#I wonder if a lamp like that exists in real life

[yesidoodles]

Practicing perspective and environment

[admirxation]

Marriage is just a piece of paper ~ Leon Kennedy oneshot

father-in-law!leon kennedy x daughter-in-law!afab!reader

summary - Leon has had his eyes on you ever since his son introduced you to him, and after the honeymoon he decides he won’t let your union come in the way of what he wants.

cw - this fic contains pseudo-incest and heavy smut; actions in this fic are not condoned; I do not condone everything I write; this is just fiction where real people cannot get hurt, continue at your own discretion // 18+ heavy smut (mdni), description of disappointing sex with partner, pseudo-incest, injury, slight hurt/comfort, touching, tit play, unprotected sex (p in v), back scratching, dirty talk, and coming inside. (word count: 2.4k)

Honeymoon. A period of harmony following marriage. The word is known and experienced by many, whether it is a short getaway, a dream vacation, everyone has the notion that the honeymoon entails a dream like state of beauty. You, like many others, dreamt of sharing a honeymoon with a lover for so long, expecting it to be one of the best moment of your life, next to the actual marriage ceremony. After all, it’s in the name with the connotations it provides. Honey implies sweetness, and the moon casts an imagery of beauty and romance.

But expectations tend not to be fulfilled.

You and your partner had everything planned: going to your dream destination, it was a smooth journey, didn’t forget anything, surrounded by wonderful people, culture, many things to do and plenty of time to complete them and rest… But those weeks were the worst weeks of your whole relationship.

The first night was okay, nothing exciting. You got to your place and had some spontaneous sex, but it didn’t quite hit the spot, you felt like you had to perform every moan, every whine, and every movement — but you just ignored that, thinking you were just tired from all the travelling. Then, you tried a second time, you felt zoned out and faked another orgasm, it wasn’t one of your proudest moments. The third time, you two just stopped in the middle of everything because neither of you “felt it”, cleaning yourselves up and rolling over to go to sleep. You two were newly weds, but it felt like being trapped in a loveless marriage of 30 years.

The sex just stopped altogether on that journey. You did most things separately, him going on retreats and you staying at the beach; the only times you were together was just before bed watching whatever show the hotel allowed on and dinner time. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be, but communication was a terrifying thing.

You two came back and were greeted with your house needing to have some renervations to be completed; you were lucky your partners father, Mr. Kennedy opened his home to you with no questions asked.

Mr. Kennedy was always lovely to you. You were terrified of meeting your partners father, but the moment you saw him all those fears melted away; he accepted you, supported and never made you feel unwelcome, he would even allow you to call him by his first name but you always felt uneasy and disrespectful.

You were now in a sea of thoughts about the honeymoon, analysing every moment and every bit of shared speech — but there was little speech to be focused on. Standing in the kitchen in a silky night dress that came to the midway of your thighs, distracting yourself with the coldest glass of water, the wet surrounding the glassy outlayer dampening your fingers as you stared out into the garden, surrounded by nothing but darkness and street lamps.

You were a wife. It was difficult to let that settle in, especially when the happiness of that wasn’t even short lived, it was non existent. It seemed like god was playing a cruel joke on you, punishing you for maybe picking the wrong person, or not trying hard enough. Whatever it was, you wanted it to stop.

As you kicked your head back to finish the last drops, feeling the cold wave pass down your throat you turned around to put the glass away, startled at your sight of Mr. Kennedy standing in the doorway.

Smash.

The sound of glass hitting the tiled floor filled the room, leaving you to hurriedly trying to pick everything up in a panic, Mr. Kennedy coming to your aid.

“I-I’m so sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to, you know I wouldn’t do this on purp… Ahh!” you felt a piece of sharp glass slide against your gentle and soft skin of your index finger, automatically shoving the tip of your finger into your mouth, feeling the metallic thick taste of blood coat your tastebuds.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay dear, go sit down I’ll clean this up,” you hesitated at first just followed suit with sitting at the dinning room table just a few steps away from him; guilt eating at you as you heard the clatter of glass as he swept it all up.

The moment all the glass was swept away and collected in the bin, he came over to you with those kind eyes, motioning with his hands to come take a look at your finger.

“Ooo, seems like a nasty cut,” he said with sympathy, reaching out to a box in the middle of the table and grabbing a band aid, before gently wrapping it around your finger, gently shushing you as you winced in pain.

“Thank you, Mr. Kennedy,” you smiled.

“You know it’s okay to call me Leon sweetheart,” you quickly apologised and rephrased your previous statement with the replacement of his last to his first name, “Why are you here, shouldn’t you be asleep, it’s quite late.”

“I could say the same thing to you… Leon.”

“Stop avoiding the question. What’s wrong? My son hasn’t hurt you has he?” a streak of protectiveness was shown.

“No. No. He’s been wonderful. Just… Just kinda getting used to the whole… being a wife thing,” the tone of your voice dropped in the last few words, you still couldn’t comprehend that you were a wife, especially with the lack of opportunity to feel like one.

“Trouble in paradise? You shouldn’t be having those thoughts, it’s too early for that.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“The honeymoon wasn’t exactly a honeymoon. We barely spent time together.” you felt him look at you differently, just then, feeling like his gaze was never going to sway and feeling like it was glued to your form, “anyways… thank you for helping me, I best get some sleep.”

As you were walking to your room, you were stopped with a rough hand grab your wrist. You never experienced this before with him. He never touched you like this; the only times he touched you was to hug you.

“Why don’t you stay… I could keep you company… Besides I can’t sleep anyways, I’m sure my son wouldn’t appreciate being awoken to you coming back to bed,” there was a small moment of feeling alarmed, just then, but that was easily and quickly diluted to how much trust you had in him.

You sat back down in your seat, feeling his gaze get stronger as the thin strap of your nightdress elegantly fell to the side; you didn’t think much of it and went to put it back in place, but Leon bet you to it. He leaned in and let his fingers tuck onto the band, placing it back on your shoulder and letting it linger there for a few moments before gliding down the soft skin of your arm — all you could do was blush at how close he was, and how touchy he was starting to become.

You should have turned him down right then; but you would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t like him taking the freedom to get closer to you. All you could do was let out a soft giggle to ease the tension of unspoken words and exchanging glances between you two.

“I don’t know why he didn’t spend that much time with you. I wouldn’t leave your side,” your blush was getting intense, feeling how warm your face was and how your body was beginning to tremble with slight tremors due to his gaze.

“Thank you… I appreciate that… But I guess that’s what I have to get used to… besides married couples do tend to spent more time apart… or so I’ve heard.”

“Yes many do,” he took the invitation to have his hand place on your exposed thigh, roaming it up and down and slightly lifting your silky dress, so close it exposed your lack of underwear; Leon looked at your cunt with hunger as he felt his cock grow with looks and fantasies building from just imagining to fill that pretty pussy of yours, to give you everything he wanted to over the years. You sat there for a moment, wanting him to just take you, to smash your body against the table and feel him fuck you hard — but you were a wife.

You slowly pulled down the hem of your dress, looking away and not wanting to greet that blue eyed gaze that was already undressing you with suggesting staring.

“You know, the couples that do stray away from one another do it for a reason,” his hand ventured further and you could feel his fingers just hoovering around your pulsating heat, “sometimes that distance helps people find the one they need. It starts with just one night, then another, and then they find the right person.”

He wanted you. God he fucking needed to feel you, to hold you, to hear you, he wanted that for years and now he was taking the chance.

“… I’m not a bad person… This is wrong,” morality and sexual wanting was fighting in your brain, you needed a sweet release but knew betraying your husband was despicable, how would you feel if he laid with another ?

“You can’t deny that you want me… Is it so bad to indulge in a natural instinct, after all marriage for love is a new conception… The human body knows what it wants,” his voice was thick and smooth like honey, it enticed you with temptation running its course through each and every word and action Leon gave to you.

“And we live in a world where the conception is practiced. I married your son… I made vows that man, I signed the papers,” you tried to argue.

“Marriage is just a piece of paper, sweetheart… And right now, you can’t deny we both want to rip that paper up as much as I want to rip that dress from off of you,” he was leaning even closer.

“Will you… Will you keep it a secret?” if you were going to indulge in immorality you needed to cover your tracks.

“I’ll keep it a secret. I won’t tell anything you don’t say first. Now let me see if my fantasies come close to reality.”

Just then you felt a heat pool in every corner inside your body, feeling that urge and letting it make you lunge right into his arms, and letting him kiss you has hard as he wanted, feeling your lips collide with each interlock as your tongues glided against one another’s as he roamed his hands along your body as if he was your actual husband. You quietly moaned as his grabbed the fat of your ass, leaving an imprint of his hand the harder he squeezed it.

“Mmm,” you moaned continuously within that deepening kiss that made your core get hotter and needier, you felt Leon grow against you as he finally pulled the straps of your dress and tugged the material harshly, leaving the straps to snap off, and leaving you fully exposed under his scrutiny and the cold bite of the air surrounding you both.

“Fuck. You look even better than I imagined,” he cooed in your ear as he let his large and calloused hand grab your prominent breast, making you yelp at his touch, having him grab harder and with purpose the more he kissed you, and left bites on your lower lip.

“Oh god,” you groaned as you tossed your head back the moment he let his thumb and index finger trap your pebbled nipple and pinch it, rolling the bud along his fingers as he left you panting. “L-Leon,” you let out a whispered hush, just before he pushed his lower half into you and made you collapse on the table, leaving you to sit and wait for his next move.

You watched as he stripped himself and exposed his strong phsique, getting you even wetter as he frayed his hands by his waist and pulled down his pants, exposing his large and erect member that was tinted with a blush of red and wet with precum, waiting to come inside your entrance. You bit your lip as he started to stroke along the shaft, pumping himself before meeting the tip of his cock in your wet folds; you whimpered with just his slight touch, you wanted needed him. You felt yourself grow more impatient the more he slid along the folds that left a slick on his cock, leaving him to play at smirk at the corner of his lips to himself.

He finally had you.

“Do you want me?” he whispered in your ear.

“Of course I do.”

“You would have made a great wife for me,” he uttered as he slowly pressed his length inside you, releasing a laboured and long breath as he felt your wet walls surround him, feeling you clasp around him and beg to make you his. “Fuck, you feel amazing,” he hissed.

You let your body go and feel every single thrust Leon pumped into you, hearing his gutteral groans and dirty whispers in your ear everytime he pushed his large, throbbing cock inside and hit that perfect spot just right. You press your mouth against his shoulder, trying so hard not to let out your moans and wake your real husband up.

“God, all I want is to hear that pretty mouth scream my name,” he uttered.

“He’s g-gone tomorrow.”

He raised an eyebrow out of interest: “Oh, I thought this was a one time thing,” he slowly released as he continued to thrust himself in your aching pussy, his fingers pressed into your hips as he forced himself inside.

“I need you so much more.”

You saw a glimmer cross his blue eyes, a darkening clouding his vision just before he smashed his lips against yours, groaning into your mouth as he rocks his hips back and forth, picking up the pace to fuck that pretty pussy of yours.

He thumbs your puffy clit as he continues to fuck and drill into your cunt, jabbing that sweet spot over and over again.

“I want you to cum on me, I want to see your face as you do it,” he moans as he continues to maintain the pace with bucking his hips forward and circling your sensitive bud, making your breathing depending and elongating every time he messes with you.

You reach your peak with his masterful movements, letting out pants as you cover his cock with your release; shuddering, you not long after feel his nails dig into your back, lightly scratching and making you wince, as he releases streams of hot cum inside you, making your eyes roll back to your head as you feel him pump his seed further into you and make you his.

“You’re mine now, sweetheart.”

a/n: when i posted this on my wips post (in pinned post) i saw excitement to the father in law leon so i just had to post it. i will say ik it’s a little rushed but i wanted to get it out a bit quicker, i might also write some more father in law stuff, we’ll see. i hope you lot like this and all engagement is appreciated *kiss kiss*

[matchingbatbites]

i hold your hand in mine, dear

For @steddie-week Day 1: Secret Relationship AND Day 2: Hands

Rating: M || CW: temporary character death, brief description of minor dismemberment, unhealthy coping mechanisms || Divider by @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Steve doesn't know why he did it.

It's just- It was beyond painful, the mere thought of leaving behind the love of his life - because that's what Eddie was, even if no one else knew. And he knew there was no way they'd be able to get him back up through a gate before El closed them off.

So while Robin helped Dustin hobble away and Nancy went out ahead of them, Steve took a chance to just. Grab a souvenir. Just something tangible to remind him that - even for just a short time - he had Eddie. They had something real.

He doesn't know why he chose to take Eddie's hand.

It was easier than expected; the knife he had was sharp enough that it sliced through skin and muscle quickly, it wedged between bone and split the joint of his wrist with ease.

The limb sat heavy in his pocket as they escaped that hellhole, as they got Dustin to the hospital to get his ankle checked out, as they reunited with their friends to talk about what happened.

Steve doesn't dare to even touch it until he gets home, until he's by himself. Waits until he's showered and cared for his own wounds before he grabs the jacket and finally pulls it free.

It should be concerning that his first instinct was to take Eddie's hand - specifically, his right hand. It's not the one usually covered in rings, but it's the one he usually touched Steve with - when he brushed a thumb over Steve's lips or cupped Steve's face in his palm.

It's the one he used whenever they held hands, always leaving Steve's own right hand free so he could still do things while they clung together.

Maybe that's why. Even with all of the stuff in Eddie's room, all of the physical mementos he could have taken for himself, Steve just couldn't live knowing he'd never hold Eddie's hand again.

The limb itself is a bit dirty, with grit and blood marring the skin, trapped under the edge of his nails. That doesn't stop him from bringing it to his lips, from pressing a gentle kiss to the tips of the fingers.

It's cold, and for some reason that's the thing that finally breaks Steve, that has him sobbing into the stillness of his room. All he can think about is the man that brought so much warmth and life to Steve's existence, laying cold and forsaken in that fucking wasteland.

That's the thought that follows him into sleep that night, that lives in the back of his mind for days. It makes him truly grateful for his morbid memento, that he's able to keep a piece of his love, able to give some of his own warmth as he holds Eddie's hand in his own.

Steve makes a habit of pulling it from the drawer every night and giving a soft kiss to fingertips that are slowly turning black. He never wonders why the fingers still bend so well, why it never smells like rot.

He doesn't even think about it until he's awoken one night by the sound of soft scratching.

It takes Steve a second to hone in on the source, everything in him on edge and ready to jump on any possible threat. But nothing else in the room shifts; there's only the gentle scraping sound continuing from his left.

He turns on the lamp and looks at his nightstand, heart pounding in his chest as he reaches over and slowly tugs the drawer open. The noise stops, and Steve just looks down at Eddie's hand.

It's not in the bandana he usually wraps it in - something he did end up pilfering from Eddie's room, along with a few shirts that he sleeps in.

It's just there, laying in the bottom of the mostly-empty drawer, innocent as anything.

Steve watches it for a moment, waiting - praying - before reaching out and just. Touching it. Just a gentle brush along the knuckles.

It flinches, and Steve gasps.

He picks the hand up and it writhes in his grip, like a feral creature attempting to escape a predator. It only makes him hold on tighter, until he's able to shift it and lace their fingers together, their favorite way of holding hands.

The hand freezes, and he gives it a gentle squeeze, can't help the soft "Eddie?" that escapes him. It squeezes back tightly, ink black fingertips pressing into his skin, and Steve knows.

Not the how or the why, but those are worries for the future. For now, he cradles Eddie's hand in his own as he lays back down, crying happy tears for once. Because it seems that, by some miracle, Eddie is alive.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Blessed Are The Meek 1

Summary: you are trapped in an awkward circumstance with a widowed commander. (Handmaid AU)

Warning: this series will contain violence, dystopian aspects, rape and noncon, blood, coercion, sterility, and other dark elements. Please read these warnings and beware.

Character: Tommy Shelby

Note: thank you for following along. I'm sure yall didn't expect to write Tommy again but here we are. Also feedback and comments if you dont mind. Maybe a reblog. 💕💕💕💕

You climb the steps in the grim glow of the wall sconce on the next floor. Your linen veil weighs heavy over your hair as you keep your head down, balancing the tray in your hands as you make the curved ascent. Your smock rustles with your steps down the long hallway, shadows leaning in the further you get in the groaning house.

The office door is open, as it is at six every night. The routine is fine-tuned and never a second out of rhythm. You enter and place the tray on the broad oak desk that serves as the centerpiece to the space.

You sift through the greyness and pull the chain on the lamp on the shelves set into the wall. The glass shade lights up with hues of amber and jade. You back up and smooth your hands over your apron. You retreat to the door but stop short as you're met by a dark figure.

