#decay of imagination au

[hanahaki-ghost]

Howdy howdy folks,

So I have some stuff I’m working on right now and currently have finals weeks upon me but, in between or in May before I finally buckle down and stop getting distracted from TSoH planning what AU would you like to know more about or just see more art of

This does not mean you cannot send asks about AUs feel free to I love to info dump about them and feel free to give suggestions about what specifically you want to see from these AUs, weather it’s specific characters designs for it or just info tid bits

And for those who don’t know TSoH stand for The Soldiers of Hate(I just don’t like typing it every time I refer to it)

[cartwheelapple]

hear me out

sunshipduo zombie apocolypse au but guqqie is partly infected and slowly becoming more and more zombie

aimsey tries their best to protect guqqie from other survivors and guqqie in turn does the same (she has gotten very good murdering, being part zombie has a few perks)

[nixnephili]

Osamu Dazai- in the Fyo!Atsushi A.U.

I feel like this change in his life, he'd like to change a lot of things about himself...

Like going by "Osamu" instead of "Dazai" to new people he meets-

Or deciding to give up slowly but surely on the whole cheery attitude he uses to mask himself as being witty and comical in order to deflect his inner issues.

I want to write him as a complex introspective character, a development in his life where I want to see what he can do to actually be better. It's tough, given who he is and what he continuously does- but I think I can pull him through.

Dazai not smiling as much anymore...:

He feels like he needs to bottle up his guilt. To not burden other people with it, other people that he's hurt before. He believes if he's hurt people he needs to get away, he needs not to connect to them anymore- his guilt never allows him to deal with his problems because he simply believes himself incapable of NOT creating more.

He thinks that by putting on his "clown" mask and being unfamiliar and secretive about personal matters he's protecting those around him from his poison- he's feeding himself this idea of selflessness. By isolating and barricading his true self he does "what's best". But the poison seeps out in other ways, infecting everything. And it's worse when it comes from his friendly smiling face- other than the real, alienated Dazai he really is.

He fools himself that maybe if he pretends for long enough that he's a better person he'll feel that way eventually. Doesn't work like that now does it?

-Nix🌙

[the-owl-tree]

Your spin on Crowfeather and Leafpool running away together made me remember that Mothwing and Bramblestar never interacted as siblings (neither did she and Tawnypelt :/), but since she spends time in camp what do you imagine their dynamic is like? I doubt Bramble appreciates her convicing Squirrelflight to search with her.

Oooohh you’re so right, what a waste they didn’t have Mothwing and Brambleclaw interact at all or even just have him think about her more because it should’ve been mothwing who killed hawkfrost

Like off the top of my head, I like the idea that she initially wants to think that he’s like her. Someone who’s been used but only also wanting to cling onto that familiarity of family, she wants to try and reach out to find comfort in kin who she thinks will understand. She’s seen the way they meet up at the gathering, how they huddle together and talk, and she wants to believe she can help someone who’s being used or at least connect….and then she sees the callous way Brambleclaw tries to rush in her replacement, how he constantly talks down to Squirrelflight and grows aggressive when she wants to go after her sister and has the chilly realization of “oh, you’re not like me. you’re like him.”

[syndianites]

in the tags you mentioned Tom’s wings were rotted until he killed Dianite, consider they turn into vulture wings after the fact? him being a zombie and having the wings of a scavenger

YOUR BRAIN

his wings turning into vulture wings because what is Tom if not someone who survives on the remnants of others? of their good will? their faith? the things they drop when Tom comes swinging, the glittering diamonds and mounds of iron he can raid from a person's unkept storage chest?

And of course, when a god dies and their power is posed to disperse, why wouldn't Tom naturally pick up that power? He wouldn't even have to think about it- hell, he probably doesn't even realize he was the one that sucked the power in. What is more vulture like that reaping the rewards of a dead god?

[tri-punisher]

my ideas for the plant kids re: their powers is that they manifest in different, specific ways as they grow up. minnie’s powers are primarily plant (ACTUAL plant) based, she uses a form of chlorokinesis to assist in the restoration and growth of local crops. jasmine’s powers manifest mainly as super strength, she’s significantly stronger than even the physical augments afforded to LR, and she uses them to help with a lot of physically taxing and laborious work, which there is a lot of in all the rebuilding after the ark. bowie’s more of a healer i imagine, she tries to nurture her powers in a way that she knows she’ll be able to use to help people, away from how knives taught her how to use them to kill and destroy. she’s good at mending flesh wounds and fixing broken bones. viral illnesses and diseases are a little more tricky but she's working on it

also i was thinking that for minnie and jasmine they still have the same conditional immortality independent plants have, but because they’re both half human it’s a lot easier for them to burn through their energy so power decay is just as much of a threat for them as any other plant. and they do age, but it’s much, much, much slower than a normal human ages, so. virtually immortal, so long as they don’t burn through themselves and shorten their lifespans

[dixons-sunshine]

The Archer's Girl | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: When the world ended, you and Daryl narrowly escaped the clutches of the dead and found yourselves in a quarry camp with Merle and some other people. Unwanted, someone in the camp takes a weird liking and disliking to you, and it made you extremely uncomfortable. Luckily, Daryl was there to stand up for you.

Genre: Fluff, some angst.

Era: Outbreak day; The Quarry.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU but can be read as a standalone.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of morning sickness.

Word count: 4.4k.

A/n: Damn, I love when two requests correspond with each other and I can get them both into one fic. It's my favourite thing in the whole world. However, I feel like Daryl is kinda ooc in this, but I tried to imagine how he'd be with a woman he just met at the quarry and started forming a relationship with vs how he'd be with someone he's been with since he was a teenager, and in my mind, he'd totally be softer regarding someone he already knows and loves vs one he's just getting to know. So soft!Daryl in this, it is! Also, Carol is being a supportive queen in this because @celtic-crossbow's Blood Ties series has made me appreciate Carol more and made me realize that she would always be so supportive of someone who's pregnant. Anyways, I hope you like this!

(specially dedicated to @mydearestdaryl because we planned this fic in my comment section a while ago and I'm only getting to it now.)

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“Daryl!” you called out, trying to push past the stampede of people trying to hurriedly evacuate the store you were in. You were abruptly shoved into one of the shelves, a sharp pain shooting up your side. A loud curse escaped your lips as you clutched your side.

Barely one minute ago, you had strayed from Daryl's side to go grab some milk. You had told him that you would be right back, but with all the chaos that suddenly unfolded in front of you, you highly regretted leaving him at all. With everything going to hell, you could be separated from the man you loved. That thought terrified you.

However, as you turned around, nothing terrified you more than the sight that beheld you.

On the floor, a woman was screaming in pure, unadulterated agony. On top of her was a man who's body appeared to be decaying, and he ripped a huge chunk of her flesh from her chest. His grimy hands were clawing at her stomach, and with little to no effort, he tore her stomach open. The sight was truly mortifying, and it would never be erased from your mind.

A hand grabbed your wrist from behind. You flinched and tried to rip your hand from the person's grip, but the familiar voice of your husband calmed you down. However, when you looked at him, you were surprised to note the splatter of dark blood all over his clothes and face.

