’d they go? ”

“ don’t make a big deal out of this. you like hugs, right? so… here’s a hug. ”

“ um… if you don’t mind, i think i’d like a hug now. if that’s okay… ”

“You’re cute when you’re jealous”

“ the world just… feels right. when you’re with me. ”

"is this okay?" "it's more than okay."

JEALOUS/PROTECTIVE

❝  i just didn’t like the way they were looking at you.  like you weren’t mine.  ❞ John Mactavish

❝  you know i’m yours,  right?  i only have eyes for you.  ❞

❝  hey,  is this asshole bothering you?  ❞ Dean Winchester

❝  tell me you’re mine.  ❞

❝  you wanna lose a limb?  beat it,  fucker.  ❞

for one muse to possessively kiss the other in public.

for one muse to lean into the other’s side or hug them to seek comfort from a crowd or individual while in public.

FRIENDS TO LOVERS

going as each other’s “platonic” date to a mutual friend’s wedding

agreeing to kiss each other “just to see what it’s like”

punching the guy who broke your best friend’s heart

friends and family think we’re dating because we’re always acting like a couple

sharing clothes, we're just that comfortable with each other

accidentally blurting out “i love you” during a conversation

i’m watching you date all these other people and i don't know what it is i'm feeling but it's definitely not jealousy

you're upset and disappear for a couple hours, and i'm the only one who knows where to find you (which is at the location we always hung out at as children)

one dropping hints about their feelings, the other one is completely oblivious

hearing your best friend say you’re nothing more than friends, dying a little on the inside because you wish it was more than that

family and friends constantly pointing out how compatible you are with each other

ANGST

'' i can't do this without you. ''

'' don't you dare... don't you dare say goodbye. ''

'' it's okay. '' '' it's not okay. ''

'' do you remember that song, that we always used to sing as kids? [could you...?] 

'' don't you dare close your eyes. ''

'' she's not dead...! ''

'' you're gonna be okay. ''

“ can you move? “

“ why is it so difficult for you to believe that you deserve to be protected? “

“ stay close. whatever you do, do not leave my side. “ Dean Winchester

“ i’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. no matter the cost. “

“They say you almost died. You left it that late.”

“ tell me it isn't true. “ “ i can't."

“ why is it so damn difficult for you to believe you’re worthy of love? ”

HURT/COMFORT

“  i don’t know how to just live.  i constantly feel like i’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.  ”

“  there are just too many people depending on me.  i can’t rest.  i can’t let them down.  ”

“  every time i start to feel like things are getting quieter and i can feel safe,  something bad always happens.  ”

“ i’m here and i’m not leaving or letting you change the subject. now talk to me”

“   you’re important to me.   you hear me?  you’re important.  and that’s never gonna change.   ”

“  i’m not going anywhere until you get some sleep.  ”

“  i want to take care of you.  please,  let me.  ”

“ you’re a good person. good people deserve to be safe. “

“ i’m going to protect you, now. because that’s what we do for the ones we love. we keep them safe. “

" it's alright... it's okay... i'm here now. i've got you. "

" of course i came for you... it would take far much more than that to stop me. "

❝  i know i can’t protect you from everything,  but i wish you’d let me protect you from the things i can control.  ❞

“You’re safe. [Name], can you hear me? They’re here to help you, you need to let them help you.”

“I wasn’t –… Your doctors weren’t sure you’d wake up.”

“You.. you were so close to dying. I was scared.”

SCENARIOS/ACTIONS

Smiling at each other from across the room

Laying a hand on the other’s leg

Fixing the other’s clothes 

A kiss to the side of the head

Embracing from behind

Laying your head on their shoulder

Bumping shoulders

you take their hands firmly, intertwine their fingers with yours

you repeatedly say you love them when they’re anxious/experiencing low self-worth

put your hands on lover’s cheeks, cradle their face in your hands

you get really mad when you hear someone hurl an insult your lover’s way

for sender to catch or steady receiver when receiver tries to stand up too early or to push their body past what it’s ready for

 for receiving muse to not recognize sender or medical staff trying to help them, due to being drugged or otherwise disoriented – so they fight.

