#do heed the tw because i do go into it a bit

[netheritetanto]

TW://sexual assault, abuse

Kosei Shishido is a character that I have seen misrepresented in many aspects. I figured I would go ahead and represent what he actually stands for and the reasons for his always imminent betrayal. 

Shishido has, in many aspects, lived a life close to Kiryu’s. He seems to be obsessed to a point with Joryu. He sees right through the exterior of that obviously fake codename. He sees the strength. He sees fully realized the type of man he wants to be, despite the Daidoji label marked deep into his skin. Kiryu still holds a space and carries the weight of the Dragon of Dojima as plain as the clothes on his back. That type of room captivating awe. That mere respect that no one really truly had shown him before was standing right in front of him and he was frustrated at the thought someone would strip themselves of a weight as powerful as that of Kazuma Kiryu. As we move through the story, you feel a profound sense of sadness weighing down on his shoulders. Knowing the yakuza world, it is easy to ignore this. The way he holds himself. The oni mask… Why would someone so powerful in build and bulk and someone who wants power hide their face from the light of day? Then we meet the puppet master. 

Nishitani Homare III. A character who I rightfully despise, has taken control from Shishido in every possible concept. A former Jingweon Mafia member himself, he knew the importance of the weight of a name. Of appearance. Of merely existing in a circumstance that had never been born for him to inhabit. He has a stolen name, but not a stolen face. A name that has actual meaning in the yakuza world. He uses it disgracefully to the original owner, Homare Nishitani. I guarantee if Homare knew about the 3rd he would tear him to pieces. As I say this, I shift back to Shishido. His face, pockmarked, dragged, mangled by something. You notice this immediately after the mask comes off. It is a defining feature of a face that is exceptionally handsome. You wonder if this is the only part of his body to hold these deep pits categorized as scars. The pain that he must have felt as the weapon sliced his skin couldn't have been less than searing, white hot. Then Nishitani III unleashes his true villainy. He has Shishido under lock and key. His dog. He’s collared and it was hard to hear such a thing. Why? How? 

Shishido was born under a different name. A name that held less weight than dog shit on the bottom of your shoe. He was sold into slavery by his father to the Kijin Clan, forced from fifteen to be in death matches in their coliseum. The more matches he won, the more he caught the attention of the person who oversaw these fights. Nishitani III. He was caught in his “good grace” to ultimately be taken advantage of. Tortured. The scars on his face held that weight. Sexually abused. His mind held this tightly, as you see in the particularly hard to watch cutscene of one of Watase’s guys openly commenting and making fun of him for. This went on for decades a “living hell” that “broke his mind and body”. What did he have to do other than fight? What could he do when he lost, facing the 3rd and hoping he would hopefully do the least amount of damage to him. When did his mind break? Did it take a while of the abuse? Or did he withstand some of it, only to be broken by another thing forcefully done to him? In any case, even the name Watase gave him, with time, degradated and withered. He felt less and less like a human and perhaps more like a monster. An oni, perhaps? Forced and fed into violence, striking down those who would hurt him, would hurt his abuser. This is why he feels betrayed and ultimately would betray Kiryu, his name was not enough for him and he needed to know why. 

Shishido, crushed, broken, tired. He was everything when he went into the building to retrieve the note that was to end the Omi Alliance forever. The place that had given him his name, although now it felt and rang hollow, couldn’t end just like that, right? He was dumbfounded. Heartbroken, even. How could they do this to him? How could they get rid of this for everyone who had gained a name from their somewhat twisted profession? What about the legends? What about title and rank and bosses and underlings? He was even somewhat worried about what that meant for Nishitani III even despite everything. He had given him power, even if it was lesser than he would have wanted. The “murder” of the 3rd was framed as a mercy. As if he survived, what would happen to the dissolution plan? Although this pissed Kiryu and Tsuruno off, at least he was gone. Until he wasn't. 

