#they'll stab you in the guts

[byanyan]

new favourite ridiculous headcanon: byan threatening classmates to make them swap seats with them so they can sit next to sol during class

#they show up late to class and come over to u cracking their knuckles so u'll give them ur desk #then they spend the whole class kicking his feet and passing him notes and being disruptive to everyone #but they'll gut punch you if you make fun of them for how obviously infatuated they are with this boy #byan getting detention after nearly stabbing someone through the hand w scissors bc they wanted to sit next to their boyf #i can't even label this as a shitpost bc it's just real #━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ headcanon ⋮ danger in the fabric of this thing i made.

[ordowrites]

Yandere! Diluc being reader's secret admirer. Sending them lots incredibly expensive gifts, silently hoping that they'll eventually realize that he's the one who's been sending them. How would he feel when they guess wrong?

cw: yandere, unhealthy relationships, obsessive and possessive behaviors, mdni, minors do not interact, stalking, delusional behaviors, implied fantasy kidnapping. the writer does not condone anything that happens in this fic. mild not sfw. dark conent. gender neutral reader, but it's mentioned they wear dresses.

sorry for the wait!

He would be hurt, to say the least - but he would hide it under a facade of a forced smile and a weak, "...I see." Anonymous gifts are anonymous for a reason but he can't help but feel as if you'd stabbed him in the gut for that.

"Are you sure it was him though?" he'd ask, doing his best to remain the proud gentleman that he is - his eyes falling on your guys' topic of conversation.

"Who else would it be? They know all the things that I like. Being my closest friend and all." You answer as if it were so obvious to everyone but him. "But what's weird is that they were confused when I thanked them for that summer dress that's fashionable in Fontaine right now."

Ah yes, that dress - he hates that dress but you sighed so longingly over it that he had to splurge just a bit for you. It's too revealing for someone like you - shows too much skin, it's too low cut, it's white and you have a hydro vision.

"How odd." he mumbles as he makes your drinks.

But then he'd imagined how pretty you would look - your skin flushed a soft red from being in the sun, how the white compliments everything, how lovely you'd look in the lace. And he couldn't resist anymore when his imagination went so far as to -

He shakes his head, clearing his mind.

The problem is, he knows that if you knew it was Diluc himself buying you these presents, you would turn them down in a heartbeat. Because you don't view him that way, you two broke up four months ago and he still thinks about it.

He considers telling you, knowing full well that you won't like what he says - knowing full well that you would insist on returning each and every gift that he'd gotten you and finally cut him from your life. So, instead, he just forces a smile while his overactive imagination goes into overtime.

Maybe one day he'll be able to hand you your presents personally - and you'll give him that bright, happy smile you used to give him when he was courting you.

"Green is not a good color on you." Kaeya says from his spot at the counter. "I don't see why you can't tell them the truth."

"We broke up four months ago," he grits out. "They said they were willing to give me a chance at friendship."

"Hm. And I suppose buying them expensive things is part of that? They never struck me as greedy or materialistic." The arguments you and Diluc had about boundaries were ones to not be forgotten - if you even sighed over something, he'd buy it for you and first, it was nice and it made you happy and eventually, it started to upset you. He doesn't know why, you tried to tell him it's because he'd go overboard and something about being "controlling". Really, an ugly word to say when he was trying to help.

"They don't know it's me." He finally says.

Kaeya clicks his tongue and shakes his head. Diluc knows how he sounds, he is aware of it - but Kaeya won't interfere.

For now, Diluc has to do his best to ignore the growing agony of your rejection and quell the envy that grows inside of him - he longs to march over to your table and correct you, to pull you out of your seat and away from everyone and keep you somewhere safe and where he can spoil you properly. And when he's able to do that, you two can have a nice, long discussion on how hurt he felt and how he just wants to help you, and that he hopes you could just give him another chance.

#yandere diluc #yandere diluc x reader #yandere diluc x you #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin x you #yandere cw #yandere themes #soft yandere #yandere genshin imagines #ordo.txt #ordo.text #yandere au #diluc

[unhelpfulfemme]

Damen's also a victim of gaslighting if you think about it, and it explains so many things about him.

Kastor seems to have taken care of him a lot while he was growing up (based on the amount of childhood memories that Damen has with him) and Kastor also fucking hated him. A child in that situation will sort of self-gaslight, they'll convince themselves that they don't see what they do so they can maintain a fundamental sense of safety despite their objectively unsafe environment. The end result is exactly what Damen is - someone who's pretty bad at telling apart those who love him from those who mean him harm.

If Kastor treats him like shit - Kastor fucking stabbed the barely teen-aged heir to the throne in the guts, mind - that's because Kastor is treating him like a man, he's giving him tough love and not coddling him because a prince doesn't need coddling, he needs tempering and seasoning instead. Damen is lucky to have a brother who'll stab him in the guts so he can become a better man and ruler, unlike those arrogant, spoiled other princes who get *checks notes* affectionate relatives.

And if Kastor is treating him like a man that's because Damen's earned it - Damen has a particular fixation about "earning it", whatever "it" is in a particular situation, because the main issue of contention between him and Kastor is that Damen gets the throne by default, regardless of who deserves it more, and therefore (in Kastor's view) Damen is a Bad Person who's screwing him over by his very existence. Damen's answer to this is to make sure that he works hard and is the best at everything (and working hard for things is actually a genuinely good value to have, mind), because this way he DID earn it, he DOES deserve it more, the better man has the throne, so peace on planet Earth, right? But he doesn't understand how this just further humiliates and angers Kastor, who then vengefully retaliates, the truth of which Damen, who loves Kastor and seeks his approval, can't handle emotionally, necessitating the "this is tough love, because I'm a strong man" mental defense.

I think this is interesting because it really spills over into Damen's incorrect conclusions about Laurent, sometimes in kinda embarrassingly stupid ways - because Veretians are Bad and being a spoiled cunt who's never had to work hard for anything is also Bad (in a very visceral way, because it's what Damen is desperately trying to avoid being), the Veretian prince must be both, concludes Damen after a 0.5 second glance at Laurent's resting bitch face. "A prince doesn't need to be coddled, he needs to be seasoned," says Damen to Paschal about Laurent, even though he's only in the position to have this conversation in the first place because Laurent's entire family died by the time he was 13 and he is currently being hunted down like a dog by his only remaining relative.

I also think that this is the foundation on which Damen's attitudes about slavery are able to change and develop - if his idea of someone deserving something is based in whether he's earned it (as opposed to birthright), becoming a slave is an easy way to disprove his current worldview about how much "earning it" matters in a fundamentally unjust society: first of all, Damen can't earn anything if Laurent doesn't allow him the opportunity to. Once Laurent does allow it, no matter how competent Damen shows himself to be, no matter how much Laurent treats him as an equal, no matter how much Damen earns Laurent's respect, this is all still happening at Laurent's whim and Laurent can turn around and treat Damen like a servant again, praise his military prowess with one breath and threaten him with a whipping with the next, and there's very little Damen can do about it. Damen goes from a privileged man's idea of meritocracy (I worked hard for it so I deserve it) to a more 360 degree one (some people can never have what I have no matter how hard they work, because I am fundamentally privileged).

Finally, it's really obvious that Damen also loves working for it in his romantic relationships, which probably stems from the same roots as all of the above, but it's a particularly interesting framework for drawing parallels between Laurent and the rest of Damen's life. Not only is Laurent the undisputed champion of Being Hard to Get, Laurent also hates Damen because Damen unthinkingly took something precious away from him (just like someone else!), and Laurent is also very punishing towards Damen over it (just like someone else!). But this time, Damen is actually capable of earning Laurent's respect (because facts will always take precedence over pettiness for hyperrational Laurent), and then his love, because Laurent is willing to see Damen as a person with feelings- as a man who loves him and cares about pleasing him - and not just as his role in the tragedy of Laurent's life.

I just think it's interesting to think about, is all, because I feel like the knee-jerk instinct is to analyze Laurent's more overt fuckedupness while not thinking about how Damen needs to also be kinda fucked up to find the thornbush pleasing to the extent that he does.