You stare at Commander Shelby’s lapel. You don’t expect to see him. You rarely do. He haunts this place like a ghost. Some days you wonder if he is even still about. You’re only assured by the few bites taken from the meals you deliver like clockwork or the clothing left for wash and starching outside his door.

He takes a step back, his sole scuffing deafeningly in the silence. You do not hesitate. You take the cue. The rare moment of deference. You angle past him and down the hall. Your only farewell is the sharp snap of the door behind him.

You hurry down the stairs and back to the kitchen to begin your nightly duties. There isn’t much mess to clean up, not more than the dust of indolence. There hasn’t been much life to this place since the Commander’s wife passed. You linger, in limbo, awaiting but never receiving your dismissal.

You set to sweeping the already swept floorboards. Then you shine the cutlery. Dust the cobwebs that don’t exist, shake out the curtains but leave them extended across the windows. You cling to the heavy embroidered drapes as a memory comes. 

The day of her burial, when you dared to let in the sunshine and the Commander hollered and yanked upon them until the rod fell down. Since that day, the anger simmered but did not boil over again, repressed by the stagnant air of grieving.

You wipe the surfaces, finding some end tables you missed. Such a big house to be occupied by so few. A sudden clatter shakes the stillness of the house and you jolt as you look up at the ceiling.

You tuck away the cloth and head back upstairs. It is late and you are worn out from the tedium of aimlessness. Perhaps, at least, you will have a real task to attend to.

You get to the top and go back down the hallway. The dishes, along with their contents, are scattered across the narrow rug. You near cautiously, a tremor flowing in your veins. The commander stands in the door of his office and glares as you approach. You bend to take the metal tray but he steps forward to kick it away.

You stand and fold your hands over your apron, chin bowed.

“Commander,” you address him flatly.

He doesn’t say anything. You sniff and go again to pick up the tray. He comes closer again but does not repeat the act. He stands in the midst of his mess as you tidy up around him. You put the dishes on the tray and take the cloth from your apron as you get to your knees and try to clean up the spilled food.

“You are a martha,” he growls, “you do not pity a commander.”

You don’t argue. You just utter, “yes. Commander,” and continue your duty.

“I could have you sent to The Colonies.”

“Yes, Commander,” you repeat as you continue your work.

He circles you and puts his shoe at the center of your back, stilling you as he leans just an ounce of strength into you. You clutch the cloth tight. You expected to be sent to another household, but The Colonies… perhaps this life is just as bad as a death sentence as it were.

“I always thought it rather amusing the chips you barren bitches wear on your shoulders. A sense of righteousness which would affront the lord himself,” he pushes until your arms are shaking, “how does it feel to have the chip knocked away? How does it feel to cower at the heels of the chosen?”

“Under his eye,” you whisper.

He exhales heavily and shoves off you, sending you to your stomach as he stamps his foot back to the floor. He twists his heel in the smear of potatoes across the rug as he spins and marches back into his office. He swings the door shut and casts you into darkness. For a moment, you do not move. You cannot.

Will you wake to The Eyes coming to take you to a colony?

[novelconcepts]

I still do this snap trick I learned as a kid. Fingers of both hands snap. One fist claps into the other palm. Repeat. Snap. Clap. Snap. Clap. It isn’t complicated. It isn’t special.

A girl taught it to me. A goofy blue-eyed basketball player, a point guard with a white-blonde ponytail. We were twelve. It was probably the tenth time I’d had a crush on a girl in my orbit, but for the first time, those feelings felt consequential. I was obsessed. I was uneasy. She did this simple trick at practice, and I copied her, filing a piece of her away inside myself forever.

Snap. Clap. Snap. Clap. I haven’t seen this girl in almost two decades. My hands remember.

I still feel a burble of sorrow-hunger-joy when I hear Nirvana. Songs everybody knows, songs with radio airplay beyond anything I can imagine. “Come As You Are” belts me in the teeth as it’s belted probably thousands. Millions. It isn’t special.

A girl played it for me. A bright-eyed goofball with a penchant for dirty jokes I wasn’t ready for. We were sixteen. Someone probably told her she was wise beyond her years. Too many someones, probably, most of them adult and male. It shaped her. She shaped me. The first girl I ever told I was gay. I still remember dropping the words like a bomb at the end of class, trying to bolt from the room like outrunning the blast range. I still remember the way she caught me over her desk, hauled me into an embrace. I still remember talking her down, months later, from an all-too-real pregnancy scare. I still remember the way her eyes lit up when she found out I’d had a crush on her. Pieces of her, consequential, filed away inside me forever.

Come as you are. As you were. I haven’t seen this girl in almost two decades. My ears remember.

I still see the shape of love in soccer balls and hockey sticks. Sports I’ve never played, only watched, sports that never belonged to me. Everyone’s been on a field in the rain, shivered under a heat lamp. It isn’t special.

A girl invited me. Copper hair and grey eyes, sturdy frame, wild laugh. We were seventeen. She went to another school, lived another life, existed inside uniform skirts and prayer sessions. The internet bound us together. No one knew me better. No one knew me less. I was so in love with her, I forgot how to structure my day around anything outside AIM away messages and songs I’d never like otherwise. I told her I was gay, knowing she might run. She still attributes her sprint away from homophobia to my name. Two years later, she’d kiss a girl who wasn’t shaped like me, and I’d shatter our friendship out of newly-adult spite. Those years, those endlessly consequential choices, pieces of her, are filed away inside me forever.

Ice rinks and soccer goals are forever scarred. I haven’t seen this girl in almost two decades. My shame remembers.

I’m married now. Gorgeous color-changing eyes, leather jackets, confident hands, an encyclopedia of hobbies sketched in shades of ADHD. My skeleton is lined with all I’ve learned from her, dozens of turns of phrase and inside jokes, hundreds of songs, a thousand trusting moments. We speak a language composed of shared humor and ill-matched childhoods. We couldn’t be more different. We couldn’t match up cleaner. I fall asleep with my head in her lap and wonder, as I drift, how many pieces of her are filed away inside me forever. Not special. Not complicated. Immortal as a book recommendation, an evening spent spinning the same record.

I wonder if love is always stored in the body this way. I wonder if love is, by definition, a haunting.

I still do this snap trick I learned as a kid. I hear the songs. I flinch from ice rinks.

I wonder how much of me belongs to girls who haven’t seen me in almost two decades.

I wonder.

[mimastuff]

Just read your rottmnt reacting to their S/O’s death. Amazing writing btw, but I was wondering if you could do a continuation of it actually being a nightmare, and how would the turtles react to see them alive and well.

Thank you for the request!! I really enjoyed writing this one :) I was literally thinking of making a part 2 but yeah this was better than I imagined <3

Nightmare fuel ( pt2 to last post!)

——————————————————————————-

Don 💜

- as he woke up with a stir he found his body covered in a cold sweat

- He sat up with a sleepy yawn

- The events of his dream replayed in his head.

- He never gets , dreams that bad .

- Hell even nightmares.

- Wait

- Where were you ?

- He could recall falling asleep with you in his arms in your room

- Where are you ? Was his dream real ? Did he really lose-

- his thoughts stopped as you walked into your apartment bedroom

- His heart ached as you looked at him confused

- The confusion turned into mother bear mode as he ran out of bed to hug you

- He never really liked physical affection

- That was until you stepped into his life

- You hugged him back as you heard light sobs from him

The feeling of his grip tightening made your heart sink. You cradled his head in your arms and rubbed his arms. “I-I thought I lost you.. I thought you died…” your heart physically hurt for him as he cried once more into your neck. “Hey shhhh , your okay , I’m ok Donnie. I’m not dead. It was just a dream , I could never leave you~” your coos seemed to calm him down a little. He was still hugging you as he explained the dream. He explained how he killed you. How it was his fault. “Dee , baby, look at me” you saw him raise his tired head to look at you. Hands still gripped on your hips. “It was not your fault. It was not real. You tried to save me , and to be honest you already have. Multiple times. Ok? You have saved me without even knowing it. Just you being here for me is enough. Your so sweet to me and I can promise you I’m not mad. If anything I’m proud of you. I’m proud you have told me about the nightmare. And I’m proud of who you are as a person. Your everything I need Donnie , don’t you forget that.” Donnie’s sobbing started again. But for a different reason. He has never been called those words before. And he has suddenly been reminded of why he loves you. He steps back and gets into bed with his arms open for you to snuggle into. You both fall asleep happy and tired. Both grateful for each others warmth and existence.

Leo💙

- As he woke up choking for air tears seemed to be streaming down his face.

- his head was spinning

- he felst as though he was going to pass out.

- His groggy yawns broke the ever increasing silence in his room.

- He felt so sick and so numb at the same time

- He mentally prepared himself for another day of mourning his love

- You had died a couple weeks back and things have not been the same

- He hardly sees his brothers , crying at almost every reminder of your presence

- He felt tears build up in his eyes again as his chest tightened at the sound of light foot steps outside his bedroom door.

- He wiped his eyes as his head turned to the door opening

- “Raph, is that you?”

- The figure made its way to his sleepy body

- “Horrified that you would think that your love of you life looks like raph”

- His heart stopped.

“Y/N , is that you babe?” His voice broke and tears threatened to fall from his eyes. You instantly recognised the pain in his tone and say on the bed beside him. “Yes it’s me? Are you ok love , do I need to call Donnie in ? Omg ! Your crying. Heyy shh come here” As you pulled him into a hug you could hear his slight sobs. He pulled you onto his lap so he could hug you better. You turned to the blue lamp that lay on the table next to your bed.

“What happened?” His sniffles made your heart sink into your feet. “I had a horrible dream that you died. That dream, man it felt so real. But your here! And I’m ok now I promise :)” you laid your head on top of his as you stroked his shell. “Baby, I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere, ok ? I could never leave you.” His crying eventually stopped. They soon turned into snores as you got off his lap so he could spoon you. Your heart filled with worry , you fell asleep in his arms. Safe and sound.

Raph ❤️

- he slowly opened his eyes to see a small sleeping figure laying next to him

- His heart hurt and ached for you

- He really felt the dream was real

- He soon began to feel a sence of overwhelming gratefulness for you

- The way you always cared for his needs

- The way you patched him up when he insisted he could do it himself

- He loves you because you don’t care what he looks like

- You love him for who he is

- And he almost lost that.

- He almost lost the light that makes up his live

- He almost the the soul reason he has kept going

- You put him on the right track

- No one , not even him, could do that.

- He who is ever so strong could never lift someone like him in his arms and lift him to a world where he is loved and care for

- But you did.

- He felt tear build up as all the memories of you two together replayed like a record in his head

- One by one , each memory making him feel all kinds of emotions.

- He was prideful and he felt so proud of you

- The tears pouring from his eyes and slight sniffles stirred you awake

- Your eyes opened to a emotional raph

“Raphie , baby , are you okay?” You touched the side of his cheek and wiped away his stray tears. You felt an overwhelming hand come to grab you by the waist and pull you onto his lap. “Justa bad dream , look I just wanted to say how much I love you. Y/N you really mean the world to me. And in my dream I lost the one thing that makes me want to live. You. You’re my light Y/N. I have never felt this way about anyone before *sniffle sniffle* I love you and your so cool and amazing to me and …” he broke down in tears again at the thought of losing you and not being able to live himself anymore. “Shhh it’s okay raph. I love you too so so much. And if it ever feels like I don’t , I’m so sorry. You’re the reason I’m actually alive right now. You have helped me so much, in many ways . Some of which you don’t even know about. *you wipe his tears again and rub his cheek slightly*” Raphael swore his heart grew that night. You both hugged each other as you fell asleep with a smile on your faces. You couldn’t live without each other. And that was how it was meant to be.

——————————————————————————

I hope you like this one !! The turtles are always a fav to write for <33 thanks for the request , keep em coming !! 😚

[gregrulzok]

What are your top 10 favorite media, like from books, anime/manga, movies, tv series, etc (if you feel like listing multiple) of all time? Feel free if you want to write the reasons or not of why you love them....

Now THIIIIS is way different from asking me my favourite characters.

When it comes to characters, I tend to be heavily analytical and critical. When it comes to media... Well, you'll see. Whatever the case please note that these pieces of media being my favourite doesn't mean I necessarily recommend them. There's things I love with my whole heart that I wouldn't inflict upon my mortal enemy. You've been warned.

I'm also purposefully omitting some of my favourite pieces of media to shine a spotlight on ones I don't really get to talk about, or just want more people to know about (sorry, Berserk)

I'll try and keep these ones spoiler free, since I'm thinking of them more as recommendations! NSFW media will be marked with a *, but I won't go into anything explicit here. Please look up media mindfully and with discression, some of these may be triggering.

Thank you for the ask and I'm sorry for the ridiculous lengths of information you're about to witness !

Dungeon Meshi

Lets start with a safe one. A simple one. An expected one.

Yes, Dungeon Meshi IS that good.

Dungeon Meshi is a beautifully drawn manga that starts out slow, whimsical and almost slice-of-life-y, and then descents into utter madness so slowly and skillfully that by the time you blink you're in another dimension.

The world building in this series is second to none - everything makes sense and nothing is handwaved. The genuine and honest passion in the way the world feels alive is palpable, and despite its realism it never loses its magical feeling.

The characters are charming, lovable, realistic, and complex. Each of them have an inner world to tap into, each of them feels like a real person you could hold a conversation with and would WANT to hold a conversation with. Here I'll also proudly announce that we get zero (0) gratuitous fanservice, zero (0) characters who exist as a punchline, and guaranteed Sexy-Lamp Free !

The plot... Fuck, man. The plot is the most honest and bare faced look at some of the most nuanced subjects in the world (desire, ambition, love, death, survival, trauma, neurodivergence) wrapped up in a way that feels simple, grounded and real.

It also sincerely began to heal my relationship with food. I don't think I've ever seen the subjects of cooking, eating, health, weight and body diversity portrayed so well in such an empathetic, understanding and caring way in any piece of media. Body positivity is not so much a focus, but rather an undercurrent in the whole manga.

Whew ! With one objectively good piece of media out of the way, let's move on to something more unhinged, such as ...

Honestly I can't begin to imagine what kind of person WOULDN'T enjoy Dungeon Meshi. Do yourself a favour and read it.

Cats (1998)

Cats. The Broadway musical cats. One of the longest running musicals in the world, award winning, famously bashed and hated, recently revorked into a horrible film that was even more bashed and hated, the beautiful, glorious wonderful disaster of my heart - Cats.

Specifically, the 1998 film version.

...It's so hard for me to explain this one.

At some point, while watching Cats for the second time (for a reason I cannot explain), some neurons fired the wrong direction in my brain and now I have a pathological obsession, to the point where I can name each and every single Godforsaken cat in this show, including the ones that don't even appear in the credits.

Cats. What am I even supposed to say here, like, genuinely. It's cats.

Well, here's the thing - the choreography and acting direction in this fucking musical is genuinely breathtaking. It takes a few watches for it to fully click, but once it does, I sincerely believe that Cats is one of the most endlessly fascinating pieces of media to analyze. What you have to understand about Cats is that every single character (with very few exceptions) is on screen basically for the entire show. And so while you're watching the dancing in the foreground (which is beautiful on its own), every single cat in the background is just ... There. Moving, interacting, portraying characteristics that are never stated, never so much as focused on - but you can see them. You can see the kittens playing with each-other, you can see the elders gossiping, you can see small bits and gags you won't catch your first time, or second, or fifth. You can see how rowdy Tumblebrutus and Pouncival are, you can see how excitable Electra is, you can see the quiet dignity of Coricopat and Tantomile, the friendship between Jellylorum and Jennyanydots. There's always new little bits of background characterisation you can catch, pretty much regardless of how many times you've seen it.

In that way, Cats is feels the most alive, the most ever changing and evolving. I'm completely enraptured by it and if you do want to watch it, I recommend watching it as many times as you can stomach, because your first time through it'll glide right off you like water off a duck.

Chainsaw Man (Public Safety Arc)*

The first time I finished reading Chainsaw Man, I stared at my phone for a straight minute, then started sobbing. The next morning, I drank alcohol for the first time.

I wish that was a joke.

I'll admit I'm not up to date on the second arc of Chainsaw Man - it honestly got away from me a little and I'm not entirely sure I'll be finishing it.

But that doesn't take away from the fact that the first arc is one of the most tightly written, beautiful, emotional stories I've ever read.

Sure, it's fun and funny. Sure, it's cool in it's action scenes. Sure, the art direction is absolutely breathtaking. Sure, the character design and worldbuilding are interesting and detailed.

