#like leave the ending as something that * takes to the grave ya know

[shotmrmiller]

simon isn't a man you take home. he's for the literal streets. dresses like he's homeless because all that matters is that his throwing knives and handguns are pristine. the only reason his home is spotless is because he doesn't live in it, it's all for show. his pantry has only salt and mouse traps, his fridge a long expired bottle of ketchup and something that if anyone ate, they'd gain superpowers.

he's got a crazy look in his eye, and who can blame him after all that shit he's been through? gut-wrenching betrayal, unimaginable torture, then buried alive shoulder to shoulder with his ol rotting buddy, ol decaying pal? he joined the military a butcher's apprentice, and now he's an echo of what simon riley used to be, a fading silhouette that wanders the corridors in base. a ghost.

he has to play music whenever he's not at work just to keep the screaming voices in his head at bay, and it has to be loud enough to drown out the incessant high-pitched ringing in his ears. a cacophony of noise that wears his thin string of patience into in-existence.

he's a killer, he's a man who's donned his skull mask for so long that he's forgotten the face underneath.

you don't bring a man like him home. and when you eventually did, even your parents had agreed.

he looks one clown short of a circus.

he hovers over you like a ghost. (ha)

possessive, obsessive, paranoid.

he'll kill you if you try to leave him.

simon heard everything, not like they had tried to keep their voice down. it hadn't really mattered to him, empty words pelting knotted flesh only a sharpened knife could cut through. but you hadn't taken any of it.

his little hero, coming to his defense. it'd been the first time- in a long time- that his icy cold, tiny heart skipped a beat.

simon's always been his own savior. he saved himself from the shit life he had with his family by joining the army. he'd clawed his way out of his own grave, freshly turned soil stuck under his fingernails for weeks. he'd gone after the head of roba, in the name of vengeance. even now, he's a part of the justice league, the task force 141.

unsung heroes.

and here you were, standing in your parent's kitchen, all bared teeth and scalding temper- over him.

simon's so aroused that when he rises from where he's seated, he sways on his feet. there's no stopping him from briskly walking over to you and hoisting you up and over his shoulder, heading for the door.

there's no stopping him from throwing you into the backseat, and climbing in after.

you weakly try to stop him with stammered words, just wanting to know what the fuck he's doing but when simon starts to impatiently undo the button of your jeans, his confined manhood pushing up underneath you, it clicks.

you don't want him to stop when the calloused pad of his thumb rubs your slippery clit with expertise, thick fingers curling inside your swollen cunt.

you definitely don't want him to stop when his cock slides through your slick folds, his hand wrapped around his thick base. his tip pushes inside, mild discomfort already flaring. gravity then does the work, slowly sinking you onto him until his thighs are flush against your arse. the sweet, decadent burn of him splitting you in half sparking your nerve endings alight, from the waist to your knees.

you beg him not to stop when he fucks you in earnest; desire, sticky and wet, dampening the coarse trimmed hair of his cock. the air inside the truck muggy, heavy and thick with sex. he places his hand under your navel, right when he knows he is, and grunts when he gently presses down. the noises coming from you and your sodden pussy are obscene, lewd, downright vulgar and he wonders if you'd let him record it- to replace the banal music he usually listens to.

your breath hitches beautifully, and simon makes sure to watch how you let go of his shoulder to weave that hand downward to take yourself over the edge.

"impatient little pet, can't even wait f'me to get ya there, eh?" the low chuckle he lets out is cut short at the feeling of your slick walls fluttering around him, making him groan. he keeps his sharp gaze on you when your body tenses, back arching as you jerk fast, little circles over your pearl. he plants his feet and begins to thrust upward, your weight nothing to his strength and-

how beautiful you look in the pleasure he brings you.

it's cliche, truly, that he comes when you do, but he couldn't care less in this instance. your cunt squeezes him like a silken fist, a tight vice that milks his cock almost painfully so. his grip around your waist is bruising, but it only adds to the sensation- the delightful bite of pain prolonging your pleasure.

the base of his spine tingles from his climax, and his breathing is ragged. alive. your hands skim the wide breadth of his chest, as if brushing off the dirt he'd once been buried under.

his little hero.

you took him home, so now he takes you to his.

(...don't look in the kitchen, pet.)

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #ghost smut #ghost x reader

[coupleoffanfics]

Hey, it’s almost 1am and I’m riding the angst train I wanted to ask ur opinion on something.

How would the fam react to Y/n getting grievously I hired or dying by the hands of a villain or by Jeremiah and getting caught in the crossfire???

❤️❤️❤️

I'm so glad that people like reading my stuff. It's more self-indulgent, but what fanfic isn't self-indulgent?

Anyway, I'm so excited by seeing this ask because it sounds fun to write about. Let's start with the "less" angsty one. y/n getting gravely injured (I'm assuming that's a typo) by a villain.

TW: Mention of suicidal ideation once and gore.

Getting Gravely Injured by a Villain

It'd depend on the Villain. The family is going to act accordingly in their personas. Their punches are probably hitting harder than usual.

Jason might shoot the villain in the head, but ultimately can't. He's in Gotham following the Bat's rules slightly. So he'll just shoot their knee.

y/n isn't Batgirl anymore. So that means the villain must know the publicity they'll get by attacking, kidnapping, or holding a minor celebrity would give them. The fact that it's Bruce Wayne's daughter who's painted out to be a saint by the media would spread like wildfire. They'd have to be doing it to get attention or money.

How severely y/n was harmed doesn't matter too much. Bruised, broken bones, stabbed, etc are going to make the family more protective. Trying to persuade y/n into coming back to the manor, so that they can keep her close and prevent this from happening again.

Now the Valeska twins will differ in how y/n gets hurt and their reaction.

Jerome is like a child on a sugar high when with y/n. Wouldn't deliberately harm her in any way. Kidnaps y/n and go on a joy ride around the city even though she has no choice and isn't finding any joy from this. She'll probably get a scrape on her legs or arms from falling because Jerome is running too fast while he is holding her arm. Maybe have a bruised arm or wrist because of how tightly he holds her.

He doesn't think too much about things and will get into dangerous situations. Pick a fight or mock the wrong person leading to a shootout. He's having too much fun to care about anyone until y/n is hit.

One of the family members finally caught up to Jerome and was ready to— oh, my God y/n is bleeding from her side! Oh, fuck! AHHH! Jerome knows he can leave y/n in the hands of whatever bat family member showed up. She'll be in good hands while he hunts down the one who shot her.

"I know you're one of the 'good guys', but take care of her. If I hear that you did something that upsets her I'll— actually, I'll keep that a surprise." He looks at y/n who is just bleeding on the floor and in pain with a big ol’ smile. "I'll make sure to give you the head of that fucker who got you. Until then see ya later, toots!"

After that y/n is forced to stay in the manor. They made a deal that it would just be a few weeks, but her stay is indefinite.

Bruce

Opens the door one day to find a large box. It wasn't a delivery because it has no shipping information on it. Just an envelope with y/n's name on top of it. Bruce opens the envelope first and reads the letter which has poor handwriting.

Hey, doll!

Hope you're resting up and not in too much pain. I didn't think picking on a mob boss would get so messy. They just couldn't take a joke. I'll pick a more private place for our next date cuz I know how shy you are. Hope seeing them brightens your day. Made sure to get rid of the eyes since I know how you don't like too many eyes on you. Didn't know who shot you, so I just killed everyone who was there.

Love Jerome.

Bruce doesn't need a minute to take things in. He already knows what's in the box and sends it to the authorities. Does not mention a word of this to y/n. She is already going through a lot and best to not tell her.

He does increase the security around the manor. He ends up putting a tracker on y/n because knowing where she is the only way to keep him from worrying.

This further solidifies that she needs to be in their protection to keep this mentally disturbed boy away. The whole thing is twisted but the line "a more private place" bothers him the most. He's not letting his daughter be alone with Jerome longer than she already has.

Dick

It's early in the morning and Dick wanted to check up on how y/n doing. As he walks up to the manor there's a large box sitting in front of the door. A letter sits on top of it with y/n's name on it. Rips up the envelope and begins reading the letter.

Once Dick was done reading, he looked down at the box. Noticing dried blood around the box. This makes him nauseous and immediately goes to Bruce to inform him. They sent it to authorities so they could identify the heads in the box.

He doesn’t tell y/n or the others about this. Everyone is already in a frenzy from the events prior, so it seemed best to keep this between him, Bruce, and Alfred.

"Made sure to get rid of their eyes," Dick isn't sure why that sticks with him. Maybe it's because he wonders if Jerome beheaded them or took out their eyes first. It doesn't matter though because he needs to keep his little sister safe.

Barbara

Doesn't even want to go near it, checks that there isn't a bomb in there waiting to explode. She takes one peek in the box and immediately looks away. Does not read the letter because what was in the box said what needed to be said. Informs the whole family and that sets the mood for the day.

She checks up on y/n after telling everyone. The poor girl is so overwhelmed by everything that she doesn't want to be around anyone. Spends most of the day with y/n, trying to cheer her up. Get sweets since that's y/n weakness and sugar releases dopamine. She has Alfred cook y/n's comfort food.

The day is meant to help release all of the stress. Barb wasn't sure if it was working until y/n said thank you before going to bed. Barb makes a promise to herself that she'll become better at shielding y/n from this type of depravity.

Jason

Can tell who this is from just by the envelope. y/n's name with little hearts around it. Shoves it into his pocket, he'll give it to y/n when he sees her. Opens the box to be hit with a familiar disgusting odor. Looking inside there are 3 heads. Recognizes one of them being a mod boss he has on his list for a while now.

Jason wasn't sure what to expect, but it wasn't this. He pulls out the envelope and tears it open to get some sort of context. Reading the letter left him unsettled and a little…satisfied? Grateful maybe? For taking care of those who harmed y/n even though it was entirely Jerome's fault that this happened in the first place.

Closes the box and informs the whole family of what he found. Everyone is put more on edge. y/n isn't allowed out of the manor for a few days. y/n is upset by the news and she’s more quiet the following days.

Jason almost wants to laugh at, "They just couldn't take a joke." Bets that these" jokes" were just thinly veiled threats and pointing a gun at them. He probably would have snickered if this didn't involve y/n.

Tim

All he wanted to do was check the mail. Now he's reading a sort of love letter written by a psycho and looking down at the heads that could not look back at him. Their empty eye sockets had- ugh, God there was so much blood.

Debates on whether he should tell y/n about this, but ends up telling her. There was no point in hiding it because she'll probably find out one way or another. Sees the guilt and horror flash across her face. Wants to comfort her as much as he can, but all she does is detract from him. Of course, when Barb opens her arms y/n jumps into them. What happened to them always being there for each?

Doesn't like, "our next date", one bit. He doesn't like the insinuation or the thought of it. He starts keeping his eyes peeled for Jerome and ears open if anyone has information on where he is or going. The sooner he's in Arkham the safer y/n is from him and going on that next date.

Damian

Not impressed. The delivery was lazy and the writing was so sloppy that he almost couldn't read it. The heads must have been cut with a butter knife with how unclean and jagged the cut is. Every unprofessional. Nonchalantly brings this up at the table during breakfast. Not even when everyone is finished, just right in the middle of it.

Never really had respect for a villain or any, but the whole "Didn't know who shot you, so I just killed everyone" was almost respectable. Damian having a speck of respect doesn't mean he likes Jerome. Still thinks he's stupid and annoying.

He'd give him a 3/10 for the delivery and would not order again.

Per-Spray Jeremiah isn't going to do anything, but Post-Spray Jeremiah is a different story. Will break one of y/n's arms or legs just so that she can't get away from him too easily. Though that's going to the extreme, he's more likely to guilt trip her. Getting into her head isn't hard and more effective.

"I thought you loved me. You were the one who always said you loved me. y/n, who has been here for you the most and always will? Not your best friend, Norah, she's leaving you behind and you know it. Not your family because they never cared about you in the first place. No one will love you like I do. You need me, y/n."

By the time the family saves y/n and brings her back to the cave for medical attention. She's consumed by guilt and almost believes she deserved any harm done to her. Will cry to Barb about this and only Barb.

Concerned by this revelation Barb will tell the whole family. Bruce is worried as it's clear that y/n's mental state is worsening. He knew that it would be after bad being kidnapped by Jeremiah, he just didn't think it would be this bad. Bruce and Tim have the same idea to get y/n another therapist if she's still not seeing one.

Jason and Damian are mad that y/n would think that she deserves any pain. Jason is kinda, sort of, not really more understanding about the whole thing than Damian. He gets how she could feel that she failed Jeremiah. If she has revealed that they had been dating and she can't or won’t give up on him, everyone is conflicted and concerned.

Dick has had the most romantic relationships and will try to convince y/n that Jeremiah is a lost cause now. Leading her to a spiral into a depressive episode. Oops!

If y/n is on the verge of death the family freaking the fuck out. Slowly recovers at the manor and convinces her that staying with them is the best thing for her. Depending on if her injury is life-threatening or not will determine how cooperative she is.

Getting Killed by a Villain

Doesn't matter who it is Jason is shooting them on the spot. Though with how emotional and choked up he's getting, he'll probably miss. Damian would react the same way if his whole body didn't stop upon seeing y/n's lifeless eyes. He doesn't want to step near her to see if it was true that he lost his sister.

Bruce, Dick, and Tim will force themselves to act professionally. They're still in their hero personas and killing was a strict no. If the whole family is there then whoever killed y/n is getting a beating of their life.

It could also depend on who's at the scene. Bruce and Dick hold on to the moral code that killing is wrong. This will prevent any further killings from happening.

Damian and Jason would probably end up killing the villain after seeing y/n's corpse. They know it's not going to bring back y/n, but what else can they do except making the villain to pay their debt?