SECRET DATING/CONSEQUENCES

“You will cut all ties with them”

“Where were you last night?”

“ how long? ” [a confused pause] “ how long have you two been in a relationship

“ how long do you think it’s going to take before your family finds out ? ”

"If I ask you to kiss me in front of all these people, will you do it?"

#writing prompts #x reader

[bamdelune]

In Hindsight 🎼 bonus chapter: "well-planned funeral"

notes. this is supposed to be a crackfic drabble 🙏 don't worry guys no heavy angst yet

"You what?" Kunikuzushi nearly spits out his perfectly made Earl Grey tea when he hears your plans for the day. The noise of the cafe the both of you were staying at drowned out by your conversation.

"You heard me." You quip, as if the very thing you had just suggested a few moments ago was the most normal day-to-day activity for an emotionally-aware, living-breathing human being.

"You're fucking insane." He replies.

"What's insane about picking out coffins for my funeral?"

Kunikuzushi gives you a deadpan look, "Are you hearing yourself right now?"

You shrug, "I am."

"How lucky I am to be your boyfriend." Kuni goes back to his laptop. "Indeed you are!" You respond smartly, squishing the soft plush of his cheeks from across the table.

"Stop that."

"You love me too much to stop me, my love." You grin, doing one last squish before retracting your hand.

Kunikuzushi flushes a few shades pinker before speaking again, "What're you thinking?"

You lean back slightly in your chair, crossing your legs, "Traditional white. What would you think of using my casket as a message board, wouldn't that be cute?" You muse.

Kunikuzushi still isn't used to the idea of you actually dying so soon, he would still stiffen up at the idea of ever seeing your body in a coffin and you are quick to notice that.

"Listen. If you don't wanna talk about it, we don't have—"

He quickly countere, narrowing his eyes at you. "Y/N, baby. It's okay, it's what you want—"

"But you don't want to talk about it."

"I never said that."

It's your turn to send him a knowing look, raising an eyebrow at his nonchalance.

"Fine. I guess I'm a bit weirded out how you're choosing your own stuff for your own funeral." He concedes, huffing a sigh. "Don't you think that's morbid?"

"I'm not having cakey embalming makeup when I'm dead. If I'm going, I'm going the right way."

"You're so weird." He chuckles, a look of adoration glinting in his eyes. A contrast to his snarky remark towards your afterlife preferences. "Hey, that's why you love me, right?" You giggle.

"Whatever."

A few beats of silence pass the both of you by before he opens his mouth and closes again. Deciding against it, he opens his lips again. "I love you."

You smile softly, a quiet laugh leaving your lips. "I love you too."

synopsis. You are a singer-songwriter. Music has always been a part of you, it's a part of your identity that no one can ever take away. However, there's always a catch: you are diagnosed with a chronic illness that puts your life on a timer. Those who have heard your countless melodies have grown to notice that the notes on the sheet played a gloomier tune. Would the snarky and capable medical student you've met be able to bring life back into these melodies? Even as life begins to seep out of your own body? (scaramouche x gn!reader)

tags. gender-neutral reader, angst, fluff, crack, heavy contexts of death and illnesses, friends to lovers, slowburn, profanities, drinking (characters are in college), suggestive themes but no nsfw.

taglist. (status: open) — @beriiov @alatusorrow @br0oke96 @ohmyfinggod @itzblazekun @featuredtofu @sketcheeee @lazy-sanns @sakurapeach @sheraffim @vxmp-loml @sukunasrealgf @sleepning @yukiipc @thenightsflower @aqvvas @scaramoo @coquettemaiden @dappledstars @pooonyo @certified-simp-4evr @alatus-viator @yuminako (comment/send an ask to be added or removed, please let me know if i forgot to add you since my notification feed can be flooded sometimes!)

masterpost ★ masterlist © bamdelune 2023. do not repost, translate, plagiarize any of my works without permission, thank you so much! reblogs, notes, and comments are always appreciated!