The full villainy of Shishido is overwritten by his extreme grief and hatred. He was about to lose another name, one granted by the people who had saved his life and given it purpose. Who else did he have to turn to other than his abuser, Nishitani Homare III. Who also suspected Joryu’s real nature. Whose name symbolized power in the Kijin Clan. Who could overturn the dissolution with sheer numbers, if he desired. Kiryu was their shared enemy. Kiryu was also their ultimate downfall. Joryu isn’t a man. He is a concept. A ghost. When you have hauntings, who do you call? Well, Shishido and the 3rd saw themselves as Ghostbusters of sorts. If he was revealed to be alive, what would happen to the things he was trying to protect? No one knew, but it was a point of contention. If they could get the Dragon of Dojima behind them, if they could reveal he was still alive? The dissolution would come falling down with them. This is the end to which the means are defined. Shishido had to protect his abuser because he had lost every other thing that had given him the little power he did possess. The collar tightened around his neck and with it, he lost his power again.

After Kiryu defeats Shishido, there is nothing left for him. I’m sure he knew, somewhere. Deep down he would lose. But he went down fighting with everything he had. But little did he know he wouldn’t die there. An even worse fate awaited him and his abuser. They were both taken to become Daidoji, to become complicit to their ways, even if they had to keep them half alive to do so. I can only imagine the terror as Shishido wakes up only to find he’s lost not only his name, but his rank and power along with it. The dissolution went off without a hitch. Kosei Shishido was a dead man and to top it all off? He was to be in this organization with a new name, new rank. He would have to fight to be back at the top, although the top is different in Daidoji’s books. There is no top. You are either a good agent or a bad one. The realization he was to spend probably the rest of his life chained to his abuser while simultaneously chained like a dog to the Daidoji was one I could only imagine caused the worst pain in him. I fear it may have even made him complicit to the Daidoji, which will have to be figured out with the release of Infinite Wealth. I hope there is a way to save him in some way, as I think he does deserve peace. 

[chronicbeans]

I’m so sorry to ask again but- how would Wally react to walking in on the reader like- crying or whatever? What would he do in that situation? Imagine smtg like this: bad things come up in the readers head, they miss things and people, maybe some truama mixes into it. They start to cry and then Wally comes in… what would happen then?

OH DON'T FEEL BAD! I love it when people ask me stuff! It actually serves as great practice for writing different scenarios!

Just a little heads up! Since I started another Wally and Reader fic, I came up with the idea of basing each fic I make for him off of a different Wally speculation I see mentioned. So idk if this will end up bleeding into these Headcanons, because the Restoration Reader story involves more themes of mental health/trauma.

Wally Darling Walking in on the Reader Crying:

TW: Mentions of Trauma, Anxiety and Depression

💧 Uh oh! Wally probably didn't notice before he walked in. Honestly he would be pretty shocked when he sees you crying. It is a bit of a rare occurrence for people to cry in the neighborhood. He would probably have to try not to cry himself.

💧 He would most likely sit down next to you, making sure there is a little distance between you and him. He knows that Frank likes his distance when upset, but Julie likes to hug and be close to someone. He doesn't know with you, so he'll let you decide.

💧 He is pretty quiet, not knowing what to say. He is so used to bottling up his own emotions and only talking about them to Home (who can't really talk back) that he doesn't really have any idea on how to have a conversation like this. If you don't say anything before he does, he'll probably start it off with something like "Are you okay?" then mutter to himself "Stupid Wally... Of course they aren't okay!"

💧 Once the conversation starts, with you possibly opening up to Wally about what made you cry, he's all ears. Be it trauma, home sickness, depression, anxiety, he's going to listen intently. He'd be really tense the entire time, especially if it has something to do with isolation. That's a bit of a sore spot for him, so if it has something to do with that, he's bound to break down alongside you.