Tim teeters between the lines. If Bruce or Dick is there then he's on their side of not killing. If it's just Damian and/or Jason then he won't stop them. He won't participate just stands back to let them do their thing.

Depending how and when she died will weigh heavily on their mind. Quick and painless before they got there? At least she didn't have to suffer too much, but still keeps them up at night.

Tortured for hours before succumbing to her injuries? They already feel guilty that they couldn't save her on time, but her last hours of living was being in pain will only intensify it. Out of the whole family, Jason would probably be the most distraught by this. He reopens old wounds and memories. y/n meeting a similar end is horrifying to him.

Get there on time, but it’s too late to save her from her injuries. Then slowly dies in their arms. If they're all there then y/n is dying in Bruce's arms.

"Please tell Jeremiah, I'm sorry and- and that I love him. Tell Norah that I hope s-she achieves her dreams of becoming a doctor. Are- are you still there? I can't see or feel you." She can slightly hear Bruce's deep voice while what seems to be the others are screaming. It's getting harder to hear and her body is starting to feel heavier.

This is the end and everyone knows it. Jason, Tim, and Dick don't want to accept it and are trying to patch her wound(s). Trying to get help there as soon as possible. Bruce and Damian are quiet trying to listen to her soft voice get quieter.

y/n starts slightly laughing, it's a nervous tick. "I always fantasize about having enough courage to end it all. Bu-but I- fuck. I'm such a fuck up." She starts crying and any words of comfort are either not heard or ignored. Starts coughing blood, but that doesn't deter Bruce in the slightest. Damian squeezes her hand though he doubts she can feel it.

"I don't even feel the pain anymore…At least I…At least I'm not dying alone." It isn't long before she stops breathing.

Alternatively, I thought of y/n saying, "I wished I was surrounded by loved ones." But she wouldn't stay that no matter how angry she is at the family. Might think it though.

In both cases of the Valeska twins, y/n would be caught in the crossfire. Jerome isn't going to kill y/n because she's his one and only. Jeremiah isn't going to kill y/n because why would he kill his wife? He's already planned out most of their whole lives and she already signed the mentally fabricated marriage certificate.

Jerome gets into a frenzy seeing y/n drop dead. No one is spared from his wrath. He can't bring himself to look at her body and will just leave. Inactive for a short time before getting back into the swing of things.

She is buried next to Jason. The family will catch Jerome hanging around her grave "talking to her" or something. Who knows what the hell he's doing. They'll have to chase him off or turn on the sprinklers if they want him to leave.

He didn't kill her himself, but he's still responsible for the events leading up to it. Meaning the family isn't going to pull back any punches.

Post-Spray Jeremiah has a similar reaction to y/n's death. Honestly, y/n could have died by just jumping in front of him to take a bullet. Doesn't matter how much y/n should hate him, she can't bring herself to. Ultimately it doesn't matter how she died, Jeremiah will blame Batman or the others for their inability to save y/n. Deflecting any responsibility.

This reinforces that he has to destroy Gotham and make it into his perfect image. y/n always talked about wanting to make the world a better place and that's exactly what he's doing.

If she dies in his arms he'll make a quick escape with her body. Having Echo hold back everyone to buy him time. Buries y/n in an undisclosed location and the tombstone will stay y/n Valeska instead of l/n or Wayne.

If he knew of the family's identity, he'd make subtle jabs at them. Mocking them for their mishandling of y/n. When or if he takes over Gotham he'll make sure that they all have front-row seats of the destruction before killing them off.

If he's feeling ruthless he might just have one of his followers get plastic surgery to look like y/n. Even change the pitch of their voice to get close enough to y/n's. Then send the follower after them and make various claims about how they lied about caring about her. How they let her die on purpose. That she'll never forgive them.

Traumatizing the whole family. Will make his follower's death gruesome just fuck with them and have them relive that day.

Bruce regrets not having kept y/n closer. He has a lot of 'should haves’ and 'if only’ in his head. He knows that's not going to do anything, but it'll take a while to accept her death. Always visits her grave every week.

Dick wishes that he'd been a better brother to y/n. He'll often wonder if she's looking down at them from above. Any mention of her will upset him for a while. Tim feels the same as Dick but often finds himself reminiscing about those happy moments. When they're smiling and laughing, once the memory is over he's left feeling melancholy.

Barbara is heartbroken by this. y/n always talked about how she wanted a normal domestic lifestyle. How much she loves Jeremiah and believes that he's the one. Now she's in the dirt and never experienced that simple quiet life she wanted. Carries a photo of y/n and her smiling on her all the time. Believes that y/n is in a better place where she can live out her dreams. One day Barb will see her again and give her a bone-crushing hug.

Jason and Damian think of throwing her body into Lazarus Pit if they have access to her body. Jason seriously thinks of it for only a minute before throwing it out. The pit messed him up and he can't handle bringing y/n back only for her mental turmoil to worsen. Damian doesn't think about that. He wants to apologize for all he's said and done. He wants his sister back, but the family is quick to turn down the idea. Explaining how it could only lead to more pain.

Damian would most likely listen to the family since they're technically right. Although there is a small chance that he wouldn't listen and do it anyway. Right out of the pit, y/n's thinking of her only love. Tries to run back to Jeremiah, but Damian is not having any of that. 

When he returns to the manor with y/n tied up the whole family will have a verbal MMA fight. After that, they lock y/n in a nicely furnished room with hidden security cameras. y/n is like a zombie. Only has one thing, rather one person on her mind. She's a shell of who she once was.

At least they have a second chance, right?

y/n can not go ten minutes without talking or asking about Jeremiah. Will speak with herself if there isn't anyone else with her.

I think this turned out horrible, but hope you enjoyed this. Feel free to ask anything else as my inbox in always open. Also sorry for misspells or grammar mistakes, kinda rushed this.

#batfamily x batsis #batfamily x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #jason todd x reader #richard grayson x reader #dick grayson x batsis #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x batsis #barbara gordon x reader #jerome valeska x batsis reader #jeremiah valeska x batsis reader #gotham x reader #jeremiah valeska x reader #jerome valeska x reader

[delusionalwings]

― synopsis -> your boyfriend sully (satan) takes you to his house to introduce you to his family

― characters -> demon brothers. satan in lead

― gender neutral reader

― scenario

― warnings -> yandere content, using magic on you that makes you unable to move, a character tries to choke you, scaring you, mentions of satan being a toxic boyfriend

― a/n -> hi i am alive. was busy with semester end exams. after sleeping for a few days and relaxing in general, i have regained my motivation to write again :")

You truly didn’t know what to expect when your boyfriend Sully told you that he wanted you to meet his family. You would be lying if you said that you weren’t partly excited about it. Was it not a way of saying that he was serious about you and about what you two had?

When the door to the House of Lamentation creaked open, you shuddered. The place seemed so cold and ruthless, so devoid of humanity that you hesitated before taking the first step inside. It was probably just your imagination. After all, seven grown up working adults could hardly maintain such a large house without help and give it homely feel at the same time too. You reasoned that it was asking for a lot.

When Sully extended his hand with a soft smile, you relaxed and decided to cut his family some slack. You wanted these people to like you so you might as well start by liking them first. Give what you expect back, right?

You smiled and decided to be pleasant as he guided you to the living room.

“Make yourself at home there, [Name],” said Sully, pointing at a comfortable chair. “I will go and find my brothers. Don’t worry, I’ll be back in an instant.”

He kissed you and turned to leave.

You fidgeted uneasily, “Okay... Just... please be quick.”

When he was gone, you looked around nervously. Goosebumps erupted on your skin as the feeling of being watched and assessed washed over you. What was this cold fear that made you immobile?

“You smell nice. I wonder what you taste like,” a voice said from the shadows.

A scream escaped your lips and you were on your feet in an instant.

“Wh-Who? Who’s there?”

“Beel hon, shhh. You are scaring the cute little thing,” another voice chirped. It was a melodious voice but you didn’t notice that under the given circumstances.

You were looking at every direction, trying to discern the source of danger.

“Oiii would ya shuddup?! I am tryna see if the human has anything valuable and with them moving around cause of your chit chat, it’s difficult to notice.”

You realised that you were fixed to the spot. Your throat felt constricted with panic.

Another voice sighed.

“It’s just like Mammon to do what he tells others not to. Now you are the one scaring them, you idiot.”

“Levi, would ya shuddup?!”

Bickering ensued. What was taking Sully so long?

Were they perhaps playing a prank on you? Dear Sully would make an appearance at any time now and tell you that he was just pulling your leg. Right? Somehow you highly doubted that. There was something off about the guy. He was mostly distant but every time you showed signs of questioning the relationship, he would become extremely doting. The timing could not be a coincidence since it happened too frequently for that. He was a grave sort of man and usually used his wit to make you feel like an idiot. When you tried to communicate, he listened and replied as if you were a child who understood nothing. You could see him humiliating you but not in that manner – not when he could make you feel worthless rather than get a mere jumpscare out of you.

You wanted to be anywhere but there. Maybe you should have broken up with that guy long ago. Maybe this wasn’t the sign you so desperately needed to eb together with this guy who made you feel terrible about yourself. Maybe...

“Can you stop thinking so loudly? I am trying to sleep here zzzz”

If you could move, you would have fallen on your butt right then. That voice... It sounded so near you, almost within reach yet your eyes registered no human form.

“Hehe worried that you can’t see me? Lucifer said that it might be more amusing to do it this way. By hiding ourselves, you know? I didn’t do this because he suggested it though. I was always planning to toy with you to see your expression. Hehe can’t say I am not enjoying myself. Satan was right. You really are clueless.”

All at once, you found your voice again. It was like a dam had broken inside and you needed to get it all out.

“Sully? SULLY?! ARE YOU THERE? Are you...” you choked on the words, “Plea... Please SULLY! Please come back-”

On feeling cold hands wrap around your throat, you started gasping for air.

“Shut up, human. Didn’t I tell you that I was trying to sleep?”

“Belphie leave them,” an authoritative voice snarled.

“I don’t take orders from you, Lucifer,” the voice retorted but you felt the presence receding in the darkness again.

Fatigue made you stumble but warm hands caught you before an unfortunate fall on the floor.

“[Name],” a familiar voice murmured. “What happened?”

“Sully!” you felt the corners of your eyes prick. You were saved!

“I am so glad you are finally here,” you wrapped your arms around his neck and cried to your heart’s content. You were finally safe! No, there was no time to be lost. You must get away from that haunted place as soon as possible.

“Sully let us leave this place at once. It’s not... It’s possessed!”

He pulled you away from him gently to stare at you with concern, “What do you mean, [Name]? This is my house. It’s safe.”

“But there’s...” you turned around to point at the origin of the voice that had answered you with infinite hate. However, the darkness was gone and you saw a cold room in its wake. This was not the same room he had left you in.

It just didn’t make sense.

The words got caught in your throat and you scanned the room, dumbfounded.

He sighed and squeezed your arms, “I understand. You are nervous. Don’t worry. It will be fine. My brothers will love you. Okay?”

He did not understand. You needed to make him see.

“But...”

The sound of footsteps cut you short. A smile appeared on his lips as he tugged at your hand.

“Come. I will introduce you.”

Six figures appeared before you and suddenly the chilling fear from a few moments ago was back.

On hearing the brothers greet you, your heart started pounding quickly.

Those voices... There was no mistaking it. You had heard their voices in the dark.

The one who made you especially anxious was the youngest brother Belphegor who you found sleeping on the couch.

How long had he been there?

#obey me #yandere #gender neutral reader #gender neutral mc #obey me yandere #forbidden path #male yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere satan #yandere belphegor #yandere satan x reader #yandere demon brothers #satan x mc #obey me satan x you #obey me scenario

[stridersdiner]

Rancher!Graves likes his bikes.

It took a while for our teenaged Phil to figure out what exactly was wrong with that ol' motorcycle his friend Hank told him about. If only Hank knew he had just unleashed a new obsession that'd follow Phil into adulthood.

Hank's father has had this thing for the better half of a decade, and when it broke down some two years ago, it was doomed to collect dust at his estate. Something about being a wealthy man meant being able to afford such fleeting hobbies, but he was charitable enough to give it to Phil so long as he was willing to put in the work to fix it.

It took months of troubleshooting and tinkering. The spare shed was in disarray; ground littered with spare parts and tools, smears of oil and grease (it was getting hard to tell what was what at this point), and a handful of mechanics guides and books. He had some sleepless nights, fueled by the interlocked hands of want and need shrouding his mind.

He often spent mornings climbing out of the shed and lugging himself onto the school bus, where Hank would give him a knowing look and insist on calling a mechanic from a few towns over to help-

"You can't keep sleeping through English, Phil. My father was only kiddin' about fixing it yourself."

but Phil knew better. Better to get the job done yourself. Feels better that way anyways.

God, was he right. He turned the key with baited breath, eyes wide as the instrument panel lit up. The motor purred to life in an instant, and when he turned one of the handles, it roared. He had never been happier, running his hand over the shiny red fuel tank, the tight upholstered leather seat. He laughed- he yawped. And Pa came rushin' over like he had heard the end of the world start from inside his own shed.

"Philly, what in the world are you doin' makin' this much noise?" "Finally got 'er workin', Pa!"

Pa's panic softened as he took a second to really listen to the motor. He circled the bike, staring down at it and back up at Phil. He was proud, honestly, as he clapped his hand over Phil's shoulder.

"Y'know, Ma didn't actually think you'd be able to fix it up. Think that was the only reason she let ya' have it."

And Phil's smile grew wider.

"I'll jus' tell 'er I'll only ride it into town." "You lyin'?" "Yup-yup."

When Ma found out, it took her nearly a year to come to terms with the fact that her baby boy was riding a motorcycle. Ever the worrywart. She frowned every time she watched him mount the bike, sighing as she watched him put on his helmet (that she made him get) and fix his riding gloves (that she also made him get).