#captive prince #damianos of akielos #these books had such a visceral grasp on me that for a while I didn't trust myself to engage with other people's opinions on them #but now I am slowly easing into it and sometimes I see the usual reaction that you typically get in competence-porn-driven stories #where a character acting in stupid ways because of emotional hangups is #Bad Characterization #and I just felt like writing this I dunno hope someone finds it useful

[thatfuckinjester]

Genuinely need a fic of Aether and Omega finding Phantom trying to sneak out. He so desperately doesn't want to get sent back to the pit

this has been in my asks for so long, i'm sorry i didn't write it sooner, i just couldn't find the words. and i really hate how it turned out, but i hope you'll like it!!

it was one of the only times phantom slept, he doesn't like it that much, it makes him feel vulnerable, he threw the clothes he slept in on the floor, and when he woke up it was too dark to see anything, and he felt more exhausted then he ever was, so he just felt for the clothes on the floor and wore them again.

it was a weird night, a dark one, and maybe that's it.

it was a starless night, not even a distanced star could be seen. and what better night then this would be to get away?

phantom's room was clean, it's not like he had personal things so it wasn't a hard thing to do, just to make sure that the bed is made, and that wasn't a hard job at all as he didn't feel comfortable to lay in his own bed.

he didn't unpack his things from the tour so it wasn't that hard to just take all his clothes.

the window in his room wide open, with no stars in sight. Maybe if he gets caught and sent back to the pit at least the stars aren't looking. either way, tomorrow won't be easier, he might not be here anymore.

it was cold, freezing even, but phantom couldn't feel it, his body was buzzing all over, maybe he'll get caught, maybe he'll be sent back, and maybe not. maybe he'll get away, maybe they'll look for him because they do care deep down, but he doubts that they will.

everything was silent, and he walked slowly, he truly did! he was so so so close to the door; to getting out, to maybe be important by not being there anymore.

and he was just about to open the door, his blood thumping in his ears, and a hand grabbed his shoulder.

he was gone.

phantom always wondered how it'll end, will they take him from his room in the middle of the night as he begged them to please just give him a few more seconds?

were they waiting for rehearsals to begin again to catch him? to make him believe that there's a chance he's going to stay just to rip it away? to send him back to the pit with the music he so dearly loved stuck in his head?

with how much he imagined it, he never thought it would be like this, getting caught so close to being free from it all, it took everything he had in him, all the fight he wished that would stay, his body going boneless and a sob escaping him as the hand that held him tighten on his shoulder. the touch was burning him.

then he started crying, he couldn't control it, it seeped through him, and it hurt like a punch to the gut, or maybe a stab to the back.

and maybe it wasn't just being sent back to the pit, maybe it was just everything.

he doesn't-

"hey, hey. please relax, it's okay, you're phantom, right? It's all okay, we're going to keep you safe -aether, make us tea please- you're okay, you're safe."

#schedule for 19:11 #ghost #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #phantom #phantom ghoul #phantom ghost #omega #omega ghoul #omega ghost #aether #aether ghoul #aether ghost #phantom believing that he's being sent back to the pit

[heartfullofleeches]

Do it!! We love your ideas chief, that’s why we’re here!

Also ghoul reader is hot as fuck

[Light body horror. Angst]

Well- two important factors about ghoul reader are both their body and mind deteriorate over time, but can be rebuilt to full structure by eating human meat/brain healthy meals.

This led me to think of a "healer" ghoul reader who can sorta transfer/reconstruct the healthy cells to others and heal people that way. Lose a kidney? Ghoul Reader can create a new one and negate most side effects by eating some ground beef left in the freezer. A personal sacrifice of their flesh for another being.

Given the nature of their healing properties, Ghoul Reader is extremely caring and always puts others before themself. They make friends with the wrong person- someone who hardly cares about their well-being and uses Reader for their personal gain. They had been scarred horribly by mistakes they'd already made and without them even asking Reader starts to slowly heal them. Their body needs more work than reader's can take, but they just write the ghoul off as lazy and trying to keep them around. Reader's body mass continues to shrink no matter how much they eat. It hurts them to put so much strain on their body... it hurts so much... but they still try. They still keep that "friend" in their heart and notebooks so they'll never forget them when their memory blanks. They care about their friend. They love them. They want them to be okay and love themself for who they are-

But they never knew how truly rotten that person was - inside and out.

"Finally... All those horrid scars were a damper on my social life. I'm even more beautiful than I was then. That being said, I can't be seen around something like you. It was fun."

That isn't what friends are supposed to say.. After all they did for them... Gone without even saying goodbye. That was the ghouls first time being betrayed to such caliber- and it crushed them. They wouldn't feel this pain if they were just another mindless creature, but they were proud of the person they'd become. The "normal" human being who walked around same as everyone else. They were just like them... only rotting... maybe that person wasn't so wrong to leave them behind...

Ghoul Reader shuts off from the outside world after that. They stick to their routine as it's all they've ever known, but they've lost that rosy view of the world. Is it worth making friends anymore? What's the point of trying if they'll just be abandoned again? They were more human than the people around them. Unlike them - they felt pain. They wanted to forget it all - so they did. Most of it at least.

While out one night reader notices a musky scent in the air. So faint only their nose would catch it. They follow the trail to a body lying behind some dumpsters - stab wounds having torn deep holes through their vital organs. Their pulse was weak - fading. Despite all the pain they've been dealt, Ghoul couldn't let someone die for another's mistake. They fixed up the near corpse and waited for them to wake up so they couldn't get home safety.

"Ugh....I'm still alive....lame...who the fuck are you?.."

Ghoul Reader explains everything that lead up to the encounter and their healing capabilities.

"Eh....with how my nights gone - I'll believe anything at this point. Thanks for the help, bud."

It was nothing. Ghoul Reader gets up to leave.

"Aye! Where ya going? You save people's lives on the regular and expect nothing back? Lemme treat you to dinner. Know a good spot close by and I still have the wallet I was gutted over. Let's get going already!"

Reader learns more about their new acquaintance. A petty thief trying to get on the right track in life. They spun some wild story about seeing a guy dropping his wallet and them trying to return it with the guy flying off the rails and accusing them of stealing it. The details were spotty, but Reader nodded along to every word. They needed a place to stay for the night as their home was too far to trek back too at that hour. They give Reader the rest of the cash in the wallet in exchange for their couch and they become the first real friend Reader makes.

Everything Reader gave they always tried to give back double. The near death experience gave them a new outlook on life. It was something to be cherished and not thrown away so easily as they had in the past. They wanted to share that new view with their only friend. Reader was a better companion than people they'd know their entire life. A little bitey when they got hungry, but everyone gets a little cranky when they're starving.

The friend gets a call over. Reader had skipped breakfast and wasn't sticking to their usual diet. They sat alone, unable to move and succumbing to the painful cramps of hunger. They begged their friend to bring them meat from the store, but their friend wanted to end their suffering as quickly as they could. They pulled out their trusty switchblade, embedding its teeth in their pinky finger. Ghoul Reader tries to stop them.

"Y/n, you saved my life. It's as much yours as it is mine. I'd give anything to properly replay you, but I'll never be able to and I don't mind living with that debt on my shoulders if it means we're together. This is the least I can do for you- so shut up and eat my damn finger."

-

A week after Reader tries them their finger back there's a knock on the door. Their friend refused treatment seeing it as a marker of their loyality to reader. They make sure reader is well fed at all times. A face reader has seen before stands behind the door. Some model they've seen on billboards and flyers. What could someone like that with them?

"Y/n. I know you probably don't want to see me after what I've done, but I need your help. I got into an accident after a few drinks last week. Nothing serious before you ask, but I've got these bruises and I have an important party to attend this Saturday. I'll allow you to be my plus one if that fixes things."

....

"I'll be out with a friend Saturday, but thank you. I can still fix you, but if you don't mind me asking - how do you know my name?"

Reader leads them to their couch and heals their spotty face all while the stranger is left bewildered. They're acting like nothing happened. Why are they acting like nothing happened? Who was this new friend and who the hell was that standing by their bedroom door?

"Are you seriously going to play this game?"

"What do you mean?"

"Pretending like you don't know who I am. That's harsh even with everything that's happened."

Ghoul Reader backs away from them.

"I've seen you in pictures, but that's it. I don't know who you are."

"It was cute at first, but I'm not playing whatever game you're trying to start. You know who I am."