“S'me! S'jus' me!” he hurriedly explained. He cast one glance to the horrific sight before you before dragging you along with him, the two of you moving quickly. He stopped momentarily in front of one of the shelves to grab two knives, carefully pushing one of them into your hold. “Ya see one'a these dead motherfuckers, ya stab 'em in the head, alrigh'? S'the only way they drop dead.”

“What? I don't—”

“Dun' think 'bout it, peach!” he cut you off, pulling you with him out of the store again. “They ain't alive. The news weren't lyin' to us 'bout the dead risin'. We got a real fucking problem on our hands now.”

Choosing to trust his judgement, you nodded and hurried next to him. The two of you ran down the sidewalk, heading in the direction of your apartment. As you continued onward, you highly regretted deciding to walk to the store instead of taking Daryl's truck. It would've been a whole lot easier to escape the mess surrounding you if you had a vehicle.

Just as the two of you arrived at your apartment building, about a dozen of the undead people were stumbling out of the door. Daryl quickly pulled you with him to the parking area instead, making a beeline for his truck. However, more of those things flooded the area and a couple of them were heading straight towards you, and it was clear that the two of you weren't escaping without a fight.

“Ya got yer knife?” Daryl questioned, shooting a glance at you over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” you told him, gripping the knife so tightly, your knuckles started turning white.

“Good,” he replied, stepping forward to plunge his knife into the skull of one of the monsters. He withdrew the knife, holding it ready to use at a moment's notice. “Ya gotta stab 'em in the head as hard as ya can, alrigh'? Dun' think 'bout 'em bein' alive. These assholes ain't alive.”

“Don't worry about me trying to talk them out of eating me or something,” you scoffed, replicating the way he was holding his knife with your own. “I'm not that stupid. All these fuckers are getting from me is a fatal blow to the head. They're not touching me.”

“Atta girl,” he praised with a small smile. However, his attention soon got diverted back towards the flood of the undead stumbling around the parking area.

As the two of you continued onwards, Daryl repeatedly stabbed the heads of the monsters. By some miracle, the two of you made it to his truck without you having to do anything. However, just as Daryl was getting into the driver's seat and you were opening the door to the passenger seat, a slimy, blood covered hand gripped your arm tightly in its clutches.

You let out a small cry of terror, instantly alerting Daryl to your horrifying predicament. However, as you struggled against the literal death grip of the monster, its teeth trying desperately to take a chunk of your flesh, you realized that you couldn't wait for Daryl to come to your rescue. By the time he managed to make it towards the other side of the truck, you would already be doomed. You had to take matters into your own hands.

Shakily, you drew your hand that held the knife back and plunged it deep into the thing's skull with a sickening force. The monster miraculously fell limp with the first blow, its hand falling from your arm. However, before you could fully process that you had just killed something that was once human, Daryl took your face in his hands and checked you over, his eyes filled with fear. You had never seen him with as much terror in his eyes ever before.

“Are ya okay?” he asked in a hurried manner, his voice shaky. “Please tell me the prick didn't get ya. No bites, scratches, nothin'.”

“I'm okay,” you assured him, watching him calm down somewhat. “But we have to leave. Right now.”

“Yeah, let's g—”

The deafening sound of a gunshot echoed through the area, followed closely by the rumble of a motorcycle. When the motorcycle came into view, you were both simultaneously relieved and disappointed to see none other than Merle Dixon. He stopped his motorcycle once he saw you, an exasperated look on his face.

“Y'all jus' gon' stand there and get eaten or get in the fuckin' truck? I did not risk my life gettin' here jus' to watch y'all get eaten alive.”

Daryl opened the door to the passenger side and quickly ushered you in, shouting over his shoulder at Merle. “Wha' the fuck are ya even doin' here?!”

“Helpin' yer sorry ass!” Merle exclaimed, shooting at another oncoming monster. “C'mon, let's go!”

Daryl didn't need to be told twice. He rushed to the driver's side and hurriedly got in, starting up his truck and speeding out of the parking area, following behind Merle's motorcycle. With all the chaos that unfolded, the two of you hadn't even managed to go grab some clothes from your apartment. However, by some stroke of luck, as you glanced towards the back of the truck, you noted that two duffel bags were resting there, as well as a bag with everything needed to construct a tent and Daryl's crossbow. You thanked your lucky stars that the two of you had gone camping for his hunting trip two days prior, and forgot to remove everything from his truck. The clothes were dirty, sure, but once you found a body of water, you'd be able to wash them. And Daryl's crossbow would more than likely come in handy.

“Are ya okay?” Daryl asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. He was nervously chewing on his thumbnail, his eyes darting between you and the road.

You nodded at him, trying to calm your racing thoughts. In a matter of thirty minutes, your life had flipped upside down. You had killed someone, whether they were dead or not. The blood from the kill coated your skin and made you feel sick at your actions, but you tried to remind yourself that the thing you killed wasn't human anymore. If you didn't kill it, it would've killed you. It would've killed—

Gasping, you sat upright and clutched at your stomach. Daryl looked at you worriedly, his eyes trailing to your stomach. His eyes widened in terror, his grip on the steering wheel tightening even more, if possible.

“Wha's wrong?” he questioned. “Oh, god. S'somethin' wrong with Peanut? Did those pricks—”

“No! No, nothing's wrong,” you reassured him, your hand resting on your stomach. “It's just... With everything going on, I forgot about the baby. I forgot about my own child, Daryl. What kind of future mother does that make me?”

Daryl moved one of his hands to rest on your thigh, his thumb rubbing reassuring circles on the fabric of your jeans. He sent you a small smile, hoping to bring you some comfort.

“S'okay,” he told you. “Yer not gon' be a bad mom. With everythin' goin' on, yer body went into fight or flight mode. S'cause of it tha' ya managed to keep the baby in yer belly safe. And once they're here, I know yer gon' do yer absolute best to protect 'em.”

“I hope so,” you mumbled, resting your hand that wasn't on your stomach over his hand. “I really hope so.”

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

One month had passed. One month since the dead started walking. One month since everything you knew got destroyed. One month since you had stumbled upon a quarry camp filled with other survivors with your husband and brother-in-law. One month since your life turned upside down.

You sighed as you washed one of Daryl's jeans, subtly listening to the other women's conversation, the other women sitting quite a distance from you. Most of the women in the small camp you were in tended to keep their distance from you, deeming you damaged goods because of the people you were with. Well, more so because Merle was your brother in law. You and Daryl tended to keep to yourselves, with Daryl only speaking to others when absolutely necessary, but the same couldn't be said for his hotheaded older brother. Merle had made quite the impression, and not a good one. And automatically, by mere association, they had deemed you and Daryl the same. Most of the women simply referred to you as the archer's girl, and you were pretty sure they didn't even know your actual name.

Most of the women didn't even bother acknowledging your existence most of the time. The only exception was a sweet woman named Carol Peletier, who offered you her kindness whenever she talked to you. She offered you tips on how to properly scrub stains from jeans, on how to fix up the holes in your husband's socks, and so much more. She was the only one who you'd felt comfortable enough sharing the secret of your pregnancy with, so even though she promised not to tell anyone, she silently offered you her support, and gave you advice regarding your pregnancy by telling you stories about her own pregnancy with little Sophia. Carol was your only true friend there, and you deeply appreciated her.

