#body count fanfic

[unicornpopcorn14]

1, 8, or 32 for skk (from the hug prompts) 🥹👉🏻👈🏻

bestie you can’t do this to me i will request all of them

THEY'RE ALL SUCH GOOD PROMPTS I AGREEEE

Hug prompts

Decided to go for 1- "Are you cold? You look like you're freezing."

Additionally, for @dazaibirthdayweek2024 Day 3: Good Intentions + Masks

Words: 3.3k. Hope you like it, Essie!! :D

Rings a Bell

You’d think being stuck with your former partner/enemy in a confined space is the worst thing that can happen to a person…

But no, it can get worse, when said confined space happens to be a fucking freezer room.

Yeah, Chuuya has no idea what led them to this. Well, he does, but thinking about it too hard might cause his fifth aneurism today, and, less importantly, dissipate his already fickle energy.

A snicker resounds from beside him, “Chuuya’s growling like a dog again!”

“Shut the fuck up before I hang you from that meat hook myself…” He tries to give his usual bite, but it falls short as his stomach lurches again, feeling awful in all sorts of places.

Great news: he can’t see shit. Mostly blurry shapes and wavering colors, but never past that. It doesn’t help that he has the fattest migraine of the century, accompanied by an urge to vomit he honestly doesn’t know how he managed to fight against this long. Arahabaki, the damn scoundrel, decides to stay standstill and let him handle this one on his own. Fucking fantastic.

He had been told what poison he’s been injected with, but he can’t for the life of him remember the name right now.

And who’s to blame for all of this? You guessed it.

“Chuuya!!” Dazai claps with a higher-than-normal-pitch, which successfully sends stronger-than-usual-ringing to his ears, “How did you know the new method I was planning to try out?! And you’re offering to help me?! My, you should get poisoned more often!”

“You’re lucky I currently am, piece of shit…” God, he wanted to sound harsher than that– perhaps come up with a more creative thing to retort with, but that all gets swept away by low groans and helpless eye rolls…

Chuuya doesn’t know why he even bothers with looking out for that bastard when all he does is become a pain in the ass afterwards. Every time he tells himself he would wholly ignore his former partner the next joint mission, something like this happens which throws all of his vows to the curb:

Dazai was probably distracted, probably not, but Chuuya grabbed him aside anyways, rendering him without an ability for just a second.

And right then a needle buried in his neck.

They got their asses handed to them immediately afterwards, because of course, and the fuckers decided to add onto their frozen meat collection today of all days– thus, their predicament.

Which consists of opposite organization members seated in a freezer room against an icy wall, the mafia member certainly looking more limp and uncoordinated than the other. Chuuya doesn’t know how Dazai’s seated, but he’s 90% sure he isn’t staying still for the life of him, so guessing that would be impossible.

“Think Koyou-san will send a search party after you?” The question comes out as slyly as you’d think a Dazai-question would come out.

“This fast? No… She knows I can handle myself…” Dazai should already know this, as nothing has changed much in the last four years. Chuuya groans out, breathing coming in difficult, “I’d have to be gone for an entire week before she gets worried.”

“Hm, same with the Agency. But not that long. Just a day at most…” He hears shifting from beside him once again, overly wary of his surroundings since his sight is on hold, “So we’re stuck here until the poison symptoms wear off. Alone. Together. Great.” Dazai concludes like it wasn’t fucking obvious.

“At least you have the blessing of seeing in front of you.” Chuuya closes his eyes to stop his spinning vision, as perhaps that can help keep the migraine at bay, “Do you realize… how nerve-racking it is to stay this close to you while blind?! You might try anything…!”

“That’s right!” Dazai chirps, his enthusiasm successfully making Chuuya’s nerves prickle, “Chuuya better use his ultra-deduction-instincts if he wishes to stand a chance!”

He grimaces while thumping his head back, wanting to re-demand the other to shut up for how splitting his voice rings in his skull, but Dazai would probably take that as an opportunity to scream, so he resorts to: “God, I hate you…”

From (unfortunate) experience, and seeing how high on the awful-feeling scale this falls, Arahabaki will stay asleep for twenty more minutes -adding to the fifteen he already suffered through-, until he finally feels the need to fucking do something and starts kicking his freaky immune system to life.