But at its heart the core appeal of CSM, to me, is the way it speaks about trauma, abuse, assault, isolation, fear, and desire. Chainsaw Man is painfully down to earth in a gritty, real way, and while it is extremely dark, it's also uplifting and hopefull in a way a lot of dark media isn't.

Chainsaw Man makes you feel tiny, helpless in a massive world. Chainsaw Man puts you up against horrors both tangible and fantastical, and then it looks you in the eyes and says "Hey. You aren't weak. You aren't useless. The world is scary, the world is cruel, the world is harsh, but that doesn't mean you can't fight it. That doesn't mean there isn't hope".

I really don't know how else to describe it without going into spoilers. It's genuinely moving.

Arcane

Arcane is a beautiful tragedy that has no right being as impactful as it is for being a goddamn League of Legends adaptation, of all things.

The art direction in Arcane is absolutely insane - Taking a page from Into the SpiderVerse (which is another favourite of mine), it blends 3D animation with a 2D-esque art style and fully 2D effects to bring what I genuinely believe to be one of the best looking shows in the world to life. And that's not all !

Arcane is infinitely nuanced. Between it's multiple plots it introduces many, many characters, all of whom have their own wants, needs, goals, ambitions, fears, flaws and trauma, and it clashes them together beautifully. Nothing in Arcane feels like an afterthought to me, I think the most fantastic thing about it is how expertly it weaves all these different storylines together. Everything ties into something else, everything affects something else, the story changes based on every little movement of our main characters and by the time it unfolds you realize that there's nothing that could really be done to change it because EVERYTHING lead to this.

It's a tragedy in the best way possible.

Attack on Titan

I don't care what anyone says - Attack on Titan is one of the best Anime ever put on screen.

I am a person that grew up in a colonized, war-torn country. Part of our land is still occupied, and our occupants are currently seeking refuge in our city and acting like this is their vacation resort. My people have been marginalized, demonized, dismissed, our culture has been erased and we have been fed more propaganda than I can count.

And I say this because I think being in this situation lends me a pretty good perspective of what AoT is:

Propaganda. The first two seasons of Attack on Titan are literally an extended propaganda film, meant to trick and decieve the viewer into siding with the protagonists, and dismissing their enemies as mere monsters.

If I go any deeper into that statement, there will inevitably be spoilers, so I'll cap it off with this:

There are no easy answers in war. There are no heroes and no villains, there are no good guys and bad guys, and there are no winners. There is only deception, control, and death.

I've never seen a piece of fiction capture the true, real horror of war quite as well as Attack on Titan does.

Death Parade

Everybodyyyyyyy put your hands upppppp

Death Parade is the show I go to rewatch when I have nothing else to rewatch.

It is a soft, yet painful look at human nature. It's an exploration of what makes a person good or bad, and whether such things even exist. It brings into question the very nature of humanity, whether there's such a thing as being good or bad, whether our character is formed by our circumstances or our behaviour, and how those things should be judged. It asks what it means to have emotions, to have feelings, and how your own personal emotions and biased factor into how you assess other people - whether it's more unfair to judge someone objectively without empathy, or subjectively with your own narrow, biased worldview.

All of that wrapped in a beautiful aesthetic, and a somber, subtle love story. Not even necessarily a romantic one - just pure love.

Highly, highly recommend.

Oyasumi Punpun*

Oyasumi Punpun is the most direct, honest, unfiltered, unbiased look at a human being's psyche I've ever seen.

It's also one of the most triggering bits of media on here, so proceed with caution.

Oyasumi Punpun follows the life of a single boy from his childhood, through his adulthood. Every single hardship, every single setback, every victory, every memorable experience, is shown to us through the lense of his own eyes. His childhood innocence, his teenage cynicism, his adolescent hopelessness, his own naivete, his own trauma, his own biased colour the way we view the world around him.

It genuinely makes you feel like you are wearing his skin and living his life through him.

Its disturbing, uncomfortable, dark, scary, and it's funny, hopeful, and just plain bizarre.

Great Pretender

Alright, back to light-hearted things !!!

Great Pretender might be the funniest show I've ever seen, to me, personally. Its bright, saturated, expressive animation compliments the absolute insanity of this show perfectly.

The most basic premise is that Great Pretender is about two con artists desperately trying to out-con each-other, and then it all goes downhill from there. It sets up so much of its payoff in such tiny little ways that by the time I got to the end I'd be beating myself up for missing a completely innocuous detail like a characters fucking watch, because it was actually a hint towards the overall plotline.

Its clever, it's funny, it keeps you on your toes, and it can be genuinely heartfelt and delightfully homoerotic to boot !!

It's absolutely worth the watch. Please give us season two. Please. PLEASE.

Dark Heaven*

Dark Heaven is what I'd recommend to someone if they told me they liked reading BL.

As a gay man in an interracial relationship, I've yet to find a piece of media that is quite so open direct, brutal and honest about the kids of issues that gay people, people of color, and people in interracial relationships can face.

To that end - it's extremely triggering if you're sensitive to those particular topics, as well as some other things. I'd very much recommend looking up a list of triggers first if you want to read it because it does get very, very dark. (And very NSFW). (Right from chapter one)?

But yeah - Dark Heaven is a beautiful, engaging, and at times very fluffy and humorous romance between two men, that is heavily overlaid with real actual issues people face every day (and some people don't face every day, but are nonetheless very real). It's honest, soft, and uplifting where it needs to be, despite not sugarcoating absolutely anything. It also does us the wonderful favour of not fetishizing gay men, not playing into weird creepy stereotypes, and not turning their relationship into something to gawk at.

And now, the one, the only, the piece of media that captured my heart and soul and will never ever let go:

Warrior Cats

Fucking Warrior Cats.

I have read every single book in the series. The series with over 100 books (depending on how you count them). Every official piece of media, I have consumed.

I've been reading this book series since I was 11. I've loved, cherished, lived and breathed it. I keep up with them to this day. I recently completed a chronological re-read. I've made OCs. I've roleplayed it in person and online - in fact I've been a mod in a DeviantArt roleplay group.

I HAVE A GODDAMN EXCELL SPREADSHEET WHERE I ANALYZE THE STATISTICS OF THE WARRIOR CATS NAMING SYSTEM

"Oh wow, sounds like the series is really good" WRONG

Warrior Cats is one of the worst written series I've ever read. It's poorly paced, it's full of plotholes, most characters are pieces of cardboard with a furry coat. It's dumb, nonsensical, inconsistent, and infuriating. It preaches the worst lessons I've ever heard, it's full of nothing but wasted potential, and I could honestly count the number of books I'd consider to be genuinely good on both of my hands.

Out of a 100. I've read a fucking hundred of these. Send help.

Why do I do this to myself? Why do I read them?

Because I'm autistic and my brain is holding me hostage.

Against my better judgement, I have such a deep and genuine love for this series, for the characters, for the content mostly created by the fans, for the world building.

And every single time one of these fucking cats dies, I end up tearing up.

I love Warrior Cats and you can pry it from my cold, dead hands.

...

And that's IT !!!

Thank you again for the ask, and thanks if you read it this far !! You can really tell which ones of these I'm currently hyperfixated on haha.

Again please practice discression in looking these up - I have absolutely no triggers, and so don't think twice about consuming really dark and heavy pieces of media. This is also why I didn't just opt to put in my own trigger warnings - because I don't know everything that could be potentially triggering, and I don't want to give off the impression that you know everything you need to, in case i missed anything.

Be careful and be safe !

[baby-bunny-san]

Ikemen Villain Prologue Full 1-9

Part 1

It’s easy to be happy when life is a fairy tales.

Don’t do what you shouldn’t do. For example, so…

A forest you shouldn’t enter, a door you shouldn’t open, a secret you shouldn’t know.

And ---

Kate: This is all I’m in charge of. Thank you very much for sorting the mail.

Colleague: Hey, isn’t the top one is a love letter? It’s a big responsibility, Kate

Kate: The responsibility is the same for any letter. Because the person who wrote it is full of heart. Then Let’s go

Put the letter in the delivery bag and open the door of the post office ---

(Today is even more lively… Was it social season?)

During the reign of Queen Victoria, London was literally the most properous British capital in the world.

While immigrants, workers, industrialists, and aristocrats are crowded together,

Everyone is living the same today as yesterday, filled with their own troubles and joys.

Kate: come on, let’s deliver today as well!

I am an ordinary citizen working as a postman in such a city.

(Phew, tired)

While delivering the letter as usual, the gas lamp started to light up again today.

(There are only 2 left for today. The next address is --- ah)

A strong wind suddenly blew, and an envelope flew from my hand into the sky.

(I can’t…)

The wind carrying the envelope blows through the dim alley.

Kate: If I lose sight of it, I’ll be in trouble…!

Rather than rushing to chase after it, the envelope fell to a point as if it were being sucked into it.

Towards the silver-haired man who appeared from the alley, who was slender even in the twilight.

(It was good…!)

Kate: Excuse me, it’s being delivered

???:….

I rushed over, and the man kindly stooped down to pick up the envelope that had fallen at my feet.

???: Go ahead, my lady.

He picked it up and hold it out, that’s all, but perhaps because of his inhuman beauty and gracefulness of his movements, my gaze was stolen.

Kate: Thank you very much

???: You’re welcome

(This person’s eyes are red. It’s like…)

---- It’s looks like blood.

Dark alley, outstretched palms, ruddy eyes… all of them,

A shudder ran down my spine as if it was going to take me somewhere that wasn’t real.

Red-eyed man: Are there only 2 deliveries left?

Kate: Huh?

His cough brought me to my senses. Suddenly, the hustle and bustle of London came back to my ears.

Kate: Sorry, I’m dazed.

Red-eyed man: Hurry up. It will soon be dark.

As we passed each other and made a fuss, he disappeared into the crowd.

For some reason, the lingering sweet scent of buckwheat made my heart flutter.

The red-eyed man: Thank you, Victor.

Black-haired man: If it’s you, I’d be happy no matter how many hours I’ve been waiting… Oh, did something good happen?

Red-eyed man: Ah… There was a cute robin who seemed to sing with a wonderful voice.

Black-haired man: Heh… If you’re interested in someone, I’m curious too

(He was a strange person, how did you know the number of deliveries?)

(From the way he dressed, he looked like an aristocrat, so I don’t think I will ever see him again)

I walked around the city with a feeling of relief and a desire to talk a little more

I like the moment when people’s heart moves, so I chose a job that delivers letters filled with feelings.

I have no complain about the days when I continue to deliver someone’s feelings, and I think that my current daily life may be happy life that suits me.

Although I also think that the world may change at some random time.

(I wonder if it’s a guy who asked for something that doesn’t exist)

Kate: Well okay, I was able to deliver properly today as well

It was when I praised myself as if I was making an autosuggestion.

???: Wait!!

(.…!)

Part 2

A girl and a man with an angry expression appeared in front of me,

Girl: Ouch!

The necklace sways and glitters in the twisted little girl’s hand.

(Thief?)

Man: I will make that arm unsuable!

What the man raised was a poker

(If it’s hit hard with something like that, bones would break!)

In the momentary events unfolding in front of the sun---

Kate: Wait

---- Involuntarily, a voice came out

Man: What the hell are you??

(No way!)

Kate: Hey, for now, let’s return what you stole. After that, I will listen what you have to say.

Girl: Ehhh

Man: Ouch!?

(Eh!?)

The girl took moment to kick the man’s arm and disappeared into the alley

Man: Wait, you bastard, damn you, what are you doing?

Kate: I’m sorry…

Even if you regret sticking your neck in…

Man: Pay for what I was stolen! Will you pay for it?

Kate: Yes, I will pay you

I cried and took out my wallet

Black-haired man: …I see. That’s certainly a lovely robin

Kate: ah… I did it

(For the jeweller, it was clearly the bad peson who stole things, but)

(I don’t think it’s a good thing to blame a girl who is cornered to the point of stealing…)

Everyone knows that there are people suffering from poverty in the east of London.

Without knowing what kind of feelings the girl has when she steals, I can’t just sit and watch her get hurt

(But in the end, the girl committed a crime and escaped)

Kate: I don’t know if it’s good or bad

I’m running out of tickets for this month’s theater

It’s a small hobby that I pay for myself to go to the theater once every few months with my salary that I’ve saved

(I was supposed to save from this delivery, but this month I have to deposit it)

Kate: Well, there’s no point in worrying about it, if it’s money, you can earn it again

------------------------------------

Kate: I’m back

Director: Kate, it’s just right… No, but it’s dangerous at night…

Kate: what’s wrong?

Colleague: that’s right, there are vacancies for night delivery workers, and there are not enough people

(Night delivery, that’s it)

Kate: Please let me go

Director: Oh.. that’s.. to be honest. It helps. The delivery area is a safe townhouse area, but please don’t wander around carelessly

Kate: I got it

(Good, now we can make up for the negative amount from earlier)

(It’s my first time delivering at night and this area… if you’re careful, you will be fine)

Black-haired man: well--- guys, are you ready?

Cat-like man: Of course, Victor. It’s been a long time since we’ve been on a mission together, so it’s exciting

Subjective man: You’re too excited, you will get hurt if you get too high, so calm down

Hunting gun man: well, if it’s not a serious injury, I’ll fix it. If you die, we will have one less person to work with

Cat-like man: Thank you, Roger. As expected of a former doctor

Blond hair man: .. ah. I have to go too

Gentlemanly man: Yeah, it’s a wonderful night. There may be something you’re looking for at the target’s mansion

Blond hair man: yes… I understand

Sly-eyed man: if you’re going, can you go quickly? Unlike the nobles, I don’t have time

Tall young man: I don’t have any business talks or collection plans tonight

Sly-eyed man: Hey, you can’t be honest like an idiot. Shut up

Red-eyed man: As you can see, Crown is ready, Victor

Black-haired man: Haha, That’s nice. Well then, let’s get started

Tonight too --- loyalty to your evil

Part 3

(Delivery at night is fine once you get used to it, next is the last one)

Among the row of townhouses, it was a particularly splendid mansion

(Oh.. this mansion doesn’t have a mailbox)

(It’s night, so I can’t speak too loudly… what should I do?)

When I gently touch the gate, I heard a faint squeak and the gate opened inward

(Open. Careless)

Kate: Excuse me. I’m from the post office. Is there anyone here?

When I pass through the gate and look into the dimly lit entrance hall

(Piano sound?)

Out of nowhere, I heard a light melody

The light and joyful tone that echoes in the dark without the sound of the wind makes you feel something strange

(i’m sure it’s the man in this mansion who is playing. If you leave the letter unattended, it might get lost)

(If I don’t deliver it properly)

I’m afraid to take a step forward

My own footsteps along the polished hall mingled with the melody of the piano

(somehow, I feel restless)

Eventhough I should be fullfilling my duties, I feel like I’m making a decisive mistake for some reason

(Hand it over quickly and let’s go home)

(The sound … seems to be coming from the hall ahead)

Knocking on the door, but the melody doesn’t stop

I put my hand on the doornob as if I was rushed by anxiety

Kate: um.. excuse me. ------Nn

(.……. eh?)

A bright red fountain appeared in front of me

Byu-- the object with bright red splatters throbbing and rolling on the floor with a sound

(W… What?)

My eyes met with the “it” that rolled at my feet

“He” had a bitter expression on his face, and had a knife he had held stabbed into his neck

Kate: ………!?

My throat makes a sound. A lukewarm liquid dripped down, and discomfort ran down my spine

(Why)

???: this this, I didn’t expect an audience to come

I heard a voice that gave me a further blow, and my throat, which was still tight, trembled

When I looked around-----

Eight shadows darker than darkness,

They silently stared at me, illuminated by the gray moonlight

As if trying to figure out who I am….

One of them slowly stands up from the piano in the hall

Red-eyed man: what’s it? Isn’t that the robin I met during the day?

Kate: ahh…eh?

It was the red-eyed man I met in London at dusk

I stared back at them, unable to understand anything beyond that

Cat-like man: do you know Will? Anyone know us?

Red-eyed man: we just talked a little bit on the street, Liam, she don’t know about the Crown

(Crown?)

Cat-like man: I see, then you are in trouble, what should you do?

The man looked at me and smiled softly, with a glamorous tone that doesn’t match the complete crime scene

(Looks fun, even in this kind of situation)

His friendly pink eyes sparkle with curiosity

Subjective man: I’m sorry if you are really frightened, but this is a set for a stage play, isn’t it?

A man who looks like a playboy poke at the corpse with his chine and gives me a sideways glance

Kate: Uh, lie…

I remembered the lukewarm feeling, and my voice came out involuntarily

Subjective man: It would have been better if you pretend to believe me. What are you going to do Will?