Without her, you probably would've snapped at the other women there for the judgemental looks they threw your way, so you cherished the friendship you had formed with her.

The touch of a calloused yet gentle hand drew you from your thoughts. You looked up and locked eyes with your husband, his blue eyes staring down at you with a softness only reserved for you. You sent him a smile and dropped the pair of jeans you were washing on the ground, standing up to face him better.

“Ya know all'a tha' washin' s'now ruined 'cause ya dropped it in mud, righ'?” he told you playfully, sending you a small smile.

You smiled and shrugged. “It's your jeans. I've never heard you complain about a little mud on them before, considering those kills you have to skin that stained these jeans in the first place.”

Daryl chuckled and shook his head. “Yeah, yer righ',” he replied, before his smile fell and he adapted a more serious tone. “I have to go huntin'.”

“Again?” you asked incredulously, your mood visibly deflating. “You went on a hunt not even two days ago.”

“Yeah, I know,” Daryl sighed, fidgeting with his hands. “But tha' Shane prick demanded tha' I go on another hunt again fer some reason. I dun' know why, 'cause we have 'nough meat to last us another week or so, but he threatened to throw us out of the camp if I didn't go now. We can't leave. 'Specially not now.”

Your lips formed into a small smile as Daryl's eyes trailed down to your stomach, his eyes softening slightly as he thought about the life that fluttered there, the life that he had helped create. His very own son or daughter. A small being that he would go to great lengths to protect, even if they weren't born yet. His little Peanut.

You stepped forward and pressed a chaste kiss against his cheek, before withdrawing again. You giggled at the blush that spread across his face, and didn't miss the way his lips twitched up into a small smile. He could say whatever he wanted, but he secretly loved your little public displays of affection. It was never something big, like some passionate kiss or a full-blown make out session. It was always something small and sweet, something quick to show your affection without drawing too much attention to the two of you. A subtle graze of your hand against his, quick pecks on the cheek, a gentle squeeze on his shoulder, you name it. You knew how to show him love in public without making him uncomfortable, and he loved you for it.

“How long will you be gone?” you asked, nervously fidgeting with your fingers.

Daryl noticed and subtly took your hands in his, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “Ain't no tellin'. Walsh demanded tha' I find some venison, and tha' might take me a while. Dun' even know if there are any deer here.”

You pursed your lips and nodded. “Stay safe, okay? I love you.”

Daryl nodded. Stepping out of his own comfort zone, he leaned down and pressed a feathery light kiss to your lips. When he pulled back, he gently caressed your cheek. “Always am. And I love ya more, sunshine.”

With that, he turned around and left, leaving you standing alone with the unfinished laundry. Watching his retreating figure, you smiled fondly, completely missing the envious looks the other women were sending your way.

They hadn't heard your conversation, the two of you being too far away to overhear anything, but they did see the way the archer interacted with you. It was so vastly different from the way he talked to anyone, including his own brother, his own flesh and blood. It was clear there was a lot of history between the two of you, good and bad, and it made the two of you a strong couple. From what Merle had let slip in his high state once, the two of you had been together since you were both merely seventeen years old, and by the looks of it, the two of you were still going strong. The two of you radiated love for one another, and that's more than most could say about their own past relationships.

It was clear the two of you shared something special, and it was unfair to them that they couldn't find love like that. And with the world ending, they doubted that they ever would.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

Three days had passed. Three days where Daryl was nowhere to be found. Three days where you had to deal with Merle's disgusting attitude on your own. Three days where you had to sleep alone in your shared tent, wishing he was there.

It seemed like baby Dixon noticed their father's absence, and they weren't happy about it. For the past three days, you hadn't managed to keep anything down in the depths of your stomach. Any and all food you ate came right back up again a few hours later, and it wasn't exactly pleasant. Thankfully, nobody saw you whenever you rushed to the bushes behind the RV to spew the contents of your stomach out, so nobody knew of your pregnancy yet.

And you had Carol by your side whenever your stomach rebelled against you, so that was a major plus.

“God, I hate this so much,” you groaned in frustration, eliciting a laugh from the woman gently rubbing your back.

“It's what comes with the joys of pregnancy,” she laughed lightly, continuing the circular motion on your back until you felt better. Once you stood upright, she handed you a bottle of water, encouraging you to drink as much as you needed to. “Drink up. You need to stay hydrated.”

Once you had enough to drink, you handed her the bottle again. “Thank you,” you thanked her, giving her a small smile. “How'd you handle it? The morning sickness, I mean.”

“I was lucky enough to only experience a mild case of morning sickness,” Carol explained, wrapping her arm around you and starting to walk with you back to the main campsite. “You know, and I'm not saying this to pressure you at all, but maybe you should tell everyone about your pregnancy. It would be good for Glenn to be on the lookout for prenatal vitamins.”

“I can't,” you denied. “Then everyone will look at me like I'm carrying the plague and see me as just another liability. I can't have that. Daryl and I can handle things on our own until we absolutely have to tell everyone.”

“Okay,” Carol replied, before shifting the conversation away from something that quite obviously stressed you out. “I drank a lot of herbal teas when I was pregnant. That seemed to really work for the nausea.”

“Just great,” you sighed, shaking your head. “Where the fuck are we supposed to find that?”

Carol smiled and gently rubbed your shoulder. “I'll see if Dale has some. I remember him mentioning something about ginger tea.”

“What if he asks why you need it?” you asked hurriedly, worry lacing your tone.

“Don't worry, I won't tell him,” she reassured you. “I'll just tell him I'm feeling nauseous. That something I ate isn't corresponding with my stomach. Trust me, he'll believe it.”

You sent her a smile. “Thanks, Carol. I mean it.”

She smiled at you before disappearing into the RV, on a search for Dale. You stood waiting outside, staring ahead at the treeline. You hoped that by continuously looking at it, your husband would appear from the trees with a deer over his shoulders, dirty but unharmed. Alas, as you had learned over the last few days, that didn't work, and you wished you could go out there and look for him yourself, but you knew he'd be extremely mad if you did.

No, your main priority was your baby at that moment. Your husband had shown time and time again that he could take care of himself, so you chose to believe that he'd be fine. You had to believe that, otherwise you'd spiral into an abyss you didn't want to go down.

The feeling of somebody standing next to you startled you. You stumbled and nearly fell, but the hands of the mystery person caught you. Looking up, you locked eyes with the self-appointed leader of the group, Shane Walsh. His brown eyes were staring down at you, a small grin on his face.

“Sorry, girl. Didn't mean to startle you,” he apologized, slightly rubbing your arms.

Feeling extremely uncomfortable, you shrugged his hands from your arms and took a step back, putting some distance between the two of you. You sent him a tight-lipped smile.

“It's okay,” you replied, hoping that he would end the conversation with that. However, the man had other plans.

“What's your story, lady?” he asked curiosly, leaning back against the metal of the RV, his eyes trailing over you in a way you didn't like.