But that bike was his pride and joy for years. He rode it to prom, and his high school graduation ceremony. He wiped it down every other day, and made sure the paint was still shiny. So when that trusty 1985 Honda Shadow finally bit the dust, he was devastated.

Cried real tears, maybe ones worse than when Joey left for the army.

And then picked himself up and started workin' hard to replace it. He drove Pa's ol' truck for the time being.

After a little while, he finally saved up enough to get a brand new bike. Could barely contain himself when Pa drove him to go pick it up- clutching onto his helmet, flipping the visor up and down like a light switch. He was thrilled to be back on a bike, and he practically left Pa in the dust during the ride home. (Phil pulled off to the side of the road to wait because he felt bad for leaving him so far behind.)

Even now, when you finally agree to take a ride with him on his precious bike, he's still just as excited as he was when he first mounted that Shadow back in high school- especially at the feeling of your arms wrapping around his middle and the side of your helmet pressed against his shoulder blade. He loves being close to you. He loves it even more when you're clinging onto him. He takes you out on the bike a lot more now that he knows you're not that scared of it anymore.

Babes that wanted to be tagged:

@mockerycrow @kivi-no

#Rancher AU #Mini. #Remembered that Warren has a motorcycle. #Imagine Phil pulling up on his bike though. #In an Alpinestars jacket. #Or a leather one. Whatever you want. #He flips his visor up to look at you and you can only see the corners of his eyes crinkle. #His smile is so CUTE. #Phillip Graves #cod mw2 #cod mwii #Graves. #Weird progression again #but I'm just so excited about this guy.

[atiyasnake]

Danny phantom dc crossover idea:

Clone at the grave

Idk how but Danny ends up in gotham. Except da boi is a lil messed up. Aspects of his ghost form are peeking through in his human forms.

This inculdes

Green eyes (lowkey glow sometimes)

Some white hair

Some scars he got in Ghost form.

He also has a vivisection scar (could be part of reason he is there). There are also other various scars some that used to only show on his ghost form but are now on his human form, it's overall concerning.

The thing is Danny is also a bit bloody (red blood) and looking like he was in a fight. So he looks for a safe place and what better than to follow some kind ghosts from Gotham's cemetery. He's the King and Gotham (I love sentient ghost/spirit gotham) for some odd reason is like 'I like this kid/king so no spooky shit to hurt him' also in the cemetery I think there is just etiquette for the ghosts to not hurt each other and be respectful seeing as that is their final resting place. Anyways he's led to a grave and to just sit and chill and try to heal or overall not fully die.

Unbeknownst to him, he is sitting on the grave of formally dead Jason Todd. A grave that the bats have some surveillance on cause ya know of course they would have surveillance on an empty grave. So when poor old Danny is chilling there, the bats are made aware. When they look what they see is what honestly looks similar to a dead Jason Todd, albiet a bit smaller and white hair tuft not the exact same. And considering that Jason is very much (sorta) alive and not at the cemetery, they come to the conclusion that 'hey is that a clone?' Which is a very concerning question.

Cue bats taking a trip and coming close to the 'body' cause really it seemed like a dead body. But then Danny moves, opens his eyes and Boom ya got green, eerily close to Lazarus green which only increases their belief that this dude may possibly be some sort of clone.

So we got confused, suspicious, (concerned) bats. And meanwhile Danny is just ??? With seeing these dudes sorta surrounding him in a cemetery where he is still injured.

Now what happens next could go various ways.

They could go on the agressive detain and ask questions later.

There could be a fight.

Danny may use his spooky abilties to disappear.

Danny may simply fall unconscious and leave the bats to deal with him.

Danny could confuse them with sassiness,

OR he could be like 'ayo help would be appreciated'

OR he could be like 'can't a guy chill in a cemetery by himself'.

Overall the possibility of him leaving with the bats or going off by himself is up in the air and really depends on what type of vibes you want in this story.

Some fun things that could be included...

Bats insistent that Danny is a clone while Danny is like 'No'

OR Danny legit going like 'wait really a clone? Tell me more'

Maybe Jason and Danny meet on the street and are just like that Spiderman meme.

OR they meet and are like hey 'dead buddies' type deal

OR they meet and Jason is suspicious and shit

Batfamily members asking why there are two Jasons, wondering why one is smaller and how his hair changes.

Danny hiding from the bats causing confusion and chaos along the way

Hello batfamily adoption, Bruce reputation preceeds him.

Some 👀 when they see the vivisection/autopsy scar (maybe they don't even know its actually a vivisection until later)

Danny's spookiness peaking out more and more

Maybe at some point or something one of the magic users like Zatanna or Constantine encounter Danny and they are def unsettled. Maybe they can't tell he's the ghost king or a halfa but they know something is wrong. Maybe they knew Jason was a bit wonky in the death sense but they are like "this 'clone' is on a whole other level of fucked". This of course makes the bats wanna investigate more about the 'creation' of cloneDanny, wondering what is his purpose and how he came to be Danny and in gotham and why.

Ya know I like to think that Danny never actually tells them he's a halfa. Cause, ya know secrets and also who is he to crush their clone theory dreams.

The thing is, is that they def think Danny is a really spooky and unsettling 'clone'. Seemingly more dead than alive than Jason is. They never have moments where they think Jason is not actually breathing. His eyes seem more glowy green than Jason's and his tuft of hair seems to glow occasionally but so quick that you think it's a trick of the light. He seems so quiet and his 'presence' isn't that of a normal human. Sometimes they forget Danny is close by.

It makes them think of how Jason could have come back.

One thing I think would be present is that Danny is having issues with changing forms which was why they were sorta mixing. So when he finally is able to fully separate and they see his blue eyes, and fully black hair and they turn to Damian and are like 'ya know you two actually look pretty simi-'

So yeah this is an idea I've been in the process of figuring out. Lots of possibilities though, but if anyone also wants to have some fun with this, please do!! Never can have too many cakes after all.

#danny phantom #dc x dp #ghost king danny #dp x dc #clone at the grave au #could be crack or angst or family friendly or chillin #so many ways it could go #i want jason and danny just bonding causing chaos #also spooky danny #like scary danny too #the bats possibly worried that Jason will become more spooky too #fic ideas #fic idea #is this in the same universe if amity park #different dimension #who knows!! #hurt danny though #boi is not having the best time befire arriving in gotham #take that as you will #which means some angst cause ya know gotta have it #my writing #Atiya writes

[thelampisaflashlight]

The Cloudy Sky to Your Sunny Day Pt. 1

[Sunny has never really had a home before. The Sunny angst I mentioned ages ago. Not suitable for younger audiences.] Below the cut.

It's weird, Sunny feels, watching her pack leave the abbey without her.

She's barely known them more than a year, and yet... they're all she has.

All she really knows.

But that doesn't mean she regrets her decision to stay behind, not even a little bit.

After spending most of her first year on the surface bouncing from city to city, Sunny's ready to see what else life has to offer.

At home that is.

And she's not alone in that regard; Looking over at Aether, who's a little misty-eyed but smiling as he watches their friends leave, at least she knows someone else is in the same boat.

Kind of.

Aether's retirement wasn't exactly planned -he'd be on that bus right now himself if he had it his way- but necessary.

Not long after the first leg of the tour, the older ghoul's vessel had begun to rapidly deteriorate for seemingly no reason at all, resulting in a prolonged stay in the infirmary as the staff worked day and night to determine what, exactly, had caused the once lively ghoul to a shell of his former self.

Omega -Aether's mentor and a senior member of the ministry's medical team- couldn't give an exact diagnosis.

"His condition," he had stated gravely, "doesn't have a name, but it is not uncommon in quintessence ghouls. I, too, developed the same illness at one time."

"He has to rest and avoid overexerting himself... Which means, of course, he cannot go back on tour... In fact, with how weak his vessel has grown, I feel he will need to remain on leave indefinitely."

Sunny watches Aether settle onto the low rock wall surrounding the front flowerbeds, letting out a deep sigh.

"Aether-" she starts, but stops herself when Aether pats the stone beside him.

"Sit." he says, "You should take it easy, too."

She hesitates for a moment before taking a seat.

"How are you feeling today?" he asks, and it takes everything she has for Sunny not to blurt out the exact same thing in return.

Why's he asking her how she's doing when he's the one who-

"It's not a contest, Sunflower." Aether says, clearly picking up on her reluctance, "So... how are you?"

Sunny frowns.

"I'm going to miss them." she admits, but when Aether hums in agreement, she can't help but feel a twinge in her chest.

A rotten feeling is starting to pool there around her heart, not that she'll say it out loud.

Something jealous and bitter that's gnawing on her ribcage, and she can't even push it aside now, not when she has plenty of time to unpack it... she just doesn't want to.

"...I'm going to go get some work done today, so I'll see you around lunch?"

Aether pats her knee, "Sounds like a plan."

Truth be told, Sunny's never really had a chance to really stew in her more negative emotions.

Despite all the, well, "Hell" she went through in the pit and the trauma of clawing her way through the portal, she's always kept a smile on her face... for the most part anyway.

It's much easier to squash down those ugly feelings and pretend like she's okay.

Fake it 'til you make it, ya know?

But lately that's been hard, especially when faced with the fact that she is so easily replaceable.

That they were so easily able to find someone smaller, cuter... better... with such short notice.

She doesn't hate Aurora, but her heart had selfishly wished that it would have been at least a little more difficult for the church to find someone else to fill her position.

"So that's how it is." she can recall thinking, "I'm not really that important in the end, huh?"

The others in their pack hadn't even been nearly as upset when she announced she was staying behind as they were when Aether told them.

Sure, they'd known him for longer -for years- but she thought... she thought they were at least a little close by now.

"Whatever," she tells herself, "it's fine."

But it's not.

It's not fine.

Not really.

Sunny's stubborn, she knows; She has too much pride, doesn't like to admit that she wants -needs- to be wanted.

And maybe that's it.

Maybe that's the reason no one does.

They can smell it on her; The desperation.

.

.

.

"I don't get why I have to do this." Sunny says, picking a pebble from the tread of her boots with nimble fingers, "I mean, like, I'm good. Aether's the one you should be talking to."

"I do talk to him" Omega says, leaning back in his office chair, hands folded in his lap, "but that doesn't mean I can't talk to you as well."

"Okay, but, like, I don't need..." Sunny gestures broadly at the room their in, at the motivational posters, the cool toned pastel walls, and the basket of fidget toys beside her, "...whatever this is. I don't- Nothing's wrong with me."

The older ghoul tips his chair back towards the desk and reaches down to open a drawer, removing a thin, yellow folder; Her name is written on the cover in looping cursive handwriting.

"...What's that?" she asks, frowning at the folder, feeling a bit anxious now, "Seriously, what is that?"

Omega holds up a hand, "Nothing yet."

"Yet-"

"Every ghoul that is summoned, transferred to, or born here in the abbey has to go through certain evaluations in order for us to get an idea of who they are and how to best meet their needs." the larger ghoul slides the folder over to Sunny, "You can open it if you'd like."

Sunny picks up the folder and opens it.

"It's kind of... empty." she says, thumbing through the sparse paperwork, "...Why's that?"

"Well, we never really got to speak before you left on tour, which I apologize for. Normally, I would have come and interviewed you right away, got you settled in and given you time to adjust to everything first, but, instead, you got thrust right into the thick of it." Omega explains, "Now that you're going to be home for a while, I thought we might meet now and then to talk about things."

"Things?" Sunny questions, "Like what?"

"Anything you want." Omega offers, "Things you like, things you hate, how you're feeling that day..."

"That's what diaries are for." Sunny huffs, tossing the folder back onto the desktop, "Why would I talk to you about that stuff?"

"Because a diary can't talk back, and while I think journaling is certainly a healthy outlet for your thoughts and feelings, if that's the only way you get them out, it might be beneficial to have someone you can speak to without fear of being judged." Omega says, "And that's what I'm here for."

Sunny clicks her tongue.

"I don't even keep a diary, so..." she waves her hand dismissively, "...Like I said, nothing's wrong with me, so I don't think I need to do this."

"You keep saying that." Omega points out.

"Saying what?"

"That nothing's wrong with you." he says, "Do you think there has to be something wrong with you to be talking to me?"

Sunny shifts in her chair, the toe of her boot squeaking against the glossy hardwood floor as she adjusts herself, "...Kind of."

"Why is that?"

"Psh... 'Cause, like, you don't see a therapist if something's not wrong with you." she mumbles, "And being here means I'm probably, I dunno, nutty or weird, or fucked up somehow and I'm not seeing it or somethin'..."

Omega takes out a small notepad and a pen.

"Let's talk about that then..." he says, "Unless you want to start somewhere else?"

Sunny draws her feet up onto the chair, propping her chin up on her knees.

"I dunno..." she furrows her brow, "...I just feel like, because I'm here right now, I'm... it's like I'm in trouble somehow, and I don't like it."

"And, like, I dunno, I don't like feeling like people can tell I'm different somehow, 'cause I don't feel different, and I thought, ya know, I thought I was doing okay, but I guess not..." she continues, "...I don't even know what I'm doing here, like, in general. I... I'm not in the band anymore, and I wasn't even in it for long, so I should just leave..."

"Do you want to leave?" Omega asks after a moment, and Sunny looks up at him, red eyes drowning in tears yet to spill over.

"I don't want to go...!" Sunny hiccups, "I don't want to go! I want to stay! But I'm not- I'm nothing if I'm not with the others, but I can't, I don't-"

She pulls in a shuddering breath, sniffling.

"No one's going to make you leave, Sunny." Omega assures her, slipping her a packet of tissues, "This is your home now. Whether you're a band ghoul or not. Look at me; I've been here well passed my tenure in the band, there are some ghouls here that have never plucked a string or sung a single note, and they're still here. You're still here."

"But I'm..."