💧 He would probably tell you that it is okay to cry and frown. He truly believes it, too! Being sad, scared, and overall upset is okay! While he does say and believe that, though, he knows that he tends not to heed his own advice. So, as much as he wants to say "Look at me! I cry and I'm a-okay!" he'd probably say something like "Look at Frank! He's a bit of a grump, but we all still love him! So having a blue day won't make any of us hate you!"

[i-like-turkey]

I announced on Twitter that I was taking a step back from social media and fandom to deal with a personal matter. That’s still true. I just need to barf some feelings into the universe. I’m putting them under a cut. This is NOT an easy read and I’m NOT holding back details. Don’t feel compelled or obligated to share my pain. TW: Pet death & grief.

I said goodbye to my little girl on Thursday. She’s been my world since I took her home at the end of July 2012. It was both sudden and not sudden. So I’m in shock, but I’m also not really surprised. There were signs that something bad was looming and I had this gut feeling as early as January that this wasn’t gonna be a good year for us.

This likely all started a long time ago. I took her to the vet in August of 2022 right before we moved east. The vet told me that her heart didn’t sound 100%, but it wasn’t something that needed immediate intervention. She had a little murmur that could indicate heart disease and if it got worse, then I’d need to get her to a specialist to take pictures and then we’d likely get her on some medicine to deal with whatever the problem was.

So I heeded the advice to take a wait and see approach. My baby was acting fine. She made it across the country well. She had energy and life. Not quite her puppy energy, but she was 10, so that was normal. I took her to the vet again this last August and I heard the same thing. She has a murmur. It’s not quite bad enough to get images. If it gets worse, we’ll refer you to a specialist. Ok. Great.

We keep living our life. She still has energy. Lunging at cars and barking at other dogs and trying to get endless pets from all of the strangers we’d encounter while walking in our neighborhood and riding our building’s elevators. I can’t tell y’all how many people would ask how old she was and be surprised when I told them 11.

So we get to January and she’s coughing a bit more than she usually does. Background: for the last few years of her life, she’d occasionally have coughing fits when she got super excited about something or barked too hard at a car. Worrying. But something I’d disclosed to all of the vets we’d seen and they didn’t seem perturbed by it. But now the coughing was every few days instead of a couple times a month or three days of coughing followed by months without a single damn cough.

It got really bad mid January. I took her into the vet. The same one who’d listened to her heart in August. He listened again. Nothing out of the ordinary. She didn’t have fluid in her lungs. Her energy was fine. He sent me home with antibiotics and a cough suppressant and told me to come back if she didn’t improve after a few days of treatment. She improved. Not right away. There were scary times where her breathing was all labored, but after a few days of the meds, she was doing better, and by the end she seemed fine.

And then we get to last Sunday and I hear a cough and that wasn’t good. And then Monday she’s coughing a bit more and I’m getting nervous. I talk to my parents and we agree to not do anything yet because illnesses can linger and her energy was fine. My mom came over that night and we were standing by the laundry closet doors and my pup pulled a toy out of her toy basket and was just running all over the living room with it. She was shaking her head and growling and having an absolute blast flinging that thing everywhere for the entire lengthy time my mom and I were chatting. She didn’t look sick. She looked like a puppy with lots of gray hair.

Then my mom leaves and we sit on the couch and she rolls over for belly rubs and immediately has to roll back over to cough. Then she cuddles up to me and we sit there and watch TV and I pet her and then I take her out and we go through our nighttime routine. She seemed fine.

Tuesday was a good day. She had energy. We played a bit with one of her favorite toys. We had some good cuddles. I only heard a few coughs.

Wednesday morning she seemed ok energy wise. She coughed when she rolled over for belly rubs right after I got home from my morning walk (solo cause it’s long & hilly. She also got one every morning). I didn’t notice anything abnormal during the day. Then we go out for our evening walk and she’s sluggish. That also wasn’t abnormal cause her energy had been fading for the last few years. Sometimes she’d race through our walks. Sometimes she liked to take a leisurely pace. I never worried cause if a car zoomed past she’d lunge and bark and if she saw a dog, she’d lose her mind. But we passed a couple dogs that night and nothing. That had me on edge. But then we get inside and I put on her favorite TV show, Person of Interest, and she was barking up a storm at Bear and seemed fine. I take that as a positive sign and relax a little.