Red-eyed man: Of couse, we should take her to the “Palace fo death”

Sly-eyed man: I told you to lock the door

Hunting gun man: Haha, I didn’t think you would trespass. You’re a pretty bad girl, arent you?

Tall young man: Why don’t you come over here, you cant run away anyway

Fear ran through my body the moment I heard those word - I can’t escape

(... anyway…. I have to run away!)

I scolded my trebling legs and try to retreat

Blood-red eyed captivated me

Red-eyed man: Come, poor robin

(Ehh??)

For some reason, my legs began to move toward him the moment he whispered sweetly

(why? I cant stop..?!)

Kate: I hate it…

Ignoring my will, my legs suddenly stopped right in front of him

Red-eyed man: Excuse me

He gently pulled me around my waist as if he were waltzing

(... being killed..)

As soon as I close my eyes. The scent of buckwheat tickle my nose, and the soft feel of it gently caress me

Red-eyed man: it’s ok

(a…)

He smiled and gently released me from his arms

All of sudden, I lost all my strength and collapsed on the spot

Red-eyed man: I’m late in introducing myself. My name is William. William Rex

With the moonlight behind him, he bowed reverently and held out his hand to me

(William Rex…)

The blood-stained fingertips are slowly opened as if inviting

Red-eyed man: I invite you to dinner tonight. Guest, what’s your name?

Part 4

(I could not escape..)

Eight mysterious man put me in a horse-drawn carriage and gracefully drove through the city at night

Beyond the window, with the cityscape of London. The majestic palace flew away---

(where am I going? And what will happen to me?)

I left the delivery at that mansion. But I wonder if I can receive the salary for that

Moreover, it’s doubtful whether I will be able to return home safely

(the fact that they are acting in group and working in the same place means that these people are people from an organization)

(Then.. from now on. I’m sure you’re going to report me to the person in charge)

Gentlemanly man: Kate-san..

Kate: Y..Yes

When I lifted my head up, I saw a gentleman with a mysterious smile on his face

Looking out the window, the carriage passed through the forest and crossed a bridge

Gentlemanly man: we’re arrived. This is not the root of evil that could be the end of your life, but our base

Kate: Wha…

As soon as I get off the carriage with a conforting escort, I was fascinated by the Gothic castle in front of me

Surrounded by forests and ponds on all sides, the clear tower that pierces the night sky gives off an overwhelming presence

Its’ a place that makes you want to bow down unintentionally

(i never thought there was a castle like this in London…)

Kate: Is this.. real?

Gentlemanly man: Yes, unfortunately, it’s neither a dream or an illusion. It’s painful reality that you cant escape

(actually.. or rather, didn’t this person just say something outrageous?)

(The end of life, root of evil, etc . Oh no. My head--)

I get dizzy and unsteady on my feet

I bumped into someone and hurrily turned around

Kate: sorry

Blond hair man: It doesn’t matter… are you okay?

(Near…)

The man who held me by the shoulder looked at me from a distance where I could touch his delicate-looking golden hair

(this person.. he is too beautiful and scary. He looks like a bisque doll)

In a work of art-like form, only the dark and ashy eyes are staring at me with the warm of a living creature

Kate: I’m fine, thank you

A man with a blond hair and blue eyes: …yes

(ah, that)

A man with a blond hair and blue eyes:…..

(don’t let go…)

As I was puzzled, a hand extended from the side and stabbed the blond man’s hand

A man like a cat: El, don’t run away

Kate, do you like to talk to me? I want to know more about you

(wow..)

I was confused by being sandwiched between men on both sides

Hunting gun man: hey, both of you, leave it for later, reporting to Victor is the top priority right now, right?

It’s not too late to get to know each other even after deciding what to do with the girl

It was a big man with an intelligent and powerful appearance came to my rescue

The rational look behind the glasses calms my fussing mind

(at this moment, I feel like this person is the most communicative)

Kate: … What will happen to me?

The things I’ve always wanted to hear came to my mind

Hunting gun man: weel? It’s up to us

With an egoistic grin, I erased the sentence “I feel like I can stand you” in my head

William: Kate, this way. Follow me

Kate: Yes. Rex-sama

William: Ahaha, don’t be so formal, William is fine

Kate: okay… William-sama

(Wow.. amazing)

Once you step into the castle, it’s as if the world has changed

(To think that I would set foot in a place like this even once in my life…)/ I never thought I would set foot…

A castle that is an magnificient as it looks, and is said to be the property of the British royal family. A dangerous, mysterious, and beautiful unknown world was spreading out before my eyes

(it’s a base for people who might be criminals, but..)

William: you seem to like it

A shilver ran down my spine. When I turned around, William was laughing gleefully

William: let’s go. Soul Reaper is waiting impatiently.

Part 5

Black-haired man: Welcome back, my beloved cursed people!

We stepped into the spacious dining room with trepidation, and the ‘Soul Reaper’ greeted us with a crackers.

(Cursed..?)

Black-haired man: Huh..? that girl is…

(This person is, the ‘Grim Reaper of the Palace’?)

I was a little perplexed by his friendly and frank attitude

His jewel-like eyes and long, glossy black hair reminded me of a night sky with twinkling stars

William: she’s Kate. She happened to be at target’s mansion

Black-haired man: wow. That’s … a fateful coincidence

William: Kate, he’s Victor. He’s the Queen’s aide

(The queen’s aide?)

Victor smiled as he restrained me with one hand when I was about to bend my knee

Victor: good evening, Kate. I see you’re brought here…

Kate: Yes, Victor-sama. It’s as you said

(To think that such an amazing person is a noble.. who the hell are they?)

The fear that clings my body is increasing, and I feel like I’m giong to cry at any moment

(i don’t want to be killed without knowing why)

(But what should I do?)

I was so tense that I couldn’t even break into a cold sweat, and my head gradually faded and turned white

Victor: If you were there by chance, you would be terribly confused without knowing the situation

Kate: Huh…? Yes….

(That’s right. Anyway, I have to grasp the situation and stay calm..)

Before I panicked, my thoughts clung to Victor-sama’s words of sympathy

Kate: well, can I ask you some questions?

Victor: You’re polite, okay, what do you want to ask?

Kate: what was it that I saw? What the hell are ‘crown’ and ‘cursed’?

Cat-like man: Ah, I see. I’m sorry I didn’t explain. You were worried, weren’t you?

Both are about us

Subjective man: Hey, Liam

Cat-like man: a cursed person is a human who has been cursed since he was born into this world

Kate: Cursed? Human?

Cat-like man: yes. I was born destined to commit crimes and suffer a tragic end.

(Are all these people saying that?)

Cat-like man: the ‘cursed people’ has been born in this world since long ago… and has been destined to commit crimes and died as they were supposed to

Cat-like man: for example, when drawing a curse, I can’t control my curiosity. And in the end, I’m destined to be killed by curiosity/ it’s fate to be killed….…Ah, it’s about me

Kate: what do you mean to be killed by curiosity?

Cat-like man: for example, according to the records, my previous cat’s curse is… Arson, robbery, self-multilation, adultery, and all kinds of evil deeds… just to satisfy my curiosity. Even though he was abandoned by his family and loved ones, and even when he was torture and had his limbs torn off, he cried and laughed.

Cat-like man: “it’s the first time I’ve ever done something like this”. In the end, he jumped into a sulfuric acid bath and melted to death while laughing out loud

He told a horrifying story worthy of being called ‘the end of a tragedy” with his eyes swaying happily

Hunting gun man: it’s said that various fairy tales were created based on the existence of this ‘cursed’. Nowadays, the causal relationship is reversed. And it’s called ‘the Fairy Tale Cursed’

(fairytale, curse,… such a story)

Hunting gun man: Can you believe it? I just tasted it myself

Kate: eh..?

Hunting gun man: ‘cursed’ possesses ability that normal humans cannot have

Sly-eye man: hey, that story is a confidential matter… you guys are light-hearted

(unusual ability)

Suddenly, what happened to me just now come back to me

---------- In the target’s mansion -----------

William: Come, poor robin

(... why? I can’t stop!!)

At that time, my body betrayed my will, as if I was manipulated my William-sama’s words

(No way… Really??)

When I unintentionally/ instinctively turned my gaze to William-sama, he gently loosen his eyes as if he is leaning back

William: My curse is a self-righteous king. It’s my ability to act as I’ve ordered/ command

(Do what you ordered, it’s like magic…)

Reason reflextively tried to deny it, but my body that was actually manipulated by him

The story is undeniably true

And one more thing, I noticed something

(A man who died in that mansion) I remember the anguished expression of the man who took his own like and the knife he held in his hand

(I thought it was too unnatural to commit suicide)

(But, maybe that person…)

(William-sama ordered him to forcibly put a knife on his neck?)

Kate:…!!

A frightening hypothesis crossed my mind and I quickly turned away from him

William: ‘cursed people’ are treated as criminals and psychopaths. At present, the UK is the only country that has nationally controlled and organized such risk factors

Kate: Nationally… organized?

William: Ah. An organization under the direct control of her Majesty Queen Victoria, composed only of cursed people. That’s us, the Crown

William: From espionage assassination, we undertake behind-the-scenes/ shadow works that the police and military cannot handle

(That’s right. … the murder scene I saw earlier)

(was it an assassination mission carried out my Her Majesty’s orders…?)

Victor: for the prosperity of Britain, ‘conquering evil with evil’ is the mission of the ‘Crown’. Well, in fact, who are ‘cursed’, are free to carry out their own evils

Victor: For me, it’s the most important thing

(a group of assassins for the nation, defeating evil with evil…)

(I’ve learned a terrible secret…)

I should have grasp the situation in order to calm down, but I was struck by even more fear and stood dumbfounded

Subjective man: yes, it’s a more serious situation than you imagined

So, what are you going to do with such a polite explanation, Victor?

Victor: Hmm… That’s right…

Tall young man: shall I kill her?

(eh-----?)

The worst option suddenly surfaced and I turned around in a panic

Tall young man: she doesn’t seem happy at all, but is it’s work, I’ll do it

(eh….eh!!?)

I’m sweating and I wonder what the other people’s complexions are like

Everyone is calm and doesn’t change one complexion…

I understood that taking the life of a single person was a daily accurrence of them

Victor: Hmm, that’s right

(I have to explain somehow…!!)

(I have to persuade him somehow!)

(If the reason for being killed is ‘knowing the secret’)

Kate: I swear I will never tell anyone alse what I just heard!

Victor: Hmm… What? What?

Kate: I’m absolutely confidential, postmen are trained to maintain confidentially

Victor & William: ….

(isn’t t really impossible?… if that’s the case)

Kate: if you say you can’t trust me, you can keep an eye on me until you trust me, I’ll definitely prove it

(so please, don’t kill me)

I stare at Victor with a cringing feeling

Viktor: I see, that’s good. Adopted!!

Kate: huh?

Victor: From today onwards, you will be the Crown exclusive ‘fairy tale master’

Part 6

Kate: Fairytale master….

Tall young man: … what?

Victor: the position I just created. I’ve wanted to record the spectacular evil deeds for a long time. From now on, Kate will live in this castle and act together with the members of Crown

Victor: Crown members, keep an eye on her so she doesn’t reveal her secret

Meanwhile, I asked Kate to write down how they commit evil, it’s like writing a fairy tale.

It’s will be a valuable resource for research into the curse, and it will also serve as a Crown activity report for her Majesty the Queen

Sujective man: just because it’s too much trouble for you to make a report, so you’re going to force it on her

Victor: I think it’s the best idea! If it decided, I’ll have to show you around this castle

Kate: Wait, wait!

(it looks like I escaped being killed, but I have to decide something important!)

Kate: One month. For 1 month, if I fulfill the role of the fairy tale master and keep the secret to the end…

Can you release me, please?

Victor: ……….

William: fufu… that’s unusual, Victor, I can’t believe you’re taken aback. Okay, Kate. If you want, I’ll trust you and release you when you finish your one month term

William: Should I send a direct notice to your workplace saying that you’re going to work at the Imperial Court for a month? Okay, Victor?

Victor: of, of course Will

(that’s good. For the time being, the neck skin seem to be connected)

(1 month… if I can keep the secret, I can go back to the daily life)

(while writing down the crimes these people commit)

William: If you don’t know the names, it will be inconvenient. Everyone, introduce yourself

Cat-like man: Yes, yes, then I’ll start

(... that?)

When I saw him stepping onto the stage as if he was dancing, I suddenly felt a sense of deja vu

Kate: I’ve heard about you somewhere!

(this person is an actor who appeared on the stage I went to see last month)

Liam: Do you know me? I’m so happy. My front face is a stage actor , and the back face is a crown. My name is Liam Evans

Please take care of me from now on, cute Kate-chan

With a light wink like a twinkling star, Liam kissed the back of my hand

My heart, which has been tense with fear and anxiety, loosened slightly

(i though Crowns were all nobles, but that’s not the case)

Kate: Nice to meet you, Liam-san

Liam: call me Liam. No honorifics, okay? And this is my buddy Harry

Harrison: it’s a bad friend’s mistake… Harrison Gray. Harry or Harrison, whatever you want

I’m a liar fox cursed. Now, it’s a lie or it’s true?

Harrison smiled thinly, his milky hair swaying, and the scent of mint tickled my nose

Kate: it is true?

Harrison: hmm, do you think so?

You can check the answers, you have a month

(.. you’re kind of an elusive person, I can’t read your emotion at all)

(There is no doubt that he is very popular)

Alphonse: then, let us say hello next. Sorry for the delay, my name is Alfons Sylvatica

 To be able to spend a month playing with a love robin like you… I’m really looking forward to it

(Hmm? You said you would play with me?)

Alfons: this is Elbert Greetia. Please consider me his friend as well as his aide

Kate: Elbert.. nice to meet you

Alfons-san, Elbert-sama, nice to meet you

Elbert: … El, is she beautiful?

(eh!?)

Alfons: yes, as much as you

Hunting gun man: hey hey, what a rude thing to say in front of a lady

(Well, it’s true that there aren’t many people more beautiful than master Elbert)

Roger: I’m Roger, I used to be a doctor. Nice to meet you, girl

When I instinctively braced myself for the ferocious smile, Roger-san raised his eyebrows as if amused.

Roger: well, it’s been a month. Let’s take it easy, huh?

Kate: yes, Roger-san

(also, I don’t know the name…)

Looking around the dining room, I noticed 2 people who had barely talked to each other, and turned my gaze to them

In particular, the man in the long jacket doesn’t even try to hide his stoic aura, has the air of a real ‘villain’

It’s unapproachable, to be honest

When our eye met, the twisted/ distorted his face in disgust

The man with sly eyes: tch…. disgusting

(eh…)

A sudden intense disgust is directed at me

Victor: well, don’t say that, take care of yourself, Jude

Jude: I refuse, what are you thinking about catching such an ordinary person/ mediocrity by brandishing the Queen’s power?

(ordinary person..)

(..eh, maybe you’re defending me right now?)

Although he seemed to be different from the members of Crown, he may be a surprisingly conscientious person

Kate: Thank you very much, Jude-san

When I greeted him with a little hope in my heart, Amethyst’s cruel-looking eyes narrowed

Jude: I feel sorry for you for being forced to brign you here. Did I rescue you?

Kate: eh?

Jude: I’m just kidding. what are you expecting?

(wha..!?)

Jude: well, it’s okay if you do your best. You can hold it for a month and then run away and be killed

After pouring harsh words and showing a cruel smile, Jude-san left the room

(after all, he was a cold person… and also a type with a strong habit)

(is that peculiar way of speaking, is he an immigrant from somewhere?)

Tall young man: he’s like that to everyone, so don’t worry  about it.

Kate: wow!

Before I knew it, a tall young man was standing next to me

(suddenly, I didn’t notice it at all)

(this person just said ‘let’s kill’ me…)

Ellis: I’m Ellis

With a calm and gentle voice, just by being by is side, you can feel the temperature frop

It made me uneasy. As if something was peeking through the open darkness

Kate: Ellis-kun, nice to meet you

Ellis: Nice to meet you, me and Jude often go out on business

While I’m here, I’ll make you as happy as possible

(Happy?)

From the person who tried to kill me a few minute ago, I was taken aback when a line like a proposal popped out

(i wonder if it’s a unique social commentary/ etiquette)

Kate: Thank you. What kind of work do you do outside?