Sunny isn't sure what she wants to say.

She opens and closes her mouth, then looks at Omega, eyes wide.

"You sneaky motherfucker-"

.

.

.

Sunny nibbles on her pizza slice, trying her best to savor each bite.

There's something about crying that always makes her hungry, and when Aether offered to order a pizza for them to split, she couldn't pass up the idea of red sauce and cheese.

"So, how did your work go?" Aether asks, wiping his mouth, "Get to do anything fun?"

Sunny shrugs, "Went okay, I guess... I had to work with this guy on some paperwork. Boring stuff, not worth getting into."

Aether nods, "And the guy?"

"What about him?" Sunny tilts her head.

"What was he like?"

Sunny thinks back on her conversation with Omega earlier and looks down at a stray green pepper on her plate, picking it up and eating it before responding, "He was... kind of annoying."

"Oof, hopefully you don't have to see him again any time soon then." Aether scoffs, taking a sip of his water.

"Hn, actually, I'm going to be working with him a bit more." she says, recalling the note Omega had written on his calendar about their next scheduled appointment, "And I have to do this... writing assignment."

"A writing assignment?" Aether muses, "Really?"

"Yeah, uh, I have to do it daily. It's for... research!"

"Oh? That sounds more exciting than you made it sound earlier." he chuckles, "What are you researching?"

"We..." Sunny coughs, "Weather patterns."

"Weather patterns?"

She nods.

"I'm supposed to track the weather. Ya know, cloud... cloudy days, and... sunny ones."

"Ahhh, I see." Aether yawns, "...Goodness, I'm sorry... eating makes me sleepy anymore."

Sunny yawns, too, "Dammit, Aeth-"

#lamp writes #shitghosting #nameless ghouls #sunshine ghoulette #aether ghoul #omega ghoul #ghost band #ghost bc #the band ghost #ghost band fanfic #you may cry a little

[captain-mj]

ok so like…the price and graves one??? can we have part 3?

I'm like 80% sure this is about the au where they met when Graves was a private and Price was an LT. If not, just send me another ask!

Price had Graves on his back on his desk, fucking him hard. Graves's nails dug into his shoulders. His face blushed an adorable pink as he looked up at Price, moaning.

"You're fucking gorgeous." Price breathed against him before moving to kiss him, pressing closer and hearing him groan against him. Graves had lost his pants, but they were mostly dressed, just in case someone knocked. He wished he could see more, see all of him, but that would have to wait until later.

"Come on, captain. Not out of breath, are ya?" Graves smiled against him, pulling him in to deepen the kiss. Price adjusted his angle and Graves tightened his grip. "Fuck right there. Don't stop."

Price smirked a little and kept hitting the spot, putting his hat on Graves who looked so fucking cute. Graves smiled at him sweetly, body starting to tense.

"Close, love?" He teased and leaned down, just about to kiss him again.

The door opened.

Price faintly heard Gaz start to scream.

They sprung apart and Graves tried to pull his pants on, flushing terribly, but he still had Price's hat on.

Gaz was looking away from them, eyes covered. "The door was unlocked."

"And you didn't fucking knock?" Graves wheezed before glaring at Price. "You forgot to lock the door?"

"Sorry, love." Price winced sympathetically. He stood so Gaz couldn’t see Graves, as if he was even looking.

"Oh my god, you guys use gross nicknames." Gaz looked shaken. He decided not to take offense to that.

"Gaz. We're all adults."

"That's disgusting." Gaz refused to look at them. "On your desk!"

"It's a nice desk." Graves responded and Price hit his shoulder.

"Stop that." Price hissed and went to Gaz. "Listen, I..." How do you explain to your adopted son that you are an adult. "We've known each other a long time."

"Oh, Ghost was right, you two do have history." Gaz shook his head. "Everyone on base knew there was something going on but... that image is never going to leave my brain."

Price frowned. "Everyone on base?"

"Yeah. Everyone thinks there's something but they thought you two hated each other not..."

Graves, now that he was sure he looked decent, looked over. "Listen..."

"No."

"Okay, I'll leave this to Price." Graves nodded. "I'm going to go... Leave you to this." He smiled at Price. "See you later, yeah?"

"Of course." Price looked at him, softening just a little. He grabbed his hat off his head and Graves visibly bit back a smile.

Gaz started to tear up, distraught. He waited until Graves left. "Is it serious?"

Price stared at him, realizing in that moment that they hadn't exactly put a label on it. "I don't know. We have sex like a couple times of week and..." Oh. They hadn't really went on a date. Or done much kissing outside of this. Or anything.

Gaz had grimaced before noticing Price's pause. "You okay?"

"Yeah. We're just fuck buddies. Don't know if this is a better or worst for you." Price smiled at him, rubbing his shoulder.

Gaz shook his head. "I... I need to lay down. Just you... and him...”

“Do you not like him?”

Gaz threw his hands up and walked away from him, leaving Price to his thoughts. 

Were they serious?

He ended up having dinner with the 141 in the mess hall. There were no strange looks, so he assumed that Gaz had kept his mouth shut for now.

Across the hall, in a way that Price couldn't help but feel was very juvenile of him to do, like he was a child in middle school looking for his crush, he saw Graves with a few of his shadows. He was talking animatedly, hands moving as he gestured and Price found it endearing.

Did he want them to be serious?

Graves laughed, one of the ones where he tilted his head and smiled as his shoulders shook.

Yes. Yes, he did. He wanted that so damn bad.

Graves looked at him, noticing him staring. Their eyes met and Graves winked at him. Price huffed a little before turning towards his crew.

Soap was staring at him.

Price stared back before slowly shaking his head. He watched Soap take out his phone and start typing furiously. For once, he was relieved to get a message from MacTavish it meant he wasn’t texting anyone else.

"Flirting with the shadows isn't a good idea, Cap. Graves is overprotective."

"And you know this how?"

"Wasn't me. Alex did it. Almost got his head ripped off. Not a good idea."

Huh. He supposed the men did look nice in their uniform. Graves especially.

When did he become so down bad for that man??

“Noted. Do not flirt with the shadows.” Price needed Soap to stop texting him. “So how are you and Ghost?”

Soap flushed and immediately pretended to be interested in Alejandro and Rudy’s conversation. It gave Price time to think about it. He planned on being upfront. Like he told Gaz, they were both adults. If Graves just wanted this to be casual, Price could handle that just fine. And if Graves agreed to something more serious… Price would figure it out.

It had been so long since he dated like this. Been a while since he dated period. He had one night stands or first dates, it wasn’t that getting them was a problem. He just never wanted to stay. His job came first and most partners couldn’t deal with that and he didn’t mind. Would never fault them for wanting someone that put them first above everything.

Graves Understood. They had told each other explicitly that their job was more important, both wanting to avoid that. Somehow neither thought to put a label on it.

Would Price try to stay if it was Graves? Would Graves want to?

They hadn’t had many domestic moments. Most of the time they stole away from their schedules was delegated to frantically get each other’s clothes off. Memorizing each other. Basically what they did back then.

Except now, Price left Graves’s bed instead of the other way around. They had had to use his room since he had a private room and Graves was still in an open barracks when they first started. But now, they both had their own rooms, they just always ended up in Graves’s.

If they went to Price’s, would Graves leave?

Tomorrow morning, when he woke up in Graves’s bed, watching the rise and fall of his chest, would he be able to?

He finished eating and left his crew.

For a moment, he thought he felt eyes on his back but when he glanced around, he couldn’t see anyone.

That night, it was natural. They were alone and they fell into step with each other. Kissing softly because they had more time at night, it was far past curfew, Price’s hands gently roaming down his back instead of ripping at his clothing. Graves’s interlocked behind his head to pull him closer.

But Price stopped Graves when he went to his belt, putting a little distance between them.

He paused. In all his thoughts about this, he hadn’t thought of how to ask.

“Something wrong, John?” Graves cupped his face gently.

“Is this… just sex to you?” Price almost grimaced. That sounded accusatory which is not what he wanted. “It’s fine if you want it to be casual.”

“Do you want it to be casual?” Measured words. Graves was looking him over, putting him together like he was interrogating him.

“No. I want us to be more serious.” Price has never been worried about rejection before. He’d been rejected, it just never felt like that big of a thing. But right now, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t almost shaking with nerves.

“I’d like that to.” Graves kissed him again. “Glad you brought it up because i had no clue how to ask.”

Price laughed against him, head tilting to deepen the kiss. He grabbed Grave’s waist before gently pushing him back.

“What word do you want to use?” Graves stepped back, trusting him not to let him fall.

“I’m a little old for boyfriend. Partner sounds just a bit too much like work.” Price let him forward. 

“Lovers?” Graves offered.

Price liked that. “Lovers it is.”

#cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #Phillip graves #John Price #Captain John Price #Price x Graves #Graves x Price

[x011011x]

Hello there! I'm not sure if you take yandere requests but I'm assuming that you are

Can i request a short fic yandere Cater Diamond x gn! Reader? Just.. Uh, horror-ish maybe? The reader knows about Cater's weirdly obsessive tendencies and is trying to subtly avoid him

“Did you sleep well? Don’t lie to me, I watched you.”

They Wouldn't Believe You

Yandere!Cater x NonReciprocating!Reader Horror

Trigger warnings: Stalking, violence, blood, isolation, mentions of sexual behaviour, Cater is a whole ahh trigger warning in this fic ngl

Word count: 2.8k+

This is my first time doing requests so I'll be looking forward to any criticisms you have!! It was really fun writing this and I really got into the mood by the end but I was too scared of making this too long for a short fic. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this story!! <3

He walked behind you and while you didn't look at him, you knew he was looking at you, dissecting you with his chemically green eyes.

Static buzzed in your ears. You wanted to look back, just to confirm whether you were right. You knew you were, but you almost didn't want to believe it. He was someone you had loved. Someone you had trusted. Now he had become but a shell of who he was to you before, ailed with twisted obsession for you– which only the Great Sevens knew how he developed.

You tried resisting the urge to look him in the eyes, but giving that primal response to your fear was much stronger than what your brain could logically think out. You looked back, knowing it would fuel his fire more. 

Sick green eyes looked back at you, like beautiful emeralds tainted with blot. His lips were curled up in a disturbing smile, pearly whites perfectly ready to tear through your flesh if he was met with rejection again. His eyes looked at you but they weren't exactly focused, like the gaze of a delusional man. 

A soft blush creeped up on his cheeks.

"Hey, (Name)! Been a while since we last spoke. Cay-cay missed you~!"

At first, you were quite fond of the redhead. Cater seemed like the fun, carefree upperclassman. A far cry from someone as rigid and strict as Riddle. You just thought he was so cool. He had tons of Magicam followers, he was in a band as the guitarist. He was also so sweet to you. He always treated you to lunch and he even helped you buy your first phone. 

Later you realised that how nice he was could be better defined by the word 'eerie', rather than 'welcoming'.

You'd often catch him staring at you, but he didn't look away when you caught him. Rather, the man approached you in such a friendly manner, you'd feel compelled to think that you were the one who saw wrong. You'd often feel guilty that you were taking a well meaning upperclassman in such a bad light.

On a random day, you and your group were hanging out just as usual. You watched as Ace and Deuce bantered about something stupid, like who would paint the roses. Ace exclaimed, drawing out the other boy's name, "Deuceeeee! I painted the rose just yesterday! How can you do this to me?"

Before Ace could babble on further, the jade eyed man slapped his palms on the ginger's face, "Ace! Don't lie! How could've you painted the roses yesterday when I myself painted them?"

Ace shoved Deuce's hand away from his face and retorted back, clutching onto his chest as if he was accused of a grave crime he didn't do in front of a judge, "Dude, I was doing the eastern side of the maze! I swear to the Great Sevens!"

"Ohh. I was doing the western side." 

"Then, it's neither of our duties today, you idiot! Did you leave your brain back in your room?" 

"Wait, but Mr. Diamond said that it's our duty today?"

"No, it's not! He lied to you, you dumbass. Gosh, deduction is not your greatest forte. Is it, buddy?"

"Are ya picking a fight about this?!"

You laughed softly as you them argue and sometimes even hit each other. Before Ace could open his mouth to spew some more of his nonsense, they both seemed to go quiet together. You and Grim looked at each other and then at them, they were also uncomfortably looking at each other and then at you. 

You wondered if they wanted to say something to you, but before you could get any word out, Grim beat you to it, "Why are you two looking at my henchman like that?" He asked curiously, looking at you, trying to see if there's anything wrong with you. "They seem fine to me."

"It's uh- it's nothing really," the orange eyed boy stammered.

Deuce followed up, agreeing with Ace "Yeah, we have nothing suspicious to say about Mr. Diamond at all." 

"Dude!"

"Oh- Um… uhh…"

That day you found out that Cater liked you. It wasn't mutual, at all. You thought of him as a friend and a close one at that. But, you weren't offended by him liking you at all. Rather, you felt the need to make things clear between you two so that you could continue on with your friendship. 

So you decided to call him to the main street and resolve the issue together. 

 The autumn leaves cracked under your feet as you walked down the main street on campus. You waited patiently for the young man, fingers nervously drumming against the side of your outer thighs. You were tired from the day, but the thought of Cater liking you ran like marathons in your head. You walked in circles without realising, tensed with how to approach the issue as politely as possible.

'He could do way better than me with how popular he is. Is he insane?'

Sweat ran down your forehead. You wiped it off with a sigh. Your heart beat painfully against your ribs. You trusted him, you truly did. You didn't doubt him even once in the half an year you two had been friends. Maybe it was precisely because he was an expert at keeping such troubling emotions to himself and only put up the most acceptable version of himself is why you trusted him so much?

You stopped in your tracks when you heard an airy voice behind you, cheerfully calling out to you.

"(Name)!"