I make dinner. We go to the couch for nightly cuddles. She rolls over for belly rubs. Starts coughing immediately. I pet her through it. Then she cuddles into my side and coughs a couple more times as we sit there. I put her to bed at her usual bedtime. I hear her coughing a few times as I’m struggling to fall asleep. Then I wake up Thursday and she’s in bad shape. I don’t wanna describe it cause it’s too fucking tough to type and traumatic. But I get us scheduled with the nearby vet asap* and I keep an eye on my girl and her scary symptoms. The symptoms subside a bit. Then my mom comes over to help keep me calm as we wait for our appointment time. My baby perks up when she hears my mom knock. She runs from the couch to the door. She’s wagging her tail and barking and jumping on my mom. She goes and chugs half her bowl of water. We sit there with her for over an hour petting her as we talk. She’s breathing ok. Her tail is between her legs, so that’s a sign something isn’t right. But she’s getting all the love from us and seemed happy.

Then we leave. She pees and poops on the way (I didn’t take her out first thing that morning cause part of the scary badness that I’m skipping is that she peed inside). The vet comes in and listens to her. I show a video I took of her that morning. The vet’s reaction said it all. She snapped into action. Took my baby out of the room for x-rays. As that was happening we were going over pricing options with a tech and then shit kinda really hit the fan cause the x-rays were bad. No specialty review necessary. She had fluid around her heart. So we start talking about transporting her to a specialist. They bring my girl back in. The tech just kinda drops the leash and steps away as soon as my girl is through the door. She starts racing directly to me and she collapses. My mom runs for help. They take her away again. The vet ends up doing the procedure she would have sent us elsewhere to do. Basically draining the fluid. It’s blood. They get her stable and hooked up on oxygen and give me the option of trying to get her to the animal hospital for further intervention. But the vet was clear that she’d probably die on the way and it was VERY clear at that point that she wasn’t gonna get better from this. It was a heart tumor. Something had ruptured and started bleeding. There was no fix. So I made the call to let her go. We got my dad and my brother on the line and told them to get their asses over to us. We stood there petting my baby as we waited. Then we said goodbye.

*In hindsight I maybe should have gotten her in the car and driven her to an emergency hospital. But the closest one ISN’T close. And that wouldn’t have changed the outcome. She hated the car enough that she would pant during two minute drives. 40 minutes (assuming relatively light rush hour traffic which is probably a bad assumption so more like 60 min) of that while she was already in breathing distress might have killed her. But assuming we made it, they could have intervened and maybe bought her a day or two. But this wasn’t something she was gonna get better from. That extra time would have been full of pain. So I made the right call. She got more loves from me and my mom at home and got to pass peacefully nearby while she was surrounded by everyone who loved her.

So I’m devastated and completely out of my mind at the moment. I don’t know what’s up or down. I’m keeping myself occupied between sobbing fits by going through all the pictures I’ve taken over the years. It’s a pain in the ass because my storage habits are terrible and my screenshotting habits are worse so I have hundreds of thousands of images scattered everywhere and now I have to dig through them to find my girl.

