#also random writings lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ohbo-ohno · 4 months

Text

happy new year's eve @luminousbeings-crudematter, here's another version of the purge au (4k) that i forgot i finished in the process of trying to get the first one done lol

(also when i said "it's essentially the same thing but with different smut" i meant... no smut. i didn't post this one bc i couldn't figure out what to do with the smut. but this has some kidnapping and overall rough creepiness!)

cw: noncon touching, kidnapping, graphic murder, blood & violence, unedited bc im lazy

The soles of your feet burn against the hot asphalt, even though the sun’s been set for hours. The flames roaring from the burning high school alongside you are enough to heat the ground, enough to leave you wincing with every step and trying your best to walk on your toes.

You’re not sure if the wetness on your cheeks is tears or blood, or some sick combination of both. You’d wipe it off to see, but your hands are covered in red, and you don’t want to smear it across your face.

It’s impossible not to flinch at the sudden sound of cackling laughter, some indeterminate distance away but clear as a bell. The laugh cuts off abruptly, followed by a high-pitched scream that makes you wince. You speed up as much as you can, breath shuddering in your chest. You feel a few tears slip down your cheeks, just adding to the tacky mixture already covering your face.

The street is crowded with Purgers, people wearing all sorts of different gear to make themselves seem as terrifying as possible. You’d feel lacking in your black pants and shirt, if you wanted any attention like them. Instead you pray that whoever’s looking for fun won’t focus on you, that you’ll disappear with so many other distractions out tonight.

The sound of a chainsaw revving makes you shudder, and you tuck your arms close to your chest.

You can’t believe you were stupid enough to come out on Purge night, but there’s no use dwelling on that now, not when you’re still blocks away from home with absolutely no way to defend yourself.

You should’ve known your friend - your now very dead friend - didn’t have good intentions. She’d invited you out with her to vandalize your most recent ex’s house, and like an idiot you’d agreed and walked yourself right into a trap. Your only defense is that you’d had a few drinks before leaving your perfectly safe apartment, in hopes of forgetting all the screams you’d hear outside. It’s the only reason you can think that you were so quick to agree when you’ve got absolutely no way of defending yourself.

Her blood is still wet on your hands. You don’t feel bad about her death, and that makes you feel sick. You’d never thought you’d be the kind of person to actually partake in the Purge, let alone kill during it, but here you are - stumbling home covered in blood with two deaths on your hands. The fact that it was self-defense isn’t nearly as much of a comfort as you need to make your heart beat less erratically, to make the blood stop burning against your skin.

The quick flashes of their deaths won’t stop playing on repeat in your mind - you would’ve died if you’d been any less lucky, and you doubt your piece of shit ex would have made it quick.

If you hadn’t caught them together - your friend fucking him in the bed you used to sleep in, that fucking bitch - you might not have had the anger necessary to kill them. Might not have had the rage, the energy, to stab them both until they stopped screaming.

Your arms already ache from the force you’d used. You can’t stop seeing your friend’s face, torn to shreds beneath you, blood splattering up onto your own face and neck while your ex’s corpse cooled beside you. You’re not sure if you’re hearing her screams still, or if someone nearby is suffering just like she had.

The only thing you can bring yourself to regret is leaving behind the knife. It would come in handy now, as you walk alone down one of the poorest neighborhoods in your city.

It would come in especially handy as a hand grabs your shoulder, yanking you to the side and into an alleyway, shoving you against rough bricks and ignoring your yelp.

“Well, well, look’it you…” the man drawls, his face hidden by a bright red skull and a black hood covering the rest of his head. “Wha’s a bonnie lass like you doin’ out tonight, all alone?”

You can’t speak, heart thudding painfully at your ribcage as you blink up at him. He’s all you can see, just a bright red skull floating in place.

“Please,” you manage to gasp, hands shakily raised in front of your chest.

“Please? Please what?” His words are sharp, almost bitten off, and he leans closer. “Haven’t even threatened ye yet, pretty thing. What’re you beggin’ for?”

You whimper as he leans closer, hardly inches away from your face, and a loud boom from somewhere nearby shakes the wall at your back. You still can’t tell if it’s blood or tears dripping down your face. You jump at the sound, and your chest hits his. Before you can move back, his hands are on your shoulders, keeping you pressed to him.

“Oh, did that scare you?” He coos, patronizing and mean. “You a little scaredy cat, all alone and afraid?”

You sob, hands pushing at his chest, and he makes a sound somewhere between a hum and a laugh, pushes you against the wall without pulling even an inch away.

“No, no, you’re not goin’ anywhere. ‘S not safe out there for you, kitty. It was so easy to grab you, you want someone else to get a hold of you? They won’t be as nice as me, I can tell you that.”

“Get- get off!”

He laughs, loud and rough, right in your face. “Oh, I’ll be gettin’ off, kitty. Might take some teamwork, huh? A good way to get to know my new friend-”

He cuts himself off with a sharp Oh! as your knee jerks up into his crotch, the man doubling over in pain and groaning as his head comes to rest against the wall by your face. You barely have enough sense left in you to duck out of his way before his body goes limp against the wall, hand cupping your target.

“Fuckin’ bitch,” you hear him hiss, right before you stumble away, legs weak as you put all your energy into not tripping over your own feet. Your only thought is getting out of the alley, even though being more exposed is probably riskier than just taking your chances with the man in the red skull. Still, there’s some instinct at the back of your mind telling you go, run, and you’re not stupid enough to ignore it.

You hardly make it five steps away before you hit a wall - no, not a wall, a person.

It’s almost comical, the way you bounce off of him and stumble backwards, losing your balance on weak knees and sending yourself straight to the ground. He’s a monolith above you, a massive figure clothed in all black, the light from the flames behind him almost making him glow. He’s all black cloth and white mask, a skull hovering well past six feet in the air.

The sight of him makes your heart stutter, brings everything into acute focus around you, slowing the world down to a near stop. That same instinct at the back of your mind tells you this man is worse than the last, that you should’ve taken your chances with the red skull.

You’re jerked back and to the side, shoved roughly against the brick wall. Your face scrunches up at the rough texture against your cheek, your torso flush against the wall and the first man flush against your back. You manage to open one eye and track the new man, your other forced shut from the way your head is angled.

The white skull tilts, and its wearer steps closer. You can’t help the small cry you let out, the way you flinch back into the first man like he’ll do anything but expose you more. His hands are rough on you, one hand locked around the back of your neck and the other harsh on your hip.

The body behind you laughs, push further into the wall regardless of the stinging pain as the white skull steps closer. He stops hardly a foot away, when your vision is eclipsed by only him. You try to struggle against the hands holding you, whimpering when they dig in more harshly.

“You got her?” A voice asks, and it takes a minute for you to realize it’s the new man in front of you.

“Yeah,” the first man pants, holding you close and alleviating some of the pressure against your cheek. “Woulda caught her without you, y’know. She just caught me off guard.”

The white skull rumbles low in his chest, a rejection. You’re not sure if he’s got faith in your ability to escape, or doesn’t trust his partner’s ability to chase. He’s close enough that you can only see the black of his chest, close enough that you can watch him breathe.

“I’m sure. You got a good hold on her?”

The hands squeeze, you can’t help but make a sound disturbingly close to a squeal, and- “Yeah, course, got her tight to me, Ghost. She’s not goin’ anywhere.” There’s an air of desperation in Red’s voice, a strained tension underlying every word. He’s almost eager, but it’s all directed towards the man in front of you - Ghost - instead of towards the prospect of hurting you.

Ghost doesn’t respond, but he steps close enough to press his chest against your shoulder. The three of you are all less than a foot apart, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do to get away. Another tear slips down your cheek.

You can feel Red’s chest heaving behind you, and at first you can’t understand why - he hasn’t had to chase you, hasn’t had to fight, there’s no reason for him to be out of breath.

It hits you when you feel the hard plastic of his mask press into the top of your head. He’s eager, and it’s making him pant like a dog. You’d bet he’s drooling behind the mask and the thought makes you shiver.

You flinch when a gloved hand cups your chin, tugging your face up so you’re staring into the eye sockets of the mask.

His eyes are dark brown, so dark that you almost can’t see them past the shadows and the paint over his skin. The flames roar behind him, giving him a monstrous glow.

“Pretty thing,” he hums, chest rumbling against your side. You try to push away from him, but there’s nowhere to go. “You’re gonna be our little toy for the night. Things’ll get worse for you if you try to run. You hearin’ me?”

It’s pure instinct to nod, to give this man what he wants, but you know you’ll still try to run the second they look away.

“Alright then. Let’s get you home. Johnny,” the man steps away, jerking his head in clear instruction for Johnny to follow and turning away. “Come.”

“Right behind ye,” Red - Johnny - assures, that same eagerness in his tone as he tugs you away from the wall, trotting behind his partner. “It’s gonna be a great night, lass. You and I are gonna have fun.”

You can’t help but whimper at that, letting your body go nearly limp as the man drags you by the elbow. You can’t even fathom the horrors they’ve got in store for you, what fun is to two men hunting for lone girls on Purge night.

You try to let your feet drag, but they hurt too much for that to last long. You consider going limp, making them carry you, but you’re too scared that they’ll just drag you across the concrete and let you bleed.

You only manage to keep up with Johnny because he doesn’t give you another choice. You’re practically hobbling from the pain in your feet, forced to walk on the balls of your feet and lean your weight into his hand where it’s wrapped tight around your arm. He doesn’t give you any slack, doesn’t even seem to notice when you struggle to match his pace.

The three of you have walked several blocks - you can’t quite focus enough to count - keeping to the sides of buildings and dodging other people, when you’re tackled to the ground out of nowhere.

It’s impossible to stop the blood-curdling shriek from leaving your throat. Your bare arms feel torn to shreds as you slide across the ground, head bouncing off the ground and leaving you with black spots dancing across your vision.

You’re hardly able to blink, body alight with pain, and the heavy weight over you only serves to make your panic worse. You moan as you roll your neck, staring wide-eyed up at the dark sky and praying the ringing in your ears isn’t permanent.

Your vision is just starting to clear when the man on top of you - and he’s definitely a man, he’s not even wearing a mask and his expression is mean and you find yourself glad you can’t hear what he’s saying - jerks back, his head pulled back until all you can see is his bared throat.

You can hardly even register what’s happening in the next few seconds. Some distant, detached part of you can recognize that someone slits the man’s throat, that his blood comes gushing out and covers your face.

The first sound you can hear again is your own screaming - it’s an ear splitting sound that melts from the ringing in your ears. When you gasp underneath the man, the corpse, you can feel his blood falling into your mouth. Every breath tastes like iron, and the world is tinted pink from the drops of it falling from your brows.

You can do nothing but pant and shake when the corpse is thrown off of you, replaced immediately by Johnny. You can hardly focus on him, are only really aware enough to know he’s there.

“Hush, bonnie, yer fine,” he scolds, one big hand coming up to cover your mouth, pinky and ring finger holding your jaw shut. “Wanna draw people over? Ye wanna see me and Ghost kill someone else for you, ‘s that it?”

You shake your head on instinct, tears running down your temples, dampening your hair. Your chest aches with the force of your breaths, nose congested from all the crying.

“Then hush,” he hisses, face so close that you can feel the breaths from his nostrils. You flinch at the loud sound of gunshots disturbingly nearby, desperately pushing against his body to try and see what’s going on. You can hear grunts and moans, the sound of something heavy hitting the ground, and your heart races.

Then, the sounds stop. It doesn’t go silent - not with other Purgers still out, still killing - but the area you’re trapped in is quiet again. Johnny drops a little more of his weight onto you, making it even harder to breathe.