Ellis: Trading company. Jude is the president. I’m an assistant

(That person is a president…)

Victor: okay. Have you all identified yourself with this? It seems that there are some children who haven’t reveal the curse

Well. You will find out yourself while you’re working as a ‘fairy tale master’

Bang, clapping his hands and Victor-sama happily laughed

Victor: Then, before we show you around the castle, I would like to show you a welcome trick

Liam: wow! Clap clap clap------

Roger: don’t waste precious time again

Harrison: are you insane? I’d rather take a shower than stare at such a poor thing

Alfons: well, isn’t it nice to see the idiots of wierdos who are happy to expose their clumsiness?

Victor: I need collaboratorss, but who won’t run? El?

Elbert: I don’t like it…

Victor: hmm. I wonder why your sad profile is so attractive. Then what about Ellis?

Ellis: if that makes her happy, fine

Victor: thank you for your altruistic and devoted course of action. Then lay down on the table over there-------

(suddenly, the magic show started…)

They are laughing happily in front of you, and they are taking one life without delay tonight

Even the laughter seemed stir up fear when I remembered the sight at the scene of the murder

William: are you scared?

Kate: …! William-sama

Part 8

Still unable to meet his gaze, I lowered my head and stared at his feet

William: it’s polite to give an honorific title. I’d like to have a more informal relationship with you. Just with William

Kate: yes, William

(.……look)

I couldn’t help but obey the order, so I gave him a title in my heart

William: that’s right. I won’t use my power recklessly. Can you show me your face?

Invited my the gentle tone of voice, I fearfully raise my gaze upwards

William: are you scared of us?

Kate: yes, I’m scared

I thought It was rude to say something like this, but my voice spill out on its own

Kate: I didn’t know anything about you. Or about the existence of this world…

If It came true, I wanted to remain ignorant

But I, who didn’t know, can’t go back

William: do you want to know more?

I feel like I’m going to flinch at the words

Kate: I think I want to face each other in my own way

It’s necessary because I need to fulfill my mission and be trusted…

William: ….huh?

William narrowed his red eyes as if exploring, and gave a faint smile to his lips

William: well, let’s wait and see

Victor: Yeah, as you can see, Ellis surviced the rain of knifes unscathed!

Liam: wow, that’s amazing! As expected of Victor

(oh..no! Even though it was my welsome trick, I didn’t see it at all!)

Harrison: yeah, wow. Good work Ellis

Roger: didn’t you get stab with a knife?

Ellis: it was a little tough, but it’s barely okay

Alfons: as expected of kinetic vision and reflexes

Elbert: … relying on the physical abilities of the collaborators… isn’t that a trick?

Victor: well then, this is enough for the welcome entertainment

Despite the cold attitude of the audience, Victor spread his arms in a good mood

Victor: May I show you our castle of evil, Crown Castle?

Part 9

Victor: come on, miss robin. Don’t stray from me

Once you’re scented by the darkness of the castle, you can’t come back

Parting from the members of the Crown, I went out into the hallway as Victor-sama led me

Kate: Yes, Victor-sama

Victor: Victor. Isn’t it sad that I’m the only one with William being called out?

(Both William and this person are clearly high-ranking people, but----)

Kate: Victor. Please guide me

(i feel so good)

Victor: This is the common room. It’s a room where we drink, play, have party and discuss strategies.

Ah, don’t touch the leftmost glass on the third row from the top. Dangerous things will pop out

(i wonder what will come out… a knife? Pistol?)

Victor: This is Roger’s laboratory, and also the infirmary. If you get injured, you should get medical treatment here. Crown’s mission is dangerous side by side. Ah, but fortunately they are still alive and well. Miraculously

(a life-threatening mission is an everyday occurrence?)

Victor: This is the hall. Balls and evening parties are held here. But this castle is special, and we rarely invite people.

Victor: Even the servants hire a small number of reliable people. To protect the secret that you have learned

(if you’ve gone that far to keep secret, why was the mansion unlocked?)

Victor: and here is your room

Kate:…eh?

What I was shown was a clean room with white as the base color, and a classy room that seem to be inhabited by the upper class

Kate: did someone live here?

vidtorL no. When you were being introduced by everyone, I ordered the servants to prepare this room for you

(in that moment, such a thing? I didn’t even feel the presence of a servant…)

Kate: ah….

Suddenly, I found a typewriter on my desk and let out a voice

Kate: how did you know I used a typewriter?

No one should know that I have been practicing for several months so that I can also do writing work

Victor: huh? Is that so? I didn’t know, just coincidence. I thought it would be useful to have for making a report

Victor blinked his eyes curiously and stared at me meaningfully

Victor: miraculour coincidence… even on the same day, twice

(twice..?)

Victor: I feel like it’s fate that your’re here

Well, don’t stay too long in the lady’s room too long. If anything happens, ring the bell there

Your exclusive maid will answer your request no matter what. Oh, write down the instructions

Kate: thank you, I understand

Victor: also, there are quite a few people in the Crown who are morally bankrupt

Leaving someone in the room can be synonymous with surrendering your body, so be careful

(though I didn’t see people here so hungry for women)

Kate: I remember it well

Victor: finally, let me convey my thanks

Kate: thank you…?

Victor: oh, thank you for trying to talk to us

You tried to have a dialogue with us while watching the scene with your own eyes

You think I was person who could understand you?

Since you are that kind of person, let me give you one piece of advice

After a month, if you want to go back to your normal life, don’t let them steal your heart

Kate: will they steal my heart?

Victor: yes. Curses are destined for tragic ruin

If you want the kind of happiness that pure maidens dream of, don’t fall in love with them

(love…)

The unexpected story confuses me

Kate: I didn’t even think about that…

I’m just going to prove I can keep secrets and go home

Victor: Maybe it suites you, who has free wings

Victor narrowed his eyes deceitfully as if he was holding it

Victor: nevertheless, if you choose to share the fate with them. Darkness will gladly welcome you

My body trembles at the bewitching smile

Victor: Good night, Kate

Kate: Good night, Victor

Thus, with the sound of the door slowly closing, my sinful life began

It’s easy to be happy when life is a fairy tales.

Don’t do what you shouldn’t do. For example, so…

A forest you shouldn’t enter, a door you shouldn’t open, a secret you shouldn’t know.

Don’t fall, love

However, the world of darkness suddenly appeared, revealing its abyss and tempting me

What will happen to my heart and body if I touch those fingertips beckoning me?

I have a certain feeling that something will change decisively

Breaking the taboo of ‘don’t do’, what lies ahead-----

-----I don’t know yet

The copyright belongs to Cybird. There may be some mistakes in my translation, feel free to tell me if you see them.

[wetthandss]

The Creature that Opened the Door

(parody creepypasta)

It is a dark night on October the 31th, 2023. The darkness that fell across the land on this night was no ordinary darkness. This was a darkness that was all-encompassing, with the ability to absorb all light that dares stray within it, where the tall, looming street lamps watching over the lifeless street, streaked with roadkill and dried blood, would flicker as if shivering from the cold, cold absence. The cowardly moon was non-existent, hiding from the horror that would be inflicted onto our unexpecting world. Never before in human history was there a night akin to this one. This was an event, an event for the darkest terror that will show its bare body to humanity to prove that fear is more real than we thought. It was a darkness that now makes the very lights in my room flicker, as I sit here and type in an adrenaline-fueled craze to you, creepypastaforums.net, in what could very well be my last moments, as one of these nameless terrors has come for me. 

Before I can even speak of the unknowable grotesquerie intruding  so rudely upon my typically safe and comfortable existence, I must tell you the full story that has lead up to this point, of I, in my Pikachu™ pyjamas, a character from the Pokémon franchise by Game Freak Incorporated and Nintendo Company, Limited, cowering on my grey bed sheets surrounded by a fortress of grey pillows and tented within my grey blanket, typing frantically on my HP Laptop 15-dy2xxx. The panic in my heart is so great that I’m afraid that the fear contained within the electrical currents of my fingers as I slam them onto the beige metallic keys will pass deep into the system, such that I may overload the 11th Gen Intel(R) Core(TM) i5-1135G7 @ 2.40GHz, 2401 Mhz, 4 Core(s), 8 Logical Processor(s), and cut my desperate and urgent message to the people of this forum short. It is my greatest hope that this does not occur before I can retrieve your aid, so I will write with the utmost brevity and in the most economical nature I can muster. 

You may wonder why this is my first route of attaining help, so I give you this; I come to you only because I truly believe that you, the internet creepypasta community, will believe my story. You, who are accustomed to reading fictional stories like this on a daily basis, I assure you this is no fiction. What you are reading is very very non-fiction, and the current events that will transpire in the rest of this post are in fact happening to me at this very moment. If you are reading this… Please continue reading to the very end. I request your help immediately with these very pressing matters, threatening my very life with death; or worse. However, to truly help me with my dire plight, the context of the day must be established. 

This morning was a morning like any other. At eight o’clock ante meridiem, central standard time, I awoke from a pleasant dream. In that morning’s episode of wistful sleep-fantasy, I was farming oversized pieces of candy corn in a wide, flat and halloween-coloured field. Upon waking, I reflected on what this could mean, as I am a believer that dreams are the transporters of messages from our subconscious to our conscious selves (Criticise me in the comments all you want, I do not care and will block with impunity). I believe that I had this dream due to my affinity for the Halloween season, which with today being the day of October 31st, has reached its climax after much anticipation. Ever since I was but a wee babe toddling in the streets, I have loved the holiday known as Halloween. Being not just socially allowed but encouraged to dress in a thin plastic mockery of my favourite fictional characters such as Batman™ from DC Comics, Incorporated and Bumblebee™ from the Transformers™ franchise owned by Hasbro, Incorporated. Now, at the age of eight, my interest in Halloween has not dampened. I consider it my favourite holiday, and over the years the joy of the season has only increased exponentially.. 

After waking up from the dream, a slow process that took around 20.2 minutes before I was able to rip my lethargic body off from the grey bed sheets, wearing my signature Pikachu™ pyjamas of course. I drank the goblet of water waiting for me at my bedside desk and stood up. I took in the familiar sights, sounds, and smells around me. My black glass desk was exactly where I left it last night, against the wall and at the corner of my bed, where I set my various items that I make use of while lying in bed at night, such as my water goblet, my books, and this very laptop that I write this urgent message to you on. I do a lot of my professional work at this desk, and it has served me very well over the years. My tall cupboards were set against the far wall, containing my favourite paraphernalia from various children’s toy franchises and video game memorabilia. The most notable of these assorted models was my LEGO™ collection, which I am quite proud of. It contains many models of my own making, such as a giant clam with an engine on its shell or my masterpiece, a cool aeroplane flame decal on its sides. 

A second, larger desk sits across my bed, set against the wall opposite my bed. Taking up the entire surface of the desk at its top is a glass terrarium, the comfortable warm home of my beloved pet lizard, Bad Omen, who needed his terrarium’s light turned on each and every morning. I glided deftly to the terrarium, and reached behind to flip the small lightswitch that activates his heat lamps, which brings beautiful light and warmth to his utopian little world. As I leaned forward, I noticed something very wrong with Bad Omen. While usually he would be lying there, poking his head out from the small rock-like dome he enjoys slumbering within, his angry eyes closed shut until his very own personal sunrise, now he was lying with his entire body out of his rock-like dome, and lying on his back rather than his belly. His eyes were wide open and hyperrealistic, which is actually considerably normal considering he is in fact a real lizard, and for the rest of the circumstances surrounding the orientation of this poor lizard, and for whom I must repeat again his name is Bad Omen, and whose eyes were bleeding profusely, having already filled a few millimetres of the tank. The blood continued to pour out, I thought it must have been going on for hours before my waking. I screamed and pulled away from the tank, beginning to wail for my loss. 

My dear mummy heard my cries, and swiftly rushed into my room to check up on me and investigate  why I was screaming. The first thing she saw as she came into the room was my wide open mouth, my uvula undulating with the force of my screams, big stupid infant tears streaming down my face from my wavering and watery pathetic eyes, bloodshot from the raw emotion pouring through them. The second thing my mother saw was that which my nimble index finger was pointing towards across the room, to Bad Omen’s terrarium, where he lay dead in a pool of crimson. She, too, could not help but scream at the sight, but her senses caught up with her and she ran from my room to get her forklift. She drove down the hallway and into my room, and used it to lift the terrarium up and transport it from my room. As the sight of my dead pet left me, I stopped crying, and as my mother came back to my room she held me, comforted me and let me breastfeed from her teat. I quickly calmed down, and wiped the remaining fat tears from my eyes with the yellow sleeve of my Pikachu™ pyjamas. My mother patted me on the head and promised me an excellent breakfast, which she had just finished and laid out on the dining room table. 

I followed my mother out for breakfast. She was not lying, my mother had indeed constructed a magnificent feast, which was laid out expertly on the table. The blue and white floral tablecloth was spread out smoothly, the gorgeous background for a banquet of Honey Smacks™ cereal (property of Kellanova) and a tall goblet of orange juice. I sat at my end of the table, and waited for my mother to seat herself at the other end. For five minutes I waited, drooling from my eager and hungry mouth as she walked to the other, very far end of the dining table. The thought of my freshly deceased pet left my mind as the chemical smell of the cereal wafted into my nose, my olfactory senses overloaded with the smell of 40.4 grams of sugar. My mother sat down across from me, shooting off her flare to signal me to begin eating. The next 4 minutes were spent consuming the cereal and juice, which I enjoyed immensely. This was my standard Monday breakfast. I also did not have school today, nor would I have school until Wednesday, which is tomorrow days away at the time that I am writing this dire warning to you, but I am afraid that I may not survive to the next day, as the beast, whatever it may be, whatever combination of horrors the universe has in its utter cruelty hath given to me, is at my door. It is however of the utmost importance that I continue to tell you the sequence of events that lead to the present moment, so that you may aid me, or, if the worst comes to pass, not make the same mistakes as me. 

After I had finished breakfast, my mother walked back to my end of the table and wiped my chin, specked with milk and orange juice, with a tissue. She shot the tissue into the trash can as if she were a professional basketball player throwing a professional basketball into a professional basketball hoop. This amused me, I found it humorous to treat a waste object such as a used tissue as if it were a sports ball. I giggled joyously, and my mother reciprocated the emotion, giggling to herself. It was a grand sight to see her smiling. These days, in the cold autumn in my hometown of somewhere in the northeastern United States, the clouds grey the skies for weeks at a time, the sun taking a vacation from its work upon the world and leaving many of us to fall into a spiral of grey-triggered depression and melancholy. This affected my mother annually, who had enough on her plate. She had a very busy day job as a waitress in a local cafe, and as a drive-thru manager in a local McDonald’s™ franchise, and as a delivery driver for Amazon™, and as a barista in a local coffee shop, and as a baker in a local bakery, and as a preschool teacher in the local preschool. Her mood had, I admit, rubbed off on me as well, but now that the long weekend was sinking in I was made happy, despite the fright and grief of the morning. 

This would soon change to the worst once again as the day would progress. Despite not having to attend school that day, I still had a mountainous pile of homework to do, arranged in a stack of paper. Dozens of sheets of coloured construction paper waiting for me to stain them with foul-smelling markers, listing my favourite foods, people, and testing my knowledge of some basic verbs of the English language, which I am quickly becoming highly proficient in. This stack of papers assigned to me was based at the floor, and was constructed upwards so far that it towered over my head. I was not intimidated. Gracefully I reached up, my feet erecting themselves onto their tippy-toes, and took with great precision a single sheet of orange paper from the very top. As I turned the paper over, to my horror, there were no fun educational instructions on its face, but a charcoal drawing of some horrid obscure creature resembling a dog with eyes lined down its neck. Disgusted and frustrated I crumpled the paper in my fists, deducing that my homework must have been sabotaged by a fellow classmate or perhaps my mother trying to play one of her classic “Halloween tricks”. 

As I stole another sheet of thick, sharp paper, green this time, from the peak of the sensitive mountain, an avalanche was compelled by gravity and the slight force of my pull to collapse onto me. I toppled to the ground in shock. As the papers flew about me and floated to the floor, I saw that there was that very same shadowy canine monster pressed upon each and every paper, my homework was no longer. I was severely perturbed. I gathered up the papers and threw them into the dark, rank pit of the trash bin. Good riddance to these abominable things. I set out to interrogate my mother about these papers, but she granted me no answers, insisting that I had vandalised my own homework. I took her to the trash bin to demonstrate that the homework had been replaced by the black scrawls, but I was utterly flabbergasted when I discovered that the papers, all but none, had disappeared. My mother chastised me for distracting her as she was just heading out of the house to work, and I felt a hot wash of shame flow through my body as I considered her words. Was I losing my mind? Had it all been a hallucination, inspired by the tragedy of my poor sweet pet Bad Omen’s death in the night? I shoved the thoughts from my head, and instead reflected on a newfound triumph. There is no homework, so I am free to do whatever I please for the rest of the day! 