You turned to look at him. (E/C) eyes bored into his green ones. He looked like a mess, a hard day from his head resting against the desk from when he had been sleeping in class. You laughed as you saw him run up to you, heaving loudly. 

"Hey Cater," you greeted him softly, reaching up to rake your fingers through his hair to set it in place, "Your hair looks a mess." 

"Aha! Looks like I'm getting advice from the best hair stylist in town!" he closed his eyes as he felt your soft fingers touch his scalp. His face looked content and peaceful whenever you touched him. You couldn't believe all this time it was because he liked you. 

After you were done, you moved back, thumb holding your chin. Your face feigned the focus of an artist precisely scrutinising their art for any imperfections. Honestly, Cater was beautiful enough to be a piece of art. You knew he had a low self esteem, and it saddened you. You knew you shouldn't say anything misleading, but you couldn't help yourself, "You look beautiful, Cater." 

He fluttered his eyes open, the smile dissolving from his face. For a few seconds, he looked at you with an unreadable expression on his face. A gentle smile spread on his lips, reaching his eyes as the forest-like hues looked back at you with admiration. He cooed, "Thanks, (Name). Appreciate the sentiment."

You both spent some time just looking at each other, smiling stupidly in the simplistic joy of such a trivial moment of your day. You wanted to forget about what Ace and Deuce had told you, the thoughts still tugged at the back of your heart painfully. You wanted to say something but you contemplated your cards in a hassle, thinking it might ruin everything you both had. The sweet friendship you cherished so much.

Before you could speak, he asked himself, "So? What did you call me here for?"

'Ah. Yeah. I need to say something,' you thought. You hesitated, the words stuck in your throat. You looked down at the ground, opening and closing your mouth like a beached fish, not knowing what to say. A hand rested itself on your shoulder. That caught your attention as you looked up at the redhead. He was still smiling yet something felt… sickening about his eyes. It was a sentiment you could never utter to him. 

He looked down at you and his eyes held a sort of harrowing glint you'd seen before in him. It seemed as though his gaze was piercing into your soul. For the first time, his eyes seemed less like the calming forest and more like burning chemicals. 

"They told you, didn't they?" he posed a simple question, voice light with his signature lul. His grip on your shoulder tightened.

You bit your lips. You didn't want to rat your friends out and possibly get them in trouble. You had never felt this way… this scared because of Cater. Even though he still sounded sweet. Oh so sweet. But you could see how his other hand was clenched tightly, you could see his jaw flexing against the side of his face. He was angry. You thought that maybe he ought to be, being told on by underclassmen, but only if he was anyone else but the man you trusted. 

Your dearest upperclassman. Someone you considered one of your best friends

"Y-yeah.." you muttered out, scared to lie to him when he was in such a state.

As lean as he was, he was still stronger than you as a mage. One snap of his fingers and there'd be enough of him to beat you to a pulp. You didn't know how he was when he was angry and you didn't want to take your chances.

'It hurts.' you thought. Your shoulder had gone numb already. As if he could read your mind, the green eyed man took his hand off of you.

"Well? What's your answer, (Name)? Surely you wouldn't disappoint poor Cay-cay!" he asked, looking expectant.

"About that.." this was the moment. You had to make things right. You couldn't let him live in delusion. This was still your friend, a person you held close. You sighed with regret before announcing, "Cater, I'm sorry to say but I can't accept your feelings."

It felt as though time stopped. Cater looked at you and you looked back at him, both wordless. He looked like he had something to say but he kept his words to himself, nothing could suddenly grow the same sentiments in you that he had in himself for you. 

The breeze was cool but it felt searingly hot against your skin for the few moments you had to wait for a response. But, Cater didn't resort to anger. Rather, with that same complex, unreadable expression from before, he turned on his back. He waved at you with a wink, "No worries! See you tomorrow, (Name)."

Knowing him, you had trusted that he wouldn't take rejection badly. But you were almost dumbfounded how easily he took it. It's as if the biggest burden was lifted off of your chest. Now you could return to your regular life where Cater and you are best friends. 

Nothing more, nothing less.

You hated him. You hated him. You hated him. 

You didn't know why that creep was approaching you right now. A manic look on his face, as if he just recovered from frantic hysteria. He muttered out, "Can we talk for a while?"

You clutched onto the gash on your arm that he had inflicted on you two months ago after luring you into his bedroom for a 'movie night' that went way south. He exclaimed that it was a way to keep you all for him now that the jig was up. Cut you up, so that you could be his in life and beyond the bar of death. Embrace him with the promise of eternity, even if it meant your demise. You couldn't understand his logic, obviously.

"You haven't loved someone like that, you know?" 

It was only by a sliver of a chance that Trey heard you scream and came to your rescue. But you couldn't tell him that it was Cater who cut you. Not when Cater dropped the knife at your feet right before he came in. Not when Cater looked so worried about that cut, asking if you were okay. Not when Cater hurriedly went to find the first aid kit, as if he wasn't the reason you needed one in the first place. 

You couldn't tell Trey with all those things into account. He wouldn't believe you. 

It was horrible what Cater had started doing to you.

He would send you letters in a completely different handwriting describing things only he knew about. He'd describe all the violent things he wanted to do to you and the men you talked to because of how jealous he was. He would swear he would kidnap you and marry you. How no one could stop him, not even you. As the letters progressed, so did the nauseating scribbles that came along with it, each one describing what he's planning in a nonchalant tone.

He was outside your window. You couldn't wake Grim up. You were ashamed to.

That's what he had made you. Ashamed. And hateful. And fearful. And regretful, regretful that you had ever trusted a man like that. Ashamed to say what was happening to anyone. They wouldn't believe you. They wouldn't believe you. They wouldn't believe you. And even if they did, they'd think you're the problem. You're the weak one. Or maybe that, he wasn't, in fact, "Violating you like that at all, you're just delusional".

When you came back home from school, you'd find your clothes taken, only for the next letter you receive to describe how much he enjoyed using your clothes to sate his sexual urges. It was so humiliating. You'd cry as you read the letters. Maybe he'd get rid of the clothes before you could report him. And then, the fingers would be pointed at you. You'd be the one sworn at. You'd be the one who'd be shunned. 

No one would believe you.

You hadn't seen him since that night. And now there he was. Your devil, standing right in front of you. You wanted to run, you wanted to scream. You knew you had to do something. But, it was the middle of the day. Everyone was around. How would you explain your situation to everyone even if you were to react that way? He was friends with everyone, there was hardly anyone who disliked him. And then there was you, infamous of all students for no good reasons at all.

He took a few steps closer to you. You took one singular step back. You opened your mouth to request, "Please, go away."

"No! (Name)!" He looked like he was prepared to get on his knees to beg you to stay. "Let's… chat. I love your scent, but nothing's cuter than your voice~! I've missed it…" he paused, before shortly adding with a certain baritone that made you tremble, "I've missed you."

"Cater, it's not like that between us-" you tried getting away as he came close to you but before you could, he grabbed onto your wrists.

"You don't know what it's like between us. Our relationship is special and-" he stopped, observing you for a moment before another sickening smile bloomed on his face, "You've developed eyebags. Those must be because you're worried about Cay-cay. I sweaaaar, I'll love them too! I think they're pretty cute!"

"It's…" you tried moving your hand away it wouldn't budge. His grip was painlessly binding, undoubtedly it could turn into crushing in mere seconds, "It's not because of you, you motherfucker!"

"Really? Then whose letters are those that you read late at night?" 

What.

"What?"

"Those letters!" he shakes you, a bit harshly. Enough to get your heart stuck in your throat as he demanded to know "Whose are those?!"

"Y-yours," you blurted out, scared of what he would do to you if he thought that the letters were from someone else.

"See? Wasn't so tough to admit it, now was it? The letters are pretty romantic, aren't they?"

You looked at him dumbfounded. He describes gutting Ace as though it's just like making fish fillet even though by day he and the other ginger boy make a pretty good pair. He thinks that is romantic? But, it was more absurd that he knew you stayed up at night reading his letters. Wordlessly, he knew that is what you were most perplexed by, and he chuckled sweetly, "Oh Dear Sevens, your face can be put up in Magicam right now. Talk about #earlyhalloween."

You didn't know how he was making light of the situation. It was as if he had forgotten the morale reasoning behind his own acts.

"Tell you what, cutie? You can drop the whole distant act now. They might get suspicious and even if you said anything they-"

"...Wouldn't believe me."

For all you were concerned, you were dealing with people from the moment you woke up till the moment you went to bed. Yet, he had so meticulously managed to isolate you. You grit your teeth and thought to yourself that it would be different if he wasn't a mage. But, would it be any different? You wondered.

He smiled at you. 

His eyes reminded you of green radium. But everyone would object. They would tell you his eyes were more like the gentle forest.

After all, they all stopped believing you.

Don't copy my work okay!? >:((

Though taking inspiration is always welcome <33

Be sure to like, comment and reblog if you like this fic, it'll definitely help in my goals of becoming popular.

#disney twst #twisted wonderland #twst #tw.dark content #tw.yandere #heartslabyul #cater diamond x reader #cater diamond

[zeestarfishalien]

Part 8: I Never Wanted to Sleep

First | Previous | Next

Danny doesn’t think someone should be able to forget how to open their own eyes, but he’s been a special case ever since his original half death.

Even with the excitement that freedom brings, he can’t enjoy it. He’s not strong enough to form and

He doesn’t remember how to open his eyes

It’s instinct to block the probing reaches of foreign magic. Magic has so often led to trouble in his half life.

If the word “wish” weren’t such a taboo, Danny would make one. Whether it be to be able to hear what is going on around him or open his eyes is a toss up. Both would be great, but wishing for both would definitely get twisted around on him.

Back on task Danny.

It’s all well and good that The Man, the one like him, is here but that doesn’t mean it’s safe. Them opening his cage doesn’t mean he’ll be set free. Danny doesn’t like the way the magic users’ spells feel. He can hide in his core, use its powers to create a barrier to protect him from their prying poking magic.

~*~

Moving scared him. He didn’t know where he was and The Man was gone. He’s back now and everything is finally quiet, but Danny did expend a little too much energy in his panic. It’ll take longer before he can maintain a form once more.

A part of him hates that he doesn’t know how much time is passing. What if it’s months or years and The Man gives up on him? It shouldn’t be, but Danny doesn’t know how long it has been since he was buried in the cemetery. He is careful to not think about before, it is better to leave those old memories as hazy impressions, the good and the bad.

It’s harder now. He’s not able to form and his comatose body is no longer entombed in the cemetery. It’s almost enough to convince him to allow himself to dwell in memories.

Almost…

Danny is scared though. He’s scared of the pain and the fear and the oh so sharp burn of betrayal. Worst of all, he’s afraid to hope.

Ridiculous...afraid of rejection and afraid to hope for acceptance. Danny really can't win, can he...

~*~

Observing himself from outside his own body is a strange experience and oddly enough it's one that feels vaguely familiar. It’s especially strange when he realizes he’s more used to the four legs of his current form than he is to the two legs he has supposedly lived his whole life with.

His ghost form is still almost exactly the same as when he died. He certainly looks less human, but still that fresh-faced nearly 15 year-old boy. "Changes to this form will be slow," a voice from locked away memories echoes. It's a voice with a bitter chill but it's comforting in a way that speaks of trust. Danny trusts that being. He can trust their words.

It's a little odd how his body has remained perfectly preserved. No sign of hair growth or decay. He was certain he'd been trapped for a long long time. He's not sure anymore.

He’s not sure of anything anymore.

That is, until he sees The Man. Danny remembers the small teen who crawled in a panicked haze from his grave, more animal than human. He is big now. Tall and broad and so solidly alive in a way that Danny longs to feel again.

It’s not fair.

Danny squashes the little voice in the back of his mind saying that. He just needs to remember.

He wants to remember.

The Man, fumbling over himself is such a human reaction. Was Danny like that before?Can he be like that again?

Human…

Human.

Human.

He’s not human. He can’t be human anymore even if he only vaguely remembers why, but maybe… just maybe, he can be something close to human again someday.

First | Previous | Next

If anyone else has any church grim danny au ideas or wants to write stuff, ABSOLUTELY go for it! I love seeing everyone’s thoughts and emotions about it and I would adore seeing other people’s takes on this idea. Wow, what a time to be alive. Just a reminder, this fic is also on AO3. The link is on the original post which is linked as “First” here. Danny’s chapters keep ending up rather short but ya know, that’s just how it be sometimes. The human mind is incredible the way it can dull or fully block out memories in order to help cope with trauma (apparently it's not normal to remember almost nothing of your childhood but that's old news for me *shrugs*). Danny boi is trying his best poor laddie.

[Tag List] @emergentpanda-blog @my-perfect-storybook-love @gunebugfic @thegatorsgoose @thewondersoflebanon @bobred18 @d4ydr34min9 @ver-444 @redafi @echoednonny @greenmuffinofdoom @mentalcarebear @fisticuffsatapplebees @vythika96 @writer-extraodinaire @meira-3919 @yjfk @oddlydrawnpuppets @crystalqueertea @lazy-bouqet @darkthunder1589 @mnemovoid @keimiwolf @aarinisreading @love-has-no-labels @terzatheunderscorerima @idkmrpianoman @mur-ururu @chip-thief @kawaiikenna

@rangerhorsetug @treepainting @thatonegirl10 @demiourgias @spooky-fm @antagonisticly @fluffy23sblog @manglethemingle @kyrianclawraith @layyeschips @shepardking @asphyxia778 @ballzfrog @fluffen-spooky @drowningroane @deathsdaisy @malaayna @mistyaltair @potatoeofwisdom @heartsong18 @nixthenerd @icedbluesoul @the-church-grimm @overtherose @sara0055 @banishedthumbs @tired-yet-awaken

@dannyphantomphan @nonbinary-disaster @depressed-bitchy-demon @8-29pm @addie-lover-of-stories @lifefilledwithstories @apointlessbox @skulld3mort-1fan @katgirl05 @spookytragedyshark @mandyne-1001 @ascetic-orange @booklover9114 @qualifiedpasta @mouzerequis @fleeting-mists @gin2212 @rollthatcritical @kaitouhime @itsloveleo @litlecameron @phantom-dc @hippityhoppity-iownyourbones @pastalavistamf @kokoroluna @legowerewolf @riasthelustful @agreatcheesecakestudentstuff @mysterimax

@akintoabitch @snowblub @isaactheautobot @jaguarthecat

#dp x dc #church grim danny au #the black dog danny #jason todd #dc x dp #danny phantom crossover #dc crossover

[spahhzy]

Jaune walks up to the dying Neo after finally defeating Curious Cat.