Here are some painful lessons I’ve learned from this:

Don’t store 77k images in a single folder on an external hard drive. You won’t be able to copy them all over to the iCloud at a single time unless you have a fuckton of available disk space on your Mac. And trying to scroll through the images will push your computer dangerously close to the limits (I really need a new machine 😬)

Don’t rely too heavily on Snapchat to takes pics. It’s fun in the moment, but 5-6 years later you’re gonna cringe & regret that all your cute dogs pics from that era are plastered over with weird graphics. A Happy Mother’s Day pic with my dog on the couch behind me, hearts all above us, and a damn Wookie filter plastered over my face? jfc 🤦🏼‍♀️

Do give yourself a refresher on how Snapchat works lest you go through and favorite a bunch of memories, see a pop up flash about them getting added to a story, and then have a full on panic attack in front of your parents about how you might have accidentally shared semi-naked pics of yourself with the few people that still follow you 😅 (Yes, I’ve been been known to take and share some risqué pics. Yes, I wanted to download them before deleting them. I might be grieving, but I can still see a pic of my 2018 back muscles and think “Damn!” 🫣🤣)

Don’t be so lax and sloppy about your picture storage habits that you’re forced to keyword search your text messages for pictures cause it’s a good way to find out just how many women you’ve texted dog pics to throughout the years 🥴 She was a great wing woman, but she also loved to clam jam me cause she thought she was the one who should be getting kisses when I’d sit on my couch with a woman 😂

Do find a balance between taking pictures of every damn thing and living in the moment. I stopped taking lots of pics since my east coast move cause I wanted to get away from my compulsive snapping. Now I regret not taking at least one daily shot of her sleeping on the couch.

Do have other people take pictures of you and your dog. So far I’ve only found two different occasions on which someone else took a picture of me and my baby together. All other pics of us are terrible selfies or feature just my hand/arm/legs. I have memories of all those moments that I spent with her, but it hurts to not have a father away perspective on them. Part of this is my fault for living thousands of miles from my family, being fairly closed off to human connections aside from shallow hookups and activity buddies, and viewing my home as a sacred domain accessible to people only if there wasn’t another option for where we could hang out.

Thank you anyone who has made it this far. Please go hug your pets and tell them that you love them. If you would like to leave me a note, that’s very welcome. I don’t have the energy to engage, so it���s unlikely I will respond until the day my energy returns. Idk when that will be. Right now I’m still in the sobbing hysterically as I process my new reality phase. I need to get through that before I’ll be ready to start communicating normally. I’m hopeful that I’ll only need a week or two in this phase. But who knows. Grief is hard to predict. All I can do now is stay patient and work through it.

[aerkame]

I will no longer write for other AUs for Welcome Home (please read in full)

TW: Mentions of NSFW/pedos

I know some people only followed me because of a fic or two I might have started writing on for another Welcome Home AU, but recently I have started to notice the increasing toxicity of the fandom overall. Yeah, I've been other fandoms I know there is toxicity and I know there's a lot of nice people in this fandom, but I have NEVER seen it this bad. Out of all the fandoms/fanbases that I have been in, I have never seen such a huge problem regarding pedos, NSFW art/writing being shared and looked at by minors despite the creator's wishes, general toxic behavior, and a large amount of mentally unwell people working their way into groups of children or safe spaces. I ended up having to delete quite a few NSFW art pieces on twitter because I found minors had seen it and some guy decided to make a comment on my OC Lilith that I was not comfortable with.

I also do not feel alright having to restrict myself on what I write or draw because a single person might be "triggered" or "offended" by it. I know I put warnings when they are needed, I should not have to feel like I'm walking on eggshells in this fandom. I do not need anonymous asks telling me how I should and shouldn't write or what I can and can't say.

Because of how bad it's been and seeing more and more creators leave the fandom, I have decided to no longer engage in other AUs or creators unless it's from a follower (I know you guys are fine), friend, or person I know I've talked with before, OR if it's Clown himself. A lot of people forget that Welcome Home isn't what people keep writing it as. Welcome Home isn't even close to being done, we're just riding off the AUs right now. It really rubs me the wrong way that all I ever see on AO3 now with fanfictions are smut fics mainly and some pretty disturbing stuff.