His breath comes out as condensed clouds, each intake of breath colder than the last. The shitty smell of raw meat doesn’t help with the nausea, and he has half a mind to sleep all of this off, but leaving the suicidal freak alone with metal hooks all around is probably a wildly stupid idea. He’s still weighing his options-

“I’m booooored!!” Dazai suddenly whines, high pitched and grating. Chuuya jolts, opening his eyes in order to send the other a scowl out of habit.

Only various shades of brown meet his vision, swimming before him. The migraine remerges tenfold,  “Wh-”

“Chuuya, entertain me!” Dazai leans onto him, shoulder to shoulder, so roughly that the clench of his stomach tightens. Chuuya barely has the energy to push the bastard back, said bastard surely aware of that, “Be my jester! Now, now!”

“How the fuck am I supposed to do that? Hey-”

Just as Dazai straightens on his own, Chuuya feels his fedora getting snatched, followed by low chuckles and murmurs of “Disgusting hat, I’mma burn you when we’re out of here…”

If Chuuya were to sound crazy, he’d have told you that Dazai is purposely being extra obnoxious right now– ridiculously so, but four years of separation might have granted him the blessing of forgetting how annoying Dazai could truly get, thus doesn’t humor that thought…

“You have two seconds before I start calling for grantors of dark disgrace and level this whole room over your head.” He warns, and doubts this is a good idea at all (Forcing Arahabaki awake is never a good idea). But he’s seriously getting tipped over the edge and the drug rushing in his veins isn’t helping in the slightest, “Give it, now.”

Dazai stays silent for a few seconds. A few seconds too long. Catching a glimpse of his face threatens to empty out the contents in his stomach, so Chuuya just decides to close his eyes again and relish this brief moment of piece, brushing the flicker of confusion aside.

Then the grating is back, “Fiiiine…”

It’s weird how Dazai takes his already outstretched hand and places the fedora on top of it, even lingering the hold on his gloved fingers for a second before letting go. Weird, but not concerning.

“Smart choice.”  He plants his belonging back on his head, sighing lowly. The option of sleeping sounds like a dream right now– would save him the trouble of handling the two constant problems in his life at once. But nothing ever feels as good as it sounds in Chuuya’s case– sometimes his comfort comes with a heavy price, even.

Suffering through this it is, then.

“Ne, you really still can’t see?” Dazai leans onto him again– not as roughly, but certainly making Chuuya lose his balance all the same, “What about the headache? Is it getting any better? Is it? I’m bored- can you see yet? Can y-”

“No I fucking can’t, that’s why we’re still here!” Chuuya exclaims, successfully shoving him off, unable to handle Dazai’s toddler whining a second longer, “You think I wouldn’t have kicked the door down the second I regained my ability?!”

“Eh, you’re right. The air smells so bad when a dog is sharing it with me.” Dazai taunts, and must be leaning back onto the wall now, legs overly outstretched before him (probably rocking his heels back and forth) because God forbid he ever sit normally, “Too bad the door is too sturdy to budge with my kicks.”

“Cuz you’re a wuss.”

“Cuz it’s sturdy.” The other stresses, then it’s silent for a few minutes. The moment the headache begins to dissipate into a buzzing sting, rather than pounding ache, Dazai decides he should resume the torture session,

“Chuuya should cut his hair.”

That’s… so random. Even by Dazai standards. “What the he- Are you touching it?!”

Fingers tug on the longer end of his hair, brushing it, “Need scissors.”

Chuuya wishes he could recoil back in disgust, he really does, “Keep your grubby fingers to yourself, piece of shit! You know how much product I use?!” He tries to smack the hand away, never lands on it, “They’re worth your damn hands.”

Dazai blows a raspberry, and the fingers meekly abort, “My bad for trying to make a slug look a hundred times better.”

“This is neither the time nor place for it, freak.”

“Oh, so you agree to cutting it later? Consent granted!”