You have to focus on every breath, deliberately making sure you get enough air so that your lungs stop aching. You only notice the movement on top of you after nearly a minute of slow breathing.

Johnny’s hips grind slow and steady against your stomach, and it makes you sick to realize you can feel his erection through his pants. His chest rises and falls with harsh breaths, and his movements are just harsh enough to force your body to move with his.

There’s absolutely nothing you can do about it. Not with shock settling in, his weight holding you pinned to the ground, and the pain in your head shifting to something closer to a migraine. All you can do is focus on your breathing and stare up at the stars.

“Johnny,” Ghost eventually calls, and you can hear him kick what you can only assume to be a corpse out of the way. You can’t help but whimper when he crouches nearby, his boots splattered with blood. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Need-” Johnny gasps, hips stuttering against you before working even more quickly. “Needed to feel her, fuck, Ghost, she’s so fuckin’ soft. Can’t wait to be inside, to fuck her full, feel her squeeze-”

You whine against the hand over your mouth, trying to pull your face away from his grip and only succeeding in dragging your sensitive head across the harsh concrete.

“You’re gonna fuck her out here, where anyone can see? Doubt you’ll be able to keep her safe when you’re pussydrunk.”

Johnny moans above you, dropping more of his weight on each thrust. “Tha’s why you’re here, yeah? To keep me and the lass safe?”

Ghost grunts, fisting a hand in the strip of hair left revealed by Johnny’s mask. “Don’t be a fuckin’ brat, Johnny. You know I don’t have to do shit for you - either of you. Maybe I want to see my mutt get all defensive, growlin’ over his girl. You ever think about that?”

The whine that slips from Johnny’s throat is nothing less than pathetic, his pace becoming uneven as his eyes screw shut behind the mask. “C’mon, Ghost, I’m close, just let me… just watch for another minute, yeah?”

The scoff from Ghost is mean, and even you feel the absurd desire to try and placate the man. He stands abruptly, stepping away from where you’re pinned and leaving you staring at the cooling corpse of a man you don’t recognize.

“You do whatever you want, puppy. Stay here and get yourself off or behave and heel. You know what you’ll get either way.”

You can’t help but furrow your eyebrows as Johnny hisses out shit above you, hips working desperately against you for a few long moments before he drops his entire body weight onto you, knocking the air out of you.

“Okay,” he whispers, seemingly to himself. “Okay, alright, it’s fine. It’s fine.”

He pulls himself away from you with a long oan, pushing up until there’s no place the two of you are touching but you’re still entirely caged in by him. He takes his hand off your mouth to hold himself up and you wince at the string of blood between his hand and your lips.

“Not gonna fuck ye yet, kitty,” he tells you, staring into your eyes with an intensity you don’t quite know what to do with. “Ghost’ll make the both of us regret it, and ye don’t deserve that on your first night home.”

You hardly manage to bite back a whimper. “Please…”

His eyes crease, like he’s smiling beneath the mask. “God, yer so scared, aren’t ye? I can fucking taste it in the air, kitty. It’s delicious. Cannae fuckin’ wait to have you on my tongue.” You shudder, eyes dropping to his neck when his gaze becomes too heavy.

He forces you to stand before you’re ready, leaving you to lean on him if only to avoid crumbling to the ground like a ragdoll. You ite your tongue against a sob at the sight of three corpses around you, a twisted sense of appreciation and disgust warring in your mind.

Johnny herds you like a dog, pushing you by the small of your back and your shoulders as he tries to catch back up with his partner. You’re left stumbling in front of him, unsure and terrified, not quite strong enough to think running away would be a good idea. It doesn’t take long for you to spot Ghost’s large back on the street in front of you, and a part of you resents the fact that he’s already so recognizable.

He’s an overeager shadow, unable to decide if he wants to tug you forward or chase you from behind. He ends up almost circling you, shifting from your back to your side to your front and back again, always moving, always rushing. It leaves you unstable and nervous, unable to predict what he'll do next.

Chills run down your spine at the thought of this man… taking you. If you’re this terrified of him fully clothed, you’re loath to think of how you’ll react when he gets you where he wants you.

The two of you only manage to catch up to Ghost because he stops for a cigarette. His pale jaw is exposed when he tugs the mask up enough, and you try your best to memorize the scars covering his face, telling yourself that you’ll remember him, that you’ll never let him near you again once this night is over.

The look he sends Johnny is approving, the look he sends you is distinctly smug. It makes your teeth grind, makes you really wish you still had that knife so you could lurch forward, thrust the blade into the solid center of him and twist, pull out again and aim a little higher, then again, then again, then again-

“Made your choice, then?”

“Yes, sir. Wanna be good.”

Ghost hums, flicking the butt of his cig then dropping it to the ground, the cherry still glowing. “Settin’ a good example for your girl, huh? That’s my boy.”

The sound Johnny makes is animalistic, and despite the harsh grip he’s got on your arm you try to lean as far away as possible. There’s a building energy under his skin, a twitch in his fingers, that unnerves the animal part of your brain in ways Ghost doesn’t.

“‘Course. Gonna teach her how to be good, too, gonna keep her perfect for us.”

Ghost is completely stoic with the mask tugged back over his face, nothing but his heavy gaze as he stares you down. It’s hard not to jerk away from Johnny and run, no matter how futile you know the effort would be.

He reaches out a big, gloved hand towards your face, moving quickly enough that you can’t fully flinch away and hide your face in your shoulder or chest. His thumb strokes across your cheekbone, smearing the sticky mess of liquid across your face and huffing a sound just loud enough for you to hear.

“Cat got your tongue, girl?” He rumbles, a faint note of something in his voice lost in the sounds of anarchy behind you.

You try to shake your head, unable to manage anything more than a, “Please.”

Johnny scoffs beside you, wrapping both of his massive arms around your shoulders and holding you close. “Broken record, this one. Hasn’t said much else since we nicked her.”

“That’s alright,” Ghost rumbles, give Johnny one firm stroke over his mohawk. “I’m sure you’ll drag all sorts of pretty sounds out of her tonight. Now, let’s get goin’. Don’t want your little toy gettin’ her nerve up and earnin’ herself a punishment so early in the night. Come, now.”

Johnny laughs, loud and harsh as he tugs you to follow him and Ghost. You know you should be upset about what he’s said, know he should be doing exactly what he warns against and try to get away.

But you’ve got no energy left to fight. Everything hurts, your system is overrun by fear and just the tiniest drop of adrenaline, and your best chance of making it through this night is passing out and forgetting any of it ever happened.

A few tears, stragglers, drip down your cheeks when Johnny tugs you beside him. The places his fingertips squeeze against your arm have gone numb, and your feet feel like they’re on fire. Your arms are sluggishly bleeding and you’re not convinced you don’t have a concussion.

It’s hard to hold back sobs when you think of how much worse it’s going to get. Staring at the broad back of Ghost, feeling the feral energy of Johnny hardly contained by your side, all you can hope is that they let you survive the night.

You close your eyes as Johnny guides you, take a deep, steadying breath, and pray for your own strength. You tell yourself that maybe next year you can seek them out, find them at the very start of the Purge and get your revenge.

It’s a comforting enough daydream to lessen the aches of your body, to shine a spot of light after the hurricane of your future.

#this might very well be incomprehensible #when i say unedited i mean i haven't read this since i originally gave up on it #i just remember liking the way i wrote johnny and being said i wouldnt get to post it LMAO #anyways. no one say anything mean about it to me if it sucks #remember that this is not the first version i posted lmao #ghoap x reader #bo writes #dark fic #also sorry for the random tag lumi lmk if you want me to untag you lol

125 notes · View notes

little-pondhead · 7 months

Text

DP Prompt:

Summonings take time.

Literally.

The first time Danny was summoned, he was just walking down the street with his friends, calm as can be. Then there was a sharp tugging sensation in his chest, and a portal opened up under him, swallowing him into the sidewalk before they knew it.

Danny was pissed with the random portal. Where was Clockwork taking him this time? His mentor was the only explanation he could think of as to why a tunnel of green and blue now surrounded him.

Well, it didn’t matter. Danny could see the end of the tunnel just ahead. Whatever Clockwork needed, Danny was sure he could get it done in time to be home for dinner.

With that thought, he transformed and watched as the end got closer and closer. It felt like he was falling for quite a while, although it was closer to three minutes.

Finally, he popped out of the hole with a groan, strangely tired, and looked around. Oh, Ancients. A weird cult had bound him to a summoning circle. Danny didn’t even know he could be summoned! Something to nag Clockwork about later, then.

The cleanup of the cult was swift, and the destruction of their Realm books left nothing behind. Danny didn’t often deal with humans offensively, but this whole situation felt too easy to solve.

Danny shifted in discomfort, realizing he had no idea where he was. What were the limitations to summonings? How far away was he from home? Danny decided to turn human again and eventually found his way into the busy part of a huge city. He didn’t recognize anything, so obviously this wasn’t Elmerton.

A digital billboard caught Danny’s eye as he was scanning for a newspaper stand. The billboard was flashing between different slides, each containing the current date, time, and temperature.

Danny did some math in his head, dread growing.

The billboard was dated for three weeks after he had first fallen through the sidewalk.

Danny had been in that tunnel for three weeks, not three minutes.

The summoning process begins as soon as a summoner starts collecting the materials, not when they start chanting. Depending on how well a summoning is planned and how long it takes to gather materials, someone could be trapped in a special limbo for years before the exit appears. (Even though it’ll only feel like a few hours to the summoned being.)

Danny finds this out the hard way, and scrambles to get back home before he’s summoned again.

#pondhead blurbs #danny phantom #also I’m opening this up to crossovers #until danny can change his summoning criteria he’s at the whim of random people across the cosmos #he could be stuck in that limbo for years #possible angst route?#Sam and Tucker panicked after he didn’t reappear #by the third day they were tearing apart amity #how does Danny proceed? you decide #I’m not writing this lol

302 notes · View notes

sentientstump · 10 months

Text

that melting expression spoke of troubled analysis of surroundings, it appears on my face every day too. (translation: ayo, my eyesight is also goofy!!!)

doodle page with exploration of the theme for this comic below 👇🏼

literally drew that face and was like "huh, i will implement this idea into the very core of my being. no one can stop me " or something like that- xD

#the definition of ''made random observation outta nowhere one day and then proceeded to squelch the heck outta it for the next 3 days''👍🏼#usually i make it on the fly or after a long day of pondering inside the brain but here i decided to doodle it out on my phone for once #and thats why im including it here because i want the future me to open this and be like wow stump history has been made here #truly the day we will remember forever.... o7 lolol #this was fun btw :D #hylics #wayne hylics #dedusmuln #i wrote their names in the image descriptions so much ough its sorta annoying to write ''dedusmuln'' while also pronoucing it in my head LOL #('dedus- d- dedusmuln.' while zooming in on their battle icon like in vinny's hylics video)#artstump

213 notes · View notes

drowsystarlight · 8 months

Text

I like the idea of Death the Kid having a walk-in closet full of pristine branded clothes (honestly a Special kind bc he values style and comfort). He’s rich and lives in a Mansion with multiple rooms. Suits are his casual attire and he’s just that type of person. He never needed a material thing that he couldn’t just get. He can buy that shit. If a dress shirt ceases being symmetrical? Ditch it. Buy a new one. His customized blazer got damaged? Replace it. Easy. No son of Death would wear anything less than perfect.

Meanwhile, Blackstar is the type to keep the same five pairs of clothes until they’re literally breaking down at each seam.