#bamdelune #genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #bamdelune's bookstore #genshin smau #📹 (in hindsight) smau #genshin impact x reader #wanderer x reader #wanderer #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x gn reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #kunikuzushi #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin impact fluff

[prpfs]

🕊️ looking for mxm pairings! i have this particular oc i'd like to write~

he's pretty. masculine like a peacock. gender envy, who? i'm being harsh, but his physical appearance is his most redeeming quality. he comes from the slums (prostitute's son) and depending on the au we play him in, he will do anything to get himself out of the mud or is content to control to stay in the slums only if he's the one leading (gave up on escaping and fell into sin's embrace??) in most verses, there are elements of rape/noncon and assault in his backstory. you can fit so much trauma, abuse, and rage in this bad boy.

he's an arrogant, cold, self-entitled prick because he knows he's hot shit. he looks down on everyone, including himself; people are all just tools, and isn't life the game that decides who is the most useful? he's determined, cold, ruthless, and oh-so emotionally stunted. he doesn't know how to love, but he wants to. most of the time, anyway. he's very bitter and thinks he deserves better. god complex + crippling self-hatred.

anywho, that's where YOUR OC advertiser voice comes in!

i'd love to pair my boy against someone who will piss him off or a himbo. i am not looking for sub-bottoms. i want them to be at each other's literal throats. give me the bickering, the dom x dom energy, everything. maybe your oc is the one is knock him (violently) down several pegs, scare the shit out of my guy, make him worse (stay toxic!!) teach him how to love, enforce his dog-eat-dog ideology, break him, trauma-bond with him, or yk, let me manipulate the hell out of your muse (villain and his guard dog) ^^

when it comes to bedroom dynamics, i play my oc as a switch/power bottom. he likes getting dicked down, but he very much wants to stay in power.

i have a few ideas, but i would love love love to hear yours if you had any.

a few things about me-

21+ F writer lazy-lit. i can break the discord word limit multiple times, but only if the situation calls for it/i want to act like an author paid by word

i love worldbuilding and making complex characters + relationships.

will give the enthusiasm i am given. i can only send so many memes before it gets awkward.

my response time can be from minutes (rapid fire) to a week or so. this depends mostly on my interest in the rp and my schedule. i am a uni student, so please have mercy on me.

i'm pretty active ooc and would appreciate a ooc relationship! send me memes, fanart, pinterest boards, songs that remind us of our idiots, and i'll do the same!

kink friendly. i have maybe three limits, so pretty much anything is on the table.

historical + modern settings, omegaverse, size differences, angst, hurt/more hurt, hurt/comfort, dub/noncon, fantasy, political funsies, power imbalances, breeding, monsterfucking, dead dove themes, wuxia etc have me foaming at the mouth.

if you got this far, you're probably interested, so please react and i'll hunt you down! for the love of god, please respond to my dm…

like if you're interested and op will reach out

#oc rp #oc roleplay #original rp #fandomles rp #fandomless roleplay #dead dove

[maleyanderecafe]

Any dark skin yandere

Oof man, I honestly thought there would be more of these but I did have a hard time thinking about it since there's a lot less than I thought there was. Usually if there is a darker skinned characters in a yandere story, it's the lover-not the yandere itself. As bad as this sounds I also don't know how you would define "dark" skinned character, so I apologize if I miss the mark.

Amon from My Gently Raised Beast - about the story and relationship of a princess brought to royalty and the heir of an animal shapeshifter kingdom. The yandere has a good relationship with her and is the male lead. Future Recommendation.

Muon from The Tainted Half - about a girl who is the last of her tribe forced to deal with the discrimination and difficulties of being a concubine and falls for the second prince. The yandere is pretty manipulative and loving, and I read it just for this ask. Future Recommendation.