Jaune: Would you like some company or would you rather go alone?

Neo: ...

Jaune just sat down next to her as he looked up to the sky.

Jaune: Huh the stars up here aren't that to different from the ones back home...

Neo: ...

Jaune: Think that bright star could be remnant?

Neo: ...

Jaune looks behind him and reaches toward something.

Jaune: This was your partners wasn't it?

Neo's tired eyes just looked at Roman's bowler hat.

Jaune rests it atop Neo's chest.

Jaune: I, too, know what it feels like, ya know? To lose someone very dear to me.

Jaune: And I like to think we have another thing I'm common.

Neo just raised an eyebrow at him, breathing and getting harder for her.

Jaune: revenge.

Neo: ...

Jaune: But that's where our similarities end, I'm afraid.

Neo: ...

Jaune: Yes, I had the comfort and support of my friends while you had no one, and for that, I'm sorry.

Neo: ...

Jaune: Ruby told me a little about what happened in her battle with Torchwick, and I feel as though you deserve to have one truth told before huh...

Neo: ...

Jaune:I don't know if you'll take my word for it or that Ruby's words mean much but still you should hear.

Neo:...

Jaune: it was a Grimm, a gryphon that got to him.

Neo just closed her eyes and breathed through her nostrils, processing the information.

Jaune: Oh, a shooting star, they have them here too, huh?

Jaune pointed to the sky seeingva star race across.

Neo slowly opened her eyes, feeling very tired as she felt Jaune take her left hand and squeezed.

Jaune: Make a wish, Neo. I think it should go to you.

Neo: ...

Jaune: What did you wish for?

Neo eyes were closed and Jaune knew it was for good this time.

Jaune looked at Neo sadly before getting on his knees and started digging.

Team RWBY arrived ready to get Jaune and leave the EverAfter back home. When they caught up with him, he was just finishing up the makeshift grave.

Yang: You gave her a burial?

Jaune,: yeah?

Blake: why?

Jaune: It seemed the right thing to do.

Weiss: even after all she's done?

Jaune: idk... I saw myself in her a little bit, ya know?

Ruby, understanding what Jaune means bent down to the grave.

Ruby: I know I told you I'd wouldn't give e you an apology, I still won't, but I just want you to know, I hope you're at peace now.

Yang: Alright, guys, let's go home.

The group all nodded and began to walk away from the grave.

Jaune was the last to go as he turned back one more time.

"Thank you"

He heard it barely, like a silent whisper, and Jaune smiled before walking away.

#rwby jaune #rwby neo #ruby rose #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #blake bellodona #neopolitian (rwby)

[twilightmalachite]

Altered - Heaven and Hell 24

Author: Akira

Characters: Tsumugi, Rei

Translator: Mika Enstars

"…I’m sick of “you guys”."

⚠️ This is an import from a unproofed Twitter Livetweet!

Season: Winter

Location: Yumenosaki Academy Library

Content Warning: Contains references to suicide.

Rei: Lemme ask you, actually. Why should I have to do something?

Tsumugi: Why, huh—

Rei: Just ‘cuz I could’ve? ‘Cuz I’m the Superstar Sakuma Rei-chan who could’ve? ‘Cuz I could’ve, I should’ve?

My will, my wishes, my heart isn’t bein’ taken into account.

Why is everyone always trying to make me do everything?

So, I was sick of it, honestly.

Even Keito, who’s always proddin’ at me, begged me. “I’m begging you, please do it. As long as it’s you, it can be done.”

When I looked into that guy’s eyes as be begged at me so, I hated fuckin’ everything.

…I’m sick of “you guys”.

Tsumugi: Rei-kun…

Rei: Ah, I get it already. I’m actin’ like a child. People have positions in society, and they gotta play the role they are expected to play, even out of obligation.

But you know what? I was still just a kid, I couldn’t take that.

Even I was a kid, too, y’know. That was why I sang rock music.

It made me feel a lil’ better, but it didn’t save my soul.

I’m not pure like that “Lil’ Puppy”. I don’t actually love rock music. I was just consumin’ rock as a distraction, just as everyone else consumed me.

But, thanks to that Keito comin’ in there and strikin’ me, that underground live house is no longer a place where I can distract myself.

Every time I’m there, I get irritated, only bein’ able to think of things I hate.

I’ve lost my safe haven.

And I no longer have energy to search for a new one.

Tsumugi: … …

So that’s why you chose to overlook us.

Even though we were trying to subdue you.

Rei: Puttin an end to my borin’ life was the best thing I could’ve asked for. I wished more than anyone for Sakuma Rei of the Five Eccentrics to be subjugated.

For that guy to be trampled and ground into dust, and erased from this world as soon as possible.

That was how I felt at that time.

And so, I overlooked you guys. You probably didn’t realize it, but I even supported ya from behind the scenes.

How come the Yumenosaki administration chose to overlook the student’s steadily growing power?

Did they leave the student council to bend the school’s very rules simply out of incompetency?

Who knows, really. Maybe they got a push from a certain someone who happened to be well-liked by adults.

You guys were busy buildin’ the cross on which you would eventually be crucified upon.

Tsumugi: You had become desperate and wanted to kill yourself.

You must’ve been in so much despair, Rei-kun.

I’m sorry. It was you who saved me, yet I never realized your real intentions.

Rei: Don’t apologize, I had also been maskin’ that depression I had to keep it hidden.

Ahh, I’ve always been bound by my very own character. As everyone’s favorite superstar, Sakuma Rei-chan.

So, I’m tossin’ “that guy” out, and lookin’ for a new character.

And, besides. I feel like it’s my fault for bein’ so desperate back then. I’m like, “Are ya kiddin’ me, are you an idiot?”

If it had been just me, that’d be fine. I didn’t care what cruelty I faced, ‘cuz it’s what I wanted. But truthfully, I’d always felt alone back then, even when there were lots of people surrounding me.

And so, I had only been thinkin’ of myself. Like some grandpa, I’d figured to prep my grave while I’m alive or whatever. Like the selfish person I was.

But, there were people other than me who were gonna be put within that grave.

At that time I never imagined that I would love them so much.

I never thought I’d have a friend who was equal to me.

Tsumugi: The Five Eccentrics, right?

Rei: Yup, the friends you guys gave me. No sarcasm intended. It was you who brought us together, where we then found each other.

Five people, who otherwise would have been alone, were able to find those the same as themselves in this wide world.

It was a miracle.

But, that is where I’m troubled. I regret it now. I shouldn’t have acted so prematurely, I shouldn’t have overlooked you guys out of despair.

Tsumugi. Just as you said, I could have stopped you guys.

But, I didn’t stop you guys. Because I had abandoned myself out of desperation.

I thought I had lost everything. I didn’t believe it would be possible for me to gain somethin’ new and precious again… I never believed it’d be through them.

I hadn’t even considered the possibility at the time.

That is my failure, my sin.

My greatest mistake.

I honestly wish I could punch myself from back then in the face. Tell him, “what’re ya doin’ givin’ everythin’ up, givin’ into your despair like that!?”

But, well, you guys already beat me up, so why bother goin’ out of the way to beat myself up too?

When I try to hurt myself like that, I’d just sadden others more than I hurt myself.

Tsumugi: Then, why—

If you realized your mistake, why didn’t you act? You could have turned it around from any situation.

Eichi-kun was in so much of a hurry, I doubt he would have been able to respond in time.

Even at the final performance, you could have won if you moved with all your might, and ignoring all the plot points up until that point you could have been victorious—It should have been possible!

And yet, even then, you didn’t do anything.

Rei: You don’t know why, Tsumugi?

Nah, you should know the reason by now.

While you’re now able to empathize with a story to the point of shedding tears…

I empathized with the author and protagonist of the story.

He had just looked so happy at long last, how could I ruin a moment like that?

← prev | story directory | next →

#altered #event #translation #rei sakuma #tsumugi aoba

[minervadashwood]

.

Daryl X PlusSize!Reader (she/her)

Scars and Stitches, Chapter 26: Not Actually Lost, but Most Definitely Found

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Series Masterlist | Daryl x Reader Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter Summary: You and Daryl deal with a minor crisis. Later, a larger crisis separates you from each other. Word Count: 3,800 (omg i wrote this much in 3 days?!?) Chapter Warnings: none, unless you hate rain and logical inconsistencies. Note: Autumn can’t come soon enough in real life, so it’s coming to this fic.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Sometime in the night, when Daryl was half awake, half asleep, he abruptly realized his grave mistake. He leapt out of bed, panic gripping him like a vice. His hands were shaking as he searched various pieces of clothing, grocery bags and duffel bags and backpacks, as well as messy piles of stuff he’d accumulated in the past couple of months.  

He finally found the thin box he so desperately needed, that you desperately needed, even if you didn’t realize it.

He ripped it open and threw the box and wrapper to the floor. Grabbing a half empty bottle of water, he sat on the bed and shook you awake.

Your eyes fluttered open, looking around frantically. “Wha—”

“Take this,” Daryl shoved the pill and water at you.

You sat up, your face puffy and red from the sound sleep you’d been in. “What is it? I’m not sick.”

“I fucked up!” Daryl shouted, his voice sharp and raw with fear. He grabbed your jaw, squeezing gently to force your lips apart, and dropped the pill into your open mouth. He raised the water to your lips and made you drink.

You trembled in his grasp, looking as panicked as he felt, but you swallowed the pill.

Daryl set down the bottle of water and held your face in both of his hands. “I’m sorry, Darlin’. I just wanted—I just needed—fuck!”

Your hand touched his knee. “What is it?”

He couldn’t look at you. “I forgot the condom.”

Your gave his knee a light squeeze. “Where’s the package, Daryl? We need to read the directions.”

At once, he was up, collecting the ripped pieces of cardboard and scattered papers. He unceremoniously dropped all of them on the bed in front of you.

“Need light,” you said, grabbing a thin, folded paper covered in small print.

He flicked on the battery-powered lantern by the bed, then he stared at you as you read.

You skimmed the paper hurriedly, flipping it this way and that, squinting and the tiny words in the dim light. Eventually, you let out a long breath and bit your bottom lip.

“It may not work,” you said, meeting his gaze as you let the paper flutter back onto the bed.

“What the fuck?” Daryl hissed, grabbing it. “Why the hell not?”

You half-smiled, almost to yourself. “This morning after pill has a weight limit. Most of them do. It seems the makers couldn’t be bothered to test them on anyone who looks like me.”

Daryl’s fear was gone, replaced by rage. He crumpled the paper and throwing it to the floor said, “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with the way you look.”

You still had that same, ironic smile. “I know that. But thanks for saying it, all the same.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Can’t believe sizeism still persists at the end of the world.” You pushed aside the paper and cardboard and reached for Daryl. “I never thought I’d have to worry about something like this, you know.  I was single and fine with it until you came into my life.”

He sat down next to you, leaving one foot on the floor to keep himself comfortably upright. He pulled you to his chest. “It should say something on the goddamned box, for fuck’s sake.” He took your nearest leg and pulled it over his, hand holding tight to the soft, suppleness of your inner thigh. Your cheek rested on his chest.

You chuckled, your breath tickling his chest hair. “Written in big, bold print: ‘No fatties allowed.’”

Daryl grimaced. “Ya ain’t fat.” He let go of your leg to pull the other one into his lap. “Yer the perfect size.”

You looked up at him, this time with a genuine smile. “And that size is ‘fat,’ honey. It’s not a bad word, it’s just a descriptor. Hell, calling me obese would hurt way more than saying ‘fat.’”

Daryl kissed the top of your head. “I got better words than that,” he told you, with his hands and arms full of the person he loved, hundreds of descriptions came to mind.

“What? Curvy? Voluptuous? ”

Daryl gently tugged on your hair and forced you to look up at him. “Gorgeous, delicious, sexy, soft, tender. Mine."

You blushed and hid against his chest again. “Bet you say that to all your girlfriends.”

He huffed. “Yeah, all one of them.”

A silence settled, and he found himself—again—thinking of how perfect you were. How lucky he was that you’d chosen him, that you had let him into your life. A life that was hard, and dangerous, and painful, but a life that he now shared with you. When he first said he was yours, he questioned whether he even knew what love was. His parents had never taught him the meaning of the word. And if Merle loved him, then love was a sharp and jagged thing that cut and made him bleed. A love that was cruel but reliable.

Love with you, though, was soft and gentle, full of hopes and promises he’d never had.

Would it be so bad, really? If you were pregnant? If the pill didn’t work? This farm was the safest the group had been since this hell on earth had begun. And all around the two of you were good people. Maybe they were selfish and stupid sometimes, but…they’d taken him in. He never asked them to. Never asked Rick to be his friend, never asked T-Dog or Glenn to trust him, but they did.

He never asked for Carol’s friendship, or Sophia’s trust, but he had it.

And—most importantly—he had you.

*

A few days later.

Soaked to the bone, you ran through the woods. Leaves, twigs, and branches hit you in the face and body, but you ignored them. You'd managed to escape with your crossbow and knife, but not much else. Your sneakers slipped and slid in the muddy forest floor.