Ghoul Reader racks their brain for answers, but there's no result. They begin to hyperventilate. "I don't....I don't know who you are....Stop it, please!"

"Not til you say my name. I'll own up to my part when do that simple thing."

They grip at their face, talons catching on their softened skin. "I don't know who you are...Don't make me remember..... Get out.... GET OUT!"

As the stranger leaves and heads towards their car a notebook flies out reader's window - aiming for their skull had they not stepped out of the way in time. Inside are pages of filled with scratched out ink held on a weakened spine. It was a miracle they held together. The pages stick togethered, water damgaged by crusted specks of blood and smaller dots of a clearer fluid. The words written were near illegible, but there's a few key points they could make out. A birthday, the begining and ending characters to a person's name, a repeated phrase pieced together over the various pages. Don't forget. Never forget.

They'd been erased completely from reader's conscious mind. This notebook had been kept to prevent that very thing from happening. All those precious memories thrown away. The stranger was happy with the life they'd been robbed of - but no one had ever been their for them like Reader had. A new stain falls to the page.

Flipping to the final page, a note slides off the back cover.

"Come here again - and I'll erase you permanently."

It wasn't reader's hand writing. The person in the window holds up a new journal - comforting a sobbing ghoul on their shoulder.

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere insert #yandere scenarios #yandere #yandere blurb #yandere oc #tw yandere #yandere angst #zombie reader #yandere drabble

[meownotgood]

last act. / hayakawa aki x gn!reader, angst, hurt no comfort, bad ending, blood, aki watches you die in his arms. word count: 3.4k

The first thing Aki notices is how you've stopped moving. He can't see your blurry figure in the corner of his eye anymore, when usually, you're fighting right at his side. 

With tired arms and a precise blade, he slices through the last of the devil's proxy — weaker, low rate devils that the commanding devil has taken control over — but not without his sword shattering clean in half on the final devil's armored backside. In one swift movement, Aki stabs the devil clean through the middle with the blunt remnants of his broken sword, burying the hilt so deep in the devil's stomach it'd be impossible to tug it out. Not like it matters, anyways; without the rest of the blade, the weapon is damn near unusable. 

Purple-hued guts splatter all over his sneakers, the devil's body slumps, and Aki catches his breath, placing his hands on his knees, his chest heaving. His lungs feel sore, his limbs are beginning to ache. Sweat drips from his brow, and he hastily wipes it with the back of his hand, he swipes the trickle of blood that leaks from his nose with his thumb. 

He feels and surely looks like a fucking mess. This mission wasn't supposed to be so draining. It was supposed to be for one weak devil, certainly easy enough for two hunters to take out, not for twenty nearly unstoppable devils. Apparently, the Nature Devil is far craftier than anyone initially anticipated. The parasitic mushrooms sprouting from the heads of the droves he slew is a clear sign of its influence. 

Either way, his head is pounding too much right now for him to consider where the hell all those devils came from, nor for him to wrap his brain around why they were tough enough to nearly do him in. When you both get out of here, the first thing he's doing is finding whatever imbecile submitted the report for this so-called "easy" assignment. They'll be in this building on cleaning duty for the next week. 

But he's alive. None of that matters now. The devils were all slain, he's alive, and you're — 

The next thing Aki notices is your crumpled body, collapsed twenty-something feet away when he turns his head to search for you. There's something sticking out of your back, a huge twist of wood and leaves, with buds sprouting from the source; the vile aftermath of the Nature Devil, surely. It looks sharp. You must have been stabbed with it at some point in the fight when Aki was stupid enough to look away. 

His eyes go wide. His breath is shallow, and it catches in his throat. He forces himself to stand, nearly stumbling when he manages to regain his footing. 

There's no time for him to care about his own injuries; Aki wills his exhausted legs to move, despite how badly they threaten to buckle. He ignores the ache in his side, no doubt caused by a broken bone or a cracked rib, no matter how much it hurts. There's a sting in his ankle every time he puts weight on it, but he forgets about the pain so he can rush over to you as fast as he can, and as he falls down to his knees at your side, that's when Aki notices the blood. 

So much blood, your blood, forming a deep pool around you like a casket, soaking into the fabric of your shirt to stain it a vivid shade of pure red. When Aki's eyes flicker from your wound to your face, he sees your expression contorted in pain, your nose crinkled, your eyelids fluttering. There's an empty, listless sort of look in the back of your pupils, and when your gaze meets his own, it makes Aki's heart sink into the pit of his stomach. 

"Shit, shit-" Aki reaches up, fumbling to take off his suit jacket. Another swear is bitten from his tongue when his hands are too shaky to undo one of the buttons. Once they've been unbuttoned enough, he rushes to tear it from his shoulders. 

With one hand he lifts your body, and with the other he snakes his jacket underneath, tying the sleeves around your back as best as he can manage. He pulls you a little closer, and he shifts so he can hold you in his arms, your head propped up. The crisp, fancy fabric of his familiar suit jacket feels smooth under his skin when he runs his hand over it, and with his palm, he presses down, applying firm pressure onto your wound, eliciting a sharp cry of pain from your mouth. 

"Sorry, I'm sorry," Aki apologizes quickly, and he relieves a bit of the pressure, taking his hand away. 

He shouldn't look closer, he knows he shouldn't because he isn't going to like what he sees, but in a moment he finds himself pushing the jacket out of the way anyways, pulling your blood-soaked shirt out from where it's still tucked into your slacks, and tugging it up to expose your stomach. 

He takes a deep breath to prepare himself, and then he looks down. Jesus Christ. Bile rises so thickly in his throat it almost chokes him, he feels like throwing up and breaking down all at once. It doesn't look good, but it somehow manages to be even worse than he was expecting, and even more horrible than anything he thinks he's ever seen before. 

Aki pulls your shirt back down, bunching up his jacket as best he can, before his hand returns to press against your wound. "It's okay," He winces, and apologizes again the second he hears you scream, his voice gentle and deep, "I'm sorry, I have to do this. Keep looking at me, don't close your eyes, alright? Can do that for me?" 

You're giving it your best effort; Aki can tell by the way your eyelids flicker as you fight to keep them from closing. But you're starting to cry. From the pain or the fear, Aki doesn't know, but he watches as tears well up in your eyes until they stream from your cheeks, until you're sobbing and hiccuping, until your breath comes out in weak, meager gasps and your voice is muttered as desperate little begs of his name. 

Aki… A-Aki… Aki — Stuttered and slurred, your mouth barely able to say each syllable, repeating his name like it's the only word you know. Like you need him, like you're counting on him. Your lips quiver and your chest feels like hell and blood boils in the back of your throat and fuck, Aki's trying. 

"I know, I know, don't cry," He answers, and he brings his hand up for only a moment, brushing strands of messy hair from your face, and wiping your tears from your cheeks with the one spot on the back of his hand that isn't covered in blood. 

Aki, it hurts. 

Your voice is a little quieter, and the way you speak this time, so lifelessly and faint; it makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up, it gives his hands a distinct shake. It hurts him too. 

"I know, it's okay, everything will be okay." Aki places his hand on your cheek, and this time, when he holds it tenderly, he doesn't care how his fingers and his palm smear patches of red over your skin. "Just breathe, just take deep breaths, deep breaths in and out. In, and then out, alright?" 

His words cause your breathing to slow, but only just a little. Aki rests your head in his lap while he uses his free hand to feel out your pulse; he feels the unsteady beat beneath his fingertips, and he knows his heart is pounding at least ten times faster. It aches in his chest, it rattles his broken ribcage and echoes in his ears each time it thumps. 

With a quiet gasp, he presses his palm into your side firmer, you immediately yelp and screw your eyes shut. Your hand flies up to grip his wrist, spreading blood onto his sleeve. 

"It's okay, it's okay, shh…" Aki coos, but his voice is starting to shake, his words are getting weaker. He's beginning to sound unsure of himself without even realizing, like his reassurance is not only for you but also to keep himself sane: "I know it hurts, I'm sorry, I know, but it'll be alright, you're gonna be okay. You'll be okay, you'll… you'll…" 

Aki's been here before. He knows this, the feeling of watching someone die. The smell of blood and the taste of bile in his mouth is as familiar to him as a second home. He's had this exact scene play out in the form of a nightmare, he's thought about what he'd do if he lost you when he's smoking on the balcony at the ungodly hours of the night. 