Tsubaki even has to beg him to buy new stuff, or gift it to him on birthdays (even those ones get worn down for years, too). He grew up under Sid’s care and i bet he never had the luxurious life Kid had. Maybe Sid bought him clothes out of his own salary as a teacher and Blackstar knew that, so he treasures the clothes he gets. Assassin clothes, hand wraps, tank tops, sleep attire, old hand-me-downs get cut up and recycled into bandages or wraps for training, etc. Maybe he knows how to sew because he wanted to keep wearing a specific star-filled tank top Sid got him for his 13th birthday, so he asked Nygus to teach him. He wasn’t good at it at first but hey, practice eventually makes perfect. When he goes to missions and fights, he repairs the damage in his clothes. He’ll keep wearing the same shit until it gives up on him and even then, he really doesn’t want to let it go. Shoes are his worst nightmare because all his running wears it down fast.

It’s easy to write him off as a slob. Blackstar wore nothing formal; he looked like shit when he tried, too, slobbering for food when he attended the Academy’s founding anniversary. The boy didn’t know class, or finesse, or elegance. Everything he did screamed fucking reckless and immature. Obnoxious. It showed in his clothes, tattered as they are—because why else would it be so worn down if he was a careful man?

Being friends doesn’t exactly erase the impression, but it opens a bridge to ask. When Kid finally asks Blackstar why he circles through the same two tank tops whenever the group hung out outside the school, he’d say he liked the star designs. It suits me, he’d brag, and Kid is just jealous of his great clothing sense. Typical. But Maka eventually, secretly, tells Kid it’s just a special top because he’s had it since the both of them were twelve (everyone knows Blackstar would rather eat dirt than admit to being attached to things). Sentimental and Blackstar didn’t feel like they belong in the same sentence, but that thought felt odd now that he knew. Especially after he sees him discreetly check the stitches after an intense basketball match.

Death the Kid would notice every new stitch on Blackstar’s uniform after a mission since then. From afar, you don’t see it because it’s hidden well, but up close (maybe when they’re sparring, or sitting next to each other, or that day when Blackstar carried him through Excalibur’s wretched cave—though he foolishly shrugged that off). He can see it if he paid attention long enough, if Blackstar doesn’t move around too much for a moment. Stitches on top of old fixes, or the odd bits of his tank top turning out to be patches he couldn’t really hide. When he points it out again, they’re alone together and Blackstar happily shows it off (“I’m the best at everything, including sewing! Marvel at my craft!”). Kid admits ti thinking he’s a slob, and then the man would proceed to poke and prod at him for his branded stuff. There’s a reason why everyone saw him as a spoiled brat, after all; on the walk home that day, he ponders if he really is. (Liz and Patty say yes.)

Maybe it only really hits Kid, how much he’s really changed, when he lends Blackstar some pajamas after a gnarly night fighting against kishin eggs. Blackstar refused until he shoved the soft, flawless cotton in the man’s hands—told him to shut up and What, so the great Blackstar can’t handle wearing neat pajamas? He’s only ever seen him in tank tops but the sleeves didn’t seem to be the source of Blackstar’s discomfort. Having a spontaneous sleepover with the others, having Patty cause chaos in the name of fun—their antics eventually result into a rip of threads that only Blackstar seemed to be startled by. He apologizes as he returns it the next day, early in the morning, as neatly folded and packed in a paperbag as he could. Maybe Tsubaki did the folding. Blackstar is shit at folding clothes or wearing stuff that weren’t creased to hell and back.

But by then, even if there’s a stitch on only one sleeve, Kid keeps it. Seeing it makes him smile. The damage was repaired with a star-shaped stitch—(how did he even do that?), but he doesn’t wear it yet. He tells himself it would drive him insane, knowing something is off, but he hangs it with his other clothes. He didn’t need to replace it this time; Blackstar fixed it, and it wasn’t ruined. It’s better.

#soul eater #blackstar #death the kid #deathstar #kidstar #idk #also has the others but i am lazy #neeks writes #….????#this was a random idea that got out of hand #LOL #leave it to me to be carried away #beep dee doo

150 notes · View notes

itsthislake · 9 months

Text

Shen Yuan transmigrated as a Spirit Cat AU (part 2)

First chapter.

---

The rest of the examination, all dutifully narrated by Mu Qingfang, passed in something of a blur comprised mostly of internal screaming and a great deal of cursing, and he only came back to reality when he was picked up by a pair of warm hands.

Shen Yuan flinched and looked up at the man who could only be Liu Qingge, the War God of Bai Zhan and older brother of Best Wife, Liu Mingyan. Living proof that this was a time before the protagonist joined Qing Jing Peak.

Liu Qingge died by Shen Qingqiu’s hand sometime around then, after all.

“Come on,” he said, easily settling Shen Yuan on the crook of his arm and starting to walk like this was an established routine of many years instead of something that had happened twice so far and once under duress.

Distracted as he was, Shen Yuan didn’t bother to question it until they were already flying on— on Cheng Luan again. This sword was as cool as he had imagined, now that he looked at it properly. He smacked Liu Qingge’s arm with his paw until he got his attention, then meowed in question.

Liu Qingge stared for a second before seemingly realizing what he was asking.

“We’re going to see the sect leader, Yue Qingyuan,” he explained. “I need to give him my mission report. And inform him of your presence on the mountain.”

“Meow?”

“Cang Qiong has a rule about bringing in any Spirit Cats that we find. For protection,” Liu Qingge clarified, giving him an unreadable look. “There aren’t many left, so Spirit Cats sell high in many circles. None that our sect supports, of course.”

Huh. Shen Yuan hadn’t known that, even after jogging his memory post realizing which world this is.

He remembered Colored Claw Spirit Cats being mentioned in one of the later chapters of PIDW, something about how they had all gone extinct because of human greed and whatnot. He thinks it might have been wife #629 who complained about how tragic it was to Luo Binghe before the protagonist comforted her with his tried-and-true heavenly pillar. In hindsight, that was probably the last bit of actual worldbuilding Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky had given them before deciding to write terrible papapa and needlessly convoluted harem shenanigans for the next sixty or so chapters before the end of the novel.

What Shen Yuan hadn’t known, however, was that Cang Qiong Mountain Sect actively rescued and protected Spirit Cats. Of course, with the sect long since destroyed and most of the Peak Lords dead or integrated into the harem and promptly abandoned, there was no reason whatsoever for that to come up at that point in the novel.

Regardless, it was an interesting detail of this world, as well as an incredibly convenient fact for him now.

“Liu Qingge,” Liu Qingge said abruptly. Shen Yuan blinked at him, watching the red slowly creep up his ears with slight fascination. Woah. He even blushed prettily, how unfair. “My name. It’s Liu Qingge. I realized I didn’t introduce myself earlier.”

Oh, that was very polite of him. Which was a little strange coming from the guy who chased him through a village for almost four hours earlier that day and who he just saw kick his shidi’s office door in for no real reason. Shen Yuan huffed, then rubbed his face on the man’s arm, purring pleasantly.

“Hmm. Do you have a name?”

“Meow!”

“I see.”

What do you see? Shen Yuan wanted to ask, genuinely confused as to what Liu Qingge thought he understood. Alas, for lack of the vocal cords necessary for human speech, he just settled back down instead and decided to enjoy the ride.

Flying was kind of fun, he was learning.

---

Yue Qingyuan met Shen Yuan’s sudden presence on his mountain with a not inconsiderable amount of polite confusion.

Then, after Liu Qingge explained the situation, including the results of Mu Qingfang’s examination that Shen Yuan had missed almost entirely and was thus glad to hear summarized now, the sect leader just rolled with it with as much grace as his character in the novel took anything unrelated to Shen Qingqiu.

So far, Shen Yuan’s first impression of the sect leader was very much in line with what he already knew from PIDW.

Afterwards, Yue Qingyuan helpfully elaborated on Cang Qiong’s policy on Spirit Cats that Liu Qingge had mentioned earlier. Apparently, the claws of adult Spirit Cats sold very high among a significant number of cultivator circles because of their special properties, and the declawed creatures were usually sold as ‘exotic pets’ to nobles, where they would inevitably die from either improper care or health issues brought on by the loss of their claws. If caught by the wrong people, young Spirit Cats like himself would most likely be caged and tortured to quicken the awakening of their special abilities.

Because of this massive traffic that was both somehow legal and absolutely horrid to think about, the number of Spirit Cats left had been on the decline for many decades now, and none had reached a point in their cultivation where they could take a human form in over three centuries, as far as anyone was aware.

Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, as well as a number of other sects, strictly forbade the abuse of Spirit Cats and the use of their claws to further their cultivation, as well as offered sanctuary for any that they found in the wild or rescued.

“It has been many years since the last time a Spirit Cat resided in Cang Qiong,” Yue Qingyuan said regretfully, tone somber. “When this lord was still head disciple, he had the privilege to meet with one. Master Zhou’s meridians had unfortunately been crippled before he came to our sect, so he never managed to cultivate to a human form despite achieving immortality. This one was told that he was the youngest of a trio of siblings who were rescued together, but that his older sisters had already been declawed and thus did not manage to survive long even in our care. Lan Qingyi, the current Lord of the Shan Shou Peak, was the one who took care of Master Zhou during his final years.”

Listening to Yue Qingyuan’s recounting felt like a bucket of cold water had been dropped on him. All the terrible, horrible things that had made PIDW’s worldbuilding engaging were now real. It was his reality, and that of the people who were here now and had been here before him. The reality of Master Zhou who in the end was unable to reach Ascension, of his sisters who suffered so much and died long before their time. It caused Shen Yuan’s fur to stand on end as he listened to the sect leader speak.

However.

It also felt a little bit like hope. Because, see, for every trafficker out there, for every cruel bastard out to get his kind, there was also a person willing to protect them. Willing to give Spirit Cats a place where they could grow and live peacefully.

And those people were here, in Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, offering him that help now as well.

Huan Hua Palace, on the other hand, was perfectly fine with capturing Spirit Cats and using them as they saw fit. There were even rumors that the Old Palace Master had kept one or two declawed Spirit Cats as pets not so long ago.

Needless to say, Shen Yuan had dodged a massive bullet there. It was nothing short of a miracle that Liu Qingge was the one the villagers asked for help and not a cultivator from Huan Hua Palace, seeing as it was literally their territory.

Shen Yuan had seen Huan Hua Palace disciples flying around, for fuck’s sake.

Liu Qingge’s other hand had come up to rest lightly on top of him at some point during the story and Shen Yuan silently leaned into it, rubbing his cheek against his palm in an instinctual, soothing motion as he tried to burrow his body deeper into the crook of his arm.

“This conversation has taken a dark turn, my apologies,” said Yue Qingyuan softly, when the silent became too heavy. “I’m afraid that this topic is not one that can be avoided for long and it is better to be aware of the dangers sooner rather than later. This master would like to formally extend Cang Qiong Mountain Sect’s protection to the esteemed spirit, as well as an invitation to stay here for however long he wishes.”

Shen Yuan meowed quietly in agreement, and watched as the sect leader smiled gently at him. Then the man nodded, reaching for a brush and some paper.

“We’ll need to record your arrival and arrange everything for your stay,” he informed them. Even if the heavy thoughts lingered in his mind, for now the dark atmosphere seemed to have lifted as they moved onto another topic, for which Shen Yuan was grateful.

Yue Qingyuan paused, as if only now remembering something, and looked up at them curiously.

“Ah. We require a name for the paperwork. Since it was Liu-shidi who found and brought him to the sect, perhaps he could name the esteemed spirit as well?”

Without a moment of hesitation, Liu Qingge shook his head.