There is so much, too much, s3xualization in this fandom and the romanticizing of serious and dangerous themes/topics. A lot of times believe or not, when I draw buff characters with no shirts, it really is just anatomy practice. I do not understand some of the comments I get sometimes in my inbox. Yes it's fine to tease a bit, but my goodness some of the comments I have seen before are concerning. I never intend on s3xualizing the characters and yet I always get anon asks going a bit out there with s3xualized comments. It's why I haven't really drawn that stuff in a while. I can't tell if people really do s3xualize that stuff or if they're seeing it as anatomy practice with a bit of tease like I do.

I have been bottling A LOT of things up recently and it's hindered my ability to really write or draw how I want. I'm always scrapping ideas and giving up halfway through.

It's always "Is this something that people are going to s3xualize?" "Is this something that might offend someone in x category?' "Will people like this new character?" "Am I good enough for this topic?". It's not healthy and I know that it affects my creativity and mentality, I won't be restricting myself anymore though. I will write/draw what I want, just please heed my warnings when I put them there and don't ignore my boundaries or the boundaries of others.

Now, regarding my own two AUs (I dropped the Dream one because I have something special planned for TFP), The Finfolk AU and Alive AU. I WILL continue writing/drawing for them. They are my own AUs with my own characters added in them. A lot of people that interact with me are followers and I know you guys would never disrespect my OCs or invade boundaries and I love you so much for that. Of course my rule on requests remain the same. NO NSFW for the normal Welcome Home, but NSFW is allowed for Finfolk AU requests.

Unfortunately, all of this does mean I will not continue the fic I was writing for @clownsuu Mob AU. I'm sorry, I just really do not feel like writing for an AU outside of what I know in terms of the person who makes it. I am not sure how to explain it other than I don't feel alright with it unless it's like an AU from someone I know or at least talked to before? Just at least a person I know on some personal level. I don't want to explore the fandom right now, it is a mess with the people in it...do not take this the wrong way, I DO NOT hate anyone outside of the people I know, I just don't feel comfortable in the fandom at the moment and I will not leave you guys behind either. So in short, I plan to just stay in my own lane so to speak and do what I can for the ones who follow me for what I do.

I will however finish the Villain fanfiction as it's not exactly anyone's AU? Not sure how to explain that, it was a series of asks for it. And obviously I will make a full long fanfictions for the Alive and Finfolk AU.

I know I said I don't want to vent on here, but it's getting hard for me to ignore. Everytime I type or pick up a pencil to make something on here it doesn't feel right.

[kikyan]

The Hunt is On

Character: Rook Hunt 

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland (TWST) 

Words: 1.9 K

TW/CW: Non-Con/Dub-Con, 18+, NSFW warning! Yandere! Size difference, tummy bulge, blood play/knife play, dacryphillia, slight slut shaming, creampie, breeding, predator/prey dynamic, etc proceed with caution! 

Info: If it sounds OOC, that is my fault! This is a commission that they allowed me to make public and it is Gender Neutral with They/Them pronouns! Enjoy <3!  ALSO THE COMMISSIONER MADE THE BANNER BELOW!!

It is said that the ‘tale tell heart’ was about a man who killed his roommate because he hated his eye. The authorities showed up and while the man was doing his best to draw away suspicion, he heard his heart begin to beat. How could that be if the old fool was dead? Could it have been fear of the horrible fate that awaited him manifesting into an audible form? Or perhaps it was his guilty conscience, beating, telling him to confess? Many speculate the latter. So tell us, [Reader], why is your heart beating so fast?

“Ha-!” 

Pants echoed from within the forest, followed by the sound of twigs snapping and branched breaking. It hadn’t been long since [Reader] managed to hide away from the hunter's eye and slip away into the forest surrounding the Pomefiore dorm's main building. Just moments ago, [Reader] was laughing with some of the dorm members all gathered to congratulate Vil on his birthday. Vil dressed in rather elegant clothing, of course, the birthday boy would not be strutting around in anything less. 

“D-do you mean it?” 

“Of course! Such a joyous occasion means everyone gets to enjoy it!” 