His own brain and foolish emotions have put him through this experience tens, maybe hundreds of times, not only with you, but with everyone else he's come to lose. He thinks of them every time he wakes up in the morning, he feels haunted by the thought of death wherever he goes. 

But now, it's happening, it's really happening, everything he feared of with you is really happening right before his eyes and Aki doesn't know what he's supposed to do about it. 

Perhaps there isn't anything he can do. The two of you went on this mission alone, so there's no use calling for help. He's pressing onto your wound as firmly as he can with his trembling hand and weak fingers, but it's still bleeding, you're bleeding out in his arms and he can't do anything. 

Your blood is starting to soak through his jacket. It's warm on his palm, it's caked into his skin, deep and thick and crimson. It's under his fingernails, it's pooling around his knees and drenching his slacks. You've stopped crying, and your whimpers of pain have quieted, even when Aki shoves his blood-soaked palm harder against your injury. He calls out your name once, twice, three times, but you don't answer. 

Perhaps there's really nothing he can do to save you. You're slowly dying, and as much as Aki doesn't want to admit it, as much as he wants to bury it down and pretend something like this isn't happening to the only person he has left, the only one he's begged for the universe not to take away from him, deep down, he knows that it's true, and perhaps all he can do is watch. 

Maybe the only thing he can do now is hold you and count the seconds until you disappear because he failed to protect you, and now there's nothing that can be done. And it's when that thought hits him, it's with this simple realization — This is what gets him to finally break. 

"No, no…" Aki's voice is frail and fragile. He rocks you a little in his arms, tears prick at the corner of his eyes. "No, no, no, don't do this, you can't, you can't. Not like this." 

Not like this, not here. You can't die in this horrible place, your body amongst the rotting corpses of devils, your clothes stained with their insides and your knuckles bruised from fighting them off. You can't die like this, in his arms, when Aki isn't ready to lose you, when he hasn't told you that he loves you, when there's so much he still has to do and say and when you're the only reason why he hasn't given up. 

You're why he's been smoking less, you're why he's taken less contracts with devils and accepted more easy missions. You're the reason behind why he's written his resignation over and over and over again, even though he'll always crumple it and toss it in the trash without ever turning it in. 

Aki knows if he quit, you'd quit too, and maybe that's the reason why he's thought of giving up on devil hunting. Because if you quit, you'll be safe, and if something happened to you, how would he live with himself? 

He wouldn't, and you don't deserve this, you deserve a quiet life free from the pain and the hurt. You deserved to die a normal death, and now you're going to be just another name in the obituaries, just another life taken by the same thing that took Aki's family away from him, and your family away from you. He should have turned in that resignation paper a long, long time ago. 

Aki doesn't think he deserves this, either. He's lost so much. He can't lose you. Not you.

And he's aware he's long since given up — Aki has stopped pressing on your wound in favor of bringing you closer, wrapping his arms around you and holding you like your vessel is what ties him to the ground. He knows it's over, but he still begs with a weak voice and even weaker heart: "Please, don't leave me. I-I can't lose you, please, just please." 

In the end, his pleas mean nothing. You're starting to fade, your breath comes out shallower, your palm feels cold to the touch when Aki desperately grabs it. He grips your hand so tight it would hurt if you weren't already numb, your fingers curl around his knuckles weakly. 

The weight on his shoulders is getting heavier, and it's growing more difficult to hold you up. The last of his strength is finally chipped away, and the few stray tears he's unable to keep in turn to hopeless sobs that shake the entirety of his frame. Aki cries into your shoulder, he feels like he can hardly breathe. The world is collapsing in on itself, and he's at the center of it all. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." It's hard to speak when his tears are choking him, but still, he continues, "It's- it's my fault. It's all my fault. What do I do, God, what am I supposed to do!?" 

If he was stronger, if he had acted more quickly, if he hadn't turned his head away from you, if he'd been paying more attention, if he just did something, maybe he could have saved you. He should have saved you. It should have been him instead. If only he could trade his life for your own. 

You reply with one last meager utterance of his name. It pains him to hear you say it like this, your voice so broken, so different from the way you usually call his name in a way that makes his heart skip like nothing else he's ever felt before, and like no-one else has ever done. But knowing that it might be the last time he'll ever hear it feels even worse. 

Trying to memorize the sound of your dying voice choking out his own name, just so he won't end up forgetting it when you're gone is worse than a punch to the gut. It's his heart being ripped open. 

Aki speaks gently through his tears: "I'm here, I'm right here. I know, please, I know it hurts so much, just," He grips your hand a little tighter, he exhales a shaky breath. He comes to terms with everything. 

"It won't hurt anymore soon, okay?" 

For you, it won't, but for him? This might just be what puts him in his grave. 

And he's not stupid, he's never been stupid. Aki knew something like this was a possibility, he knew it even when he was letting himself grow closer to you. All the nights you spent together, all the laughter and all the times he spent falling for you. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he was telling himself that this would be the outcome. 

Your hands in his and your lips on his own and your voice in his ear were all premonitions of what was to come. He supposes he was just stupid enough not to listen. 

Your body feels limp, your hand is slipping away from his. Aki knows his palms are caked in your blood, his skin stained such a deep shade of crimson he doubts it will ever wash out. He holds you closer, his sobs start to quiet as he focuses on the sound of your breathing. 

And even though he's not sure if you'll even hear him, or if it's even worth it, or if it's far too late for this — When he hears you take your final breath, he knows that it is, but even still, he's repeating, "I love you, I love you, I love you." 

Aki holds you for longer than necessary. You're cold, so cold. He longs to give you some of his warmth. He buries his head in your chest, where the beat of your heart has ceased. He tugs you closer, and when he does, he feels something soft tickle his wrist. There's a moment of hesitation, of swallowing the lump in his throat, before he pulls away and looks down. 

Flowers. Petals in shades of white and purple and pink, painted red with droplets of blood, long green stems curling out from beneath the hem of your shirt. Aki tugs your clothing up and out of the way, only to find that they're growing from your body, the roots twisted and turned through the mess of gore in your stomach, seeds sprouting from every inch of flesh; They're consuming you. 

With a trembling hand, Aki rubs one of the petals between his fingers, he bites the inside of his cheek and crushes the flower into nothing. They're real, gorgeous and real and wretched, all at once. He wonders what caused them to grow so fast. Was it your blood? His tears? 

He isn't given much time to think about it, because his thoughts are interrupted by a noise in the distance. When he looks up, there's a small part of him that hopes it's some sort of help, someone that's come to save him from this hell or someone who's here to tell him this is just a dream. But he knows that's too good to be true. 

This noise is too foreign, it sounds like clanking chains and the scrape of metal on metal and the whisper of rustling leaves. The last of his hope is snuffed out, and his suspicions are confirmed when the shadows part, and from them, comes the looming figures of more mushroom-clad devils. 

In his chest, Aki's heart beats a little faster. His gaze flickers to your sword, the blade crumbled into dust and smothered in plant life just a few inches away. Then, he looks towards his own, broken inside the body of one of the devil's spawn. 

He's long since ran out of contracts to use. In one last effort, while he's still holding onto you, he makes a feeble attempt to try and move, only for the pang in his side to increase exponentially. When he lets go of you for a moment, he's able to make a bit more progress, but the second he's stood, the sharp sting in his foot forces him back down. 

Aki stares down at the concrete. He breathes in, breathes out, long and shaky. 

In his mind, he thinks of you, he pictures the two of you turning into nothing more than flowers and leaves, your bodies blossoming from the Nature Devil's doing. Woven together, his arms around you, and the roots winding from his heart to yours. In the end, beautiful and blissful is how you'll be found. If that's what's going to happen to him, it doesn't sound too bad. 

With a quiet wince of pain, he reaches for your sword, yanking it from the mess of vines. The moment his hand closes around the hilt, the blade starts to crumble more, but his grip remains steadfast. He closes his eyes, and he presses his forehead to yours. 

If there's a life after this one, maybe you'll meet there, and maybe that life will take pity on the two of you for choosing to be so cruel this time around. Or maybe you'll both fall into the abyss once again. 