“He already has a name,” he informed solemnly.

“Oh?” Yue Qingyuan raised his eyebrows, looking expectantly at him. Shen Yuan also stared, wondering what he would answer. He obviously never told him his name and he was certain that the War God couldn’t read minds.

(Well. Mostly certain, anyway. Great Master Airplane was hardly reliable when it came to developing characters who weren’t wives or Luo Binghe past a certain point in the novel, or any characters at all past another point just slightly ahead in the novel, and Shen Yuan wouldn’t be surprised if he’d somehow forgotten to mention such an important aspect of this awesome character that he’d killed off-screen.

Would he be angry? Of course. Disappointed by the wasted potential? Most definitely. But surprised? After reading that whole godawful story? Ha! As if. Shen Yuan knew exactly what he was in for when he paid for each chapter.)

“He did not tell me what it is,” said the man who, as expected, could not read minds.

Liu Qingge! Shen Yuan cried in his mind, a little exasperated.

“Ah. Of course,” said the sect leader, smiling politely at both of them. He looked like he wanted to sigh but was too polite to do so and had instead defaulted to smiling. “However, I still need a name for the report. Until he can tell us his name, how does the esteemed spirit feel about having a nickname?”

Liu Qingge frowned at the same time that Shen Yuan perked up.

“A nickname?”

“Yes. Something simple and easy to remember that we can use in the meantime.”

Shen Yuan meowed pointedly, tapping Liu Qingge in the arm. The man just stared back silently, clearly deep in thought, before he nodded.

“The children at the village called him Xiao Maomi,” he declared.

“Xiao Maomi?” Yue Qingyuan repeated, looking at Shen Yuan for confirmation.

Shen Yuan considered it. It was very on the nose for a nickname, likely because it was a bunch of little kids who thought of it in the first place, but ‘little kitty’ wasn’t too terrible all things considered. He could have gotten stuck with a name like Doudou or Danhuang. Now that would have been embarrassing.

Therefore, he meowed positively. It was only temporary anyways so he didn’t care much.

Yue Qingyuan smiled politely, reaching for a brush. “Very well. We’ll put ‘Xiao Maomi’ down in the paperwork for now. It can always be changed at a later date.”

While Yue Qingyuan wrote, Shen Yuan looked up at Liu Qingge, considering. Then he wiggled out from under Liu Qingge’s hand, earning himself a curious look that he ignored, and used his claws to quickly climb up his arm and settle on the man’s shoulder, head resting on the collar of his robes.

The reason why the children of the village had taken to calling him ‘little kitty,’ as opposed to only ‘kitty,’ was immediately obvious to anybody with working eyes. This body of his was quite small even for an average cat’s, even a kitten’s, which had worked in his favor while he was sneaking around the village and against him during fights.

Shen Yuan had originally attributed this to a lack of proper nutrition coupled with a young age, but even after months of stealing food he remained around the same size. Now he wondered if maybe it had something to do with him being a Colored Claw Spirit Cat. He made a mental note to find more information on them later.

Right now, however, his small body meant that he was the perfect size to lay down on Liu Qingge’s shoulders and not have to worry about falling, something he intended to take full advantage of.

Liu Qingge huffed quietly, but made no moves to stop Shen Yuan.

Eventually, the sect leader set down his brush and looked back at them with a considering expression.

“In regards to Maomi-xiansheng’s new living arrangements,” he began lightly. “Normally, all Spirit Cats would be sent to the Shan Shou Peak where they’d be able to settle down and live their lives comfortably. However, Peak Lord Lan is currently in seclusion, and this master is uncertain whether any of her disciples are equipped to house and care for Maomi-xiansheng, as they are all quite young and inexperienced still.”

Ah, Shan Shou Peak, the Beast Taming Peak. One of many places that only got one or two lines when Luo Binghe joined and later destroyed Cang Qiong in PIDW. Shen Yuan had always been curious about this particular peak and all the (obviously wasted) potential it held, something he had ranted about on many occasions in the comment section. Infuriatingly, that hack author had once replied to one of his comments with, “okay okay chill dude, I’ll describe more of the sect in the next chapter,” and then spent six whole paragraphs describing Xian Shu Peak’s bathhouse and all the shijies in it.

Shen Yuan had never genuinely considered murder in his past life, but by god did he get close that day. He was sure his comment, written in a fugue state of pure rage, had reflected that.

“Doesn’t Lan Qingyi have Hall Masters on her peak?” Liu Qingge said, and though Shen Yuan couldn’t exactly see his expression from his position, he got the impression that the man was scowling as he said that.

“I believe they are occupied caring for all the creatures already in-house and teaching the disciples during Lan-shimei’s absence,” Yue Qingyuan answered, tone as close to exasperated as possible while still remaining polite. “Lan-shimei’s approach to her duties as Peak Lord is very different to Liu-shidi’s, after all.”

Shen Yuan had no idea what that was about, but he could almost feel the self-restraint it took Liu Qingge not to huff. The sect leader continued before he could question it.

“Nonetheless, with Shan Shou Peak not being an option, Maomi-xiansheng will need another place to stay, at least until Lan-shimei is back. Since it was Liu-shidi who brought him here, perhaps he wouldn’t mind housing Maomi-xiansheng until then?”

“En,” Liu Qingge nodded, after a moment of thought. “I do not mind.”

Yue Qingyuan smiled in response.

“Thanking shidi.”

And thus, Shen Yuan moved in with Liu Qingge.

227 notes · View notes

juni-ravenhall · 2 months

Text

sso loading screen text "remember that knowledge is power".... imagine the power if the writers knew the lore of the game

#no offense to the likely 1 sse employee doing their best with actual lore but the way they changed bonnys writing was insane and #all the retconning and random shit like when scott was randomly generic evil man in some josh quest #and the shitty dialect things in general like rowan bc that shit doesnt even translate to other langs well its both badly written and not -#- even a good idea whatsoever for a multilanguage game that isnt just in english from the start. but also its just stereotypical and bad #bonny was written charming and interesting and it was really unnecessary to retcon her into this scottish stereotype dialect #and while sometimes they do bring proper stuff from the existing lore like devils gap and turn it into something... theres still-#- a million things that couldve been done better both in the current writing and the old writing as well! it was always a mess #like the ice wraiths of golden hills or whatever theyre called. the dino valley yeti and witch stuff being hinted but abandoned. etc #but they shouldve gotten someone to *read* all that and take notes and try to turn it into something good and more complete.#rather than getting ppl going lol lets change lots of stuff around it will be great (proceeds to make it worse)#disclaimer idk whose fault all of that is but i blame johan sjöberg for being a bad manager of this games potential and #also the whoevers that have had any power to direct and plan and manage shit at that company

77 notes · View notes

transmasccofee · 7 months

Text

mini fic about Kusuo and Kuusuke bc I am a little crazy about them — tw for suicide attempt and suicidal ideation, as well as kind of gruesome injury and probably incorrect medical practices lol

also it’s 1st person bc I wrote a lot of this while half asleep and I guess wrote it in 1st person, and then when I woke up it was too woven into the narration to change it to 3rd. Sorry lol.

“I like this look on you,” Kuusuke says, a tinge of excitement in his voice.

I don’t know what he means by that, he must notice my confusion, because he laughs. “You’re at the end of your rope, you’re gonna snap soon and do whatever you can think of that’ll make this all go away.”

I shudder. I don’t want to kill him, but I’m worried at this rate he won’t stop until I do. I don’t like being part of this new dynamic, wherein my own brother views me as a weapon he can do whatever he pleases with.

He blasts his gun at me again, and it grazes my arm, singeing it. As this fight’s gone on, it’s almost like his machine has gotten more powerful. Or maybe I’ve just grown weaker to it…in any case, it hurts. It hurts so badly. I clench my teeth and try not to show it.

“Hey. Do you think if I shot him he’d survive?” He grins, gesturing to a certain fallen esper who up until now has gone relatively unmentioned. My blood runs cold and the second I start running towards Toritsuka, another blast can be heard. Panicking, I teleport in front of him, blocking him with my body. The bullet hits my chest and stomach, and the only word I can use to describe the feeling that follows is agony. I want to scream, but I bite my tongue.

Kuusuke looks at me, his expression different now. “You’re really not gonna kill me, are you?”

I don’t know what to say. It’s hard to think of words right now, I kind of just want to throw up and fall asleep forever. My ears are ringing. Of course I wasn’t gonna kill you, just how do you view your little brother? How have you viewed me my whole life?

Suddenly he seems frustrated, he starts shooting faster and more randomly, he looks like a madman and in the moment it’s terrifying. About 30% of his shots are hitting me, and at some point the pain gets too great to be interpreted as pain anymore, and instead mellows into a dull aching numbness. I’m depleting my energy to get my limiter back, but in this moment it doesn’t feel worth it. If I had my full powers it might be easier to dodge these bullets consistently.

I slump over slightly, and he makes some taunting comment. I don’t bother listening. It all hurts so much. I wish I’d been born normal so then maybe we could be playing video games together instead of doing whatever this is.

I wish we could be doing that. A bullet scorches my hair, and this imaginary world where me and him are friends starts to consume my thoughts.

Despite myself, my shoulders shake. I can barely stand up anymore, in this imaginary world where I’m not ruining everything, Kuusuke notices and runs over to help.

I know I’m not there, though, when I look up through watering eyes and see a bright light pointed directly at my face.

If this hits me, I’ll die. I don’t know how exactly I know that, but I know I know.

Without thinking, I half duck half collapse to the ground. It misses and crumbles the wall behind me. Now I just have to get back up, I still need my limiter back, and Toritsuka is still in acute danger.

…I find then that I can’t get up. I try but everything my body refuses and I slump back down to the cold stone floor. Great.

It’s my fault, I overdid it. Now Toritsuka is probably gonna die, and I’m probably gonna die, and it’s my fault. Helplessly, a choked sound escapes me. I don’t want to die here, I don’t want Toritsuka to die here. Shit, I completely failed him.

After a moment, I notice that I’m the only one making any noise. The bullets have stopped coming, and Kuusuke is silent.

Tentative, he leaves the machine, then he must see my sorry physical state because he breaks into a run towards me.

Unwittingly I flinch back. He notices this too, and slows. Then, he pauses and throws off his mask. His facial expression is one I haven’t seen him make before.

“I went too far, didn’t I?” Is all he says. I don’t understand, but I can’t do much as he grabs me and flips me onto my back. He makes a hissing noise, which I curl inwards at. “Sorry,” he says. “I’m gonna need to take your shirt off.”

What…? I shake my head vigorously. Of course it’s just another game. Honestly, how was I so stupid as to think he was actually concerned for a second?

“Kusuo,” he pleads. “This is kind of serious, I need to be able to see the full extent of the damage.”What damage? Does he mean my stomach? I’m fine. I mean, it hurts, but it’s fine.

He takes off my jacket anyways, then curses and peels off my undershirt too. I’m waiting for something to happen, someone to pop out and upload a photo of me at my weakest to the internet as some awful prank, my friends (sans Toritsuka) to come walking out and see me like this, anything. For some reason none of that is happening, Kuusuke is silently surveying me, his whole face is pinched in some unreadable expression.

“Here, stay here,” he orders. I want to laugh, as it is I can’t even stand, what does he expect me to do?

In my peripheral, I see Toritsuka. He seems to be stirring. Internally, I beg him not to. I can’t do anything right now, he could kill me if he wanted, and then Kuusuke would probably kill him.