Chuuya springs up from the wall, “THAT’T NOT WHAT I-” At the violent lurch he receives in his abdomen, he gags mid-sentence, but thankfully doesn’t fully throw up. Or unthankfully. He isn’t sure what’s better for him at the moment. He tries to breathe through the acid in his throat, “Fuck…”

He hears shifting from beside him, peeking to deduce Dazai hugging his knees now– rocking back and forth? He closes his eyes again, wishing time wasn’t a slow bitch at the moment. One arm presses to his abdomen, right where it’s angry and upset, the other stays numb on the floor beside him. Several clouds form in front of his lips, with him somehow sweating midst the freezing room, the water cooling on his burning skin terrifyingly fast. Perhaps a minute more and they’d turn solid.

“Can your trusty dusty chaos God wake up any faster?” Oh, right. Dazai isn’t dead yet, so peace for him isn’t an option, “Does turning him off and on again works?”

Chuuya rigids once something that feels like ice pokes his cheek,

“Fucking hell, when did you find an ice cube?” He uncoordinatedly smacks the thing away, which turns out to be a hand. Huh. “You already know the answer to that, bastard. Why are you even trying?”

“Worth it…” He giggles, something breathy about it, off. Chuuya pauses, sharpening his hearing instantly, because anything off regarding Dazai is always a bad sign, and his sense about this never lies. Call it a sixth sense, if you will. “Besides, pestering Chuuya when he’s weak is fun! You think I won’t take my chances? You really don’t know me at all!”

At that his concentrated frown dissipates, immediately replaced by one of assessment.

“Wait a second…” He keeps his head hanged and eyes closed, but his tone rumbles all the same, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Whatever you mean, sluggy poo?”

Chuuya doesn’t fall for the bait, sharpening his hearing even more, “I thought you were being annoying just for the sake of it, but now you’re outright telling me you’re being annoying?” He lifts his head to look at the direction of the other, sending a glare with closed eyes, “You’re trying to hide something. Out with it.”

“Pfff, paranoid much, aren’t we?”

And just like that, Chuuya catches it.

The shivers in the other’s breathing, that automatically translate to shudders in his speech, are so subdued, desperately trying to stay hidden from him, trying to get concealed behind loud pitches and provoking fronts.

It’s a testament to how far gone his mind is in order for that to escape him.

“You’re-” Without asking for verbal confirmation that he wouldn’t get, Chuuya hurriedly takes off his gloves, “Gimme that- where is it?” He blindly wanders till he finds a bandaged wrist and grasps it. The stiffen of the other gets ignored as his hands travel to the only bare parts in Dazai’s body– his fingers and face. The fingers are frigid to the point where he can’t hold them for more than a few seconds, while the moment he clumsily smacks the face in order to cup it with both hands, it’s like all his body heat rushes to it– the skin cold, hungry and craving any kind of warmth, “What the hell- you’re fucking freezing!”

“Wow, what an astute observation, Chuuya.” He hears the roll of the other’s eyes, as Dazai’s quivering fingers hold onto both of Chuuya’s wrists, trying to push them away from his face but not putting that much effort into it, “It’s not like we’re literally in a freezer room.”

“No- this isn’t normal.” Chuuya declares, squeezing the cheeks in. How come cold skin can burn so much? “We’ve only been here for like…”

“Twenty minutes?”

“Exactly. Doesn’t it take about… way longer for hypothermia to kick in?”

“That’s you! You’re the abnormal one!” Dazai exclaims, sounding more genuine than he has been since they’ve been thrown in here. Scratch that– since he’d known him, “You think all people come with a built-in heater? I thought you realized that that’s not the case during your mission in Siberia. And you call me a fish.”