Riftan from Under the Oak Tree - I haven't actually finished this one but Cherry tells me there's a light yandere in it. About a stuttering girl who becomes the wife of a famous knights man. Future Recommendation as soon as I finish it.

Kainer from a Sultan's Love - it has been a while since I've read it but from what I remember it does have a yandere in it. Also a smut.

Koolie from Tentador Leches - though not specifically a yandere for you the player, is implied to be for his wife, though whether he's being truthful about it is yet to be seen.

Doyle from Apartment No.9 - based off Inside No.9, follows a girl picking up a homeless guy and getting him to live with her. A lot of things go on. Future Recommendation

Bako from Infatuation - admittedly, the artwork isn't the best, but you do get a harem of yandere characters to run around with. Bako is the most violent of them.

Brandon and Julian from Particles of Reality - if Brandon does get a romantic route that is since it's implied that all or most of the male interests are yandere. About a girl who is just trying to escape from her abusive family and trying to live her life.

Zecharias from Be My Muse- currently a demo, but he is a yandere, able to manipulate the main character's memory. Also very tall.

Vincent from Dead Wishes- he has a pretty good route where you become his housewife, I will say that.

Leon from Don't Trust him - you are picked up on a strange pirate ship where everyone seems to know and is obsessed with you.

Mammon from Seven Bloody Nights - personally, I like the art style, and the story is basically running into a mansion filled with vampires, but I will wait a bit until the game gets more content.

Krow from @thekrows-nest - though not from a game, he is dark skinned, specifically he is Indian + Bengali. Would give him birds.

Kylar from Degrees of Lewdity is also usually depicted with dark skin, though it's not specifically cannon that it's what his appearance is like, so really he can be any skin color you want. This goes for all characters really.

Theeere are probably more that I can't think of off the top of my head. I also did some darker skinned yandere reblogs for you to day, so hopefully that should help as well.

#male yandere #yandere #yandere boy #recommendations #asks #lists

[hood-ex]

Watched The Mummy for the first time yesterday and The Mummy Returns tonight. Now I can't stop imagining young Dick as Alex, Bruce as Rick, and Talia as Evelyn because I think it would be funny if Dick was exasperated about the fact that he had to use the Book of the Dead to bring Talia back to life.

"Do I really want to bring her back?" Dick muses while scanning the hieroglyphics in the book. "I know Bruce loves her and all but is that a good enough of a reason?" He glances at the crimson stains surrounding Talia's stab wound. The wound she wouldn't have gotten if she hadn't come all this way to help Bruce save Dick's life. The realization makes a shiver roll down Dick's spine and a feeling of resolve settle in his heart. "Come on, Grayson, it's the right thing to do."

Dick puts all of his focus into pronouncing the spell correctly. He starts off slow at first, but as his confidence swells, he finishes the rest of it quickly.

One second Talia is rigid as a board, and in the next, her limbs are loose and wild as she propels herself upright with a gasp. Dick backs away from her to give her some space. The movement draws Talia's gaze to him.

"Where's my beloved?" she asks.

Dick immediately rolls his eyes but still offers his hand to her. "Gee, you'd think the guy who saved your life would at least get a "thank you" or something."

Talia grips his hand and pulls herself to her feet. "The art of revival isn't new to me. You do remember when you watched my father put me in the pit don't you?"

"I don't see what that has to do with you not being able to say "thank you" but whatever," Dick says. "We've got more important things to worry about like helping Bruce."

Talia nods. "Let's go."

#why did i feel bad for Imhotep when Anck-su-namun abandoned him alskdja #literally didn't care about him at all in the sequel until that moment. then i was like. huh. that sucks actually. #Bruce Wayne #Talia al Ghul #Dick Grayson #The Mummy AU

[undreaming-fanfiction]

More songfic angst, but this is more canon-compliant...sorry. But this song just fits. Inspired by @strawberryspence's initial post with Steve becoming a musician with dead Eddie as his muse.