"This won't take long." Aki inhales one more deep breath, before he looks up. The devils are starting to get closer; the parasite makes them blind, but surely they can hear him, and they definitely smell the scent of blood. 

"I'll be with you soon."

Aki holds your hand as the devils close in. 

#aki hayakawa x reader #aki x reader #aki hayakawa #aki hayakawa x you #aki x you #chainsaw man x reader #csm x reader

[woodandwaxwings]

Can I request yandere Peter Pan and the lost boys (poly) x male reader? It’s cool if not! (:

sure thing :) since most of the lost boys are really young children I decided to do headcannons for Peter and Felix individually cause I've had a lot going on these past two weeks emotionally so when I have more energy I'll do an actual oneshot for this ask

Warnings: Yandere obvi

Starting with peter, he'd be the type of yandere to make it very clear to his darling that they're his.

If you came to the island with a friend, yeah, they're dead.

nobody can go near you, but the longer you stay on the island the more he'll trust you. But trusting you doesn't matter because it's the lost boys who are eternally stuck in puberty that he doesn't trust.

HATES physical affection but will not hesitate to fully make out in front of a lost boy so they'll leave you alone

he's chill(er) with you hanging out with the younger lost boys between like 6-12 after that it's free target practice.

after about a month he gets more comfortable with Felix being around you, but not without ripping his heart out and threatening him first.

says ily before you even start dating

if you choose to go the monogamous route and Felix isn't attracted to you, then you'd end up hanging out with the blonde more than the man who set his eyes on you, but that'll be purely bc with Felix you can talk to the other lost boys without worrying he'll snitch.

and boy does that piss peter off. you're supposed to be HIS so what are you doing spending more time with the second in command than the man who took you in?

are you not grateful for his protection and undying love? of course, over time you are but he needs to ensure he's gotten his message across.

so like any good boyfriend you didn't agree to date, he stabs his competition and leaves him on the beach to die. Of course, the other lost boys saved him but now you understood.

you understood that no one would go as far for you as him. nobody can be trusted but him.

if you go the poly route he's 10x more defensive not just of you but of Felix. It took a lot of effort to share you and he's not going to spread his feelings further.

At first, it started out as a competition, you obviously fell for Felix first considering he's better at masking his psychopathy compared to Peter

It took some time but Felix convinced you to give pan a chance.

happiest day of his life

he's down bad I'm telling you

leaves hickeys to mark his territory. doesn't matter if he was prompted or not he'll just come up to you, loop his arms around your waist and get to work

despite being over a century younger than Peter I believe Felix is 110 times better at hiding his obsession

once you realized that Felix was equally as crazy as Pan you were already in too deep

big spoon so you don't run away

he enjoys pissing you off a bit too much

very much a passive yandere

unlike pan it'll take a bit of provoking for him to act out, whereas pan if you look at him the wrong way he'll gut you

will not let you leave his side EVER

loves playing with your hair. he's sitting on a long combing his fingers through your hair in front of the fire while he glares at Peter ogling his darling, this happens quite frequently

I think Felix leaves bite marks rather than hickeys, like, 'he let me do this to him and you think you can lay a hand on him? nah'

loves physical contact and Holding hands is a must.

irl guard dog

#ouat peter pan #peter pan #peter pan ouat #felix ouat #ouat #ouat felix #yandere peter pan #yandere felix #yandere x y/n #yandere x male reader #yandere x reader #tw yandere #male y/n #x male reader #male reader #m/n #x reader #peter pan x reader #poly lost boys x reader #poly yandere #yandere x male darling

[cringecannon]

Obsessed with the idea of your Dark Urge fics. I'm cackling at the idea of how Gortash would Absolutely Loathe his "nearest and dearest" having an interest in sharpening their new shiny little knife of a darling. So annoying. So irritating. Catching the attention and ire of a certain Banite when you don't even Want to be the Bhaalspawn's new pet project is so nightmarish.

genuinely one of the worst positions to be in.

Your introduction to the banite was tense, to say the least. Meeting his paramour’s new… pet wasn’t something he was interested in. Why they felt the need to introduce him to you is beyond you. Because it’s funny, would be your best guess. Because your torment can’t just be from them, no, that’d be too easy.

Luckily, Gortash seems more than happy to ignore you altogether. Every time they bring you around him he simply acts like you’re not there, despite the teasing and goading of your master. You can tell it’s getting to him. The white-knuckle grip on his utensils as they coo at him from over you shoulder. They’ve sat you on their lap, chin nestled by the crook of your neck as they taunt him from across the dinner table. Why so sour, Enver? They hope he doesn’t feel left out. They’d love to share. His utensils clatter to the table loudly in response and you jump as your master laughs in your ear. The glower he has unsettles you.

You don’t see him for awhile after that. You’re happy for it. You should’ve known better than to let your guard down.

You awaken in the middle of the night to a blade reflecting moonlight onto your face. You barely roll out of the way in time, the blade plunging into your mattress. No weapons, no means to defend yourself. You hate yourself for it, but you have no choice. You scream. The assassin lunges for you, and you block with your arms, the sharp blade easily slicing skin.

Like a shark senses blood, your master is quick to burst into the room. As they tackle the would-be assassin you stumble back, pressing yourself up against the wall. You can’t stay focused. One minute you’re standing, the next you’re sat on your bed, watching the carnage unfold. You’d seen them kill before, but this is different. Wild. Unhinged. The assassin’s face is unrecognizable when they finally slow their assault. They pick up the assassin’s blade and examine it casually, as if the person below them isn’t now faceless and barely conscious.

They ask who sent them. The assassin dares to gurgle something that isn’t a name and your master stabs the blade through their hand with such force that it sparks against the stone. Your head goes elsewhere. When you snap back out of it your master is kneeled between your legs, stitching your arm with a care and precision you wouldn’t expect. The assassin’s corpse lays in a puddle of it’s own blood, body broken and bent. A sharp tug and they tie off the stitch, mumbling something. Mad promises. You don’t care to listen.

When they take your hand you follow obediently, too numb to protest. They lead you along, out of the temple, through the city, alleys you’ve been down dozens of times before. A pit grows in your stomach when you realize where they’re taking you.

You’d eventually find yourself sat prettily in a wooden chair, a quick kiss to your forehead before they wander out of the room. You don’t dare move. You hold as still as possible, even when they return with Bane’s chosen. You prepare for the punishment. The torment they’ve clearly planned for you.

You don’t expect your master to pull the assassin’s knife on him, pressing it to his throat hard enough to draw blood. Kneel. He glares, and doesn’t move. They kick the back of his leg, forcing him to the ground. They could gut him. They remind him that they still might, after the little stunt he’s just pulled. They grab his hair and drag him across the floor, pulling him to you.

They thought him more clever than this. Clearly, his ego is bigger than his brain if he thinks they'll let some little lordling get between them and their plans. He gets two choices. They press the dagger between his shoulder blades, leaning in close. He can apologize, or they’ll get to play in his blood.

After that, they expect you both to put all this silly business aside. His killer-for-hire gave you a nasty cut. It’s only fair he makes it up to you. A matching scar, maybe a kiss to make it better. Plenty of ways to give this night a happy ending, don’t you both agree?

#tw pathetic gortash #.durge #.bg3

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

Omg you love slashers too?? What do you think about Billy Lenz in Black Christmas or Thomas Hewitt from Texas Chainsaw Massacre??

Rat Man and Giant Teddy Bear

Instead of going into how much I love Black Christmas, let's talk about these dirty, dirty men.

I love scrawny rat men. Will he molest me? Will he stab me? Who knows, and frankly, who cares. If I can get a squeeze of his tiny little ass in before I'm sent to hell, it will have been worth it. I'm no masochist (debatable) but men who act like they'll peel off my skin just because they think I'm pretty make me want to be locked in a tiny cage. And if you have a dehumanizing kink, even better, because Billy will call you a piggy and a whore but probably never by your name ❤️

Stalk me, harass me, threaten to eat me out, masturbate into my pillows, and then after all that foreplay, rip me open and play with my guts? Sounds like a date.

And Thomas..