Chuuya pauses promptly. Oh, right. Sometimes he forgets that he isn’t the only one who occasionally wakes up to screams coming from within, or feels unprecedented urge to unleash chaos in stressful situations, or even runs way warmer than others. These are constants in his life. Constants he has to remind himself that no other person experiences…

And even if Arahabaki is asleep, the remnants of his abnormally high temperature is still very much intact. Chuuya doesn’t feel much past the chills of the poison itself, other than that? Coolness at best at his extremists. He’d need to stay here thirty minutes longer for the real frigidness to kick in…

Though Chuuya is equally aware that while his core temperature is abnormally high, Dazai’s core temperature is, funnily enough, abnormally low. Leave him out in the snow for a few minutes and you’d get a hypothermic mackerel popsicle in no time.

Chuuya grimaces. Stupid, stupid.

How could he forget that? His mind defends him, tells him it must have been the poison, that it must have played a part in brushing that fact aside. Chuuya wants to curse it out. He’s retained many random facts about Dazai by heart– so, so many, some even entirely useless; but when it comes to important stuff he somehow has to be reminded of them the hard way. What is wrong with him?

Well, time to make up for that. Harshly, because the bastard deserves it.

“I’m perfectly normal, thank you very much.” He lies through his teeth, but his voice is almost soft, fingers still intact with the skin cosplaying an ice wall, “You’re the one with a terrible immune system that is eager to kill you at the first given chance.”

Dazai chuckles, breathily once again. Shakily, the accurate word for it. “Dying by hypothermia i-isn’t too bad, actually!”

“Just- fucking drop it, will you? You don’t need to do that shit.” Once again he grits out softer than intended, finally cutting the contact. If he had his eyes working, he’d have seen the way Dazai chases the hands for a second before collecting himself and drawing back, “Come closer before I snatch you by the hair.”

“Chuuya wouldn’t have the energy to, anyway…” Dazai finally sounds as slurred and exhausted as he should, and Chuuya’s thankful he can even move– numbness probably there but hasn’t fully settled in.

“You remember our code?”

“Code white? O-Of course I do. Have many fond memories with it.” He hears the rustle of fabric, which means that Dazai is taking off his coat. Chuuya does the same, if a little slower.

“Stage?”

“Mild.”

Chuuya exhales, “Thank fuck, I wasn’t looking forward to sharing body heat with you properly.”

There is a pause, then, “…Severe, then.” He sees the smirk in the Dazai’s face without the need to see at all.

“That so? I’ll bash your head against that metal wall, then.” He knocks behind him twice, just as he senses Dazai drawing near, “Seems like it would do the trick nicely.”  

“No thanks, I-I change my mind. I’d like the mild-stage treatment.”

“Just as I thought.”

Chuuya suddenly feels a weight on his lap, and acts. He takes both of their coats and wraps them with it as make-shift blankets, just as Dazai gets comfortably seated, ear over Chuuya’s heart, knees tucked close. The redhead presses his lips on the hair beneath him before he can help it, feeling the frost that has settled there. One arm supports the taller’s shoulder and back, while the other wraps around Dazai’s midsection, keeping him caged in.

Now without the need to hide anything, Dazai’s shivers turn to trembles, rocking him to his core and rocking Chuuya along with it. The brunette wraps the coats tighter around himself, pulse audibly rapid and panicking, trying to compensate the body for the heat it lost apace.

Chuuya’s migraine begins dissipating a little, and he dares open his eyes, to find the variety of colors taking the form of actual shapes, now. He relaxes, just as he feels Dazai do the same– their positioning, strange as it may come for them, somehow feeling utterly natural…

“Gosh, I almost forgot your stupid tendency to never speak up in situations like this.” The mafioso chastises midst the curls, “What? Were you trying to make up for the fact that I got drugged cuz of you?” Chuuya is sure there might be a number of other reasons, like the fact that Dazai could have simply been waiting to die like that– to pass out from the cold and never feel it when Chuuya tries to wake him up again.

But Dazai’s silence grants him an abundance of answers, one of them that confirms his verbal question, and he tskes in displeasure.

“Goody-two-shoes act that makes me sick...” He rasps, his upset stomach comforted with the added pressure to it.

Dazai huffs, finding the energy to nuzzle his cheek to Chuuya’s chest exactly like a freaking cat, “My personal heater…”

At how weirdly endearing that sounds, Chuuya bristles, “I’m not your fucking-”

“Along with being my dog? Too many jobs for your brain to handle, Chibi…!” Dazai’s slurred speech sounds funny, but the words themselves cause the shorter to growl, “You’ll overwork yourself!”