When he comes back he’s carrying an array of things. Bandages, water, a cloth, some kind of disinfectant, and a black blanket. It’s odd, despite everything, despite all our fighting, I never feared my brother until now. It’s a potent feeling, and I have to look away. I don’t know what he’s planning. Without a word he hoists me onto his knee, and begins doing something. I can’t stop him without killing him, so I don’t.

I can feel water, then the cloth dabbing at my chest and arms shoulders, then something cold and sharp touching me. It hurts more than I except. Part of me just wants to surrender, let unconsciousness spare me from any more of this, but then I’d really be powerless against him, so I fight it off.

I feel something wrap tightly around my torso, and then he murmurs something and puts my undershirt back on, before wrapping me in what is definitely that shitty blanket he brought out.

For a brief moment, I let myself feel relieved. Then he climbs back onto the machine, and I feel my stomach sink. Tears spring to my eyes. I knew he didn’t like me, but isn’t this…too cruel? Letting me feel safe before destroying me? I brace for the killing blow, knowing that even if I try to teleport away, i won’t have enough control of my muscles to protect myself.

But it never comes.

Instead, I hear a turning of keys, and it powers off. He walks back over to me and sighs. I feel small, curled up in this thin blanket on the floor, shaking uncontrollably under him. I’m not meant to be this useless, nor this out of my element.

“Shit…” he mutters, mostly to himself. “I really did go too far. Look at you. What am I even doing?”

I don’t know what he means.

“Are you in any pain?” He asks. I want to scoff at him, but I’m still a little on edge and my mind is still numb from the earlier agony it faced. I nod slowly. He inhales.

“I’m sorry.”

It catches me off guard. I don’t know if I’ve ever heard him apologize like that. I’m dumbfounded.

“You’re my baby brother, I don’t- I don’t know how I could stoop to something like this. What if I’d killed you…?”

I blink at him. I…I don’t understand. I want to go home. Looking around me I notice the not insignificant amount of blood that had pooled where I was laying. Kuusuke is also covered in blood. Wait, how bad were my injuries?

I look at my shirt, and with sudden horror, I throw up. I wipe my mouth with my sleeve and in the corner of my eye I see my brother’s eyes are as wide as saucers.

“Shit,” he apologizes again. “Yeah. I guess I really really hurt you. You’re even throwing up…On the bright-side, your friend over there is awake.”

That’s not a good thing, I glare at him hoping that’s conveyed. He looks at me and shrugs, nonchalant. “Don’t worry, he’s not gonna hurt you.”

This time I do scoff out loud. What the hell is he talking about? He just tried to kill me, he’s always hated me, you were the exact person who caused him to realize that.

Toritsuka looks around blearily, then he makes eye contact with me. I steel myself, waiting for him to laugh, take advantage of my current state, mock me at least.

He doesn’t, in fact, I’m surprised to see his eyes grow wide with horror. Suddenly he’s crying out my name and barreling towards me, he looks devastated. I don’t know how I’m meant to react. Yet again I don’t understand, I haven’t understood anything that’s happened in the past few minutes. Why are people suddenly treating me like I’m fragile?

He’s at my side, prodding around at my injuries and then the stained floor around me, and then my face. His eyes soften and fill with tears.

“This is all my fault,” he hiccups. “I- the scientist… he- I’m such an idiot for ever listening to him. Now you’re all hurt, and it’s- I caused it…”

I don’t say anything, none of this is anything I’m used to. He looks at the intact wall where he was a moment ago, then at me. His whole face sinks into something genuinely pained.

“You protected me, didn’t you.” He sounds really unlike himself, and it creeps me out. Apprehensively, I nod. I did, but it’s not a huge deal. He doesn’t have to make it a huge deal.

“Why…?”

Why? I pause. I don’t know. Looking up at him, I shrug. You’re my friend. I guess I care about you. That’s why.

He shakes his head, then his gaze focuses in on my chest. “Shit…P-Please don’t tell me that’s not where that came from.” He points to the blood soaked bandages hugging my torso. I resist the urge to gag looking at them again. This kind of devastation on my own body is admittedly fascinating, but to someone like me it’s also disturbing. I’m kind of miffed that he’s decided to remind me of that area so blatantly, what happened to manners? Don’t point out the gaping hole in your friends chest so crudely, Toritsuka.

My lack of response clearly functions as a response for him, because he eventually chokes back a knowing sob. “Shit, fuck, goddammit,” he cries. “I’m the worst, I’m seriously the worst. I’m so sorry. If- if you don’t want to see me again after this…I-“ he trails off.

I’m a little stunned. It’s really not a big deal. It’s not like he was the one shooting at me, that guy’s lingering a few feet away like a creep. I try to explain this to him, but it just makes it worse. He’s actually crying now, which is making me all sorts of uncomfortable. “Don’t forgive me so easily!” He sobs into my arm. I sigh. This is a pain, all of this is. I’m tired, at this point I just want to go home and sleep.

Kuusuke must notice, as he takes a step towards me. Suddenly, I notice that I can hear his thoughts.

Toritsuka catches him moving, and jumps in front of me protectively. “St-stay away!” He snarls. Kuusuke looks amused for a second, but quickly his expression shifts into one of irritation.

“You’re bothering him. Let me take him home.”

“As if i’d trust you! He almost died because of you! I mean, just look at what you did to him!” Toritsuka gestures widely at me and the area surrounding me. Kuusuke doesn’t answer, and now that I can read his thoughts, I can tell…he’s feeling guilty.

Well, of course, He had apologized earlier, but it takes me aback just how potent it truly is. For most of my life I assumed he hated me, assumed he didn’t care about me at all, but now…I don’t know if knowing he does makes me feel better or worse.

“I’m sorry,” he says at last, not really directly to either of us. He’s looking past me, straight at the destroyed walls behind us. “I know I went too far, but he can’t stay here.”

“So I’ll take him home!” Toritsuka argues, unwilling to trust him. It’s understandable, I wouldn’t. I don’t.

“It’s better if I do. You’ll jostle him. Plus, he’s my brother, so if It’s me our parents will be more understanding.”

That last part’s a blatant lie, I know it and I know he knows it. The first part is reasonable, though. Toritsuka is only a little heavier than me, and he’s not very physically fit. Carrying me all the way back to my house on his own would be difficult and potentially dangerous for both of us.

“You’re his brother…??” He gapes, then rage takes over his shock. “How could you do something like this, then?!”

He yet again doesn’t answer, and his thoughts grow even heavier. Honestly I find that I kind of miss his limiter.

Annoyed, I attempt to sit up, the sharp stabbing pain that jolts through me makes me regret that choice, as I slam back down against the floor. Both of them whirl around to look at me with considerable distress.

“Don’t move,” Kuusuke is the first to speak. I glare, wanting nothing more than to punch him right now. My injuries should’ve healed by now, right? Why haven’t they?

He looks sheepish. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “Er, about that…the way my invention works, those are gonna stay for a while. Sorry.”

I stare at him, Toritsuka does too.

“I created it to weaken you, so…it sort of overrides everything about you, including the mind control you’ve done.”

I blink. I’ll ask him how he even did that later, right now I’m just furious. Seriously, what was he thinking? My mind is more clear than it was earlier, and I at least feel enough in my element to be angry, even if physically the bets are still off.

Internally I beg Toritsuka not to ask about the mind control thing, I’m too tired to even attempt explaining that.

Fortunately he doesn’t, though I’m all too aware of how he shelves it for later questioning.

“By weaken, don’t you just mean destroy?” Is what he asks instead. I now wish he’d just asked about the mind control. What kind of loaded question is that? He realizes I’m right here, doesn’t he?

“I created it to destroy myself,” he says honestly. I already knew, but hearing it out loud, so blatantly is still hurtful. Toritsuka looks confused, so unfortunately he elaborates. “I was hoping if I drove him low enough, he’d snap and destroy me.” Too honest. Dial it back a bit for the readers at home.

“Oh,” is all Toritsuka can think to respond with. I really can’t blame him. I want to go home, I don’t want to be here anymore.

“It was a mistake, though, and now look. My baby brother is badly hurt, all because of me.”

“…yeah. He really is.” Not helpful. Both of you should leave, just let me die here, it’s better than having to listen to this exchange any longer.

They stop talking, though their thoughts are both still so loud. It’s all too heavy, I can’t deal with this, especially not presently.

“…fine,” Toritsuka says. “Only If Saiki-san is fine with it, we’ll accept your help.”

I kind of want to ask where he got the idea that he had stakes in this decision at all, but honestly I’m a little relieved he’s here acting as a middle-man.

“Okay. And? Is he?” Kuusuke questions, peering over at me. I shrug. “You don’t know?” I shrug again. I don’t want to interact with him.

“You’re upset, you don’t want to talk to me,” he says matter of factly. I forgot that he’d gotten kind of skilled at reading me. “I get it, but I really do need to know where you stand on this, otherwise there’s not much I can do for you.”

I sigh. As much as I keep telling myself I want to go home, the idea of my parents seeing me like this is mortifying, especially if he’s there too.

“You don’t want to go home? You’re scared of our parents seeing you like this, especially when I’m there too?” He parrots. I flinch. know I said he was skilled at reading me, but that’s basically just telepathy. Toritsuka makes a face like he’s just had an idea.

“He can go to my house! I have a lot of first aid stuff.”

You do? Why? Actually, I don’t want to know. Admittedly, it’s not an awful idea if I ignore the fact that I’d be inside Toritsuka’s house. The one good thing about being in a situation like this with these two is that they both know not to suggest the hospital. Hesitantly, I nod.

“Great, that’s settled then?” Kuusuke sounds tired too.

“I guess so.”

“Where do you live?”

“Oh, right. Erm…I’ll just lead you guys there.”

“Ok then.”

Kuusuke, without much warning, scoops me up off the ground. “Lead the way!” He chirps, presumably trying not to sound too annoyed.

Surprisingly, Toritsuka actually manages to lead us to where he lives without much issue. Maybe he’s more reliable than I thought. That, or my bar is just way too low for him. Probably the second one.

“He can go on the bed,” he says over his shoulder. Kuusuke nods and sets me down. “So…now what are we doing?” He comes back with way more first aid supplies than any one person should ever need. Now I really feel the need to know why he had this stuff in the first place…

“Stitches.” Kuusuke replies, completely distracting me from Toritsuka’s stash. Did I hear that right? How does he intend to do that, an ice pick can’t break my skin, so really, how does he expect a needle to be able to??

He laughs. “Are you curious about how I’d be able to break your skin?”

Yes, but stop reading my mind, please.

“Don’t worry, I’ve studied you enough to know this isn’t an issue. See, it’s not actually that your body is impenetrable…it’s a protective shield, a very thin protective shield.”

I’m confused by what he’s trying to say.

“Basically,” he explains. “Your body naturally stops anything from harming you, of course it’s not impossible to bypass this shield, but most things that would kill a regular person won’t really affect you...”

I’m about to ask where he’s going with this, but Toritsuka beats me to it. “Sorry, but what does this have to do with giving him stitches…?”

“The stitches wouldn’t be harming him, they’d be helping him.”

“Ohhh. Right. Okay, I get it.” He lies.

I’m skeptical. Kuusuke knows more about my body than I do, but it’s hard to trust him. I guess there’s not any other options, and I don’t really know how he could use this to beat me anyways. Reluctantly, I give him permission to attempt this.

Against all my expectations, it kind of works. I mean, the first needle shatters, as do the second and third, but once I manage to relax it becomes almost too easy. Of course, it hurts, though strangely not as much as him cleaning the wound in preparation had. Toritsuka is talking to me about something stupid, I couldn’t make out what he was saying even if I wanted to, my mind is swimming too much. The sound of his voice is a decent distraction, though.