Steve Harrington of the Corroded Coffin is known for many types of songs. He sings rock ballads, slower solo things, yells to some old school metal with his bandmates even. He is charismatic, kind, smiles at all his fans and friends, contributes to charities, both with money and his time.

But he's very reserved and no one really understands who he really is, what he is like behind his carefully crafted mask. No matter how many times interviewers ask, he just smiles and deflects. Sometimes mentions his hometown of Hawkins, the mysterious Indiana town that was home to many tragedies and never fully healed from it.

March is a strange month for the Corroded Coffin. It seems that no matter what is happening in the world of music, all the members are simply gone for a few weeks. "Personal reasons", that's what they say.

It isn't until 1996 that the fans learn something about not just Steve Harrington, but all of the Corroded Coffin members. They are all shocked to hear that CC will play at a huge music festival - in March. This is the first time the band members are seen in public on this date and when they walk onto the stage, there is something slightly off about them. Something tense.

Steve clears his throat and looks at his friends, as if seeking their permission. Then he leans into the microphone. "Good evening, everyone. Thank you for coming. We, uh...we have something different for you today. Something special that we wanted to share because it's...it's time. It's been ten years and thanks to all of you, to your support, we don't need to stay silent anymore. So...we have a new song for you, but it's not just for you. It's for a man we all knew and admired."

He straightens his spine and takes a deep breath, his fingers running restlessly on the red and black guitar he always uses, ten years and this is the only electric guitar he's performed with. "The man we wrote this song for was our friend. He was odd and eccentric, loud and some people found him obnoxious. But he was the bravest, kindest and most creative soul I've ever had the privilege of meeting."

The other Corroded Coffin members are smiling now, a bit pained but smiles nevertheless, nodding to Steve's words. The drummer, Gareth, is clutching his wrist, over a bracelet he never takes off.

"Corroded Coffin was his. He...he should be standing here, in front of you. Not me. The guitar you're asking about all the time? It was his. And while I never had the pleasure of hearing him perform, I've heard he was the best. He got all of the guys together, suggested the name, always hounded them to practice."

Jeff chuckles and shakes his head. "He could be really persuasive."

Steve continues, his voice stronger now. "He loved life more than anything, he found magic in the most mundane of things. He also smoked like a chimney and ate cereal by handfuls, no milk, no bowl." He laughs at this, the wrinkles around his eyes harsh in the stage lights. "He was a menace. But he saved my life and the lives of people dearest to me. He was brave, almost to a fault." Steve's voice drops at this, becomes colder, clearer. "But that's not what the world knows him as. So today, in front of all of you. Let me tell you the story of the man who brought us here - Eddie Munson."

The crowd grows restless now, some people recognizing the name, others blinking in confusion. But Steve presses on, doesn't give them a pause. "Eddie was from our hometown of Hawkins. He failed his senior year twice, but that only shows you that schools don't have it all figured out because that man was smart. There was a series of murders in Hawkins, in March of 1986. And Eddie was blamed for it because...because he liked metal. And Dungeons and Dragons. So of course, in the eyes of our lovely town, he worshipped the devil. He was the weirdo, the outcast, and that was enough to start a manhunt for him."

He turns back to his bandmates, taking in their faces. The paleness, the tightness of their lips. The injustice burns to this day.

"Eddie didn't commit those murders. He was there when they happened, he saw them, but he was paralyzed, terrified. No one should ever see the things he saw. He couldn't have saved anyone then, and we think that's what haunted him. That's...that's why..." His voice breaks down and he shudders, raising his hand at the increasing noise from the audience.

"That's why, when the Red earthquake of 1986 hit Hawkins, Eddie didn't run. He stayed behind. Saved me, my friends...and died for it, knowing he'd be blamed for everything in the end. Like he still is. We pleaded with the police, asking them to reopen his case, to clear his name, but...Eddie was dead. And the story was pretty convenient. They refused to listen or do anything and we felt...helpless. Paralyzed too."