“Your neck is in a perfect position to get snapped. Watch your words.”

“Hm…” Dazai takes the threat in stride, one of his hands that was lost under the blanket coming up to hold onto Chuuya’s shoulder, “The air still smells bad, by the way.”

“Then I’ll keep you trapped in it for longer.” Chuuya counters, sharing his former partner’s frigidness without mind or care. He meekly feels the forehead concealed under brown bangs, to find it minutely warmer than before. Good, great.

“How much longer are we staying here again…?” Dazai asks.

Chuuya blinks, cozy, “Not much. I can see better now.”

“Mm, then all your strength will be back in ten minutes at most…”

“Of course you still memorize the exact cooldown duration of my ability.” Chuuya would have rolled his eyes if it weren’t for his splitting headache, “Why am I not surprised?”

Dazai keeps quiet, head hanging as he mumbles, “Chuuya’s the one with a bad memory…”

The redhead pauses, unable to deny the present truth before him, “Maybe…” He mumbles back, then huffs, “But at least you’re a thorn in my side that annoyingly reminds me of the kind of stuff I eagerly want forgotten…”

“If it’ll make Chuuya miserable,” Dazai tilts his head up. Chuuya sees the smile so clear, bright and giddy. Blurry at the edges but real. “I’ll always be a thorn in his side that will always keep annoyingly reminding him…”

Something leaps in his heart at the connotation embedded in these words, of his former partner vowing to never leave again, to forever be a part of the mafioso’s life despite what life has done them, despite the circumstances. And Chuuya himself vows to never forget how such a simple word almost sent him in a haze of emotions so deep and human. The word always.