Yeah, he's a cannibal, but he can eat this ass

He's a giant of a man, and I don't understand how that could ever be an insult. I want him to sit on my lap so I can hold him like a giant stuffed animal, I do not care if he hurts my legs. He has the filth of a rat man, with his luscious locks that need to be washed and blood stains that will never come out, but the air of a man who'd be scared of pushing your boundaries (like a gentleman). And imagine getting your back snapped in half by him, both sexually and not. Sure, his life style feels like Christian based, trad wife, barefoot in the kitchen with a baby on your back, making human stew, you're never leaving this house, kind of life, but would it be worth it? Maybe. Even without a uterus, even if you were the more dominant in the bedroom, I feel like you would be delegated to house spouse duties, simply because Thomas would love you too much for you to get blood on your hands.

Thomas brings out my "I can save him" side, where as Billy makes me want to be broken down like the pig that I am.

Oink oink.

#thank you for interacting with me #billy lenz #thomas hewitt #impure thoughts #slashers #rat man #cw degradation #i fucking love horror #these two #black christmas #is a holiday classic and without it we may have never gotten a lot of the slasher genre #it inspired the final girl trope and the first person perspective they used at the beginning of Halloween

[hiemaldesirae]

Thorn here:

Alastor's starts his usual broadcast when he realizes his muse has unlocked his side of their shared frequency--and of *course* Al takes advantage, how could he not? It would be entertaining to mess with dear Vox, after all, hadn't he told him to never let any weakness show towards what he thought was an enemy? (Not that he would ever, ever permanently hurt his precious, precious, picture box. Remind him of lessons he should have already learn so he could continue to live, so he could return to Alastor's side, once and for all? Of course!)

So he puts on jazz music mixed with previous overlord and sinner screams, before falling into the frequency to find out what Vox is up too--only to SNARL in RAGE as agonizing pain reaches him from Vox.

He rips himself from the deep immersion, antlers scraping the ceiling as he stands up. "VOX," He breathes, melting into the shadows and disappearing from his radio tower.

He appears in Vox's room, his shadow moving towards the room's door, stretching over it until it covers it completely. The scent of Vox's blood fills the air, and Alastor snarls again.

He stalks over to Vox's nest of blankets, eyes on the still figure resting within. He hisses as he catches sight of Vox's Broken and bleeding tail lying limp outside of the nest, before he sees the hastily wrapped stomach wound and the gauze pressed onto Vox's right shoulder.

Another snarl leaves his throat--who dared hurt his muse? As he slipped his shoes off before entering Vox's nest, gently touching the TV demon's wounded shoulder to treat it.

The touch it seems is all it took to wake Vox, as the broken cyan tail gave a weak jerk, and his screen powered on. Red eyes blinked, panic, fear and hate gleamed in them before they realized who it was, and pure relief shone in them mix with a bit of warmth at seeing the stag.

"Vox, dear, who did this too you?" Alastor gently asks, as he begins to treat Vox's shoulder wound, summoning medical equipment as needed. His ears flatten and his rage grows as his muse attempts to answer and only gibberish and squeaks come out, and he gently presses a finger to Vox's lips. "Let's get you better first, then you can tell me." He murmurs softly, finishing fixing Vox's shoulder before checking the gut wound and giving a bellow of rage as he spots the angelic bullet. "WhO DaReS?!?!"his roars, antlers screeching against Vox's metal ceiling, before something sweet and warm reaches out to him in their shared frequency, gently curling around him, nuzzling him, soothing his rough edges and promising him a sweeter, bloodier revenge later--one that will taste even better.

Alaster gives a bleat as he relaxes into Vox's frequency touch, silently categorizing the pain still filling it as his muse sooths him. "Let's get this bullet out of you, and sew you up, hmmm my sweet Clio? But first, I'm going to give you a little shot--It's for pain." He murmurs as he began to work, taking a shot filled with a highly potent pain medication and diligently finding a vein in Vox's unhurt arm, stabbing it in and giving his muse the medicine before the other overlord could stop him. Grinning as Vox shot him an unhappy look, he gently rubbed his thumb on Vox's hand until the medicine took effect, and then he began to work.

After finishing with both Vox's stomach and tail, Alastor curled around his muse, one arm gently curled over Vox's chest, their frequency freely flowing as Alastor soothed Vox's dreams.

"They'll pay, dear one." He purred mouth pressed against Vox's monitor. "They'll regret this. Oh, this I promise."

thorn do you have an ao3 seriously guys. please. consider publishing your works im opening my inbox and staring flabbergasted at the absolute gems im finding in there

ough the hurt/comfort troupe ALWAYS hits me like. straight in the fucking heart especially. i think theyre really so sweet...... i think alastor would probably circle through calling vox all the muses names at least once honestly, im surprised you went with clio first since i thought calliope was the most well known but i cant say its not a welcome surprise to see some variation lol

im guessing here that alastor and vox havent yet made up? which actually makes it all the more heartwrenching, really, especially if vox isnt really in his right state of mind when al comes so when he wakes up like all sober and no longer delirious from blood loss, imagine him just flinching and bolting away from the other.... haaaaahh you guys are really killing me with these mini fic morsels.

#ran rambles #remind me later and i might make a drawing for this honestly #hazbin hotel #radiostatic #general asks

[fictionalmenaremytype]

!PJO SHOW SPOILERS!

Quick little nod to the watch parter Walker, Leah and Aryan had for the Premier! It's so adorable and so funny, their friendship is amazing.

But my favourite part was Leah's "there's always a duo in a trio." Like yes, yes, there is, but the potential that has for edits??? Like right now, it's percy and Grover, but in season 5, that's going to switch, and I can already see Aryan bringing it up when the last olympian is released.

Episode 3 Highlights:

- THE CHOOSING CEREMONY! Oh my god, I was screaming! The way Annabeth's face lit up temporarily, then she returned to her cool, calm collectedness. You can celebrate Annabeth, you've been waiting forever for this! Personal headcanon that Malcolm was bombarded with her rambling excessively as she packed.

-THE SHOES!!!! THEY WAY THE WINGS WERE WOVEN OUT OF THE SHOELACES?!?! I'm a VFX fanatic, and that was so cool!

- Annabeth and Thalia's tree?? I almost cried oh my god. But Percy's line of "She met the fate of a pinecone" So funny but now is not the time sir.

- I have read these books so many times with the most recent being the beginning of December and it never clicked to me properly that Grover was both of their protectors. Like I knew that Grover found Annabeth and Grover was Percy's protector but the line of "He was my protector first." Was a real light bulb moment for me.

- The song on the bus! Oh my god I'm going to use that when my baby cousins fight. I really thought the clapping was going to be Alecto but it was Grover singing his happy song.

- Annabeth not knowing which snacks to get! I love her characterisation so much I don't think anyone could've done as good a job as Leah.

-The two furies! That was cool! Annabeth just stabbing Alectos sister as an answer to Alecto? Badass.

- The Medusa scene was so different to the book and honestly I preferred it. It was a scene I never really understood its use apart from to demonstrate Percy has a rebellious streak and Annabeth's fatal flaw is hubris. What do you mean a daughter of Athena wouldn't realise aunty ems was medusa based on the statues it's like Greek mythology 101. But the way they had to pick between Medusa and Alecto and the lesser of two evils! Tell me that's not foreshadowing for choosing between 12 O's and big bad K (speaking in code to avoid non-reader spoilers for future events.)

- More on Medusa, the plan??? Made so much more sense and I almost broke when Percy tried to suggest Annabeth left her hat behind!!

-PERCY SAYING HE THOUGHT ANNABETH WOULD NEVER BE HIS FRIEND! You cannot tell me Annabeth just felt like she'd been punched in the gut. All those years she's waited and she finally gets chosen for her wit and ability to stay on task but then the forbidden kid she's been waiting revealed it's actually because he hates her. Ouch.

- Them revealing why they didn't take the respective deals?? Brilliant.

- "they'll think we're impertinent." "I am impertinent" "but we're not" the trio in one foul swoop: reason, rebellion and reputation.

- I am unsure how I feel about Lin as Hermes, I think maybe he'll grow on me but he looked so pissed off in the elevator and then was so proud of their mischief. It was a good little moment.

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson tv show #tv spoilers #percy jackson and the olympians

[sulky-valkyrie]

happy friday! for dadwc may i request "I didn’t ask you for permission, I’m telling you that’s what I’m doing whether you like it or not." for.... Nanders?