I decided I wanted to play some video games on my Apple iPad™. My favourite video games at this time are Minecraft Pocket Edition™, Roblox™, and Skibidi Toilet Attackers (Season 15), a classic from the old internet. I ran gleefully to my room and slammed my door behind me, and threw myself onto the large blue bean bag resting limp in the corner of my room. My iPad™ is left beside it, for my own convenience. I pick it up and turn it on, then I navigate, using my fingers on the smooth touch-screen display, to find the Minecraft™ application. Upon finding the desired application, I pressed my finger to its icon, a signal to the domesticated machine in my hands that there is something that I want, that it can and will provide me. It understands, and obeys like a whipped horse. Minecraft™ opens to its title screen. Nothing was amiss so far, however, you will soon see where things went so tremendously awry. I pressed the “single player” button, and found my existing Minecraft™ world. 

You see, in Minecraft, players explore a blocky, procedurally generated, three-dimensional world with virtually infinite terrain. Players can discover and extract raw materials, craft tools and items, and build structures, earthworks, and machines. Depending on their chosen game mode, players can fight hostile mobs, as well as cooperate with or compete against other players in the same world. Game modes include a survival mode (in which players must acquire resources to build in the world and maintain health) and a creative mode (in which players have unlimited resources and access to flight). The game's large community also offers a wide variety of user-generated content, such as modifications, servers, skins, texture packs, and custom maps, which add new game mechanics and possibilities. 

I was not playing with any of these modifications, but my own personal world, which I have been constructing for two years now. Upon entering my world, I appear in the game-world exactly where I had left off last time, as expected. I had just finished harvesting my crops, a 9x9 plot of wheat with the block in the centre replaced with water to keep the plants growing quickly. The wheat was in my inventory, a space that contains all the items that I pick up during the course of the game, but there was something… Off about it. My eagle-like eyes picked up on the subtle difference in the pixel art sprite of the “wheat” item. I wondered to myself if this was an update, or small patch that had been made to the game while I was gone. I brought the screen closer to my inquisitive eyes and peered at the wheat sprite. There was indeed something different. It was animated, with a swarm of small dark pixels that resembled bugs seeming to crawl all over the bundle of wheat. I was confused, but thought that perhaps this was part of some Halloween update, as the Minecraft™ developers have been known to do in the past, which may add some unexpected and creepy features and minor changes to the game to fit the theme of the Halloween season. 

At this, I was excited. However, when I attempted to craft my wheat into bread, by placing three wheat in a horizontal row on the 3x3 crafting grid on the crafting table, the bread came out looking mouldy and gross much like the other Minecraft™ item known as a poisonous potato. This I also assumed was part of the update, but as I brought the bread into my inventory I saw the name of the item, dread filled my heart. It was not named “bread”. It was named “Narrator, you have been CURSED”. I screamed and threw my iPad™ across the room. How did the game know my name was Narrator? Nowhere did I feed the machine this information, even the parental controls on the device do not reference mine or my mother’s real name anywhere. The traitorous device shattered into 1 million pieces upon colliding with my metal bed frame. I was not distressed by its violent demise. No longer did I ever want to look at the thing. I left the sharp metal and glass shards dispersed on the multi coloured shag carpet. I had no spoons left for the terrifying happenings and goings on of the day. I simply required a short rest. I decided to take a nap in my bed. 

I hastily climbed right into it, and pulled myself under my thick grey blankets. I realised now that I was still wearing my pyjamas from last night. They were a comfort object for me, as I have had them for a long time, since I was but a babe, an infant as it were. When I was a red squirming infant, my mother bestowed upon me these pyjamas, but due to an ordering mixup they were far too large for my infantile size, so I eagerly awaited my entire youth to grow taller, wider, fatter, so that I could one day fit within the yellow frame of the itchy fabric. On my eighth birthday, just last year, I was able to fit the pyjamas on. It was the happiest day of my life. I will someday outgrow it, the wrists will some day get tighter, the hood will pull shorter, but for now, I was in a blissful realm of cosplay completion that I could enjoy for two years more or so. I drifted off to sleep, and began a dream taking place in the Pokémon world, with myself placed in the role of the Pokémon trainer. 

I was in the hometown of the main character of the franchise, Ash Ketchum, in the small settlement of Palette town in the Kanto region (Of the Pokémon world, not real world Japan). My mother had just slimily kissed me on the forehead and sent me on my way to Professor Oak’s house to acquire and battle Pokémon creatures, and begin my long, adventurous Pokémon journey, where I would travel the land and collect gym badges from skilled Pokémon trainers. Upon arriving at Professor Oak’s house and laboratory, just across the street, I saw that the windows were blackened. I peeked inside. What I saw changed the nice, lighthearted dream into a cruel nightmare. Professor Oak had one of these Pokémon creatures, resembling an orange salamander with a flame-tipped tail, named Charmander, on a surgeon’s table, an audience of note-taking laboratory assistants surrounding him on bleachers. The lights in the room were off, save just a few bright white pointed spotlights beaming down on the Professor and the vivisected Pokémon. The Charmander looks towards the door as I peek in, and whispers, exasperated; “Char…” (as Pokémon are known to make vocalisations that sound similar to their names, and it is an open question in the Pokémon universe whether the Pokémon are named after their vocalisations or if it is the other way around. On one hand, it would be quite the strange implication if the Pokémon, especially wild ones, were privy to the names that humans give them, and conformed to speaking that name repetitively, even communicating with each other using that name. On the other hand, the existence of Pokémon such as Mr. Mime, who speaks his own name “Mr. Mime”, is even weirder to some, as well as many Pokémon names being a sort of pun or portmanteau representing the theming of a particular Pokémon). 

Professor Oak looks up at me and pulls his surgical mask down, and the smile on his face was indescribable. It was wide enough to reach the ears, and tall enough to make his nose non-existent. Half of his entire face was taken by the grin. He had no teeth, but disgusting gross revolting nasty yucky icky gross gums, and a short stubby blunt pink gross narsty tongue. His maw was a black hole, whatever entered, even light was lost, annihilated. He brought up the Charmander from the table and, pleading and squirming, it was thrown into his mouth, where it disappeared entirely. He pointed at me and laughed a ghastly (no relation to the Pokémon™) laugh, unlike anything I have heard before. It reminded me immediately of the iconic Kefka laugh from Final Fantasy 6™ and infamous for its use in the Sonic.EXE creepypasta. The indescribable horrible laugh sounded something like “woopwoopwoopwoop”. I snope awake from the nightmare. 

My Pikachu™ pyjamas were drenched with sweat, filled to the brim, making me resemble an inflated version of this Pokémon™. As I let my full-frontal zipper down, the sweat flowed out like a waterfall, soaking my bed with the foul yellow fluid. I ran out of my room, a grave mistake in my compromised clothing situation. My mother had brought my friend Aiden from school to our house. I completely forgot we had a playdate today, and there I was, naked down to my underwear, Pikachu™ pyjamas wrapped around my ankles, soaked in sweat, shocked eyes of a prey animal caught by a predator. My hair instantly turned white from fear. Aiden and my mother stared at me for a moment too long for my heart to bear, and then began pointing and laughed at me, just like Professor Oak in the nightmare. My mind broke, I defecated in my pants and ran back down the hallway. It seemed endless to me now, I felt that I could never escape the ever-increasing volume of the laughter, it became deafening in my ears. I ran back into my room and slammed the door just in time for my eardrums to avoid rupture, pushing up my sick gamer chair against the doorknob so that no one, or no thing, could come in. I ran and threw my soiled underpants into the laundry hamper. 

Majestically avoiding the broken glass from the iPad™, I shot under my bed, lying flat and heaving heavy huffing breaths. The sweat that had soaked into my bed earlier dripped onto me, puddling on the floor. My entire body was wet, like I was spelunking in a flooding cave. That embarrassing mistake, which on any other day would be one that could be laughed off and forgotten, today, I felt was the end of it all. By stepping out into the kitchen I had really sealed my fate. The moment that bleak thought sank into my mind the bedframe collapsed, strained by the weight of the sweat soaked into the mattress. My mattress fell onto me, a large wet sponge crushing me under water weight. I felt that I was again an infant being born, but instead of a warm loving parent to welcome me into the world there is instead a cold, dead mattress and a wet carpeted floor covered in broken glass. I heard banging at my door, two pairs of fists; my mother and Aiden. Adrenaline pumping through my eight-year-old body, I squirmed and squeezed my way out from inside the womb of polyurethane foam and came out screaming, glass shards ripping into my skin, just like the day I was born. The knocking on my door stopped in an instant. For a moment I thought that I should perhaps unblock the door and take a small peek out into the hallway. I did not do that though. Instead, I decided to play with my LEGO™s. 

I pulled the container containing my many thousands of LEGO™s out from the drawer. They were of many shapes and colours, made up of dozens of disassembled sets. I only kept a few complete at a time, which I displayed on my cupboards. The rest were doomed to be separated into disparate pieces until I built up the determination to pick through my vast collection one piece at a time and put them together very slowly. I decided to forgo preset instructions and construct an item out of my own imagination, which I believe to be grand and beautiful. I decided that I was going to construct a frog. As I began putting pieces together, I soon noticed that the entire house had been completely quiet. If my friend Aiden and my mother were home, especially if they had become scary monsters, surely there would be some noise. As soon as I thought this, as if responding to my thoughts, a large banging sound began pounding out from the kitchen. I started, my hackles raised and noxious chemical fluid began leaking from the glands in my evapatoria, coating my thoracic exoskeleton. 

As I took a panicked look around my room, I noticed something horrible. My LEGO™s were scattered all across the carpet along with the broken glass. They were everywhere, a random scattered arrangement with many blending into my carpet. My room had become a minefield. Panic began to sink in. If I for some reason had to move across my room very quickly, I would not be able to get across my floor without stepping on one of these devices of podiatric torture. I breathed out a sigh of relief that nothing so urgent was presently occurring, but was forced to suck the sigh back in when the banging from the kitchen began to move. It did not move down the hallway, or into another room of the house, no, no. The banging moved underneath the house, I heard the strikes of spooky feets against the metal of the air ducts and the bending of HVAC tubes. The air register in my room began to reek a foul odour, overpowering my own. The sound was travelling through the air conditioning system coming full speed straight towards my room. 

I looked at the hazardous carpet, covered in high-quality plastic caltrops. I gulped a tennis ball sized gulp and with my superior and powerful survival instincts I dashed across the carpet. My feet stung as they were pierced a thousand times over by irregularly shaped blocks, I could not prepare myself for each step. My velvety foot pads, free of calluses and hardship, were being put to the test. After 87 gruelling, sprinting steps, I made it to my door just as something burst forth from my air vent. I grabbed my sick gamer chair and, with a single tear shed for another deep loss this day, I threw it behind me. I dared not even look back at the thing as it came out of the vent. I was in the hallway, and slammed my door. Something wet and large locomoted across my floor, and I heard a high, gruesome screech from what I assume was contact with the deadly traps on my floor. I took the chance to run down the hallway, entering my bathroom. I had planned to just escape my house, but I glanced through the bathroom window and decided completely against it. Outside the window was that perfect darkness of terror that I had mentioned before, do you remember? 

If you do not remember how bloodcurdling and malicious this darkness was, please go back to the beginning of this call for help for a quick refresher, then return here. I will provide a bookmark within the post (or .pdf if you are receiving a document form of this) so you can easily find this spot again, and know where to continue reading. As I do not have time to format this plea into a proper narrative style, such as including breaks between paragraphs or indents (EDIT: Yes I do but do not get me wrong I am still in immediate danger as I write this!), some readers may find it difficult to read, as it would appear as a single long block of text. This is something that I would most definitely consider if I had more time, but there is something jiggling my bedroom door-knob at this very moment about to enter my room, and the only choice I have is to very quickly write this for anyone in the creepypasta forums to aid me with this situation, either by calling the police (the parental control settings on my iPad forbid me from making phone calls, even emergency ones, and regardless it lies in a million pieces) or by giving me advice on what to do, on the small chance that this has happened to anyone else on these forums, which it couldn’t have had, because as you’ll see as you reread my first few passages in this post, something like this has never happened before. Like I said a moment ago, I will also be distributing this distress signal as a .pdf file, just in case it can reach someone outside of this forum who can help. Without further ado, please refresh yourself with the nature of this night (horror, grisly, generally bad) and return here when you are done.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for refreshing yourself with the context of the darkness outside. Now you can definitely see why I decided not to escape through my bathroom window because of that [adjective] darkness. I must hunker down within the confines of my bathroom, the shield of the bathtub which could deflect even the most tempestuous tornado would surely keep me safe against the hideosity which had recovered from its painful folly and was now chasing down the hallway. I could hear as it slid against the walls, what I could only assume were the falling of wet feet or the sloughing of moist flesh slapping against the ground as it advanced upon my position. It stopped right outside the bathroom door. I slammed the shower curtain shut, and it heard me, as when the curtain made its shrieking noise the monster began to slam against the average strength wooden bathroom door with the ferocity of a cleaner shrimp on the ectoparasites of a fish. It was only a matter of time before the door began to splinter and shatter. The bathtub was strong. The bathtub was an impregnable fortress. I was safe, and the curtain put the thing out of sight. But my mind kept racing. What was I to do now? Wait here until the sun comes up? I had nothing to keep me occupied, I would certainly die of boredom. I knew I had to do something to get rid of the monster. 

I grabbed the shower head from its handle and turned it towards the bathtub’s bottom. I turned the water on as hot as the boiler in the house could handle, and waited until it scalded my skin at the slightest touch, and the room had filled with steam. Readying the handle like an outlaw’s revolver in a wild western standoff, I put a hand on the shower curtain. The monster outside began clicking curiously and I felt its hot corpus nearing my fingers. As quickly as I could, and averting my eyes, I threw the shower curtains open and pulled up the shower head, spraying the near-boiling water onto the creature. It screamed as the noise burst my eardrums, and I heard no more after that. The room filled with so much steam that I could not see even if I did not avert my gaze, I felt that my lungs were being filled with a smooth sea. As the steam cleared, I looked, and the entity was no more. There was nothing but a heap of white viscera on the bathroom floor with the laundry. I almost yelled with victory and shut off the shower after spraying down the last few pulsating cuts of meat on the stained-red tile floor. I was truly safe now, as long as no other STRANGE BEINGS intercepted with my normal life. 

In the shower I cleaned my foul clothing and my own body (not boiling hot of course). After my shower and drying I cleaned the LE™GOs from my floor and got comfy into bed, turning on my laptop to peruse the internet. I noticed that my window blinds were open, so I reached over to close them. My keen hawk-like eyes caught something outside that glinted ever so slightly in the darkness. It was a tall figure, about 6 feet tall, that is, 1.8288 metres in the metric system, or if you are a photon, 1.933057524E-16 lightyears. It stood out in my front yard, and would be completely invisible in the perfect darkness were it not for the slight lighting of the front porch, whose electric lantern was flickering. The figure had an average build, but one thing stood out from its silhouette. A completely cubic head. In a flash it ran to my window, pressing its perfectly square face against it. A sticky green ooze slapped against the window glass and dripped down it slowly. I saw now what the cube resembled, it was a forward facing sticky piston from my favourite video game, Minecraft™! 

From my months of scouring the Minecraft Creepypasta Fandom Wiki, I recognised this entity immediately. I dare not even speak its name here, if you do your own research you will realise what I saw stalking me through my window. I scrum so hard and my peripheral nervous system fired off as if shot with a bullet. I fell off my bed in pain and terror. When I looked back up, the sticky piston monster was gone. Taking its place was a completely different fear, a blank white face on a tall tuxedo-wearing body. It was the Slenderman, but before I could process this change, its appearance morphed once again, it was now Jeff the Killer, now Freddy Fazbear, Lavender Town, SCP-173, the Creepy Smiler, the Grabber, Shadow the Hedgehog, and finally resting on a warped reflection of my own face. 

Worms and weird fishes crawled and swam around my head, emerging from the monster’s nose, and they began to eat away at my face. Its eyes, identical to my own beautiful brown eyes, rolled back in its head, revealing an EVIL version of my eyes on the other side. It did not have a mouth, instead just a small circular hole that hot air blew out from like a leaking steam pipe, fogging up the glass so quickly it looked like it had been snowing outside. I began to smell blood, and looked down at myself. I had fallen on the broken iPad™ glass, and my Pikachu™ pyjamas and skin were cut and penetrated at various small points once again. I did not even feel the pain past the adrenaline pumping through my veins, so I shook the broken glass off and got back in bed, hiding under my covers. I heard the shapeshifter outside slide against the window, walking away, the fallen leaves crunching under its feet. I heard the front door ripped straight off of its wrought iron hinges. It was thrown across the yard I believe, as I heard a loud heavy thud against the leaves and grass in the distance. The footsteps continued into my home, I heard them echo off the kitchen walls, distant, then nearer, nearer and down the hallway and to my door. 