His words, while sugary sweet, were coated with poison. Nodding softly, [Reader] fixed their outfit and was about to head outside until a soft hum halted them in their tracks. 

“No matter where you go and where you are, my eye will always watch my dear [Reader].” 

Chill ran down their spine, but nonetheless, they heeded the warning and made it to the party. Socializing with everyone while only two others knew the truth about their situation. Why [Reader] was currently staying at Pomefiore while Grim stad with Ace and Deuce for a while. After a while, the center of attention was directed at Vil who gave a small speech. The others were all congratulating and cheering, Epel and Rook were making their way to give their own personal speech in honor of their best friend and mentor. 

‘Thump! Thump!’ 

‘Now or never-!’ 

Swiftly making their way across the party, ducking and scampering to avoid being seen by Rook. Once they were a safe distance, they ran. Rook continued his speech like nothing happened, adverting his piercing green eyes to the left. Such beautiful green eyes held such bloodlust widening just a bit as the ends of his pink lips turned to a smile. The hunt was on. 

‘Almost there!’ 

[Reader] was approaching the mirror that led to the mirror room holding all the dorms fast. They just needed to get out and enter the nearest dorm. Find anyone and explain what was really going on. Their heart was pounding, their blood pumping, and their muscles were aching. They were almost there! 

‘Pheww!’

Cold, that's what their ankle felt like. Until it, all came crashing down and a scream erupted from [Readers] lips. They fell to their knees and their hands desperately trailed to their ankle to apply pressure. An arrow had pierced them. 

“Non non, that won’t do. What a pity, you almost did make it.” 

Eye widened in fear, [Reader] turned to look at the man standing right in front of them. Rook Hunt. With a grunt, [Reader] attempted to crawl away from Rook. He merely stood there, gazing at [Reader] and their desire to leave the dorm. When they nearly reached the mirror with their hand, an arrow pierced it. They screamed once more, but the blonde was unwavering. He grabbed their ankle, the one that was hit by the arrow, and began to drag them to him as he crouched on the forest floor. 

“I had fun, but this hunt wasn’t nearly as exciting as the first, don’t you agree, [Reader]?” 

‘SMACK!’ 

[Reader] had used their working leg to kick Rook’s face. As they let their foot fall, Rook caught it. His bangs cast a shadow on his face making his eyes impossible to look at. What expression was he making? Having both legs in his hands, he yanked them closer to him and spread them in the process so that he was right in between them. [Reader] looked up in fear, the grip on both their legs was growing tighter. 

“Heh. . ha. . .Beautiful. . .” 

Beautiful? 

Rook directed his mouth to the wound on their ankle and stuck his tongue out, licking the trail of blood. He stayed around the impact point and dug his tongue into the wound. A shriek echoed through the woods but no doubt their heartbeat was audible as well. It was pounding, more so after seeing the expression that Rook had on his face. His hair framed his face nicely, some stray hairs were stuck to his face. What scared them, was the deep red flushed face with half-lidded eyes, sickening smile, and the blood pouring from his nose. No doubt from when [Reader] kicked him. 

“Beautiful! So beautiful! Even when the prey is corned and there is no way out to escape they still struggle, grasping onto the fleeting chance of survival! How exciting!” 

Rook lunged for their chest and pulled out his hunter knife in the process. 

‘This is it! I’m going to die!’

[Reader] closed their eyes and flinched when they felt his knife dig into their skin. The knife rested underneath their chest and Rook began to drag it down to above their belly button. Cutting their outfit and their skin in the process. Blood began to pool which Rook took as an invitation to stick his tongue out and drag it across the cut. His saliva stung [Reader] but for some reason, it was turning them on. Their fear was turning them on! 

Rook chuckled, he could tell. Their hole was getting wetter and a slight heat was growing. Rook’s tongue was getting down farther, he began to undo their bottoms and undergarments. 

“W-Wait Rook-!” 