His hold tightens, and he hides his face before mumbling, “Of course it will make me miserable, bastard…”

~~~~

Hc for context: I’m a ‘Chuuya has amnesia as a trauma response’ believer. Like yeah he remembers some details regarding missions but otherwise blocks out anything his mind deems too stressful to deal with. “Your mission in Siberia” Actually had most of his subordinates die because they stayed for the cold too long. :’) Obviously, some missions with Dazai are in that chunk as well, along with the entirety of Stormbringer cuz I said so jnrgjrn.

HOPE YOU ENJOYED!! This wasn’t my best work so forgive me, Essie! I’ll try my best to edit and tweak some things in here when I have the energy. <33

[a-very-sparkly-nerd]

Rayllum Month 2024! (6/13)

i'm sorry that i couldn't always be your teenage dream

July 11th - Dream/Nightmare

~

Callum was dreaming again, and it wasn’t even a good one. It wasn’t even original. It was the same old shit he thought he’d worked through, but apparently “shoving into an itty-bitty box in the corner of his mind” didn’t count as “working through.”

Not being fast enough to catch Rayla as she fell, mangled body caught in a thorny bramble or never to surface again from the watery depths. Holding her as the life left her body because of something Aaravos had used him to do. Ezran’s blood blending into his shirt and Callum not having a clue he was dead until he found what should have been his pulse point and smelled the metallic scent of blood, Soren and Corvus’s necks slit as they died defending him. All because of him, because of the things he’d done for Rayla, because he just couldn’t live without her, that had led to a continent-wide bloodbath.

At least he’d finally stopped dreaming about what had happened back on the Sea Legs. But emotional pain was arguably a million times worse than physical. But, hey; options to pick from, Soren would’ve said in an attempt to cheer him up but ending up doing nothing of the sort. How had his life come to this, pain in every aspect of the word?

Callum wasn’t sure at what point he woke up, when the horrors his brain so loved to produce stopped being from his subconscious and started to come from how he tortured himself. 

Gradually, the world fading into focus but doing nothing to calm his racing heart, things became visible: His very first drawing of Rayla pinned up on his bulletin board across the room, a maroon tapestry patterned with swirling gold, teal covers over his too-hot body. Feeling and hearing came back next, and he dimly registered a hand stroking his hair, another loosely settled on his middle. Familiar callouses, familiar temperature, familiar body shape– Rayla without a doubt.

Callum clung onto that, onto that certainty that she was here, holding him and murmuring things into his hair that he couldn’t make out but at least sounded vaguely soothing.

“Ray-” His tongue felt heavy, like he didn’t deserve to say her name. Callum didn’t let himself finish her name or even start to say it again, simply desperately grasped the hand around his waist.

“I’m here. You’re okay,” the elf soothed, squeezing his hand tight. “Everything’s okay. You’re safe, I’m safe, Ez is safe. You have nothing to immediately worry about, I promise.”

Callum nodded, trying to let– make himself believe it with those two blasted Dark Mages out there, that damn elf in the mirror. The prison so close it would be nothing for Aaravos to just- take hold of him again and set himself free. Gods, he might be sick.

He gripped her tightly, trying to calm his racing heart by focusing on the feeling of Rayla’s hands on him, her sweet voice humming some old calming tune.

“Not that I’m complaining,” he said eventually, mouth dry, “but why are you in my bed?”

He could hear the almost unnoticeable catch in her voice, loud as thunder to his trained ears, practically see her eyes drop down as she replied so softly, “I heard you crying out and stuff. I didn’t want to wake you up, just… thought you could maybe use a hug.”

He pulled her hand around his waist, nestling further back into her, and felt her smile into his hair. "You thought right."

Read more on AO3!

[stars-obsession-pit]

So in a previous post i made a typo, writing “little bot” instead of “little boy”, and that gave me yet another idea (they’re really just flowing for me at the moment for some reason i guess)

Half Ghost, Half… Robot?

The Fentons found out that for whatever reason, they couldn’t have kids after Jasmine. So when they wanted another child, they did what any reasonable scientist would do:

Make a clo—what? No! That’s just ridiculous!

They made a robotic kid!

Dan-131 (get it?) Fenton grew up very differently from other kids. He still developed mentally in the normal, of course - they wouldn’t want a mere facsimile of a mind for their som - but he only physically “grew” when his parts were upgraded.

He knew he was a robot, of course (though maybe they try to keep it a secret from others), and he also knew he was just a part of the family as the flesh-and-blood members.

Then, when he was 14, he got caught up in the portal activation. And something very strange happened…

He suddenly found himself detached from his body - a thing he didn’t even know was possible - and in the form of a small green blob.

A ghost.

But then he reconnects with his body, and things seem normal again. Though he can still feel his other form, unlike any part he’s ever had before.

[raisans-art]

Drew another commission for @ingo-ingoing-ingone from his fic Always by Your Side!

Emmet… he’s fine I’m sure

Elesa’s there I’m certain it’s fine! Yeah, no he’s …. He’s doin great.

Anyway Enjoy!!

[cursedcatchild]