Steve looks directly at the audience now, his voice ringing out over the sudden silence. "But we are done being silent. Thanks to all of you, we have a voice now. We can tell the truth. And the truth is - Eddie Munson was innocent. He died a hero and is still paying price for small town prejudice. So Eddie," he points upwards, to the heaven, "this one is for you. For you and for your uncle who still believes in you to this day, who loves you just as we do."

The song they play makes it to national news. It sparks many controversies, critique, but it can't be silenced, too many people heard it. Radio stations want to play it, along with a summary of Steve's speech.

Eventually, after years and months of silence...Eddie's name is cleared. The public pressure forced the Hawkins PD to reveal they had nothing tying Eddie to the murders, no direct evidence. It feels like too little, too late, but it's at least something.

And in a new trailer in Hawkins, Wayne Munson sits on his couch, clutching a tape case in his fingers and listens to the song that brought his boy's voice back.

Two packs of cigarettes a day The strongest whiskey Kentucky can make That's a recipe To put a vagabond on his hands and knees I watched it all up close I knew him more than most I saw a side of him, he never showed Full of sympathy For a world that wouldn't let him be

That's the man he was Have you heard enough?

What a shame, what a shame To judge a life that you can't change The choir sings, the church bells ring So, won't you give this man his wings? What a shame, to have to beg you to see We're not all the same What a shame

There's a hard life for every silver spoon There's a touch of grey for every shade of blue That's the way that I see life If there was nothing wrong Then there'd be nothing right And for this working man, they said, could barely stand There's gotta be a better place to land Some kind of remedy For a world that wouldn't let him be

That's the man he was Have you heard enough?

God forgive the hands that laid you down They never knew how Much your broken heart can break the sound And change the season Now the leaves are falling faster Happily ever after You gave me hope through your endeavors And now you will live forever

What a shame, what a shame To judge a life that you can't change The choir sings, the church bells ring So, won't you give this man his wings? What a shame, to have to beg you to see We're not all the same What a shame

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie drabble #yeah one-sided because Eddie is dead but guess what Steve loves him #angst #corroded coffin #gareth emerson #steddie songfic #eddie munson song rec #yeah more shinedown #and I have one more in mind #at this point I have a full shinedownverse #Spotify

[no-m4gic]

Hi there! Can I get the THH girls, more specifically Kirigiri, Fukawa, Celestia, and Mukuro or Junko with a S/O who's the Ultimate Forensic Anthropologist like Temperence Brennan from the TV show Bones? Like, that's such an amazing talent and profession. Finding how someone died, and who they were in life, and even potential suspects from just bones and how they look. I mean Brennan can even find out stuff about living people just by watching how they move or sit cause of how one's bones effect that. Plus it's an amazing skill/talent to have in a killing game

ooo interesting, thanks for requesting muse!

honestly i only know what a anthropologist is... had to research about forensic anthro, so it might be off but i'm learning <3

btw i did lil scenarios- sorry if this isn't what you wanted! i was inspired off some ao3 works

also i know i said no posts but my tuition ended earlier than intended so i decided to complete a random request chosen by ~de wheel~

this is GN S/O btw!

warnings ;; corpses, decomposed bodies and body parts (aka bones), mentions of murder, s/o angst with toko's part, junko executing everyone in her part

keys: r/p/n = random person name s/n = sibling name

~ mod sitaya

KYOKO, TOKO AND JUNKO W/ AN ULTIMATE FORENSIC ANTHROPOLOGIST S/O

(non-despair AU)