“My story?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “What's a pretty girl like yourself doing with a lowlife nothing like Daryl Dixon? I mean, you could have anyone you want, but you chose him, the redneck. Why?”

“Because I love him,” you stated matter-of-factly, sending him a harsh glare that only seemed to spur him on even more.

“Bullshit. There's gotta be something to it,” he disagreed, chuckling at the glare on your face. “There's no way that a guy like that managed to pull someone like you. It goes against all the laws of the universe. So tell me, what's he got to offer? Is he paying you? Are you some prostitute he keeps around for his own pleasure or something? You certainly look pretty enough to have a guy pay you for something like that.”

Before you could stutter out an angry reply to Shane's deprecating accusation, a hand gently gripped your shoulder and pulled you aside. Looking up, you saw Daryl, an angry look in his eyes. Without a word, he stepped forward and viciously connected his fist with Shane's nose, hearing the satisfying crack of the bone there.

“Son of a bitch!” Shane exclaimed, bending over to clutch his nose in his hands. “What the fuck, Dixon?!”

Daryl gripped Shane by the collar of his shirt and shoved him against the side of the RV, a threatening glare on his face. Terror filled Shane's eyes, something unusual for the for the man. Everyone started gathering around the fighting pair, and Carol, who had rushed from the RV once she heard the commotion, pulled you back from the battle ground, holding you firmly against her side.

“Listen'a me real fuckin' close, Walsh,” Daryl spat angrily, his voice dangerously low. “I dun' care wha' ya say 'bout me, but if ya ever talk 'bout my pregnant wife like tha' again, I'll do so much worse than jus' break yer nose. Ya dun' talk to her, ya dun' look at her, ya dun' even breathe the same fuckin' air as her. If ya do, I'll skin ya alive and feed the remainin' pieces of ya to the walkers. Do I make myself clear?”

“Fuck you,” Shane groaned out.

“Yer venison's on the table. Next time, go hunt fer it yer fuckin' self.”

Without waiting for a response, Daryl shoved Shane harshly and turned around, meeting your eyes. Instead of finding fear in your eyes from his actions, he found adoration instead. You stepped out of Carol's hold and took Daryl's hand in your own, dragging him to your shared tent. You didn't even spare a glance at the people, so you missed the way all of their eyes widened at the realization that you were pregnant, that they had been unnecessarily rude to a pregnant lady that had done absolutely nothing wrong. They had been harsh to an expecting mother and father, for no reason at all. Everyone felt guilty, but the groan that Shane emitted caught their attention once again.

Back in your shared tent with Daryl, you were stood busy gently cleaning the blood from his split knuckles while the man sat on the cot. Daryl was avoiding your eyes, feeling ashamed of his actions. In all the years that you had been together, you had only seen him lash out like that once—one time when you were drinking together in a bar when you were twenty-four, a guy had grabbed your breast without your consent, and Daryl had completely lost it. After that, he swore he'd never act like that around you ever again, but Shane made him break that promise.

“I'm not mad, you know,” you finally broke the silence, watching the way his ocean coloured eyes flickered over to you, the confusion evident in them. “Shane got what he deserved. Quite honestly, I planned on punching him, too. You just beat me to it.”

“M'sorry,” Daryl mumbled, ducking his gaze to the floor. “I know ya can fight yer own battles. S'jus'... Hearin' the way he talked 'bout ya, like ya were some object who's worth he could judge... I dun' know. It made me pissed. Ya dun' deserve to be treated like tha'. 'Specially not when yer carryin' a baby in yer belly. Speakin' of, m'sorry I revealed yer pregnant. I know ya wanted to keep tha' hidden.”

You smiled and gently lifted his chin with your finger, gazing deeply into his eyes. “It's okay. They would've found out eventually,” you told him, gently cupping his cheek. “Look at you, always so considerate about everyone else except yourself. You're amazing, Daryl Dixon.”

Daryl blushed. “Yer the amazin' one,” he countered, leaning forward to rest his forehead on your stomach. He placed a small kiss to the clothed skin. “Peanut's gon' have one hell of a mama.”

“And one hell of a daddy,” you replied, bringing one of your hands to thread through his hair. “I love you, Daryl.”

“Love ya more, peach,” Daryl murmured, closing his eyes at the comforting feeling. “Love ya too, Peanut.”

The serene moment was soon interrupted. The soft calling from Carol grabbed your attention, and you giggled at the groan Daryl let out.

“Y/n?” she called out. “I've got that ginger tea I promised you.”

“Ginger tea?” Daryl questioned, looking up at you.

“Yeah. I got a bunch of morning sickness without you around for some reason. Seems like Baby Dixon doesn't like when their daddy's not here.”

“Good,” Daryl chuckled, rubbing your stomach affectionately. “Then I guess ya won't mind if I stick 'round.”

“Hm,” you hummed, pretending to think about it before letting out a slight giggle. “I guess I'll keep you around.”

“Tha's real good to hear.”

Before you could respond, you heard the bellowing voice of your brother in law. You groaned in frustration, praying that Carol had gotten out of the line of fire, because your tent was about to become a war ground.

“When the fuck were ya plannin' on tellin' me ya got yer whore pregnant?”

Daryl visibly tensed up at his brother's words, anger flaring up in his eyes, and you knew that another beating was about to commence. “The fuck did ya jus' say, Merle?!”

“Ya heard me, boy.”

God, you hated Merle with a fiery passion, and you doubted that would ever change. But you loved Daryl, and you knew that as long as you had him by your side, you could face anything.

Yeah, your little Peanut was gonna have the best father ever.

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Rigor Mortis (Masterlist)

Rigor Mortis; or, how to live your life after a half-decade of decay. 

Relationships end. People die. You move on, and Miguel does too. 

(roommate! Miguel O'Hara x reader, college-ish au). 

(AO3) (Main Masterlist) (Wattpad)

Warnings: angst, smut, friends with benefits, mentions of depression, child death (not explicit), grief. 18+ Minors DNI (+ ageless blogs will be blocked)

Series' playlists:

this is what i listen to whilst I write

this is the kind of playlist I imagine RM!Miguel listens to

(i am very open to suggestions/additions :D)

00 rigor mortis,

01 or in the cold, crisp morn:

02 lady death, at the cradle of a babe.

03 they were here, she says,

04 lips blue and black and gold (18+)

05 and they were good. (18+)

06 in your half-hearted hubris, (18+)

07 all-consuming grief, (18+)

08 you had forgotten; they were good.

09 all that light lost in gaps (18+)

10 between your bodies; (18+)

11 cracks in clay, poured over,

12 tbd

13 tbd

14 tbd

15 tbd

16 tbd

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Bonus chapters:

RM! Miguel headcanons (SFW) (NSFT)

A week of firsts (set between 06 and 07)

Bonus Miguel POV chapter

Quickie

massive thank you to my beta readers, who put up with all my stupid questions, helped me with translations, and gave wonderful feedback on where I could improve.

Thank you @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys!