Eventually, after what must’ve been a few hours, as well as the tragic loss of many needles that shattered the second I tensed even a little, Kuusuke finishes up.

“Good as new!” He says, which is objectively untrue, but whatever. “…How do you feel?”

Bad, but less urgently. I don’t know if I can sit up yet, the thought of trying makes me shiver. Right now I’m tired, all I want is to sleep.

“I’ll check in tomorrow. You’ll look after him, I assume,” he asks Toritsuka, who nods. “Alright.”

And with that he’s off.

Toritsuka looks at me, all I can hope is that he won’t try to engage in serious conversation with me. He doesn’t.

He doesn’t say anything, actually. He thinks a lot, a lot of apologies, but he says nothing aloud. Silently, he lays on the floor and closes his eyes.

I roll my eyes, he’s punishing himself. That’s annoying. Do what you like, but in front of me? over something that wasn’t your fault…? When he falls asleep I’ll be sure to give him at least a pillow and blanket, it won’t help anyone if we have two people in pain tomorrow.

Once he’s asleep, I finally let myself drift off too.

I’m woken up by Toritsuka’s miserable thoughts. It seems Kuusuke isn’t here yet, in the meantime I wonder if there’s anything I can do to make Toritsuka realize he doesn’t have to be so hard on himself. It’s fine.

“Can you sit up yet?” He asks, I blink at him. It’s too early for this, seriously. I just woke up.

I push myself up with my elbows, there’s a significant throbbing pain throughout my body, but I can ignore that.

“Hey, that’s good! Maybe your weird brother was wrong…?”

He probably wasn’t, but one can hope. I give a thumbs up, for whatever reason my hands are shaking.

Kuusuke arrives, he checks in, “supervises” for awhile, then he leaves. At night Toritsuka tries to punish himself by sleeping completely uncovered on the hard floors, I thwart his plans and then fall asleep myself. This repeats for weeks, honestly it’s becoming monotonous. Kuusuke keeps reassuring us that he has all the technical stuff “handled”, and I guess I have to believe him.

Not only that, it’s all frustrating. There’s something nagging at me, it feels like a pit in my stomach, the same feeling you get when you haven’t eaten for a long time, and I don’t know what it is or why it’s happening. There’s something we didn’t address, but I can’t put my finger on what it is.

It comes to me one day, at a point where I’m far enough long in this awful recovery period that I can walk around with only some agonizing pain. The stitches have been removed, I’m probably gonna go to my regular home soon. Toritsuka’s gradually stopped punishing himself, everything is going…fine.

I’m even kind of getting along with Kuusuke, if I ignore everything that lead up to this, I might be able to pretend we’ve always been like this.

Then one day, it’s like he snaps.

“Kill me,” Kuusuke says, grabbing my shoulders. It’s raining, we’re both outside and he’s knocked over the umbrella I was holding. I’m too shocked to respond. “I’m asking you to kill me, however you like, but please kill me.”

I can’t think of what to say to him. Weren’t we over this…? I guess not. That must’ve been what was bothering me so much. He looks desperate, desperate in a way I haven’t seen him before.

“I deserve it, you deserve to be the one who does it. It would be humiliating to die to anything besides you, so please…”

I really thought we were over this.

There’s some kind of cruelty present here, and the worst part is I don’t even know if he recognizes it. I feel the resolve I’ve been clutching crumble just a little.

The reality is I never, never in my life, truthfully wanted to kill him, I’ve never wanted to hurt anyone. I wish I’d made that clearer, maybe we could’ve avoided all of this. I feel, for a moment, profoundly angry, then it’s washed away and all I can feel is hurt. Hurt that even after all this, he still thinks of me this way, hurt that he thinks of himself this way, hurt that our relationship is like this. I want to cry, I want to curl up as tight as possible and cry until all of this melts away. How did we even get here? How did it get this bad?

He looks about two seconds from breaking down himself. I don’t know how to fix this, I don’t think I can. Once again I picture that imaginary reality where I’m normal, and I imagine a Kuusuke who’s offering words of comfort.

Against my will, tears come rushing. I can’t stop them, I’m helpless. I’ve caused all of this, the fault of my existence is why any of us are in this situation. My face is wet, and I don’t care to tell what’s from rain and what’s from me. It’s humiliating regardless.

“Kusuo…? Are you…-” He sounds so far away. Quickly, I cover my face with my arm, stepping back in shame. I wish I’d just gone home when I was first injured, I want my mom, she’d know what to say right now. Then again, I’m sure that would’ve caused her a lot of trouble, so it’s probably good I didn’t. Probably. I don’t know.

“Are you crying?” He asks, I laugh. Obviously I’m not. Or, wait, actually I am. Huh. I’m crying right now.

I’m so tired of all this. I know our relationship will never be like the one I keep picturing, but I just wish it was better than this. I don’t want to be crying alone right now.

He pauses. “I’m sorry,” he repeats. No matter how much he says that, I can’t seem to believe him. “I see now, I’m wrong.”

I don’t know what he means, I don’t want to know. It’s a different kind of pain, this feeling.

“You want a normal brother, don’t you?”

I guess so, Its more that I want to be a normal brother. I don’t want to be someone he feels the need to compete with all the time, I want to be someone he can laugh with and play video games with and not feel like he’s going up against a machine.

The pit in my stomach deepens, and it hurts terribly. Like a child would, I reach out and grab his sleeve. He freezes as I do so. I don’t know what to say to him, I’m just desperate and hurt and alone, and he was there.

“…What are you doing? Why are you grabbing me?” I can’t think of a coherent reply. He was there, is all I can think of. Logically I know it’s probably deeper than that. I don’t respond, I can’t let go. If I let go…I don’t want to think about it.

After a moment, I feel arms wrap around me. He’s hugging me. For whatever reason, he’s hugging me.

I don’t move, I’m scared if I do, that I’ll hurt him. I don’t want to do that. He exhales. “I don’t know why you keep me around, if I was you I would’ve killed me ages ago.”

Huh. I shrug. I don’t know, I say to him. You’re my brother, and I guess I care about you. That’s why.

#Idk if I will post this to ao3 since it’s pretty short #Maybe #for now I’m just gonna dump it here lmao #tw suicide #tw injury #writing #< tag in case I do any more random mini fics lol #Toritsuka is also here and he is miserable. Bc it’s the cat gun arc obv he’s unhappy.

102 notes · View notes

pumpkin-wants-a-cherry-scone · 5 months

Text

Day 10: Wrath

"She was like fury herself." I mean, fury and wrath are pretty similar.

I was too lazy to find if her portrait is described in more detail elsewhere in the book. I did a bun since I always imagined her as pretty serious (at least in her portrait), but she might have it down. idk

#COC 2023 #Carry On Countdown #ft. a LOT of my handwriting #not sure why I thought that was a good idea #I'm always so lazy when it comes to writing nice and as fonts #anyway I need to channel baz and penny energy and study now #also had no idea what to do for what she is wearing #just looked up random headmistress portraits lol #may or may not have ran out of space for the last few words.#“went up in flames”

56 notes · View notes

luminitewrites · 1 year

Text

Nova

Rating: T Word Count: ~5,700 Warnings: Brief memories of/current trauma from being swallowed alive, brief contemplation of death and what lies beyond

So after seeing the absolutely stunning art that @themeeplord posted of Naff's leviathan!Eclipse and fisher!Y/N, there's no way I could pass up writing a small something for it. I might have made Eclipse a tad bigger in this drabble purely for size difference purposes, but Meep's depiction of them is the inspiration for this piece. (I hope you don't mind the tag, Meep! ;w;) This drabble is based off of @naffeclipse's In Deep Dreams Between the Waves (so very highly recommend!!) and set sometime after it, so there will be allusions to spoilers herein.