Hi everone! Here am I to announce a new ROTTMNT fic I'm working on and be posting on December 1 ( not a day sooner or later) with chapter 2 scheduled to go up at Christmas and Chapter 3 on the morning before the New Year. It's a Krang Donnie fic with plenty gore, angst , fluff and some Krang biology + lore that I never came across before. I'm aware that I'm not inventing the weel here but anyone who loves a good old post-Techno Drone krangification on Donnie oozing with body horror and disaster twin fluff, you all might wanna keep an eye out for this.

The tittle is: I Won a Part of You (IWAPOY for short)

I made a poster/cover art which I share now. Everyone please, reblog this if you can, so more peoples knows what's coming their way! And if anyone have questions, my ask box is wide open.🥰

[that-disabled-princess]

Laundry and flareups and dishes, oh my! [M, 1.3k]

Summary:

Cleaning up after sex sucks.

For @run-for-chamo-miles <22

Rated M to be safe, but nothing spicy really happens. Contains no TDP 6 spoilers.

Read on AO3

[olrinarts]

we're earning that body horror tag today folks so help me god

also: we've reached the halfway point!

[sinnbaddie]

Kakashi’s sexualization by the fandom is one of the more disturbing parts I’ve seen. The amount of people that reduce him to a sex toy for their favorite’s to enjoy is disheartening because they don’t really enjoy his character, just by how pretty he looks.

He has not shown interest in sex or being sexual in any capacity, the idea that he’s canonically hyper sexual is ooc. I don’t see him as aroace (he’s a romantic by canon), but the extent that some of his fans believe he sleeps around or would use his body as a coping mechanism to suppress his emotions is absurd since one of his coping mechanisms is to avoid people by suppressing his emotions. Some of his other ones are; overworking, isolation, self harm etc.

The guy who is incredibly private about himself and self isolating would not have sex everyday or nearly as often as some people say.

[goforthequill]

Hello dear readers! The Broken Cup's sixth chapter is here at last!

...Or the first half of it, anyway. I ended up cutting it in two.

Sorry for the huge delay in updates, and for changing the chapter count again, this particular chapter has been especially challenging to write. But I hope you like it!

Thanks a lot for your reblogs of the cover art and your comments, @yourdragonisinanothercastle , @rixareth , @snazzyscarf , @kuzuhina1brainrot and @interlacrimas ! Sadly, I can't answer Tumblr tags the way I can answer AO3 comments, but I want you all to know that I really appreciate your kind notes nonetheless!

Happy reading!

[aiza-luna]

I found this really cool Picrew https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/587862 and I decided to do my girly and current obssession: Morowa Bancroft herself! 🥹🤲🏽

.

She has two versions: Hellhound and Morowa.

As "Hellhound" she wears a full black attire and a mask that covers all her head aside her eyes, to wich she covers with a pair of deep-red lenses shades. She also wears chockers or dog tags (Hound/Dog morfit goes brrrr)

As Morowa, her colors are mostly yellow and brown hues, since like Aiden, her entire character palette is inspired by an animal, the African Golden Wolf species! 🥰💛🤎

(This fella right here)

The reason? She's daughter of an African Immigrant (her mom) ✌🏽

[merlin-everlasting]

I NEED URGENT HELP URGENT URGENT URGENT HELP. how many people did arthur kill in the show? and merlin, honestly how many people did all the eknights and merlin kill because i truly don't know and i need it for a fic but i don't want to spend hours searching so I'm just doing this for it to be easier. please help a gal out i need it bad.

very desperate. as like a reward id give someone a snippet of the fanfic and an idea for one. please help me out LMFAO

[vargaslovinghours]

In case it was ever a question

[bace-jeleren]

Sitting back and realizing that the arc in Beyond the Neon Veil that I have flippantly calling the "dumb drama arc" is six fucking chapters, and given the Mentally Ill™-type length of my chapters, it's probably somewhere around 60k words long. The "dumb drama arc" that's just the main characters getting into fights and angsting about stuff is a little longer than the minimum length of a novel. Read my shit solely for the

✨️Masterful Pacing✨️

[zoanzon]

An idea I just had that I've already decided is the funniest fucking premise for Stranger Things fanfiction? Have national events from other fandoms unexpectedly happen in later seasons and derail post-S1 plot, or zoom out of S1-2 Hawkins to show the town's just in the background of other weirdness.

Like...Hawkins kids through adults have all seen footage of when a mutant picked up a sports stadium and dropped it around the White House and nearly killed Nixon, and then the Party meets 011 and sees that she has powers.

Or a year or two into Hawkins bullshit, when news goes worldwide of a glowing golden man who appeared in the sky above a cruise ship, and shortly after trauma-derived powers become a thing that derails the next Upside Down misadventure.

Hell, what happens if Hawkins gets visited by that pesky Department of Scientific Intelligence, and the Party learns the National Lab isn't the only government agency populated by inhumanities wearing human faces?

[lizzysthscshipsblog]

It is more of a Right centric fic but because it has a small amount of Rightmin I'll be posting it here.

This fic was based off a nightmare I had and it is about Right not feeling like himself and finding out why.

CW for body horror of the turning into time sand kind, brief multiple character deaths that are undone and mentions of brief violence

[olrinarts]

you know it'd be nice if plot stopped happening to narinder for five minutes