In utter abject horror I realised the worst mistake I would make this entire night. I did not block the door with anything. I threw the blanket off of me, but it was far, far too late. It is here that I must switch to the present tense, as what happens from this point onwards is currently happening to me right now, as I have repeatedly mentioned throughout this post. The ornate gilded doorknob is beginning to slowly turn, I hear its exasperated, monstrous breath bouncing off of the wood of the door with such force, it’s as if it were exhaling a cloud of moths onto it. Please, if anyone sees this, please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please transfer 6000 robux into my roblox account at Wettest_Hands messages are open n links below shows you how 2 do it easy.  I think it is the only thing that can stop this monster. K thx bye

[bedoballoons]

Dating Kenna HC'S/Drabbles

Special order for Bedo >:D

Sorry i couldn't wait tomorrow(i have exams tomorrow), this made me realize how fast i am at writing headcanon's

Includes a few reader tropes

A lot people think he would be a really affectionate person still I can tell that he's a red flag, I just can't prove it red means ily

Like he's literally married to his Nintendo switch??

But we like being delusional

Anyway remember that one episode where he was eating a banana and said "is it wrong to do something for your friends!?" Or something like that, he would try to show gesture

Such as holding, small pecks

I bet when he kissed you on the check for the first time you were questioning if it was a lick or peck

I think he would have knowledge of things about dating from his rpg games or whatever

Every time he does something you don't like, he starts to wonder what was wrong in the thing he did

Clueless baby, protec him at all cost

He's a fast learner tho!

Y'all would have dates at cat cafes

One chance please

I can be a housewife

Cook at 9

Clean house at 11

Reall 💯🤭

He's rich tho?

Bro owns a company from just sitting at home/jk

Let's say that you're the boys volleyball clubs manager

Yamamoto would receive death glares from him instead of passes

Same goes to kuroo

Let's add Lev too

Leave him alone 😭✋

You're cool with others

I can imagine a small scenerio about how Lev was admiring you after practice, the way you were good at catching where the ball was thrown at or simply if you ever compliment his skills(do they exist?), kenma would pop out from no where to yank you away and leave that lamp post alone

What abt artist s/o for him

Cuz i like gamer x artist trope

Draw his fav fictional characters <33 (he's one himself)

İ actually think he would adore your drawings cuz like this guy is a gamer and gamers would get artists easily (real life experience)

You have a messy art style? He would understand it

Easy

An childhood friend trope?

There is no way you are not the manager of the boys volleyball team or a member of the team.

Kuroo would have already write your name to the club as a member or manager.

But this ain't about him

Since you also know kenma from childhood you probably also warned him about his health and you're caring abt him

İ still wonder how his eyesight is alright

But you gotta be interesting

Like the way he looks at his childhood friend(talkin abt kuroo) and the way he looks at Hinata

He wants to beat hinata in volleyball tho

İf you're a volleyball player you can force him into training with you

İ can imagine him with a taller s/o

İt would be cute but his teammate's would teasing him a lot

Especially the trio again (Kuroo, Lev, Yamamoto)

Yaku would understand him

Bedo do we stan short boys in this household?

But there's no way this guy is not popular in class, i mean he might hate it but he probably doesn't knows he is popular

Just look at how pretty he is

İ can talk about him till i die

Anyway husband kenma tho 🤭🤭

Once again im saying this

He's rich

He's your sugar daddy and you're his goof ball

Frfr

He's lazy so even if you work you gotta be a housewife/husband

Someone needs to take care of that lazy af ass

Remind him to eat/drink!! Feed the baby

Baby fever tho

İ can say he wouldn't be ready for one still he would accept it

Just one tho, y'all ain't having more than one

Y'all would already have cats as pets

Y'all would visit Hinata a lot

He adores that sunshine

İf you do too

🤝

Adopt Hinata

Or kidnapp him

This ain't about Hinata too

He's a sweatshirt, hoodie guy

Steal them

I can imagine a arcade date or simply stargazing for this guy's b-day

His love language is anything expect gift giving

He tends to be confused about what to give you as a gift.

But if you're a gamer like him

Then it's easier then changing socks for him

Probably knows you're preference of game genre

And is the best person you could ask about gaming

Helpw i don't even have a long post like this in my acc y'all don't identify me plz 🫶🫶

I hope you enjoyed the small hc's!!

İ still have to write him a birthday scenerio

Fun facts:

You were actually one of the people who inspired me, made me have a interest in writing

I'm a kenma kinnie irl!! Switching personalitys irl

-💤

OH MY GOSH THAT WAS SO BEAUTIFUL AND PERFECT!! IM BLUSHED AND SO UNBELIEVABLY HAPPY!!!

EEEEE THANK YOU THANK YOU!!! I LOVE IT OH MY GOODNESS I CANT!!!

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Yes we definitely stan short bois here ;)

I can't believe I inspired you, you literally made me tear up!! Please continue writing because you are absolutely amazing at it and you should literally share this with everyone!!!

Kenma is such a sweet baby I love him!!

THANK YOU AGAIN!!!

[lilithfairen]

Detailed thoughts on the latest Fixing RWBY episode?

So here's the thing about asking for detailed thoughts on the latest Fixing RWBY episode. It's shitty, as usual, and it's shitty for many of the usual reasons, but here's the real reason why this episode is shitty:

it is padding and filler as its absolute worst.

Let me summarize the episode:

Ruby and Nora are helping the Argus soldiers. This consists of Dee and Dudley (who are soldiers now, not the Huntsmen on the Argus train) prattling about their backstories. This segment has literally zero character or plot development for either Ruby or Nora. Celtic Phoenix cares more about two completely inconsequential male characters than the main heroine of the series.

Blake whines to Jaune about how her team has been written as a bunch of stupid, petulant idiots who can't get along because of being written by a misogynistic fucko like Celtic Phoenix. Jaune just tells her to talk to Ruby about it. Zero plot or character progress whatsoever, and another instance of Celtic Phoenix refusing to let female characters resolve their own problems without a man telling them how to do it.

A scene where Emerald (who of course got her ass kicked by Mercury) talks with Hazel and asks if they're doing the wrong thing, but Hazel says people who think they're doing the wrong thing aren't thinking far ahead enough. Like Celtic Phoenix, trying to write his rewrite.

Qrow talks to Maria about how they're both losers. Maria disses Qrow about his alcoholism, then has an entirely-out-of-nowhere flashback to how she lost her eyes. (And much like his rewrite of the Apathy sequence, this flashback is entirely incomprehensible if you aren't already familiar with canon!)

Nothing in this episode has any significance. It is quite literally an episode devoted to saying "hey, there will be character development maybe!" instead of, I don't know, having character development happen. It's blatant filler and padding, and nothing in this entire episode would make any difference if the episode didn't exist at all.

It makes me wonder if it's just Celtic Phoenix trying to bilk out as much money from his Patreon supporters by prolonging the series, which is especially vile given that the people who bring his series to "life" (in the same sense that Grimm are "alive") with music and art don't get paid a single penny by him.

(Bonus points: As I was about to load up the video, I realized that Celtic Phoenix went through the effort of painting Caroline Cordovin as eccentric and egotistical as she is in the actual show...which clashes completely with how she unquestioningly accepts Ruby's claims about the Lamp. It's another instance of how Celtic Phoenix's "rewrite" is just 90% ripping off the original show while not thinking about how his own 10% completely clashes with the canon characters and their motivations.)

[whatiswhump]

Max, the Science Experiment

“You’re not well, we are here to help you get better.”

They had taken him years ago. A few days after his thirteenth birthday.

The uniform they had first put him in hung massive on his frame. They pretended like he wasn’t a kid, wasn’t even a human. He used to be timid, the quiet one at the back of class. Through tears and screams he learned to fight back. He learned to bear the sensation of a taser and the humiliation of punishment.

For so many years, he was spoken to like he wasn’t even there, an object or animal.

They told him he was sick. He agreed.

If he hadn’t been before, they made him sick, they turned him into something feral. For eight years he had been kept in the white room, taken out only for medical treatment and torture, usually the same thing. He hadn’t read anything other than the odd glance at a medical chart in that time. Hadn’t had a real conversation, hadn’t seen the sun. Although sometimes they put him under some kind of lamp for vitamin D.

His body had changed and he grew into the uniform, horrible humiliating changes also occurred. Studied and recorded by the doctors. He used to wonder if he would ever escape but he doesn’t let himself have those kind of thoughts anymore.

The same way he doesn’t think about his past life, his mom, his dad or his little sister. A few years in he realized he couldn’t hang on to that fantasy anymore. He sometimes wondered if that life had ever happened at all. Or maybe he made it up? It was too… too different to exist in the same world that this life did.

But one day something changed.

Someone addressed him by name.

“Max Groenfield?”

He looked up from where he had absently been staring at the ceiling. He normally didn’t acknowledge when the lock and door clicked open, whatever the staff wanted, they would make known. It didn’t matter whether he was ready for them, if he cowered or fought. He did still like to fight. It kept things interesting. So when this man entered, and uttered his name, his real name, not his number, a jolt, a horrible horrible feeling stuck through him. It made him feel sick.

He glared at the man, trying to mask the raw sensation he was feeling.

“Max Groenfield, yes?”

Max furrowed his brow, who was this new man, and why, why was he asking this? He sat up and his spine prickled. 

“They told me you could talk.”

Something akin to anger sparked in him. Who was this man and why had he come in without a guard, was he stupid enough to come in unescorted? Max didn’t even think he was carrying the remote to his control collar.

“I can speak,” He growled back at last.

The man smirked, sizing him up. What was he going to do to him?

The man moved in and closed the door behind him.

“You’re an interesting case, Max. I’ve studied your files for the last few weeks.”

Max unwrapped his legs from beneath him, on edge, ready to be hurt. But also confused. It was unsettling to be spoken to.

“Do you know why I am here?”

No one ever asked him anything other than where it hurt and how much.

The man stepped closer until he was only a few inches away.

“I am going to ask again and I expect you to answer me, do you know why I am here?”

Max shook his head.

“I am your new handler. I know in the past you’ve had a more hands-off approach but I’d like to change that.”

He reached out and took his chin. Max flinched but his grip was strong, “You put a staff member in the medical bay last month. That was very naughty of you.”

The man moved his head so he could examine his face more clearly, “I know they punished you… like they always do, but like I said, I think you could benefit from a different kind of approach.”

At the mention of punishment, Max pulled back more roughly. He didn’t know why he hadn’t tried to already rip this man to pieces.

But before he could even make a move to, in one quick motion, the man took his other hand out of his pocket and swiftly jabbed something into the side of Max’s thigh. Sedation was nothing new, he waited for unconsciousness to take over, but then it was different. Instead of passing out, his vision became a little blurry and he suddenly felt very tired. He fell into the man’s chest and felt the man steady him and hold him there.

“Shhhh- that’s it, that’s a good boy.”

It felt very very wrong.

“I just injected you with a new serum we’ve been working on. Makes you more… pliable. How do you feel?”

Max could only let out a confused groan.

The man laughed and combed through his hair with his fingers once, “That’s what I thought, you’re not so tough as you’d like to be are you little guy?”

Max remained arrested where he was in minor horror. It was one thing to be shocked into oblivion, it was another thing to be handled like this. 

“I think you’re going to make a terrific pet for me… and be of actual use to the doctors like this.”

The man moved back but still kept both hands on his shoulders, a smug sense of ownership in his expression as he took in Max, “Now that you’ve calmed, let’s go for a little walk to my office.”

The man guided him up and he clumsily stood, his grip was tight and even through the drug he could feel the pain of his fingers digging into him as he directed him out of his cell and through corridors. 

“Today, I just want you to get used to me, so we’re gonna take it easy, you can sit on the ground while I do paperwork.”

Max stumbled along in dull horror. He wasn’t surprised to be controlled, that was nothing new. But the manner in which this man was treating him? Taking him to his office, calling him by his name… it was a too much… overwhelming.

“You’re crying, interesting. I didn’t expect that.”

They were in his office now, he had been in offices before, usually restrained.

“Sh, it’s alright, this is a lot isn’t it?” The hands were back around him, he was being made to lean into his chest.

“You are going to be very interesting…”

[asrainstorm]

(Sorry in advance: unfortunately, English is not my first language but I felt the urge to speak up)

Everyone’s talking about how badly Crowley is hurt, and, God & others, I can imagine; it must be extremely hard time for him! Not with one single thought I ever underestimated his pain, I love Crowley so much and just hope that everything will get better. However, I really wonder why so few people talk about Aziraphale’s feelings? I doubt very much that he is completely on cloud nine – I mean, well, you get it.

We all agreed with the fact that heaven for him are like parents-abusers who have religiously traumatized him so much that he doesn’t even realize their toxicity now. And most of us also agreed that the following came out of the previous agreement – it was worth heaven ("parents") to throw him literally a grain of attention, say a couple of nice words and he rushed to them immediately. Not right away, of course, but think about it: your terribly conservative parents, who literally retell you Bible passages instead of giving real family advices, suddenly say, like, come home, our dear, we allow you to rearrange your room, hang a couple of posters and, oh, you can even bring your demon-boyfriend! (I'm sure for heaven and hell this kind of relationship is equal to homophobia on Earth, so forgive me for using gender so bluntly)

Doesn't that sound amazing? You don't even think about how many millimeters you now allowed to move your desk lamp, because they said you can take your demon-boyfriend with you who will – wait for it – cease to be demon and you will finally have a chance together! Hurray! But stop, it seems you forgot that your demon-boyfriend doesn't want your heaven-room, which you will gladly rebuild just for him, or the opportunity to draw stars on the ceiling again. He just wants to be with you, on "your" side.

And you can't do that.

Aziraphale is an angel who saw all the crimes of heaven, did not agree with them and still continued to believe that "it’s the side of truth, of light". "Of good". Though he himself was absolutely petrified with all this killing of Job’s children theme, for example. He just can't stop. After all, it’s only for us 6,000 years – a hella lot of time, when he is sorely lacking it. He didn’t fall like Crowley, heaven hasn’t yet rejected him "truly" to see everything. And every day, every hour that he spends next to Crowley is at the same time great, fun, exciting but also damn hard: he has to adjust to the person (demon!!) who is "too fast" for him to have an opportunity to just continue their communication. I'm actually lucky not to know how Aziraphale really feels, but I can imagine how hard it is to convince yourself that there is nothing wrong with such suspiciously pleasant interactions with Crowley, because, think, he does good things too! Demons don't do good but he does, so it means that he's good, right, perfect, and that maybe God made a tiny little mista—

I'm sure when he first came to this idea, he was afraid for his life. How could he think SUCH a thing about God, really? And can everything that is happening be a test – although God ("parent") obviously wouldn’t ever waste her time just to test him, of course, yes, but still, is it possible..? Is Crowley really his "apple"?

To Aziraphale's surprise, no matter how many times he "refuses" Crowley, they still get closer, stay together, gravitate towards each other; haha, it can't be that Aziraphale, an angel (!!), really do likes— Oh, Crowley saved his books, how un-demonic! 🥰🤗

Aziraphale loves his life on Earth so much, everything is fine with him, just wonderful, but does he think deep down that he deserves it? All his comfortable existence, and books, and music, and delicious food, and everything that he adores, he’s ready to sacrifice without hesitation for someone's happiness, because he has not ceased to be an angel – in our case, he sacrifices "himself" for Crowley's happiness, because when did he see him genuinely happy last time? Oh, right, when he was an angel and created stars. So fine, be it – they will go to a white skyscraper, where there is absolutely nothing that Aziraphale loves, but at least they finally can love each other, right? Is that… Is that right?

Turns out – no, unfortunately.

Aziraphale cannot so easily turn himself inside out and free from what makes him consider himself "just one of the other angels", he needs to finally see with his own eyes how toxic heaven is. And only then will he be able to escape and begin to change (and not only acquire interests and hobbies).

Crowley seems to be trying to explain to the child of abusive parents that no, you absolutely must not feel obliged to return to them at the first call after everything they have done, no, "you are better than that, angel". In vain. But I think deep down he understands.