Enjoy!

~~~

The siren call of the ocean lulls your boat as much as it does you. Out here in the vast expanse of endless water where sea merges with ocean, the gentle stirring of the morning sun has yet to reach full wakefulness, casting the sky in a beautiful watercolor of lush indigos and mellow purples. The breeze caressing your face tells you it will be a hot day, but for now, it’s a welcomed brush against your skin.

You’ve opted for a less-bundled-up attire since you know what and who awaits you shortly. The loose t-shirt flutters at your back, and your light shorts and bare feet bask in the open, salty air. Curling your toes in excitement, you cannot help the enchanted smile that has yet to leave your face. You’ve been looking forward to today as the rough weather in recent weeks has kept you from seeing your friend. Well, it probably wouldn’t have completely kept you at bay were it not for said friend being very insistent about you staying home to wait out the hurricane. Something about being safe and warm and taking care of your health. Complete bogus, if anyone were to ask you.

But, of course, Eclipse always has other ideas about what’s best for you, and after much bartering in your dreams and getting nowhere, you’d caved to his utterly ridiculous demands. The oversized mer has a habit of being just as obstinate as you. You’d once thought you could outmatch his stubbornness, but turns out, it’s hard to say no when his big eyes turn soft and pleading, like you’re breaking his heart by even considering stepping foot outside during a nasty storm. Never mind that it’d been because you’d wanted to see him. He’d been adamant that the visits in your dreams could sate your loneliness in the meantime.

Needless to say, you’ve been chomping at the bit to get out. The hurricane had been circling your little island like a harrowing shadow for over a week, but it finally began tapering off yesterday, and by nightfall, Eclipse gave you his reluctant approval to come out the following day.

He probably didn’t mean that as an excuse for you to sacrifice sleep and slip out before the break of dawn, but he almost certainly knew that without you needing to say anything suggestive of it last night. The memory of his narrowed gaze and disapproving pout still makes you chuckle even now, and you can only imagine that same expression on his face when he sees you out here.

You’ve already dropped anchor and settled at the edge of your boat with your legs dangling over it and your arms propped atop the railing. The breeze ruffles your hair as it pleases, and it tickles your ears while you hum to yourself a gentle tune. It’s a unique one that transcends time and the waves themselves, flowing from within your chest and playing a soothing chord that first tugs softly and then a little firmer.

When your voice starts to rouse and the first few notes whisper past your lips, an answering echo from far, far below sounds beneath your feet and travels across the ocean floor.

Instantaneous is the grin tugging at your cheeks, and you beam at the way the wind suddenly billows in a different direction and sends your trusty flag flapping like a resounding applause. Your Rustbucket II bobs up and down as the water begins to turn choppy, creating a thrill of a ride as you eagerly peer down into the inky blue.

As bubbles form below, you dismiss what most sailors would consider an omen and instead lean over the railing as much as you can while sitting. Your legs swish happily, your skin prickling when a shiver courses through you. To your surprise, however, the bubbles stop after a few suspenseful seconds. A flash of a large shadow is all you catch sight of, but your friend doesn’t surface as you’d expected. Confused, you wait a moment more and then pull your legs under you and stand up so that you can lean over the railing as far as you can without falling in.

“Eclipse?” you call out. Your head tilts to the side while you listen.

Nothing but ocean responds.

A frown replaces your smile, and you wonder if something has temporarily distracted the mer, and he’s swimming off to go chase a giant squid or something similar. Before you can settle back down and wait for him to return, a colossal burst thunders behind you without warning and rocks your boat. Gasping, you have all but a moment to spin on your heel as Eclipse breaches in a swift motion that sends a terrific cascade of water directly down onto your boat and consequently you.

In mere seconds, you are entirely drenched in seawater and sputtering.

Soaked hair draped over and blinding you, you sigh loudly and brush it out of your face. Far, far above, your friend gazes down with a textbook version of glee. As soon as he sees your expression, a harmonious warble not unlike a laugh rumbles from his chest.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” you say in faux exasperation while wringing the water out of your hair. “Not like you haven’t done this before.”

The mer lowers in the water until his head is level with you, ray-like frills flicking, and your bond tells you exactly what he’s thinking, as if he were saying the words aloud.

And yet, you still fall for it every time.

You roll your eyes, and Eclipse chitters his delight.

“I guess it’s not like I wasn’t going to get wet anyways,” you huff in defeat.

Deciding it’s a lost cause to drain the water from your dripping clothes, you trudge over to him instead, making sure to step carefully through the large puddles. Yellow overlaid by impenetrable black oversees your maneuvering to be certain you reach the other side safely. Once you’re within reach, Eclipse leans in a little more, allowing you to rest your small hand against his large head and press a kiss between his eyes despite the little trick he pulled on you.

You watch the sharp yellow disappear as he basks in your affection and croons an unmistakably happy song. It’s enough to warrant the return of your smile.

“Good morning, big guy,” you say against his wet scales. “Missed you.”

The sentiment is returned tenfold through your bond, staggering in its sincerity, and Eclipse’s love threatens to reduce you to a puddle. The companionship with the leviathan has altered you in ways you could have never dreamed of, making you forever grateful for the day you discovered and helped him when he was but a little fish. You wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world because a life without Eclipse is one you can’t fathom. He means everything to you.

As your thoughts shift, Eclipse hears them just as if you’d spoken, and a low sound purrs from his throat. He nuzzles you with utmost gentleness, and you press as close to him as you can.

Yeah, you missed this. Shared dreams are one thing, but having him here with you in the flesh is incomparable. It’s your lifeblood.

When you pull back, the leviathan peers at you again. His expression is so compassionate that it sets your heart soaring like you are a fish in the sea swimming alongside him. The excursions you’ve had with him in the deep blue aren’t too far from that feeling, and it’s set in the very plans you have for later today. You intend to spend as much time as you can with the mer, and that means taking a hearty swim with his current guiding you along.

However, whatever soft moment you’re sharing now is wholly ruined when Eclipse chooses then to open his mouth and drag his serpentine tongue all the way up your front.

You yelp at the unexpected lick, and very swiftly, you are drenched in more than just water.

“Eclipse!” you cry in dismay.

Orange and red frills flutter in contentment. There is no remorse on the other’s face.

“Now I’m covered in gross saliva!” you further protest to express just how disgruntled you are. You shake your hands, and two wet globs fling off.

Eclipse churrs and clicks unhelpfully. It’s a bit similar to the squeaks of a dolphin, and after a fruitless attempt to wipe your face as best as you can, you glower up at your talkative friend.

He seems to be cycling through a whole host of expressions today because the one staring you down is now unquestionably smug.

You snort at the little—large—devil.

“Just what was that for anyways?”

The mer considers for a moment and then tilts his head to the side a little, eyelids falling low like he’s miming sleep. Then, a massive hand lifts out of the water to gently poke a long claw at you, followed by a throaty grumble that shakes your boat.

Ah. So that’s what this is about, huh. Should’ve known skipping out on sleep would come back to bite, or rather, lick you. You can’t say you didn’t see this coming.

“I promise I got enough sleep all through that nasty hurricane,” you counter adamantly. Eclipse looks far from convinced, so you continue on. “Even still, I have a cabin I can always dip inside for a quick nap if need be. Or you can float on your back and snooze with me on top like we usually do. We have the whole day to ourselves, big guy. And besides, I thought you missed me.”

Eclipse releases another series of noises at that, which are just plain mournful, and the flood of insistent reassurance and concern makes you huff and smile.

“I know, I know. I’m just teasing. I think I’m allowed to since I’m currently covered in…” You sniff and then grimace. “Overwhelming fish breath and questionable fluids.”

More snaps and clicks, but none of them are truly offended. Eclipse matches your fake glare easily, and when you playfully stick out your tongue, his mouth curls with a croon, and he slithers his own tongue back out again.

You hastily retreat, hands lifting.

“Woah, there! Okay, message received. Put that thing back where it came from, or so help me, I’ll turn this boat around.”

Your friend blows out a warm gust of air that just heightens the sticky feeling all over your body, and your arms drop as the mer retracts his appendage with rampant amusement. Clearly, your threat was too transparent to be taken with any modicum of seriousness. Not that you expected Eclipse to believe it for a second anyways. He knows just how much you’ve been aching to see him, and even without the words to verbalize it, he’s showing how much he’s missed you too. You haven’t missed the little display of the fins and frills around his head upon his arrival. They’ve been fluttering since you first spoke, a subtle indicator of your friend’s elated state.

Maybe it’s in a sign of good faith or repentance, but Eclipse gingerly rests a large hand palm-up on your boat right next to you. An offer. You consider the translucent webbing between the smooth surface of his digits like it houses a tremendously difficult question you don’t already know the answer to. A few moments you spend hemming and hawing in exaggeration, and to his credit, Eclipse waits patiently—hopefully—for you to hop on, the ocean churning noticeably from the swishing of his powerful tail.

You give a plaintive sigh.

“I suppose I can acquiesce this one request,” you say, snickering at the uncontrollable, excited thumping against the side of your boat from Eclipse’s fins.

He eagerly curls and uncurls his fingers as you step around the sprawled drape of the scarlet frills that adorn his wrist, planting your hands first on his palm and then crawling across until you’re seated in the middle. You’ve learned from experience that it’s best to remain off your feet when being lifted if you want to retain your balance. Eclipse will never let you fall and would almost certainly help you to remain standing if you wobbled, but sitting down for the little ride grants you a bit more stability.

With the utmost care, the mer hoists you out of your boat and over to him. He nuzzles you once more with a soft coo, and then he lowers into the water until only his head and the hand you rest upon aren’t submerged.

You smile up at him.

“Thanks, big guy, but I’m already wet, so I might as well wash this off.”

Eclipse churrs and sinks a little deeper so that the water just laps over his palm. You pat him in appreciation, and he curiously watches as you begin to cup the ocean in your hands and rinse your face and then scrub at your body.

It doesn’t take long to get to a somewhat reasonably clean state again, though you doubt anything in Eclipse’s saliva would be truly harmful to you. The pungent smell, however, might be downright criminal, and that’s saying something because you’ve been around fish for years. But at the end of the day, it’s worth it because it’s still part of your friend, and you wouldn’t change anything about him.

Once the sticky substance has washed away, you lean back on your hands, and Eclipse’s large fingers press protectively at your back. His contentment is visible in the shine of glowing yellow and the peaceful glaze of his languid movements. He floats in place next to your boat with the waves barely disturbing him. The magnitude of his size strikes you yet again despite how much time you’ve spent at his side all these years. Maybe the separation brought on by the storm afflicted your memory of his stature, but you don’t mind the awe that fills you at the leviathan or how small you suddenly feel in his grasp.

You’ve never been safer in the claws of a mer, and that will never fail to warm your heart.

Eclipse trills at the emotions shared through your bond, and with a melted expression, he draws you closer. You are gently deposited atop his chest, and once you’re sure of your footing, you approach his beaming maw. The mer meets you halfway, and when your arms embrace him as much as they can, he releases a slow breath that chases away any chill from the water.

Together, you stay like that in the quiet stillness of dawn, the first cracks of light just kissing the horizon. The world is waking up once more, and you have been given the best greeting of all. After days of restlessness and anxiety and longing, your mind is finally at ease. It’s a serenity that touches your soul, mirroring the same peace from your friend.

Sometimes, a shadow of a terrible memory graces your consciousness, and phantoms of ghastly yellow and purple snap at you. Those awful, living nightmares have grown less obtrusive as the months have passed, fading ever steadily with the more time you spend on the waves with Eclipse. You know you are safe now. There are some things that take more than reassurance to overcome, however, set off by triggers that you’re still learning to pinpoint, but with time and exposure to the sea that is a second home to you, the initial flinching and brief bursts of fright will diminish.

Eclipse’s presence has been grounding all the while. He’s stuck with you through every crest and trough, understanding your inner turmoil better than any explanation you could try to come up with. He’s felt your fear and pain and determined that it’s now his to bear as well if it means it will bring you comfort and recovery sooner. The memories are no less horrible for him too, and you occasionally catch a glimpse of his remembrance of prying apart serrated jaws and reaching for your frantic form.

It’s a shared burden between the two of you. You will see it through together.

A shiver that can’t be blamed on the breeze travels through your body.

Sensing the direction of your thoughts, Eclipse curls his webbed hand even more so around your comparatively smaller frame, like he’s letting you know that he won’t ever let anything take you away from him again. A quiet purr vibrates from his chest, and he nudges you with his cheek until you look up at him again. His scales are creased with worry, but you pet one of his claws to reassure him.

“I’m alright, big guy. I’ve got you here, don’t I?”

Better words couldn’t have been chosen as your leviathan chitters in agreement. The sound soothes the worries of your mind, chased by the fearsome predator who has become your protector. You enjoy the intimate moment with him and the heart-skipping way he stares at you leaning into his grasp.

But that’s all abruptly broken by a thunderous growl that shakes through your feet.

In an instant, Eclipse looks mightily embarrassed, and you flash a grin.

“Someone’s hungry,” you tease, tapping your foot to indicate the petulant thrum that had come from his stomach further down.

The mer shakes water off his frills like a dog, sniffing the air and frowning before his pupils constrict, and his head snaps downward and off to the side at the water. It would seem he’s already locked on to a potential prey. You wonder if he’s about to tear off in the direction of said prey, but Eclipse tips his head back over at you, frills twitching with anticipation. He then taps the tip of a finger at your stomach in question.