[bythepen98]

Doodles || Tomarry || Childhood friends/Growing Up Together au

(Ignore the not-so-time-period-accurate outfits)

Think of this as a timetravel au where Harry accidentally gets sent back to the past in Wool's orphanage at a young enough age where he barely notices the changes caused by the time displacement and thus grows up nonethewiser to his destiny as the Chosen One. Even when, objectively, his life at the orphanage could be considered worse considering the growing lack of food, his environment's state of decay and overall unrest happening outside the orphanage's walls, something about his situation felt right(?).

He'd always felt disconnected and out of place based on the few memories he still had from living with the Dursleys but now, it felt like he was home in a way. Like something finally clicked in his brain, his soul.

His instant connection to Tom helped cement that fact. It wasn't easy at first because the pull they felt when they first met was so strong that it scared Harry shtless and Tom, already half-full of resentment by this point, was horrified feeling anything to anyone that wasn't disgust. In the end, it didn't take long for them to meet halfway since they were still children and curiosity at the connection lured them in like candy; Harry wanted a special friend of his own and Tom convinced himself that Harry was worth his time because there was no way anyone ordinary could elicit such a soul deep response from him.

Tom has a mean streak and is more bloodthirsty than his charming facade would show but is honest about it with Harry. Although he doesn't have much to his name, Tom is serious about his self-imposed role as Harry's provider, giving him gifts (from the money he steals) during his birthdays and keeping him as warm and well fed as possible (by bullying the other kids into surrendering their share).

Sometimes, Tom....worries.....that his methods would eventually drive Harry - who has such an inherent goodness in him, so often kind to people who don't deserve it - away but what he fails to understand is that Harry's love and loyalty to the first friend he's ever made trumps any kindness he has for others. He'll never like needless violence and won't react if he was being targeted but all bets are off if he even a catches a whiff of plots against Tom. If he has to help hide a body or two in the future so that they won't be separated by something as inconvenient as jail or the law, then that's nobody's business but his own.

P.S. This Harry will probably go to Hufflepuff instead of Slytherin like in other fics. It just feels right. Probably should've drawn him wearing a yellow tie but only just got the idea as I'm typing this. Tom would rather eat slugs than go to the Hufflepuff common room but he's more than willing to entertain Harry at the Slytherin common room at every available chance. They have their own seat there and everything.

P.P.S. They also co adopt a tiny(??) baby snake when they realize they can both speak parseltongue and bring him along to hogwarts. Imagine being parents at the big old age of 10 to a possibly magical snake that may or may not grow past nagini-level size.

P.P.P.S. Future power couple in the making. Didn't think that far ahead whether I wanted Tom to go the political route or Dark Lord Voldemort style minus the horcruxes. Don't ask for me the details, just know that with Harry's help, Tom finds a way to prolong their lives without the consequences that come with using horcruxes. They may or may not discover that Harry is in fact a horcrux of Tom already but will never get the answer as to how it happened. Harry worries but Tom just chocks it up as the universe's way of paying him back for his shtty pre-Harry childhood. Ironically the type to believe in soulmates and destiny while Harry is a bit more skeptical on that front.

Alternatively, they could also decide not to do anything too significant -politically- at all and instead retire to the country side while doing research on as many branches of magic as they can. A bit laughable because of Tom's world altering ambitions and Harry's indulgent, enabling behavior but at the same time, anything's possible.

[thegrimreaperisanerd]

I'm not usually the sort of person to get interested in AUs but this cowboy one is tickling me SPECIFICALLY because of the car crash scene in disco elysium

Because... Yeah, it could just be a wagon that he crashes in a sandbank ditch, but that doesn't seem as emotionally poignant

Meanwhile, imagine *intensely* empathetic Harry Du Bois finding the decaying remains of a horse (fragile animal) and being DRAWN to it "Kim, look how pretty she is! Who could leave their horse out in the desert like this without AT LEAST placing a monument?!"

The Paledriver mentions boiadero needing the open plains despite the inherent loneliness that comes along with this existence, Harry doesn't do alone very well, the man bonds with objects; he would easily and whole-heartedly *fully* anthropomorphise his horse

It's the hottest part of the day, sandy, the horse has attracted flies and Harry's kneeled next to the dead horse tenderly stroking her mane. "She looks well cared for besides being dead. Definitely suspicious that there's no attempt to bury or immortalise her, I know *I'd* place a grave for her if she was MY horse. We have to investigate this, right, Kim?!"

Meanwhile Kim's clocked the gaol address etched into the saddle, looking at the pockets that definitely, maybe, contain a sheriff's badge and is like:

[eskumii]

yandere!incel!tomura shigaraki + foreigner!darling who can't speak japanese

TITLE: " RENT-A-GF " — navi.

NOTES: nsfw (18+ only) below the cut (non-con!! somnophilia!!) reminder: this is merely fantasy, i don't condone. will prob proofread someday lol. enjoy!

PAIRING: yandere!incel!shigaraki tomura x foreinger!reader

GENRE/AU: shigaraki is rlly misogynistic and delusional, age gap (you're older), reader is a substitute english teacher who got kidnapped by bwad gwuys and is now... yeah

CHARACTERS: shigaraki tomura (21), reader (24)

let's be for real: shigaraki was born to be an incel.

and incel!shigaraki is shamelessly self-aware of this, indeed. when he's not out terrorizing innocent citizens with his villainous coups, he takes to the internet to fulfill his insatiable need for an adrenaline rush. gorey video games and brutal death metal makes him light up in glee, but sometimes it's just not enough.

so, instead, he's a frequent on the dark web, diligently scouring sites that specialize in obscure female porn collectives that cater to his twisted kinks. incel!shigaraki glowers at the pictures of stupid, slutty women who prance around in sexy lingerie, but still gets a hard-on because he wishes he had a woman who would do that for him and him only.

and what shigaraki wants, he gets. on another sweaty night in his dark bedroom, he's boredly clicking through the hundreds of entries of women who are being sold for, what he thinks, too high of a price. not that money would ever be a problem for him; if he felt compelled to, he could just kidnap the girl he wanted all over again. so, no, it's not the price—it's what he thinks they're worth based on his attraction to them.

and, so far, all of them are worthless.

you see, the conundrum is that incel!shigaraki has a thing for foreign girls. don't ask why, he doesn't know. maybe he finds it cute that they're so clueless about his culture and language, and he's the one who'll control the narrative that rules their ignorance. maybe it's so cute how they wear their perpetual confusion on their face at all times, like a bratty kid who can't navigate the world without mommy or daddy by their side.

of course, though, women could hardly do anything on their own anyway. every time he came across one they'd wail and cry as he grabbed them by the hair and threatened to kill them if they didn't shut the hell up. they'd beg for their lives or scream for someone to save them, but it would only piss him off more at how useless and brainless they tended to be. he just couldn't help but decay them—they were so noisy and whiny, it wasn't his fault.

obviously, shigaraki has neither patience nor experience with women. in fact, he can probably count with two fingers how many times he's had a non-violent interaction with a woman in his entire lifetime. the mere thought of this drives his insecurities to the brink of rage, but it's not his fault women are so unbelievably tasteless in their choice of men. it's their fault he has to go to such lengths to find a decent woman worthy of his presence.

but imagine his delight when he happens upon a listing of you, an immediately attractive foreign woman who used to be an english substitute teacher of all things. he clicks through your pictures with a renewed vigor, his interest piqued as he studies your unique features. eagerly, he scours through your posted information and it turns out that you happen to be exactly the kind of woman he's looking for.