It was only through repetition that you knew the way: those mornings walking to the hunting camp with Daryl, the landmarks he used to guide you along were now lifelines to safety. Even though the early evening light was dimmed by the storm, you knew the way.

You knew how to get away from the farm, where to find relatively safety from the herd…and away from the chaos that had erupted only a short time ago.

You had no idea where Daryl was, nor Rick nor Glenn. They were off chasing down Randall and Shane when the herd arrived. You'd managed to get Carol and Sophia on the back of that pickup, but when you went looking for Andrea, the herd closed in. You had to give up and ran to save yourself.

Your chest was tight from the stress of running, the fear of being overwhelmed by walkers, and the worry that you'd never see anyone from the group again. Never see Daryl again.

At some point you had to stop running and slow yourself to a brisk walk. Around you the forest was eerily silent, aside from the rain. It was as if the animals were hiding from imminent threat, too. But the silence also meant the walkers weren't hot on your trail, that you'd somehow lost the heard by weaving around rocks and trees.

Finally, you found the cinder block camp. Still on high alert, you crept up to the building, then you peered through each and every window, making sure no one else had found your safe haven.

Part of you hoped Daryl or Rick might be here, but the place was as you'd left it: silent and undisturbed. You went inside, again carefully checking cupboards and closets to ensure nothing and no one was lying in wait. When you cleared the building, you set up the cans at the front door, just like you and Daryl had done a week ago.

Then you sank to the concrete floor. The rain pelted on the tin roof, and you huddled into yourself, trembling and shivering as you focused on the sound of the rain.

It was a long while until you caught your breath, the exertion and chilly early fall air making it difficult to breath normally.

Now you had to wait. Daryl would find you--if he was still alive, that is. You gave yourself forty-eight hours, as you sat on that cold floor, hugging yourself in the semi-darkness. Forty-eight hours you would wait for him.

Wait and hope.

*

Daryl saw the smoke from the farm miles before he made it close to the Greene property. Glenn was riding on the bike with him, and as Daryl drove closer and closer to the farmhouse—now in cinders—the sounds of the walkers eventually overpowered the loud motorcycle engine, prompting Daryl to spin the bike around and accelerate harshly, going away from the place he’d called home.

The terror and dread on Glenn's face matched what Daryl felt. After everything: after Shane had run off with Randall, after putting down the walker Randall had turned into, finding Shane's gun, all they'd come back to was to find their home overrun and going up in smoke.

And there was no way to know if your or Maggie had made it out alive.

*

Somehow, everyone knew to meet at the roadblock, the same place Sophia had gone missing, the same place where Daryl had almost lost you to a walker.

He turned off the bike's engine and rested it on the kickstand. Glenn was already running for Maggie, who—like the others—poured out of the RV and nearby vehicles. Daryl's eyes searched the group, and then Carol and Sophia were hugging him tightly, and right after them Rick, too, pulled Daryl into another hug.

But you didn't. You weren't running into his arms, you weren't burying your head in his chest.  You weren't there at all.

Carol held his forearm. "She got me and Sophia on the truck, but that was the last we saw of her."

Daryl felt like collapsing on the ground, as if thousand pound weight was on his chest. The rain fell steadily, and all he could think of was you lost and cold and alone.

Rick gripped his shoulder. "She's smart and quiet. I'm sure she made it out. First light, we'll go  and find her."

This was the same way he’d lost Merle: letting his brother go off on his own, then waiting too long before finally going off to find him. But by the time Daryl had gotten to that rooftop, Merle was long gone.

He would not let that happen again. Besides, he realized he knew exactly where you would be. Of course, you’d made sure the Peletiers were safe, and if you weren’t safe yourself, you knew how to hide, how to navigate. You knew your way through the woods, at least part of it. Daryl had taught you what you needed to know, hadn’t he? And like always, you’d soaked up the knowledge like a sponge.

He shouldn’t give up on you, to think so little of you that you couldn’t save yourself. You were strong and resourceful, probably safe and sound, just waiting for him to find you.

And find you he would.

He jerked away from Rick and bounded into the RV for the maps. Not a second later, Glenn was next to him, and Daryl found himself explaining everything about the cinderblock building and the road leading away from it. Then Maggie was on his other side saying a certain county road intersected with the dirt path, and then Glenn was marking the route with a pen. Words of encouragement dripped from each Glenn and Maggie’s mouths, and instead of brushing their comments aside, he looked each one in turn and nodded his thanks.

Daryl left the RV, heading for his bike, but Rick stopped him with a hold on Daryl’s wrist.

“You already know where she is, don’t you?”

Daryl met Rick’s eyes and gave him a small nod.

Rick put his hand on Daryl’s shoulder. “We’ll take a car. This rain isn’t lettin’ up anytime soon.”

Carol gave him a kiss on the cheek, then Daryl threw himself into the passenger seat as Rick started the car and sped away.

*

After gathering your wits and your breath, you slowly began to realize a throbbing ache in one ankle. The fear and adrenaline must have kept it at bay until now. It became increasingly obvious as you sat on that cold, concrete floor that you’d sprained it. It must have been caused by one of the many slips you’d taken in the mud. In fact, you were nearly covered in mud from the waist down, despite the rain having washed some of it away.

You had nothing to bind or support the ankle with. Your trusty red backpack was gone, and the cabin had been cleared of everything except bed linens and the empty beer cans.

Shivering from the cold, you managed to stand and hobble your way over to one of the worn couches. At least you could prop up your ankle, keep it above your heart level to reduce the pain and swelling. You knew it wasn’t broken, but it was painful and would be weak, likely for a week or more, depending on how damaged the ligament was.

Anxiety burned in your chest. If the herd found its way here, you had no hope of running away now. Even fighting off or taking down a few walkers would be a tall order in this condition.

For a long while, you kept an eye on the time by using Dale’s watch and tried to reason your way out of this situation.

Every half hour, you made your rounds in the small building, peering out the windows while on tiptoe (on your good foot), but soon it was too dark to see anything outside. Still, the rain was the only sound around you, no growling walkers or prowling wild animals. A wild animal might be welcome, though. It would mean the surrounding area was safe.

An hour past sunset, the cold began to seep into the building in earnest. To have any chance of warming up, you’d have to take off your wet clothes and crawl into one of the beds. But the chance of walkers finding you—or even strangers finding you—made stripping down impossible. You might have to leave or fight at any moment.

You wondered if the walkers get in the high, small windows. If you ran—or hobbled away—would Daryl still find you? Where would you run to? The only path you knew was here to the farm.

Suddenly you remembered the old pickup in the driveway. There was a dirt road out that way, wasn’t there? Maybe you could follow that.

You cuddled yourself on the sofa, thinking you’d never be warm again. Eventually, though, you stopped shivering, and you gradually felt more tired than you ever remember being. You let your eyes close, telling yourself it would just be for a few minutes. Just a quick nap so you could be alert later if you needed to be. The stacked cans would let you know if someone or something was coming into the building.

You drifted off to sleep, trusting Daryl was on his way.

*

Daryl was out of the car before Rick could even put it in park. He ran through the door of the cabin, stumbling over a crashing tower of empty beer cans, and he briefly smiled to himself. It meant you were here that you were safe.

He shone his flashlight around the room, finally landing on the couch, where you were sitting up, knife gripped in your hand.

Daryl shouted your name and ran for you, finding his way to the front of the couch, then sinking to his knees and prying the knife out of your hand. “I’m here, Darlin’.”

“Oh, Daryl,” you sighed. “I knew you’d find me.” You tried smiling at him, but you seemed a ghost of yourself, unwieldy and barely awake. He grabbed your hands, and they were ice cold, then he took in the rest of you, soaking wet, covered in mud.

“Le’s get ya outta here,” he said standing, trying to pull you off the couch.

You stood at first, but then you winced and fell against him. You tried righting yourself as you said, “Hurt my ankle running here. Just a sprain, I think.”

At once, Daryl sat you back down and removed your sock and shoe. As gently as he could, he took your ankle in his hand to examine it. Swollen and slightly bruised, he had no doubt you were in pain, and again he was shocked by how cold you felt in his hand.

“Stay put,” he told you, running to one of the bedrooms. He grabbed a thick quilt off a bed and ran back to you.

“You’re freezing, ain’t ya?” he asked, taking off your other shoe and sock.

You nodded. “Can’t seem to get warm.”

“Ya shoulda taken off these wet clothes, woman. Crawled into one of those beds.” He tried to quell the frustration rising within him. Why would you lay here, freezing to death? As quickly as he could, he was getting you out of your jacket, your sweater, your t-shirt; your skin beneath his fingers was ice cold.

You struggled to reply, but eventually said, “Worried walkers or something else might come for me. Had to be ready to go just in case.”

“Don’t got to worry about that now,” he said, forcing you to lay back so he could undo your pants and pull them off, too.

“Daryl,” you giggled, your eyes distant and struggling to stay open, “You’re stripping me bare and didn’t even cook me dinner first.”

“Hush now,” he mumbled, pulling you to your feet—or foot. He wrapped the quilt around you, securing that it covered you from neck to toe. Then he lifted you in his arms and headed for the door

You were right that the herd could easily find its way here, which was why he had to get you back to the others, so the group could decide on a new direction, so everyone could find a new home.

Carrying you outside, he saw Rick standing near the car with a flashlight of his own, keeping a sharp eye on the surroundings.

“Christ!” Rick exclaimed. “Is she—”

“Chilled to the bone and sprained her ankle. Tha’s all.”

Rick flung open the door to the backseat, and Daryl crawled in there with you still in his arms. He cupped your cheek, relieved to have you safe and by his side once more. Unlike Merle, you knew to wait, you trusted Daryl enough to find you.

You said to Daryl “those are my only clothes now. I need them. My crossbow, too.”

Daryl looked up at Rick and with a nod, the other man went inside and brought out your things. The clothes made a slopping noise as Rick tossed them into the trunk. Your crossbow he put safely in the front seat. Then Rick was back in the driver’s seat, restarting the car and turning the heat on full blast.

You were half in Daryl’s lap as he tried to hold you close and get you warm. You buried your head in the crook of his neck, your cold nose making a chill ripple through him. He ran his hands up and down your arms, trying to create warmth.

You spoke into his chest. “Did everyone…?”

Rick glanced back briefly before focusing on the road again. “We lost Andrea. Shane’s gone, too.”

You sniffed, and Daryl felt you shivering, a clear indication that you were warming up, that your body was hard at work again.

“Did they leave together?” you asked. “I was looking for Andrea when I almost got overrun.”

Daryl squeezed you tightly, wishing he’d been with you but also knowing Glenn and Rick had needed him, too.

“They weren’t together,” Rick said, tension in his voice. “Shane…he was already gone. Should’ve realized it sooner than I did. He almost killed me.” Daryl watched, his jaw clenched, as Rick’s words confirmed Daryl’s suspicions about how Shane had died.

Rick wiped his eye. “I killed him first, then Carl…Carl took care of him after he turned.”

You slid away from Daryl, and leaned against the front seat, quilt wrapped tightly around you, as you put one hand on Rick’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Rick.”

Briefly, Rick put his hand over yours, and Daryl reminded himself that you were his, and that Rick was your friend and nothing else.

Rick sniffed, and then you were back in Daryl’s waiting arms, and he found himself nuzzling the top of your head, and then linking his fingers through your hand, his other arm wrapped around you and holding you close.

“It can’t be like it was,” Rick said. “We’re on the run again, from walkers, from people. All we got is each other now. You’re my family, you and the rest of the group. And I failed all of y’all, should’ve seen sooner what Shane was.

Daryl stayed silent, and surprisingly, so did you. He almost thought you’d gone to sleep, but when he looked down at you, you were chewing your bottom lip and staring out the window beside him.

“Won’t happen again,” Rick said. “If I’m leading this group, and I am, then threats are gonna be dealt with as soon as we see ‘em.”

You peered up at Daryl, a question in your eyes. Daryl gave you a small nod.

You said, “We’re with you, Rick. Where you lead, we follow. I had my suspicions about Shane, but I kept quiet for too long. I tried to ignore my instincts, just like you did. But we know better now. We’ll learn from it.”

Rick tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Yeah, we will.”

A moment passed as Rick drove down the narrow county road, rain still pelting the car. Then, Rick said, “He kill Randall?”

Daryl answered, “Strangled ‘im. Buried the gun nearby. Glenn knows about the infection now.”

You gave a small chuckle. “Then so do the others, or they will by morning.”

“Yeah,” Daryl mumbled. “They ain’t going to be happy we kept it from ‘em.”

“I’ll explain it to them,” you volunteered. “I’m sure they’ll understand why—”

“No,” Rick cut you off. “It’s on me. It’s all on me.”

Daryl squinted at his friend in the driver’s seat, easily seeing the same weight of guilt that plagued Daryl. But what could he say to that? How could Daryl even voice such a heavy thing in the right way? How could he possibly articulate to Rick what Daryl could barely articulate himself? Most of the time it took your words to help Daryl realize what was actually going on inside his head.

Finally, Daryl settled on saying, “Like she tol’ ya, ya ain’t alone.”

Once again, Rick glanced into the backseat, and gave Daryl a small nod of thanks.

*

We've left the farm! Finally!

I think I may wrap up this story in the next few chapters. I have sequel(s) planned. I could continue in this same story/series, but I think I'll need a mental hiatus for a while to do it any justice. So I'll give this series a satisfying end that will serve as either a HFN or HEA.

As always, thank you for reading. Please reply and reblog to share your thoughts. Concrit is also welcome. If you want to do so w/o sharing your tumblr-dentity, anon is always on.