You do your best to keep your smile from twisting.

“Not quite a fan of eating raw fish, thanks. This one’s all you, buddy.”

Eclipse emits a distinct whine at your refusal, rays drooping.

“I’ll eat later, promise. It’s still early for breakfast anyways. But I guess I could always just take a chomp out of you if you want me to eat fish so bad, huh?”

Three rapid clacks of sharp teeth are your answer, Eclipse pretending to snap them at you instead like maybe he’ll take a nibble out of you, and you giggle at the fake threat. He squints at you, supposedly very intimidating, you’re sure. His fins flap against the surface of his water much like his tail, and the loud whoosh of air from his gills sounds like a heavy sigh.

“Adorable,” you remark, and Eclipse puffs, his ray-like frills expanding like an orange peacock. “Yes, yes, you’re very big and scary. Now go catch your breakfast, you oversized guppy.”

An aggrieved grumble from the mer shakes through your body, and Eclipse sinks into the deep, pausing long enough to make sure you’re treading water easily enough on your own once you’re submerged.

You give him a little wave, legs swishing beneath you, and a flash of warmth stirs in your chest in response from him.

The giant mer disappears from sight rather quickly, likely sensing the direction his prey has swam off to. He won’t be gone long. You’re confident in his hunting abilities, and the only times it takes awhile are when he’s feeling playful and turning it into a game.

Without the support of your friend to keep you afloat, you paddle over to your boat to conserve your energy. A quick climb up your ladder, and you’re aboard once more and perusing the still water-logged floor with a shake of your head. Your mild disapproval is countered by a sense of indignation within your core from the mer far below.

Not my fault.

Even when he’s focused on hunting, he’s always got to get his two cents in. You snort and step across the slick surface into your cabin.

While food isn’t exactly on your mind right now, you do find something special in sharing a meal together, so you decide to rummage through your kitchenette for a small snack. There are some granola bars you’ve stashed in a cabinet exactly for this reason, so after snagging one, tearing off the wrapper, and disposing the trash in the bin so you won’t have to worry about it later, you shuffle back outside.

The sun is still in its infancy, but the thin streams of light are already casting a new layer of warmth. The streaks of burnt orange remind you of your beloved mer, rippling across the darkly painted sky. Minutes trickle by with nothing but nature for miles, allowing your thoughts to meander. As you take in its beauty, you’re reminded of its resilience and how it will continue to exist long after you’ve passed. The sun will continue to rise and set; the waves will continue to crash and roll and traverse the world. It makes you wonder, head tipping up to admire the stars, what it will be like one day when your and Eclipse’s time comes to an end. There is assurance in that you will go together, bound so intrinsically as mer and human. Such an occurrence is far down in the future, barely conceivable when you have so much life left to live with Eclipse, but as you stand under the starlight’s ever watchful gaze, you muse quietly.

Will you trade a life on the water for an eternity in the stars? Will the galaxies become your new waves, the constellations your new islands? What will it be like to explore the great expanse that rivals even your tremendous ocean?

Your vision shuts to the ethereal light, and you feel the answer in your soul that returns from the leviathan himself.

Harmony. It will be harmony, entwined with you and him forever singing that sweet song that ties you in scarlet thread.

Smile warmer than the sleepy sun, you’re not at all surprised when you hear a splash and open your eyes to see your close friend next to your boat again, waiting patiently for you to emerge from being lost in thought. His tender love is palpable, resonating from deep within your chest and guiding you over to him. As you near, you notice the edge of a tail fin poking out of his maw, and a snicker escapes you.

“Breakfast was successful, I take it?”

Eclipse hums and then in a perfectly unnecessary act opens his mouth to show you just how big of a catch he got. His rows of teeth have expertly speared the swordfish, and while impressive, you know why he’s showing off.

You hold up a hand dismissively.

“Yeah, still not happening.” You wave your granola bar under Eclipse’s dissatisfied scrutiny when he seals his maw shut in suspicion. “I found something else to munch on instead. Extra nutritious. You want some?”

Eclipse hisses like you personally offended him, and you bite back a laugh as you break off a piece of your snack and toss it in your mouth. Last time you tried to feed him some of your “nasty human food,” he wheezed and spat out the microscopic morsel and then proceeded to drag his claws against his tongue like you’d terrorized his tastebuds. He’s so goofily dramatic when it comes to most of your meals and snacks that don’t involve seafood, and he plays it up extra just for you because you adore his theatrics. You know as much because you’d asked him once why he’d reacted that way, and he’d answered with a photographic memory of your face flushed from laughter and your arms clutching your stomach from a time not too long prior.

Needless to say, your cheeks had immediately turned hot yet again, that time for a different reason, and you’d tried and failed to brush off Eclipse’s endeared cooing at your fluster.

He’s such a rascal. Wily prankster of a mer. You more than cherish him.

Taking another bite of your snack, you lean against the railing while Eclipse begins to chew on his meal. You know that one fish won’t be enough to feed a mer his size, but it’ll at least be enough to stave off his hunger for a little bit. The warmth in your core tells you Eclipse isn’t eager to leave your side for longer than necessary. He’s just as intent on companionship as you are.

Swallowing the mouthful of granola, you say, “I brought my pan flute with me again. Maybe we can give your song another shot later today?”

A tremendous purr rumbles across the waves. At the same time, the contentment behind your sternum spikes, and you sigh happily.

“I think I’ve got the first part down,” you add. “It’s what follows after that I’m struggling with, so it’s a good thing I’ve got such a talented conductor to help me.”

Eclipse’s delight transforms to a small grumble with an undertone of disapproval. His tail whacks the water behind him, and the giant mer gives you a disbelieving, reprimanding look.

Talented yourself.

Not expecting that, you smile sheepishly and chuckle a little.

“Thanks. I don’t mean to make it sound like I’m downplaying my abilities. Although your song isn’t exactly made for human lungs, you know.”

Dark pupils roll.

Siren song, comes the dry rebuttal. Natural. Weak human lungs.

You blow a raspberry.

“I’ll have you know I’ve got rather strong lungs for a human! And I can hold air for a long while too, which is why I’m even able to keep up with those drawn-out notes of yours.”

By this point, Eclipse has finished swallowing the fish he caught, and the bumpy texture of his burgundy tongue flicks dangerously across his teeth. The air charges with his intrigued hum, and you can sense your mistake the second you catch the mischief in his stare. Orange and crimson fins flutter, and a colossal maw nears until it hovers inches in front of you.

You’re already taking a cautious step back when the thought flashes in your head, one that is not your own.

Let’s test it then, the susurrous taunt curls around your mind, snaking like a low voice against the shell of your ear, and the blur of an arm is too fast for you to dodge.

“Eclipse!” you shriek with a laugh as the leviathan gently but gleefully snatches you up from your boat and brings you back into the water.

Your meager granola bar is lost to the waves and fish, but it barely catches your notice as the smug mer yet again deposits you on his chest, sinking onto his back with almost-feline elegance. The frills surrounding his face fan out like a blood-orange sunflower as they float in the water. Eclipse’s lower arms begin to lightly pedal across the waves, circling but not straying you and him too far from your boat. With his other hands, he keeps them cupped around you, preventing you from slipping off or getting away.

You know what he wants, can read his intent in the quiver of anticipation rebounding from your core that sings with the desire to dive. But the large mer is waiting for your approval first, not wanting to take you under without checking in regardless of his former tease. The considerate patience chases away the tepid air and flushes your heart with something even hotter.

Your smile is small and appreciative.

“Of course, I don’t mind taking a swim with you. I’ve gotta prove my little human lungs can outlast yours, right?” You pat against his chest. “Show me what you’ve got, big guy.”

Sharp teeth glisten wetly, Eclipse giving a hearty chortle at your challenge. His translucent fins catch the sunlight just as it skips across the indigo waves and reaches you, creating speckles of white gold atop every crest. Eclipse waits for you to take a few deep breaths in preparation, your lungs filling with air until you give him a nod. With a sweet smile, the mer begins to tip backward, sinking headfirst underwater with his hand cupping you all the while as you take the plunge together.

The water is bitterly cold the moment it touches your skin, and you instinctively squeeze your eyes shut at first as the ocean swallows you whole. But you’ve nothing to worry about in the grasp of your friend who keeps you clutched to a warm chest, the beating of his heart strong under your form even with layers of muscle between you and it. The steady thrum is like a lullaby setting your mind at ease, and soon, the flash of nervousness at diving dissipates like it was never there to begin with.

A soft whisper of your name, wrapped in endless patience, coaxes you with a singular want. You feel a second arm slipping behind you, the first slipping lower, which is followed by a large palm spreading at your back and prickling at the strands of your floating hair, covering your entire frame with its size. In careful slowness, you dare to peek through just a crack despite the salty sting of the ocean. You want to see, just for a moment, and the second you do, you are so delighted you took the risk.

The brightness of the sun does not yet penetrate the surface of the deep, but it casts enough light to turn the ocean into an underwater paradise basked in violet hues.

Upside down, you and Eclipse float in the beautiful display of color that transitions from light to dark, the expanse above your head an incredibly rich sapphire. With every swish of his tail and flap of his frills, Eclipse creates a plume of bubbles that catch the thin light in this flipped world. Your legs curl tightly around his slick frame as much as possible, and a bountiful rumble erupts from your friend. He embraces you until there is no room left to spare, and your arms do their best to wrap around him as much as possible.

Golden eyes shine like pure light in the dim purple glow that is incrementally turning lavender while the sun climbs. Eclipse purrs greatly so that you can hear it even underwater. His heart pounds next to yours, a duet not unlike the song that the mer has sung for you since life was still so new to you and him. Age has not withered the exceptionality of it, but it has made you yearn for it all the more. You doubt you will ever stop longing to be close to Eclipse, and you can feel in your chest that he is much the same for you.

Suspended in place in the arms of your closest friend, you find breathing becomes meaningless. The separation that had kept you trapped on your small island and away from him is no more. Finally, you are together again, reunited under a fading starlit sky and within the pleasant rocking of a calm ocean. Home, at last.

Once your lungs begin to ache, your eyes slip shut, and your smile grows when Eclipse presses his to yours. You happily nuzzle him right back, content to just hold each other like this in the morning quiet where nothing and no one disturbs you. The graze of his frills tickles your cheeks while he keeps you close. You stroke the ones you can reach at the sides of his head, and your movement is mirrored by the light carding of a claw through your hair and along the base of your scalp. The intimacy of it threatens to bring tears behind your eyelids, but any and all drops are carried away by the ocean when your eyelashes flutter with your cautious squint.

Eclipse rubs his scaly cheek against yours for a quick, last nuzzle. Though you’d prefer to remain suspended upside-down like this beneath the waves with him, your friend has your preservation on the front of his mind, and he sweeps his tail in a powerful stroke that rights you and him and brings you back to the suncatcher waves.

A prism of droplets sprays across the surface when you’re brought back up to blessed air that your lungs greedily take back in. After a hasty brush of your hand, you blink away the remnants of saltwater. Your lips twitch.

“I think I definitely outlasted you this time, big guy,” you playfully boast.

Scarlet fins flutter in amusement. Eclipse snorts.

If you say so, sea star.

You hum and tap a finger indecisively, rubbing one of his sharper points against your thumb.

“Well, I might be persuaded otherwise. I guess we won’t know unless we try again, will we?” Your smile flirts on the edge of a grin, but what Eclipse returns with next is enough to stun you.

If that is what you wish. Wherever you want to go, the ghost of an answer dances along your consciousness, I will follow.

His amber gaze is flooded with a softness that makes your heart quicken while you’re choked by nothing related to the air you breathe.

It’s funny, you think, how the universe works. To think that you would find your lifelong partner, someone who fits with you like a puzzle piece, out among the waves. Like you were made for each other, regardless of species or place or form.

Here in the embrace of your soulmate, you’ve found everything you need.

Eclipse warbles in surprise when you lean up and press a kiss to his forehead. There, you linger, shutting your gaze to the caress of his silky frills and the salty tang of his home filling your nose. The arms holding you wrap tighter, a third and fourth finding purchase around any part of you that isn’t covered like he can’t touch enough of you.

Your drenched hair runs rivulets down your cheeks, hiding the evidence of your pure happiness that wells inside you and sneaks past wet eyelashes. A faint sound stirs from the leviathan, dipping into a low tune that makes you bury your face in his precious rays and quietly sing along with him his siren call.

You don’t end up ever really responding to his avowal, but you think Eclipse understands you all too well. Locked together like this, you greet the morning as a reunited pair while the memories of a troubled past float away on the seafoam to break on a distant shore.

#*waves* hi Naff! hi Meep!#eclipse x reader #in deep dreams between the waves au #in deep dreams between the waves fanfic #fnaf sb #writing tag #mermay au #mer!eclipse #so I wrote 90% of this on the day Meep posted that breathtakingly gorgeous art #and then life got absolutely nuts for me for like 3 weeks straight #so I didn't have time to write at all until today asklkgjld #also here's a very random fun fact:#the whole time I was writing this #the Land Before Time II soundtrack kept playing in my head #anyone know that one scene from when the two T. rexes reunite with their baby and press their heads together like a happy family?#that scene and the music that plays during it is all I could think of while writing this because Meep's art just reminded me of it so much #I hadn't even heard it since I was a child but writing this just reawakened a core memory of mine #and that was my favorite movie as a kid so of course I had to write this drabble while listening to the music <3 #sorry for rambling in the tags about something completely unrelated lol #hope everyone is having a good day/night!

202 notes · View notes