Praise // Kyoko + Ult Forensic Anthropologist GN S/O

your current situation was this: you were standing next to one of the top detectives, kyoko kirigiri, was surrounded by a bunch of officers while the skull and several teeth of a human laid in front of you. though right now it was kyoko's turn with the single notepad provided, you were carefully analyzing the remains. suddenly something sparked in your head. pulling out the crumpled picture of the suspected victim, r/p/n, you traced over the shape of his skull with your pen, looking at the one in front of you then the picture. "guys, i've figured it out. these remains belong to r/p/n," you announced, folding the picture neatly into a small square before shoving it into your pocket again. "good job, s/o. now all we have to do is look for r/p/n's killer," kyoko stated, in which you nodded in response. inside, you felt proud and a tad bit excited because the top detective, which you may or may not have been competing with, had just praised you. (bonus points if you have a praise kink)

(despair AU, takes place in UDG, except komaru doesn't exist)

Blood // Toko + Ult Forensic Anthropologist GN S/O

"s-s/o! don't leave me b-behind! there's b-blood a-and dead bodies!" toko fukawa, your partner-in-crime, quickly caught up to you after you'd ditched her to check on a peculiar decomposed corpse. "wait, fukawa. this body has a weird aura to it," you lifted your hand up to a "wait" gesture, squatting down to get a closer inspection of the remains. "s/o! just b-because you're the ultimate forensic a-anthropologist doesn't mean y-you have t-to inspect every s-single body you r-run pass!" toko stuttered angrily out before grabbing the back of your shirt's collar in an attempt to drag you away from the body. "toko! i'm trying to focus, the more you interrupt, the longer i'll take," that wasn't necessarily true since you could focus in almost any environment, especially noisy ones. however that didn't mean you liked to study or do something in noisy and unsuitable environments. toko waited impatiently for you, occasionally turning left, right and behind to see if any ghosts were about to grab her shoulders. "wait. is this..." you started to panic, and grabbed the hand's bone with your own gloved one. "t-this is s/n... this is them, i know it, this... was this..." tears started to well up in your eyes as you squeezed the hand of your sibling. "s-s/o? are you okay? w-what happened?" you couldn't form a sentence, no matter how much you tried, so all you did was shake your head. "s/o..." toko knelt down and pulled you into a tight hug.

(despair AU, takes place in Trigger Happy Havoc)

Looks // Junko + Ult Forensic Anthropologist GN S/O

"you guys have to figure out whom this corpse belongs to, or else... it's punishment time! pupupupu!" monokuma explained, of course ending it off with his signature, evil laugh. you looked around at everyone, them doing the same. you hadn't told anyone in the killing game your ultimate and had lied about being the ultimate toymaker instead. though you were nervous about revealing to everyone you'd lied about your talent, it was an emergency. if you guys didn't find out whose corpse that was, you'd all be punished. quickly making your way to the skeleton, everyone stared at you, clearly confused. after a few minutes of you analyzing and scanning the hard tissue, you suddenly broke the tense silence by announcing your conclusion. "these bones belong to the ultimate pop sensation, sayaka maizono," everyone looked at you, different faces with different expressions, most shocked and confused and some amused. "how did you know s/o?" celeste questioned with a menacingly sweet tone, "i just knew. monokuma, our final guess is sayaka maizono," you made a weak attempt to dodge celeste's, and probably everyone else's question. "bingo! give that student a prize! they've guessed it correctly!" you all jumped at the voice at the door of the assembly hall. it was... junko enoshima? hadn't she been impaled by the spears of gungnir? "yyeeeeaaa... sooooo... since y'know s/o carried this whole trial... you all, but s/o will be executed! it's punishment tiiiiiime!" junko laughed, taking everyone by surprised yet again. "you're the fucking mastermind?!!" mondo screamed, appalled. "of couursee, why wouldn't i be? i'm the smartest, most sexiest, most beautiful person here! would you like those to be your final words?" you couldn't believe what you were seeing or hearing or witnessing. you couldn't even move. was this how... everything was going to end?

i wrote an unequal amount of lines and words for each of them. sorry if the scenarios got a little ooc!

#mod sitaya #danganronpa #danganronpa x reader #junko enoshima x reader #junko x reader #toko fukawa x reader #toko x reader #kyoko kirigiri x reader #kyoko x reader #kirigiri x reader