See you next time. 💜

Next (and final) Chapter

=============

Taglist: @green-eyedladywrites @haleypearce @phoenixblack89 @takeabreathdeath @livingdeadblondequeen @sweetpeapod @ravenwings73 @fuzzy-paintnda @missbeeentertainment @savageneversaw

Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the tag list! ==============

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #twd #twd fanfic #plus size #plus size reader #plus size fanfic #mdop #minerva writes #dd/xm #scars and stitches

[starkcanvas]

How do you think Mari (as dead) would react to each of the game's endings? (including the variations of the knife and move away endings)

Ooh… this is a really loaded question :0 and because of that, I’ll sort this into 4 sections for each ending :)

Neutral End: Basil dies, but Sunny still moves:

Naturally Mari is just heartbroken at Basil now joining her in the Afterlife but she’s also just extremely distraught and saddened that her attempts to support Sunny didn’t work in the end and that it was kinda all for nothing. Especially since Sunny’s trauma will now forever follow him until he tells the truth, but she sadly now highly doubts that he’ll ever tell and will eventually take it to his own grave… no matter how close or faraway that day may come…

Knife End: Both Basil and Sunny Die:

Yeah… I imagine Mari held Sunny in her arms as he slowly passed on. And she won’t lie, the tiniest bit of her is disappointed in Basil and Sunny for not telling their friend the truth and now letting them deal with 2 more suicidal deaths. Her including her own as one since now the truth will never be known until the others pass on. As she doesn’t expect her mother to say anything as she’d be too grief-stricken… But all in all, that disappointment is vastly overshadowed by just… how much she missed being able to hold and comfort her baby brother. Using this as a chance to apologize to both boys for an accident she ultimately started.

Bad End: Close… O-YA-SU-MI… (Who gets this specific reference? Lol)

Oh boy uh…she definitely followed Sunny all the way to the roof and jumped after him. If she was distressed in the neutral endings, she’s utterly horrified and even more traumatized from him jumping off the hospital roof. The moment he hits the ground and dead, she drags his spirit away from his body as fast as she can.

(Now, I am aware that some people like to make it Omori and not Sunny as he’s, according to Omori, dead due to letting Omori take over but here, when Sunny’s body died, I see it as Omori dying because Omori was connected to Sunny’s brain making a representation of his guilt. If the brains dead, so is Omori and he’s gone for good, that’s why Sunny’s the ghost)

Anyway, she’d just get him out of there as fast as she can, taking him back to her grave and just sobbing the entire time, mumbling nothing but apologies and giving him nothing but, hugs, forehead and cheek kisses. Her cradling her baby brother in her arms while now just heavily blaming herself for ruining everyone’s lives forever…

Truth End + Secret Ending: I have something to tell you…:

She’s behind him the whole time, listening to him tell them everything. While she expected their reactions to be negative, it still really hurt her heart to see her found family look so… destroyed. Each one passing through her as they leave the room but she still stays with Sunny. Walking with him as he confronts Basil again to tell him the news that they know.

She was prepared for an intense sob fest between the two friends… but what she didn’t expect was to see the light return into Sunny’s eyes, Something slowly disappearing from both him and Basil… and seeing Sunny make the most genuine and softest smile she’s ever seen. All of them are brought to tears as the boys hug it out and Mari joins in, hugging both of them. Even though she knows they can’t feel her presence, she wanted to at least try. Let the boys know just how proud she is.

It’s bittersweet for her as now that the truth is known, she’s not really needed anymore. She guided Sunny to his goal and now… it’s his time. Her’s is over and now it’s all about moving on. She doesn’t know what’s next and what “moving on” really means for her but she’s just happy that her friends can now move past her death.

#omori #omori game #omori spoilers #omori aubrey #omori basil #omori hero #omori kel #omori mari #omori sunny #ask response #text post #text response #mod mack #mod ask

[intimidating-fettuccine]

A scenario where Jeff visits the grave of his Y/N please

~A person who just wants to watch the world burn

So... Uh... This got long-

It's something he's taken to doing quite frequently, although less than when you had first immediately passed. It's something he'll do a few times a week, heading out before bed and sitting next to your grave on the mansion grounds for deceased residents that passed on the job. He feels more at peace with himself and his thoughts when he's out there beside you.

He always makes sure to take care of your grave as well, cleaning the headstone and leaving you flowers and decorations that you'd find pretty or interesting or silly. It brings him a certain peace to know he can still do something for you, even if it's just a silly little gadget or some of your favorite flowers to keep you company, and so he keeps his eyes on your grave as his last connection to you. Although, it saddens him that most of his time spent out there at your grave isn't (obviously) joyful, and instead, it's usually...

-

Miserable. He feels damn miserable as he trudges through the back door of the mansion, making his way to the inclined hill behind the mansion, paying his respects to the few graves on the hill as he makes his way to the end, to the most recently added grave, to yours. He places a freshly made bouquet next to your headstone, filled with a variety of flowers you liked, setting a little teddy bear next to them to keep them company.

"I got those flowers from that one shop you liked to pass by down on Red St., the one that always smelled extra fresh and brought a smile to your face. The bear I... I won at an arcade that the guys dragged me to." He sniffles, his voice beginning to waver as he sits down in front of the grade, crisscrossed and playing with the grass surrounding him absentmindedly.

"It's starting to get warmer... I've been trying to stay hydrated and well-rested as you'd always remind me since I have... A history of... Ya know... Overworking myself, and all, heh..." He goes silent as he focuses on the ground in front of him, trying to ignore the burning feeling of tears prickling at his eyes.

A few moments pass in silence, the crisp summer night breeze blowing past him and refreshing him amongst the heat of the night. A few crickets begin to chirp around him, and he tries to focus on the noise, trying to center himself, but he can feel himself beginning to get choked up all over again.

"Sally's been trying to learn how to bake those cookies you liked so much. She's... She's getting really good at it. She's so proud of herself, too. She gave most of them to me, and I have to admit, they're pretty accurate, even if she burns them a little bit... Reminds... Reminds me of you." He lets out a few laughs before his face scrunches up completely and the tears finally burst forth.

"I just miss you so damn much-! I wish-! I wish you were here to try them, and tell her she's been doing good, a-a-and! And I wish I could e-eat them wi-with you! I wish we could kiss again, hug, hold hands, a-and cuddle up t-t-together! I miss-! I miss the feeling of your hands on me, and in my hair, a-and my face! I miss how warm y-you were, how comforting you were!" His face is down chin to his chest and hands gripping into his hair as he sobs and weeps.

He tries to stay composed when he comes out here, scared he might worry you in the afterlife if there's any chance you can sense him, but he just can't help it anymore. He misses you so damn much, and he doesn't know what to do without you. As he goes to speak again, though, another breeze washes over him, and he suddenly feels incredibly at peace. He looks at your headstone, glinting in the sunset.

'It's okay.'

He can hear your voice as the stronger breeze brushes over him.

'It'll be okay, Jeff. You're doing so good.'

The headstone twinkles in the light again, the breeze begins fading out, and he scrunches up, even more, screaming out, saying thank you, saying that he's been doing his best, saying once again that he just misses you so much. He loves you so, so much, and he'd do anything to see you again. 

'It's alright, honey. I'm so proud of you.'

The sun sets, and the shine completely fades from your headstone, along with the breeze ceasing to blow. He doesn't know how long he sits out there crying and wailing, but eventually Liu and BEN come out to collect him, beckoning him back in. As he goes up to his room eventually, he feels himself shaken. A white poppy greeted him, resting upon his pillow. 

Peace. White poppies mean peace. They're one of the flowers he'd give you on occasion. He clutches it gently to his chest, thanking you, telling you that he understands. He'd try, for you. He'd try to be at peace, for both of your sakes.

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta scenarios #creepypasta scenario #jeff the killer #jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer headcanon #jeff the killer headcanons #jeff the killer scenario

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Oh my good I’m terrible at writing anything but I have one I think! For my favourite serial killer and/or Antoni pretty please if you would 🙏🥺

Hold on to a ghost, or live your life with an aching loneliness that you can share with no one…. What choice did he have?

Artyom watches his brother call home and wonders how long it can last.

"Da, Mama," Misha says, tone soft and soothing. "My poshli na progulku. YA otvloksya i zabyl pro vremya." He looks over at Artyom and rolls his eyes, smiling a little with only one side of his mouth.

It's a thin excuse - a walk, losing track of time, forgetting they are wanted at home for dinner. If Artyom had given that sort of nonsense, she'd have blistered more than his ear in response. He leans back against the tree and waits. He knows that won't be the response Misha gets.

Sure enough, a second later Misha murmurs his love to their mother and hangs up the call, looking over at Artyom with what might have been, in others, a winning smile. But something about smiling never shows in Misha's eyes. His little brother always looks like there is something missing, behind them. Something dark where a light should be.

"She says she keeps the soup warm for us," Misha says, looking over at the hole they've been digging in the underbrush, only half the size it needs to be. There's a camp light hung in the branches of one of the surrounding trees, shining a flat light, throwing oddly living shadows over every silent shape. "We cannot finish this in enough time."

"It must be done right, Misha," Artyom chides, but he doesn't move from his place, back leaning against a tree. The forest is dense and dark around them. If there are stars, the leaves overhead ensure the brothers - and the lump wrapped in tarp lying next to the hole they've been working on - can't see them. "The more shallow a grave, the easier to find, da?"

"We are in the woods." Misha gestures around, and something skitters away, the dying, decaying leaves beneath their feet rustling with its flight. "Who will look here, huh? This man, he drives here from Kansas. Who will think he has gone to the woods?"

"True. He did not go to the woods. We brought him here."

Artyom swallows, watching the motionless roll of blue tarp. The shadows from the light make him nervous, they look like the body moves. He knows it doesn't, but what if it did?

What if the man were still alive, and dug from his shallow grave? What if he found someone, found a river, walked to a road... or what if, maybe, some hiker comes this way and sees a little blue beneath the sticks and the dirt...

Maybe this time some blood was left somewhere visible. A hair, a fingernail, a bit of shoelace. Maybe a fingerprint will tie them to this one.

Maybe it will end...

But he must take care of his brother until it does.

"Hey." Misha frowns, and Artyom looks back up to see those odd glittering empty eyes focused on him. Not angry, no... Not yet.

Artyom swallows against a cold shiver. "What?"

"We must dig faster. To go home to Mama before the soup is too cold. Come on, pick up your shovel." Misha grabs his own, and Artyom moves slowly. He feels sick, sometimes, but only during the digging. Once the body is gone, he feels better.

Once he has made sure, once more, that Misha can keep killing, and their mother can keep her sons both at home.

"We need to start going further away to put the bodies in the ground," He says, even as he jams the edge of the shovel down, shoulders working as he scoops dirt, throws it onto the growing pile near the tarp. Misha starts working beside him. The hole gets deeper, but there is no time to make it deep enough to be safe. "This place... They are too close together now, Misha. Find one, find more than one."

Misha smiles. "But I like to see them, the many. I like to have one place to go and see, Tyoma."

"See what?"

"All of them." Misha breathes it with more genuine passion than he ever seems to feel for anything else. Artyom doesn't look up from his digging.

How many will there be, before someone stops what goes on in the dark? When the itch gets under Misha's skin?

How many more?

He and Misha roll the body in the tarp until it falls into the shallow hole with a thump, and cover it again. Misha is quiet, but Artyom feels those empty eyes on him, again and again.

Misha is a spirit, something evil that kills good men and bad. Artyom would say he has chosen between life alone and life with such a spirit...

But really, he has chosen both.

He is never so alone as he is shoulder-to-shoulder with Misha, digging yet another grave.

One day, he thinks, he will dig his own.

#antoni sings lullabies #artyom #whump #misha the serial killer #and mama's specialest boy

[toournextadventure]

ya boy (who is not a boy) the crow is back with more thoughts, a lil bit fluffy and a lil bit angsty (call that the #2 combo). now first I have to say that this involves Nicky, and I don't expect you to spoil his future or any tidbits, this is just one hypothetical situation

anywho,

imagine it's a few years later, they've been out of Nevermore for a while, and Wednesday and Birdy get engaged. it's adorable, it's great, everyone is super excited. there's just one little thing that Birdy's anxiety keeps coming back to: her last name.

on one hand, it's something given to her by her shitty parents, and she'd love to leave it behind. on the other hand... it's Nicky's last name too. it feels weird to have that separation, as relatively small and technical as it is

Wednesday would prefer that Birdy take the Addams name, but she's fine with any option (such as doing a hyphenated combo) as long as they get married. she's fairly adamant about it being 100% Birdy's decision, though unfortunately that means Birdy has to wrestle with her own indecision.

eventually, Gomez and Morticia approach Birdy about the situation, and quietly offer a no pressure alternative: they officially make Nicky an Addams too. because Bird is already a daughter to them, and they would never say no to another family member.

the next part is Extra Hypothetical, based on one possible outcome for Nicky. after the ceremony, Wednesday and Birb make one extra stop before their honeymoon. still dressed up, still with that newlywed glow, they visit Nicky (whether they sit at his bedside or a grave), and share all the little wedding stories, the antics and shenanigans, who was the best dancer, which speeches made Birb cry the most, etc, etc. And it hurts. But it hurts in the kindest sort of way, where you know the pain will melt into a smile... eventually.

-signed, your friendly neighborhood crow

Wait but that's so sweet and also like... exactly how it would go down with Birb? She has a lot of conflicting feelings about those kinds of things, which is completely understandable, but she also wouldn't just openly talk about them. Now, at that point in the future she would be more willing to talk about them, but not necessarily the most open. So she's going to internally fight it for as long as she can

But if the Addams are just like "okay fine, we'll just take you both" then Birb would cry. Like, big ole crocodile tears because someone finally actually picked them to be part of their family? Someone wants to claim them? They have Mama Weems and the adopted family of course, but it feels different when it's the Addams

And that end theory? *chefs kiss* it's beautiful, I'm obsessed with it, it's so good, makes me feel things

#birb lore #your friendly neighbourhood crow