it's a done deal. the transaction takes less than a few minutes and incel!shigaraki couldn't be more pleased with how smoothly it went. he'll have to leave a good review later on, when and if the woman he's just bought has satisfied him.

it takes just one night before shigaraki finds you literally dropped off at his doorstep like an amazon prime package. you’ve clearly been pampered with the way you’re clad in a skimpy maid outfit; your nails, hair, and makeup are all dolled to perfection. you look exactly like you did in the pictures.

and clearly you're wise beyond your years. you don't speak much because of the obvious language barrier, but you do seem to understand a bit of elementary japanese. shigaraki is delighted by your small mutterings of broken japanese—it’s unbelievably cute. sometimes he'll force you to speak in japanese just because he loves watching you struggle with your limited vocabulary.

incel!shigaraki gets attached to you. you're very attractive in his eyes, and he's completely ecstatic that you're all his. a woman he can do whatever he wants with, and no one would dare question him. the immense power trip sends him over the edge.

that being said, the first couple of weeks are still rather... awkward. you're not happy about being in the situation you're in, but you're smart enough to keep that to yourself. you don't fuss when shigaraki orders you to fetch him liquor or tidy up his filthy room, nor do you complain when he commands you to cuddle with him or keep him company while he plays video games.

"[name], c'mere," he'd bark at you, eyes still glued to the tv screen.

"be a good girl and keep my lap warm, hm?"

he'll force you to wear cute lingerie sets like he's seen the women on porn sites do. somehow you look so much better though, and it feels as though you're teasing him with the way you bend over so much while cleaning. the outline of your pussy through the small fabric that stretches over it has him horny in a matter of seconds. you're such a tease, aren't you ashamed? you just can't seem to stay in line.

however, despite all your obvious sexual innuendos towards him, shigaraki gets no relief. he's resorted to jacking off whenever you go to sleep but no matter how hard or how much he cums, there's an itch that can't be scratched with masturbation alone. and the way you're so shy around him is adorable, sure, but your little playing-hard-to-get act wasn't cutting it anymore.

the remedy? incel!shigaraki starts slipping sleeping pills into your food and drinks.

and it doesn't take long for shigaraki to develop a routine of visiting you while you're sleeping. partly to check up on you and assure himself of your presence, but mostly to creep around the edges of the bed and feel you up. you sleep so soundly that you don't even twitch when he fondles your soft breasts or runs his spindly fingers over your curves.

he almost doesn't want to disturb you; you look so peaceful, totally different than the frightened little faces you muster when you're awake. but the bothersome tightness stretching his boxers taut against its stitches makes it hard to resist his urges. anyway, you're simply doing the only thing a woman is good for: using your body to please him.

his breath is hot and heavy, laced with lust and selfish perversion as he defiles you to get himself off. some nights he just sits and admires your beauty, caressing your face with clumsy, inexperienced fingertips. some nights your shirt is pulled up so he can marvel at how nicely your breasts sit in whatever color bra he forced you to wear.

other nights his cock is nestled between them, thrusting like his life depends on it, chasing that euphoric high he gets when he finally spills his seed across your hardening nipples. and other nights shigaraki is even more daring—cute pajama pants and panties below your knees, face buried between your thighs as he explores every inch of your sweet cunt. he knows it's wrong, but so what? he's a villian, that's what makes it feel so right.

when you make faces in your sleep, he's filled with so much genuine affection—it's almost as if you're telling him he's doing a good job. you love it, don't you? he so desperately wants to hear you cry his name in that precious accent of yours and run your hands through his hair as you lavish your praise upon him for making you cream so many times.

he can't keep his eyes off you. so soft and compliant. you're so pretty while he's stuffing his cock into you and relentlessly flicking your little clit, not stopping even when he feels you clench around him like a vice as you orgasm over and over. not stopping even though you're drooling all over the linen sheets and he's came twice already.

"that's right... y-you gonna cum again? you gonna—ngh—cum all over my cock, you dumb whore?"

shigaraki watches with glassy, intrigued eyes as you squirm ever so slightly, face warped into one of undeniable pleasure as he ravages your gushing pussy. you're such a good girl for him, letting him use you as he wishes.

you're the woman he's chosen to give his virginity to. he's so happy and content that when he cums inside of you for the third time, he doesn't pull out. instead, shigaraki gently maneuvers your body so he can spoon you from behind, whispering tender "i love you's" as if he knows what that means. absently grinding his hips because your warmth is so comforting around his sticky, softening dick.

as much as shigaraki wants to stay and pound you into the mattress all night, the sleeping medication doesn't last forever. not to mention the mess you've made; the sheets are completely ruined and your clothes are strewn about on the floor, long forgotten. it's hot in your room and it stinks of his cum and sweat, but it doesn't really matter. the only thing on his mind is you and how he'll ruin you again tomorrow night.

for now, though, he rewards you for being so good by cleaning you up, smirking whenever you unconsciously nuzzle up to his touch. when your clothes are back on, he plants a tender kiss on your forehead and admires your flushed face from the shadows of your bedside. when the sun begins to rise and you stir in your ignorance, he'll sneak out and act as if nothing ever happened.

incel!shigaraki who doesn't deny that you're just another stupid slutty woman, but you're the only woman he'll ever want to cum inside of. when he returns to his room, he remembers to pull up your archived listing on his computer and dazedly taps away at his keyboard.

"10/10 recommend"

[stringsbasement]

my version of horrortale yellow :)

i'm not currently planning to think about this au too often, so here's an info dump of ideas i came up for it

- set in a neutral run where flowey successfully trapped clover within his mind. they're forced to face twisted version of all their friends, forever

- the monsters don't turn to dust immediately, their bodies are given time to rot and decay. no one bothers to clean up bodies anymore

- the monsters bleed because floweys also taking horrors from clovers mind/memory/imagination and applying it there. because of this, some things fail to make sense

- clover wakes up from "resets" like waking up from a bad dream, only to relive it again

- starlo's a literal starfish here, and the way you "kill" him is by shooting off his vital limbs one by one to keep them from attacking until they regrow (which would happen in the span of a few turns)

- martlet has mechanical/prosthetic legs, as well as non-functional wings because a couple of hungry monsters attacked her once before. sometimes she falls over and begs clover to help her back up. if they don't, she'll drag herself around, and somehow, she always manages to find her way back to them...

- chujin's last wish to ceroba before he turned to dust was to use his body so that kanako can go to sleep that night with a full stomach

that's it for now :)

[nixnephili]

Fyo!Atsushi A.U.

~Osamu Dazai~

First look at ideas and concepts of Osamu Dazai in my Fyo!Atsushi A.U.

Dazai Osamu:

-It was difficult. Concepting for him...

It's hard to change much about Dazai but I really, really wanted to shove him down a different path. I wanted him to deal with his problems. His biggest problem is himself.

The Canon BSD universe constantly preaches how "Dazai is a good person now". He isn't. I never thought he was...

Dazai isn't a good person doing good things..he is a bad person that stopped doing the bad things that made him so.