And the most painful thing is that Aziraphale loves Crowley, really does. He loves him so much, infinitely, but doesn’t dare to admit it even to himself, fearing that God he is supposed to serve will hear these "shameful" thoughts and get angry. When he can get rid of the fear that the heavens are watching his slightest movement, then he will probably understand what Crowley was trying to tell him.

In the meantime, he believes that Crowley's hatred of heaven is greater than love for him. So do you truly think it doesn't hurt Aziraphale at all?

[lastoneout]

okay I said I was done but I'm not I just gotta vent but pls if you liked it you're wonderful and this is not directed at you at all, I'm just processing my thoughts, feel free to ignore me and this <3

I also just like....is that what Wolfwood is like in the manga? Bcs in the '98 anime he was way nicer?? I liked his dynamic with Vash bcs on the surface they seemed like VERY similar people but when push came to shove they had fundamental ideological differences that brought them to conflict. They would both decide to help people because they believed in helping people, they just disagreed about how sometimes. It was interesting! You don't usually see conflicts like that!!

And every time Wolfwood was an outright asshole to Vash, insulting him and being genuinely mean, or just being an open, unrepentant ass to every other person around him I was just like "He would not say that!!" bcs Anime Wolfwood was yeah, a bit of a jerk, but he was NICE!! He helped people with a smile on his face out of the goodness of his heart!! He liked hanging out with Milly and Meryl!! He was goofy like Vash!!

In Stampede he just feels like every single bitchy anime boy whos the protag's foil he's like Keith and Bakugo and Sasuke all wrapped into one boring as hell burrito I just don't get it!! He was interesting!! Unique!! Now he's bland!! What the fuck!!

I def saw the appeal in and shipped Vash//Wood after the original anime, but Tri//Stamp Vash//Wood? I can't even believe they're friends. (And trust me, that's not bcs I like Vash//Meryl more or anything bcs this version of Meryl is just as bland as ever I much prefer their dynamic in the '98 anime over this. In fact, I much prefer the four of them in an ot4 bcs the original anime really sells ya on it.)

But yeah idk if I even want to read the manga bcs the Tri//Stamp versions of these characters kinda fucking suck??? Meryl literally just exists to be confused and say what's happening, she never is given any real agency or a chance to shine, her "defining" moment was pointless and was barely given any time to breathe or have weight, she's a sexy lamp with a voice box that goes "huh, what?" every five seconds I s2g, and instead of a partner who played off of her and made sense she's saddled with Generic Drunk Anime Detective/Reporter 11 who treats her like complete shit constantly right up until he dies!!

I don't understand how this is a better version of the story. I don't understand how waiting to introduce Milly does ANYTHING for Meryl's character. She had an arc in the '98 anime that didn't start with her being a baffled plot tourist, you can have her be competent yet out of her depth AND STILL GROW FROM THERE. And maybe I'm just reaching but I cannot get over the fact that it feels misogynistic as fuck to get rid of your well-written GNC female character in favor of an asshole guy and to take your other well-written female character, who was basically the POV character and nuke everything interesting about her until she can't do anything but go "huh what?", stand up for herself exactly once by deciding to do what some other guy tells her to do, and shout Vash's name.

It's bad fucking writing.

Like Trigun '98 was such a breath of fresh air in terms of shonen character writing. Two male protags who are upbeat and goofy and earnest and sweet and want to do the right thing but struggle? Two well-written, NOT SEXUALIZED, MAIN female characters who are confident and strong and have arcs and personalities and DO IMPORTANT THINGS ON THEIR OWN WITHOUT HELP? YOU NEVER GET THAT. I think my queer ass REALLY resonated with it, these characters felt so wonderfully queer because of how much they subverted traditional gender roles, bcs of how they were more than the tropes they came from, but Tri//Stamp just shoved them back in their boxes and it honestly sucks to see.

And as a woman(more or less) I have spent my entire life acutely aware that shonen anime and manga Does Not and Will Not make space for people like me, and so seeing the ONE THAT DID get NUKED in favor of again, a new asshole and an old character who's had all of his caring, soft, "female" traits dragged out back and shot so he can be EXTRA rude and dickish is so fucking upsetting.

We don't get characters like the Milly and Meryl and Wolfwood we got in the '98 anime. We don't see subversions of gender roles and archetypes like we did in that anime. But we should. And frankly, if this is all that Tri//Stamp can bring to the table, then I am not impressed.

[nightcall99]

Notes from 25.1.24

Not long ago, I read a story about a guy who claimed he lived another life while briefly unconscious from a head injury. He lives a nice life with his wife and two kids. One day he notices there is something wrong about the perspective of the lamp in the living room. He obsesses over it. He stares at the lamp for three days and has an epiphany that the last ten years of his life were not real. He wakes up from the dream, blood in his mouth and lying on the side walk. He goes almost mad with depression, deeply mourning his other life. I wonder about this sometimes.

This morning, I was staring at my lamp. It no longer looked solid. It seemed to flicker and swirl with distortion, bending like light under water. Parts of it would disappear and appear back into focus in my peripheral vision. It seemed to lengthen and shorten like Pinocchio's nose. A black line of demarcation around it, like empty black space. But seeming to fan out and shine, the way traffic lights twinkle in the night because of astigmatism. I make myself snap out of it.

I barely eat. I go to work. My face is blank. I really don't want to play, I want to stay as neutral as the blankness of my face but after a few moments, I engage. We talk of nothing. But there is something in nothing, I must admit. Melbourne airport sucks, someone says. Compared to the rest of the world, ours is so outdated and shitty. We bring up pictures on Google of airports from all over the world. Chinese airports. US ones. Modern. Vast. Did you know to get to the next terminal at Incheon airport, you have to catch a train? No, I didn't know that.

AM, an older lady from the shop floor comes up to me and says - "Would you believe it? Just now I asked AV, who was that that came in just now? She said, it was Kitty Kat! And I'm telling you I've never ever even uttered a word about you to her, and she suddenly goes "You and Kath are the same" Ha! I had to inquire further. The same in what way exactly, my dear? "You are both blunt, to the point and don't take no shit from anyone."

A customer was raging. I didn't want to dispense his anti-depressants early. He doesn't look well. He might OD. How would I know? I mean, I'm just playing the game here. And he was so angry. So angry, he starts making out like I'm making his life difficult on purpose. Then he starts crying and I couldn't help it. I'm crying too. I dunno, it wasn't even about him. It was more like, Why am I in this position? The intern who initially dealt with him probably escalated the situation because she lacks social skills. The other pharmacist is not doing anything to help me, but is clearly overhearing everything. My manager is having lunch, the ear-buds are in and he's blissfully unaware. The other customers are gathered around, staring at me. I wipe my eyes. I come out and try to keep serving people, but the tears keep leaking out. I hide behind a wall, use more tissues. I go out, I go back in. No, I don't fucking want a cup of water. Someone mutters something half-hearted regarding my well-being. No, I'm not okay. But none of them exist. But yet I'm making it all exist. Why? The injustice of being alive. I think to myself, I can't do this anymore. The thing is, in this moment, it's really, really hitting me. I see just how dire the situation has become. By prolonging things, the whole world (which is just me) will only continue to be unhappy. I need to move on. The customer apologises for making me cry. This seems to make him cry some more. I give him his medicine, I tell him, "it's nobody's fault" and I walk away.

AC, a younger girl from the shop floor comes up to me and says - Hey! How are you? I shoot her a pained look. She says oh, I felt that. I believe her. I say, Oh, are you an empath? She says, I don't know, am I? Is there a test for that? Well, there's a test for everything these days, but you seem like an empath to me. Do you ever just walk past people and know what's up with them? The vibe? Yes, she says. Hmm, see. You're attuned to the emotional energy of your environment. That's an empath, I’m one too. She says, Oh, we're the same! We're the same person!

As we're working, we talk of nothing again. But everything is a cycle and nothing is apart from one another so of course, I must admit, nothing is something. Someone remarks that shop items keep getting stolen. Another person says, if a customer empties out a bottle of tablets into their bag and dumps the bottle before walking out the door, how are we to know any better? Oh, the reply comes, conversations have been had with the boss. We might start sticking security tags on every item that we sell. And lock the more expensive items into security boxes. I zone out. I hear the words 'Doomsday Clock'. I zone back in. The clock is a warning and there was an article in the news about it. We Google it. The clock is a symbol for how close we are to human-made global catastrophe and annihilation. Without meaning to, I start to beam. They set the time on the clock again two days ago, which they do every year. Didn’t you know that, Kath? No, I didn't know that. What’s the time? 90 seconds to midnight. The closest the clock has ever been set to midnight.

[i-would-have-come-for-you]

Can't love you in the dark - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Plant a memory garden

_________

For there to be betrayal, there would have to have been trust first.

­The Hunger Games

________________

The last two days had been a blur.

Hinata was pacing around the spacious room she had been confined in for the last day and a half. It was decorated minimally but tastefully. There was a king sized bed of rich wood in the center, headboard leaning against the back wall, blue Egyptian cotton sheets with floral patterns adorning the mattress. A side table was placed on its right, a white modern lamp on it. There was small round table placed near the wall closest to the door, two plush chairs on either side of it. A smaller door led to the attached bathroom.

There were no pictures adorning the walls, the small accessories that had been strewn across the room once were gone. The closet built into the wall was empty of anything except for spare blankets. But Hinata still recognized Sasuke’s old bedroom.

She wondered why he had chosen to keep her a prisoner in his family’s old compound in the Uchiha District. One would think he would throw her inside a dungeon and never look back, from the way he had looked when he brought her here.

She wondered if it was muscle memory that had made him bring her here, into his old bedroom in the compound that he had grown up in alongside his family. Was it was instinct to seek out familiar places when life struck you with such an unexpected and painful wound?

His family was gone, she thought, and she felt the ghost of their presence in the heavy silence that surrounded her.

She stopped pacing with newfound desperation and started banging on the door again, much like she had been doing for the entire time she had been here.

“Sasuke!” she called, “Open this door! Let me out right now,”

There was no response and she banged harder, feeling pain shoot up her hand. “OPEN THE DOOR,” she yelled, tears lacing her voice.

There was still no answer and she felt desperation claw inside her. “Please, open the door. Let me see my son,”

Again, no one answered. She let her tears flow down her cheeks as she sunk down on the floor, leaning her forehead against it. “Bring me my son,” she whispered to herself as she cried.

___________

“Hello sweetheart, did you miss me?” he crooned with mocking in his voice.

“Sasuke,” she whispered her eyes wide and her heart hammering against her chest. How was this possible? What was he doing here? How did he find her?

The smirk on his face dimmed when she said his name and he stood up straight. He turned his head and looked around the kitchen, as if he hadn’t already.

“Cozy place you’ve got here,” he remarked. “Are you trying out minimalism?”

Hinata felt the sting. This humble place she’d set up for herself through the years she’d been here was nothing compared to the home she’d had with Sasuke in Konoha, but it was enough for her.

“Something like that,” she muttered. In truth, she was already spinning possibilities in her mind.

How did he find her? And If he knew about her…did he know about Daiki? It was easy enough to find someone you knew inside and out, but he didn’t know Daiki existed and if not then she could still-

She was feeling afraid. Of him. Of the blank look in his eyes behind his smirk. Of the way his eyes were taking her in as if they were hungry.

But she also could not stop looking at him; he was real, not a dream. He was flesh and bone, his beautiful pale face, sharp angles and elegant lines; his lean build and the regality with which he always carried himself; his pianist’s hands which touched a gun like they could draw music from the deadly metal.

“What are you doing here, Sasuke?” she asked, still not closing the distance between them, but dragging her gaze upwards to look at his eyes.

“Looking for a miracle,” he muttered, more distracted than focused, his gaze dipping to her collarbone and then back up to her face. “And it looks like I found one,”

“You need to-”

“Where’s the kid?” he asked, eyes darkening as he slowly advanced.

Hinata’s blood chilled. He knew. If she was afraid, she was positively terrified now as she backed away and ran. She wasn’t going to let him take her son from her.

She could hear his steps behind her. She had the advantage that she knew her way around the house and he didn’t. She made it to Daiki’s room and locked the door behind her, barely making it before Sasuke.

“Hinata,” he called from the other side. “Open the door,”

She could feel the adrenaline. She looked around the room for anything that could be used as a weapon. There were only Daiki’s toys here. Fuck. She should have gone to get her gun from her bedroom before coming here.

But then he would have found Daiki and she couldn’t have done anything.

And she knew she could never hurt Sasuke. The gun would have been useless anyways.

She started looking for a way out before Sasuke inevitably burst through the door. She knew him asking her to open the door was simply courtesy.

Another bang against the door. “Open the door Hinata,” he called, impatience lacing his voice. “You know this can’t hold me,”

“You need to leave us alone,” she told him from the other side. “Go back,”

She heard him laugh. “You’ve been left alone long enough sweetheart,” his voice called, full of promise. “You’re coming back with me now,”

She went to Daiki’s window and opened it, looking out of it to see if she could possibly take him and make a run for it. The window was high up, but she wouldn’t be injured too severely if-

The door slammed against the wall as the lock broke. Sasuke looked severely pissed off as he stalked inside the room, straight towards the small bed and stood in front of it. Hinata rushed towards the bed from the window.

But Sasuke made no move to grab her or Daiki, as he stood and watched the little boy- who was still miraculously asleep despite all the noise. Hinata’s heart ached at the wonder on his face as he looked at their son.

“What’s his name?” he asked, leaning down and gently touching the little boy’s cheek.

“Daiki,” she whispered, despite her fear, despite her worry.

They both didn’t say anything as he watched their son quietly, his face blank.

Sasuke stood like that for a while before he straightened; his eyes harsh. “Gather what you need before I burn down this place. We’re leaving,”

________________

Hinata wasn’t aware of dozing off, but she woke abruptly when there was movement against the surface she was asleep on. She realized she was asleep leaning against the door, and that someone was trying to push it open.

She scrambled back on her hands and feet as the door opened, revealing a dark haired figure. She expected it to be her husband, who had been the one who drag her to the room in the darkness of the night and had left her there.

Instead, Shikamaru stood there. The boy she had known in college was still somewhere in his looks, even if his hair was longer and he had a small goatee now.

“What are you doing on the floor?” he asked as greeting as he came inside, carrying a takeout paper-bag. It smelled delicious and Hinata realized she hadn’t eaten anything in the time she’d been here.

“Shikamaru,” she said, tasting his name on her tongue after so long, before she scrambled up and despite everything, pulled him into a hug.

He stiffened, before she felt him wrap his free arm around her, returning her embrace. “Hey Hinata,”

They stood like that for a minute, before Hinata lowered herself from her tiptoes and stepped back. “What are you doing here?” she asked. It was strange, if pleasant, to see him here. He had been a political advisor the last time she had seen him almost 3 and a half years ago. To see him here, as if he were a lackey of her husband’s organization was strange.

“Oh right,” he told her, closing the door firmly behind him and placing the takeout bag on the round table. “I work with Sasuke now,”

She noticed how he didn’t say for. He displayed an equal working relationship.

“What?”

He shrugged. “The political situation in this city’s fucked up enough as it is. Sasuke’s a good boss,”

Hinata felt her breath catch. “Then you know where Daiki is,” she whispered. “Shikamaru, please…help me. I’ll take him and disappear. I won’t be any trouble. Just…take me to him,”

His face hardened. “I can’t do that,”

“He’s my son,” she said, an edge to her voice.

“He’s also Sasuke’s son,” Shikamaru told her firmly. “What you did to him was fucked up,”

Hinata felt her temper rise, despite knowing Shikamaru was the only one who would be showing her kindness anytime soon.

“You found us,” she whispered. “You told him about Daiki,”

Shikamaru didn’t contradict her. “He had to know,”

“You couldn’t have left us in peace,” she said while shoving Shikamaru. He stepped back.

“I didn’t come here to argue, Hinata,” he said, sighing. “I came to give you this,” he gestured to the food “And to tell you that Daiki’s okay,”

“Then why won’t he let me see him?”

“Because he doesn’t really trust you anymore,” Shikamaru said with the anger returning. “He’ll come and talk to you once he’s not preoccupied with other things. He’ll decide what to do with you then,”

Hinata didn’t say anything else as she watched the genius boy she’d grown up with leave her behind with a coldness that surprised her.

She thought about what Shikamaru had said. Sasuke would decide what to do with her once he wasn’t preoccupied with other tasks. It was as if she was an old possession he didn’t know what to do with anymore. Sasuke would be her judge, jury and executioner.

And she knew him well enough to know that his sentence would never be kind.

The door locking sounded like a death sentence.

_______________

Author Note: I see everyone getting a general idea about what happened. Let me know your thoughts and theories. Do comment down and reblog because it inspires me to write :)