Hi Jay, happy DADWC Day! for @dadrunkwriting

screenshot yoinked from this video, which is a delightful animated banter compilation

“Shit shit shit!”  Anders’ frantic muttering echoed down the hallway as Nate approached.  He wasn’t worried, of course.  Merely curious.  Not curious enough to investigate if he didn’t already have business on this side of the Keep, of course.  The mage was maddening: standoffish and aggravating all day every day, but inviting Nate to his bed every night.  Or just in Nate’s bed already when he completed his watch duties.  

The first time it happened, Nate had been so shocked at the offer that he'd simply walked out.

The second time, Nate had suggested it himself in a moment of desperation for him to just shut up, and hoping it would make him more bearable when they were out on patrol.  That had been a resounding failure, long term; Anders had been even more flippant and annoying after that, and Nate spent hours biting his tongue to keep from snapping that there were better things he could be doing with mouth.  

And now, yet again, he was making poor use of that thrice-blasted mouth, and ranting a torrent of profanity as he tossed the room apart and threw all manner of supplies on his bed.  Potions, food, a waterskin and, strangest of all, his Warden dress uniform.  

“Going somewhere?”  Nate asked from the doorway

Anders jumped and spun around, magic crackling on his fingers.  When he recognized Nate, he scowled and turned back to the shelf, then tossed a few more things from it to the mattress.  “What do you care?”

The vehemence in his tone and the fury in his eyes actually made Nate step back.  "I, I didn't see any orders," he stammered.

"And you're not going to."  He grabbed a bag and started dumping everything in it.  "I found my - a friend.  And I'm going to go get him."

"You have friends?"  Nate winced the second he asked.  It wasn’t as though Anders wasn't friendly, just that it was only on the surface.  He never seemed to let anyone inside, treated everyone with the same familiarity and indifference equally.  Everyone except the Commander and possibly Nate himself.  The Commander got respect, and Nate got, well, disrespect.  And a bedwarmer.

Anders shot him a glare over his shoulder. "Apparently not.  Not enough to fucking help when I ask, so I'm… ugh."

"What?  You're a Warden, if course we'll -"

"Commander said no," Anders snapped.  "So I'm on my own.  Again."

"Doing what?"

He kept packing.  "What the void do you even care?"

Why did he?  Daytime Anders was irritation piled on exasperation, but he liked Nightime Anders a great deal.  And, theoretically, they were the same person.  Nate took a deep breath and pinched his brow.  "You've shared my bed, why wouldn't I?"

"Hasn't mattered before," he muttered, then turned around.  "I'm going to Kirkwall. Karl is… he's a mage.  And I'm getting him out."

Fear pricked at his gut.  They'll kill him.  “So, you’re just going to do what, exactly?  March up to the Gallows and Conscript him?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“It’s the Gallows,” Nate said sternly.  “They’re just as likely to haul you in for being apostate as anything else.”

He stabbed a finger at the uniform peeking from the bag.  “I’m a fucking Warden, they can’t.”

“And if they don’t believe you?”

“Then Kirkwall fucking burns,” he spat.  “You don’t get it, Howe.  I’m not asking for permission, or your blessing, or your help.  I’m telling you that’s what I’m doing whether you like it or not.”

“And what about us?  What about everyone here in Amaranthine?”  

“Us?  What us?  You can all burn too for all I care - I was only recruited because I happened to be here, and the Commander can't stand Templars.  You all fucking hate me, just be glad I'm leaving, alright?”

“Maybe if you weren’t such an asshole -” Nate started. 

“I love him!” Anders shouted.  “There, happy now?  I love him, I’ve loved him for years, and I finally found him!  I don’t give a shit about darkspawn, or any of you, and I’m going to get him back or die trying.  You got it?”

“What if the Knight Commander laughs you out of her office?”  Nate demanded.  “What then?  You can’t seriously think you can take on an entire contingent of Templars on your own.  They’ll have you down with a Tranquil brand on your forehead in under a minute.”

Anders spun around as he slung his pack over his shoulder.  “I’ve got a whole damn sea voyage to figure that shit out.”

“No, we need to figure this out now,” he insisted as he grabbed Anders’ elbow.

“Piss off, Nate,” Anders snarled as he shoved him back.  “You can get out of my way on your own or I can put you through through the fucking wall, but you’re not stopping me.  Not you, or the Commander or anyone else.”

Nate snatched his bag off his arm.  “I’m not trying to stop you, you fool, I’m coming with you!”

#dragon age #da drunk writing circle #prompt fills #anders #nathaniel howe #anders x nathaniel howe #anders x karl #nanders #kanders #da awakening

[swampstew]

So Eustass Kid is your Captain huh?

Well you’re in luck. Not only is he dangerous, he’s stupid hot and insanely (emphasis on insane) cool. Not many other Captains are a triple threat like he is. Don’t worry, he wouldn’t hurt his nakama or his love interest, so long as you don’t stab him in the back. You can try but it won’t end well for you. Let’s give you a rundown on the Boss to ease your anxieties.

Meet your Vice-Captain 🡢  ☠️

He’s a really creative guy when it comes to his devil fruit powers. He can make any weapon, any armor, toys, jewelry, figurines, robots, anything that comes to mind he can make. He may not always be smart emotionally and maybe a bit dumb sometimes, but he’s nothing if not creative as hell.

He does often gift his little trinkets - usually to Killer, Heat or Wire. The crew do get their own trinket gifts from him for birthdays or holiday gift exchanges, but the only people that get absolutely burdened with his gifts are his three closest friends and his romantic partner (if he has one).

Everyone thinks that Kid wouldn't be the type to care about anyone but himself but that's simply not true. Kid is a true ride or die. He goes above and beyond to make sure his crew is well taken care of and protected. He pays his crew and lets them get shares of any treasures they find and/or steal, he makes sure he has a good doctor in the crew and any supplies needed at all times, and despite his explosive tendencies, he doesn't go out of his way to hurt or endanger his crew.

Generally speaking, he puts on an aggressive front when out in the public and that won’t drop unless he’s familiar or friendly with you. He lives by the 3 F’s: Friendlies, Familiars, Foes -- the higher on the F pyramid you are, the...less aggressive he’ll be with you. He won't say it but if he respects you, you'll know. He simply won't kill you. Call it generosity or indifference, but never call it kindness. He simply respects the power/strength you have and would love to have a one-on-one fight with you any day. Loser has to buy drinks (or suck his d--)

When he has a romantic partner - they will be loved on like never before. He has a unique way of showing adoration, it can be overwhelming at times, yet they'll never doubt his feelings for them. He might get busy for days at a time, or he'll be in a bad mood and might lash out at them but whenever that passes, he'll come crawling back to them with a gift, a snack and a wounded look. A silent, prideful apology. 

When Kid feels things, he feels them hard. Intensely. Loudly. He's easy to read for the most part so its not particularly hard to get along with him; just don't disrespect, emasculate, or make too much fun of him. He's still the Captain and he demands respect. WILL punch you in the gut if your jokes get too personal.

Don’t ever call him Captain Mid, he will fucking drown you with the ship’s anchor.

Welcome to the crew and try not to die.

#swampstew #swampstew stories #swampstew.daydreams #eustass kid #eustass captain kid #eustasscaptainkid #one piece eustass kid #kid pirates #op kid pirates #welcome to the shitshow #kid pirate nakama #raven tries something different #Kid Pirates induction #welcome to the crew #maybe i'll do more?

[fogsrollingin]

Blackbeard: Hey, urchins, I'm gonna change your lives. Here's 50,000 doubloons. You know how long it was till I had that kinda money?

A fսckin' long time. And here is a knife. You stab anyone who comes near that money, okay?

I want a knife.

Yeah, you can have a knife, too. Pro tip here: When you're killing someone, okay, don't bother stabbing, alright? Chances are they'll survive. You wanna slash big, deep slashes side to side so the guts all fall out.

Hey. Did I see you offer both these children knives... and a big bag of money?

Yeah. Yeah, well, I just thought I'd give these filthy, little gutter rats, uh, the head start that I never had.

Poison into positivity.

Ahh.

Are you a pirate?

No, we're not pirates.

No. And you won't be pirates either. Okay? We own an inn.