Well, I wanted him to deal with the shit he made of people's lives.

In his arc, a lot of things will come back to bite him later on...

And his struggles trying to earn forgiveness for the innocent things he shattered will not end easily.

-Nix🌙

[phantomrose96]

Fascinating to watch a fandom tag decay it's like watching whalefall.

The canon content officially burns through the last of fandom goodwill and its dead body starts sinking down to be picked clean for AUs and ships and crossovers until it's so stripped of meat that even those creatures scuttle off to greener pastures, and all you're left with in the end is bones on the pressurized ocean floor, dark and abandoned, save for the lone extremophile "self-insertXcanon character 18+ minors DNI Imagine smut fic drabble" lifeforms which through some amazing feat of evolution can still find something in the sulfur vents and bone marrow to sustain themselves.

[kaitou-kid-my-beloved]

The Ghost-type Detective CH1 (Based on the Phantump Conan AU by @livmadart)

(Ao3 link)

Shinichi was so stupid. He was an idiot, a gosh darn fool. And now, because of his disregard for his own safety, he was… he was…

He choked on the pain, closed his eyes against the burn, and wished for all it was worth that it would just end faster. He knew, deep in the recesses of his decaying heart that it would end, and there was only one way that it would.

The small sliver of his brain that wasn’t consumed with agony was swirling with thoughts, hopes and regrets. What was Ran going to think? He’d never wanted to do this to her… He had no idea what had happened to Sherlock- his pokeball had been taken when Shinichi had been hit. All he could do… all he could do was hope they’d be alright…. Alright without him.

He could feel the moment his heart stopped.

He wasn’t breathing, his heart wasn’t beating, and he was still in the most agony he thought possible. After a few excruciating, infinite moments, everything stopped. The pain vanished, his vision faded, the sounds of the park dropped away, and even gravity itself stopped holding onto him.

So… he was dead, then.

Honestly, for a moment all he could feel was relief. The pain was gone, and in those last moments that had been all he’d wanted. He’d never imagined anything could burn like that. The pain of death, he supposed.

In the next moment, he realized something. He was still thinking. He had none of his senses, he hadn’t even a vague idea of his surroundings, but he was still thinking. He still had a mind. He sure, one hundred percent sure that he was dead, so… what was this? He waited a moment more. Nothing changed. He was still alone with his thoughts, trapped in this void.

Moment after moment passed, he had no idea how long it had been. His mind swirled with overlapping thoughts, the only thing he was capable of. Was this it? Was this all there was for him? This nothingness with only himself for company?... Forever?

He discovered something. When you’re made of nothing but thought and emotion, fear is a powerful thing.

He didn’t want to stay like this, the idea sent chills of panic through him that rattled his whole being. No no no no no. He mentally cast about, searching wildly for anything else, anything besides himself.

He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be trapped like this, he… he really didn’t want to be dead. Gosh, Ran, Sonoko, everyone… he couldn’t stand the idea of never finding out what happened to them. He’d thought that he might be at least able to- to observe or something, not, not…

He felt something.

There, a flash of… of warmth. The first physical feeling he’d had since losing his life. With that one sensation to ground himself, he could determine that he existed in some capacity outside his own mind, and he could tell that the warmth was coming from the left. There was a left! He latched onto it, with all of his fragile being, and pulled with all his mental strength. It got bigger- or, maybe he got closer to it?

It was so warm- almost hot, but that was fine, because it was something. He really did feel like he was getting closer, almost close enough to touch it…

All at once, his five senses returned.

He could feel the cool night breeze brushing against him, he felt heavy again- though, not nearly as heavy as he thought he should. He smelled sugar, and meat from the amusement park, and he could hear the last lingering screams of delight from the remaining guests on the rides. He blinked, finding he had eyelids to move.

Immediately, he wished that he had never opened his eyes at all. The moonlight shone down on the little clearing behind the ferris wheel building, illuminating the corpse cooling on the grass. Shinichi’s corpse. It lay there, contorted in an odd position, eyes wide open and glazed. Blood stained the area crimson red, having spilled liberally from anywhere it could have.

He felt like he was going to be sick. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Ran that he was unfazed by gruesome sights, but this… this was him.

Still, when he’d regained his awareness of the world, he’d hoped that somehow, somehow he’d survived. Maybe someone had found him and resuscitated him or something, or that his heart had restarted as a fluke, but… The third person perspective of his own broken corpse wasn’t reassuring. But, if he hadn’t returned to his old body, then…

He looked down at himself, and felt sick for an entirely new reason. The body he’d found himself in was… well, whatever it was, it wasn’t human.

He didn't quite have legs anymore, or anything really. This new body of his was a simple tendril of gray, with two smaller nubs for arms. When he tried to move his hands, the nubs curled. Such a simple action, yet it made his head spin. It was so incredibly strange, he was supposed to have fingers, legs, toes, anything, but suddenly he didn’t anymore.

Slowly, ever so slowly, ignoring the roiling feeling in his gut (did he have one of those anymore?) He reached up and touched his face. He felt… wood. The bark of a tree, rigid and cold, nothing like the human skin that he remembered. He opened his mouth, taking a deep, shuddering breath in, the bark moving to accommodate the action.

He pulled his nubs closer to his chest; new, unfamiliar instincts guiding his tail to curl around his body. He tried, desperately, to clear his mind. He knew that if he kept thinking, that very soon he’d figure out what was going on, and for once in his existence he didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to realize what had happened, he didn’t want to figure out what he was. He’d just… sit here for a bit. Enjoy not being dead, and ignore everything else.

Despite himself, his mind kept moving.

He’d… he’d died on the edge of the forest that ran through this part of the park. Sure, his corpse was lying on carefully mown grass, but he had a feeling it was close enough. When he’d been younger, his mom had told him scary stories of kids who wandered into the trees and never returned… as humans, anyway. At the time, he’d been fascinated. The presence of a certain, rare pokemon in the forest being an indicator of missing kids? It was something he might use, as a detective.

Now…

The pokemon in question were called a ‘Phantump’, they were little ghost-grass types that often arose from kids dying in forests, and their souls possessing tree stumps. Of course, many of them were natural born pokemon, but the stories had clouded their reputation as long as they’d existed.

This is what I get for dying in the woods behind Tropical Land, Shinichi thought bitterly, winding his tail even closer around himself. The proximity to the trees was enough. Sixteen was young enough. The newly cut stump just at the edge of the grass, the same one Shinichi was currently perched on, was more than enough.

He screwed his eyes shut, shoving his nubs into the holes in his bark to hold them that way. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t happening. Any moment now his alarm would go off telling him it was time to get ready for Tropical Land, or he’d wake up in the hospital with that nasty head trauma, something, anything.

He didn’t believe any of that, of course, but it was a sweet little lie, and he needed a little sweetness after tasting his bitter new reality.

“Woah, I’ve never seen that happen before,” Shinichi froze, the little whisper carrying down to him from the trees above. A witness?

“No duh,” Another voice hissed. Shinichi carefully pulled his nubs away from his eyes, opening them and loosening his tail.

“Do you think he's okay?” Yet a third voice whispered. All three of them were coming from the tree above, what…

“Think about that real hard,” The second voice sighed. It almost sounded like a man, a man with a high, whistling tone. So, nothing like a regular man, but still.

“Should we do something?” The first voice chittered, her tone laced with anxiety. “I feel like there’s something we’re supposed to do in this situation,” The way she spoke, it almost sounded like-

Oh. They were pokemon. Their strange, whistling chirping voices weren’t human. They were pokemon.

Carefully, and with quite a bit more hesitance than he might use normally, Shinichi looked up, craning his neck to see into the trees above. Sitting there, staring down at him in obvious concern, were three pokemon. A pidgey, a hoothoot, and a sentret.

“...Do you think he can hear us?” The third voice, the one belonging to the sentret, whispered.

“I’m gonna go with yes,” The hoothoot, owner of the second voice, sighed.

“Hello!” The pidgey called down to him. “Are you alright?”

Shinichi blinked up at them. What his ears were hearing and what his eyes were seeing didn’t quite agree. Pokemon should not be able to speak in a language he could understand. He was sure there were logical explanations for this, but he buried them. Cover it all in sweet little lies.

“Again, no, he is obviously not alright, what is wrong with you?” The hoothoot said, rolling his massive eyes. The pidgey ignored him, rolling her own eyes before hopping off the branch and gliding down to Shinichi’s stump. He startled as she landed in front of him, his tail twitching.

“Hmmm,” she hummed, looking him over. He blinked at her, his skin crawling with the sudden acute attention. “You do seem physically alright… how are you feeling?”

He didn’t speak, didn’t make a sound. He had a sickly creeping feeling that if he did, quite a few of those sweet lies would dissolve. He didn’t want that, not yet.

“Oh no, can he not speak?” The sentret fretted.

“Well, that’s not unthinkable,” The hoothoot tilted his head in interest. “Most pokemon can speak very little at birth, after all,” Shinichi winced, electing to ignore him from now on. “Then again I know little about ghost types, perhaps we should contact a pokemon who does?” Yes, a very good thing Shinichi had decided to ignore him.

“Oh yeah! That’s what you’re supposed to do! Get another ghost!” The pidgey suddenly chirped, hopping at the edge of the stump. “I’ll go do that, ‘kay? Wait here!” She took off in the next second, the wind from her wings shaking his leaves.

…He was going to ignore that, too.

“There she goes,” The sentret sighed, wiggling a little before jumping down into the grass. She waddled up to him, moving much less suddenly than that pidgey had. “My name is Stripes, the old hoothoot up there is Mike, and the pidgey is just Pidgey,” She nodded to him, putting a paw on her chest. “I’m sorry this happened to you.” He didn’t say anything, shoving the rise of… something into the back of his mind with the rest of his thoughts.

“It’s certainly interesting to meet you,” Mike hummed, still staring down at him with interest. Shinichi wasn’t sure he much liked that look.

“I found her!” The chirping voice of Pidgey drifted through the trees, and she reappeared a moment later, landing on Stripes’s head.

“Who?” Mike asked, tilting his head the other direction.

“Me,” A new voice said. This one was oddly, almost human, with a slippery gravel sort tone to it that Shinichi could have sworn he’d heard before. He strained his eyes for the source of the voice, staring hard into the shadows Pidgey had emerged from. For a moment, he couldn’t see anything, then a shape seemed to coalesce out of the darkness. Large and rounded with pointed spikes, and huge, toothy grin. A tremor ran through his whole body at the sight. A wild gengar.

“Oh! Haruna!” Stripes said, turning to face the newcomer. She sounded pleasantly surprised.

“Who else?” Pidgey huffed proudly. “I can’t think of any other ghost types in these woods.”

“Well,” Mike commented. “Not anymore.”

“So this is him, then?” the gengar, Haruna, hummed, taking in the whole scene before her luminous red eyes landed squarely on Shinichi’s new form. He did his best not to shake, but even in the best of circumstances being the center of a wild gengar’s attention was a bad thing. “Oh don’t worry little thing, I’m not going to hurt you,” She purred, stepping right up to his stump.

She towered over him like this, her teeth glinting in the moonlight and her large, searching eyes boring right into his. Still, he didn’t say anything, didn’t make a single noise even as she reached for him. She wrapped her cold claws around him, pulling him into the air, away from the stump. His tail drifted in the wind as she held his small body aloft, looking him over in much the same way Pidgey had.

“He hasn’t spoken yet?” She murmured, glancing at the other pokemon.

“Hasn’t made a single sound,” Mike shook his head.

“Oh, I understand that,” She hummed, refocusing back on him. “That’s alright, you don’t need to speak yet, you don’t have to speak at all if you don’t want to,” She pulled him close, holding him tight against her cold fur. He couldn’t help it, he was shaking now. “It’s all new, isn’t it? I’ve been where you are, I know how hard everything is at the start.”

He looked up at her, her scarlet eyes gleaming with nothing but genuine empathy and care. Was she really…?

“It’s alright,” She grinned. “I can help you!”

[quasar-kaiser]

if you're just looking for sketchy stuff-

how do you think totk!moon reacted waking up post arm removal /losing sun?

because canonically link has no reaction to anything and I imagine that wouldn't be the case for moon.

(+ bonus question- did the celestial siblings already know each other before the events of totk? are they siblings? very curious about the au)

Waking up with all your clothes stolen and your arm replaced by one that previously belonged to a magic sky furry would piss me off too tbh

The reality of what happened only really hit Moon when he picked up the decayed master sword - but all he can do is press on and hope that somehow that flash of yellow light had meant that Sun is still alive.

... and because he didn't have his hat when he woke up I just wanted to draw him finding one in a chest because I felt weird only showing him bald lmao

But for your question! Yep! Breath Of The Wild still happened, and they are twins (ramble under the cut)

However, due to the king being an ass of a father (yes, it's Creator), he had decided that Moon would be separated from Sun at birth. They were aware they're siblings, but were kept apart enough to not really feel much of a connection.

When the two were born, the Sheikah had told the king and queen that Sun inherited his mother's power of light, while Moon had not. Terminal illness took their mother a few years after, and the king decided that Sun needed to develop his powers as they knew the Calamity was coming and his mother was no longer there to defend the kingdom.

Moon was pushed towards knighthood so he could serve the kingdom and no longer "distract Sun". The king basically just dropped him off at the house of the top knight in Hyrule and ordered him to train the young child. Moon was never treated as a prince or even as a brother to Sun again from that point forward. He was damn good at swordfighting though 👍

The Master Sword claimed Moon as its new master, and finally the king cared about Moon's existence again. He was to be appointed as Sun's personal knight. Sun... did not like this. He and Moon had become so estranged that Sun just felt like he was babysat and watched even more than he already was.

But Moon proved to be very devoted to protecting Sun, and the events of the Breath Of The Wild memories play out. Sun starts warming up to him after Moon saved his life, and the two slowly start rebuilding their sibling bond from that point forward :]

They are now inseparable and absolutely devoted to protecting eachother

(except they get separated twice lol, once during the events of BOTW, and again now)

Thank you SO MUCH for this ask though, I'm so happy people are interested in this au!! It is so very dear to me