---

can't handle these were Taika's kids 😂

#so cute #taika waititi #RPF inspoooo #taika telling them he owns an inn with rhys #let's go my fellow RPF weirdos #ofmd #our flag means death #edward teach #Blackbeard #stede bonnet #rhys darby #lol

[lackadaisy-headcanon-supply-unit]

reader is adopted by zib headcanons? (but more of like an uncle then a parent if that's okay!!)

also wanted to say that all your posts are a really fun read!!!

Since I'm in a fluffy parental-figure mood now why not knock this one out too

TW for mention of stabbing and bleeding. (It's not what you think, I promise; Zib just sucks at making a stuffed animal)

Zib can hardly look after himself, let alone a kitten. But this scruffy little mongrel who couldn't be older than 5 reminded him of himself so much that he opened the door for you anyway.

Now-Zib is not a kitten guy. He's more of a young-adult guy. So picking up a kitten and declaring "this is mine now" on a semi-hungover whim probably wasn't the smartest idea that he's ever had. However one panicked call to Mitzi later (while leaving you to play with the old clarinet he gave you in a desperate attempt to keep you happy. Oh, his poor ears will never recover) and he more or less knows what he's doing.

First call is a toy. He's one step away from throwing the clarinet out the window at this point; so he grabs some clean socks, rips open a pillow for it's fluffy innards and stabs his paws bloody with shitty sewing skills to make you something that vaguely resembles a toy.

It, remarkably, works. The awful shrieks and creaking of a broken clarinet being played by a total novice has ceased. Now that he's not getting his eardrums blared out, he can think straight.

Step two is food. You need to eat. He's not giving a kitten the normal liquid breakfast, lunch and dinner. There's some bread in the fridge and the toaster still works, so he hopes to god that you're not lactose-intolerant and makes some toast with butter.

Step three...

He falters there. Mitzi had told him to call the police and tell them that he had picked up a homeless kitten, but he and the fuzz weren't exactly on good terms at the moment and he didn't have it in him to send this admittedly adorable little firecracker to an orphanage where they'll force them to clean up their act, wear cute little outfits and spend their days learning manners that nobody in the real world uses anyway. No, this kitten who's currently playfighting an amalgamation of socks wouldn't fit in. He'd be sending them off to be bullied into becoming a proper member of society.

They're not a proper member any more than he is.

Another call, this one to Ben. He's got a daughter at home, maybe he can think of something.

The phone call is essentially Zib going: "Hi, Ben, so I have a kitten now. No, they're not mine. I swear, Ben, they're not mine-no, they're not Mitzi's castoffs, either. Good god, tomcat, she pays you to-okay, yes, I know, she hasn't paid us yet. But-back to the point! I have a kitten here and my place is a mess. I just made them some toast. You have a girl-sorry, a daughter. I meant daughter! You have a daughter. Can you give me some pointers? What do you mean you've coming over-"

Turns out Ben's little girl is the same age you are. She's also a sweetheart. She brings some toys over to share, doesn't laugh at Zib's pathetic attempt at a toy for you (which is already falling apart) and offers to let you pick one or two toys of hers to keep.

Meanwhile Ben pulls Zib aside and the latter has an anxiety attack over what he's supposed to do with you. Bringing a kitten home when he can barely afford the basic necessities for himself? Is he crazy? He can't even blame this decision on drunken stupidity, he was completely sober (albeit hungover) when he brought you in. You'd have better luck with literally anyone else!

Ben gives him two choices. Either you come home with him, or he takes you to an orphanage. He might as well have punched Zib in the gut, since he had already gotten attached to you; so Ben makes a compromise: he takes you home, but Zib can visit whenever he wants to, he can take you out of the house if you agree to go and he'll bring you to the speakeasy so you'll at least see him every night. This sooths Zib enough to agree.

Ben keeps up his end of the bargain. After settling in to your second new home of the day, you're in a third new place-the Lackadaisy speakeasy. Zib is lazing at the bar when you see him but he perks up pretty quickly at your voice.

He has a shadow for the rest of the night. Every so often a cat will ask him if you're his and laugh, like the idea is ridiculous to even mention. Zib will just give them his rare cocky smile and ruffle your fur, saying "well, yeah, they are. For tonight, at least."

It becomes an inside joke between you. You'll attach to him like Velcro when he's not needed on stage and you'll be "his for the night". However as you grow up, you see him as more of a very strange equal than adult figure. You're on the same wavelength, to an extent.

Zib never thought he'd be a surrogate family figure of any kind. Now he's a little hard-pressed to imagine the Lackadaisy life without you in it. If he's lucky and it lasts long enough, maybe you'll be able to join Ivy in the crew and he'll see you every day, too.

Just please god don't grow up to be a rumrunner he sees the kind of stress that puts on Viktor whenever Ivy goes out

#🖋 mod ille #Dorian “Zib” Zibowski #Headcanon Home Brew #headcanon #Lackadaisy

[4kayz]

^

REQUESTED BY: anonymous

CATEGORY: angst w/ comfort short story

WARNINGS: blood/gore, kinda angsty

SUMMARY: You are the witness of death itself, and shortly after your master had been exiled to his domain, the cultists came looking for you, to slaughter you and put an end to Narinder's cult once and for all. You manage to escape until thousands of years later, you are caught by a patrol of said cultists. Fortunately, a certain Lamb from a prophecy saves you before the cultists could lay a finger on you.

PAIRING: narinder/reader

SETTING: first half is in Anura, second is in The Lamb’s cult

<>

You dashed through the uncomfortably hot, sweltering, plains of Anura, bleeding from several deep, painful, stab wounds on your back. You sliced the prairie grasses out of your way with your thorn-sharp dagger and continued your sprint through the mainlands. The grasses you sliced away had cut your arms and legs, causing an awful stinging pain that only worsened the condition you were in, but despite it all, you pushed on, determined to survive.

The followers didn't give up either, swinging their weapons and yelling out curses and insults, picking up their pace to match yours. You slid down a dip in the fields and forced yourself up, nearly slipping because of the sweat drenching your hands. You didn't know if you could carry on much longer, your senses were overwhelmed with a gut-wrenching pain that was almost too much to bare.

Several of the cultists dropped down onto the ground because of exhaustion and others lagged behind, giving you a chance to throw them off your tail. You turned your heel and jogged to your left in hopes that they'll stop following you.

You had been on the run for centuries after Narinder had been sealed to his realm, and as his loyal witness, you vowed to him that you would run away and find some way to bring him back so that you two could be reunited once again. Of course, it was going to be a difficult task to slay a bishop, but Narinder wasn't giving up, so why would you?

You ran a corner, and slid to a stop, almost falling off the ledge of one of the many valleys in Anura. Several armed cultists made their way toward you and cornered you, unsheathing their blades and yelling nonsense. You took the time to ready your bloodied blade in case they came any closer. You were confident you weren't going to survive this, when you finally took notice of how many were gathered around you. You were certain this was the end for you and Narinder's gospel.

You glared daggers at the cultists and awaited their attack, spreading your legs to keep balance and slicing the air with your dagger to warn them off and tell them that you weren't to be messed with. Of course, none of them backed off and only came closer, you were cornered and you had no way out. You braced yourself, ready for the final, finishing, blow.

But nothing came.

A flash of fluffy, white, wool was all you could see, slashing and rolling into several of the cultists, wielding a sword, slaying all the followers until none were standing, and in a matter of seconds, every last one of them was gone. Their blade turned into a crown, that sat firmly atop their head as they spread their hand over to shake yours, in which you did.

The crowned lamb must be one of Narinder's vessels, this was yet another chance to finally free the chained god, once and for all.

The Lamb gave you a short tour of their cult, a few of their followers coming up to welcome you into the cult, and upon your indoctrination, you immediately started helping The Lamb out with their various tasks and even offered to assist them in combat ( in response, they declined, in fear that you'll get killed ).

You ended up serving as a second in command for the cult and taking over whenever The Lamb has to go out on a crusade. You made sure nobody was dissenting and disobeying orders while they were gone.

As each bishop fell before The Lamb, the closer you got to seeing Narinder again.

#aspen writes #cult of the lamb x reader #cotl x reader #narinder x reader #the one who waits x reader