“I can smell it. You’re aroused. . . You want this [Reader].” 

“N-No-!” 

Rook began to touch and tease their clothed sex, face leaning in and inhaling their scent. A sigh of relief left his mouth, darting his tongue out and licking their undergarments. The thin material becomes wet, he chuckles when he hears a soft gasp escaping from their lips. After a few experimental licks, Rook pulls down their undergarment to expose their genitals. Diving straight into it, his tongue begins to stimulate and play around with their sensitive bits. Rolling it over his tongue and lightly sucking on it, drawing out moans and gasps from their mouth. His hands spread their legs for easier access, his right hand going to push in a finger. 

“R-Roo-k! Ngh! S-Stop please!” 

“How can I when my prey is right in front of me, beauty radiating from them? I simply can’t control myself!” 

His fingers skillfully pumped in and out of their hole, squelching sounds spread throughout the forest from their over-lubricated hole. Rook was enjoying this but not as much as [Reader], while one of their hands was limp and resting from the arrow, the other was clawing at the ground, debating if they wanted Rook closer to them or if they wanted him away. Their right leg had also gone limp but Rook had no issue holding it. His hands gripping onto their thighs and he stopped when he noticed a particular taste. Blood trailed from the cut he made. That when Rook got an idea, pushing on their stomach blood began to trail down to their lower stomach and onto their sex, letting Rook taste more of their sweet blood and juices. A cry of pain left their mouth, Rook was applying too much pressure that was quickly replaced with pleasure the moment he stuck his tongue back in. Eating out like a starved man, his fingers pumping while his tongue sucked on their sensitive bits. He got impatient and switched his hands with his mouth, his tongue fucking them while his fingers stimulated their sensitive bits. 

“A-Ah! F-Fuck, Rook! T-there!?” 

Their legs were getting stiffer and began to shake, Rook held them down. Their stomach was getting tight and full. 

“ C-coming!” 

“Come then.” 

[Reader] came and their juices landed on Rook’s tongue, blood mixing in. [Reader] was exhausted, their body growing weaker. Rook got up from the forest floor but his hold on their leg never loosened. Rook skillfully loosened his belt and his pants, pulling out his dick from his pants. It was long and girthy but nothing new for [Reader] as they had already fucked before. 

“W-wait Rook. . .s-sorry, I’m s-sorry-” 

“Even now you struggle, simply beautiful! I’m afraid words alone won't get you out of this, Mon Ami. I thank you for the chase, but I won’t allow this to happen anymore.” 

Rook pumped his dick a bit to prepare himself, rubbing the precum all over before lining up with their hole. 

“R-Rook! I promise! N-Never again, I’ll never leave, promise!” 

“ I know.” 

With a soft and tender smile, [Reader] loosened up a bit thinking they had won him over. Their body was in for a shock when they felt his girthy cock stretch them out. A whine left their mouth as they try to relax. Normally Rook would wait and let them adjust, but disobedient brats don’t deserve it. Rook wasted no time in thrusting. The sound of skin slapping on skin, his balls hitting their ass. [Reader] used their good arm to wrap around Rook’s neck. 

“Even after all the insults, you still hold onto me.” 

“N-No choice!” 

“You c-certainly don’t m-mean that-ah!” 

Rook wasn’t one to hold or quiet his moans. He let them fall freely. [Readers] moans were getting louder and more frequent and it only increased when Rook spread their legs and pushed them to their chest gaining more access to their hole. His cock was stimulating both their g-spot and cervix. 

“Ah! Ngh! F-Fuck, R-Rook!?” 

Rook’s hand went to their neck and slowly began squeezing, restricting airflow. Tears began to pool in their eyes, Rook wasn’t usually this bold. 

“W-what were you going to do, h-ha if you m-made it out? Were y-you going to f-fuck s-somebody else? H-ha. . .m-maybe Rois de Lions. . .” 

“N-no! R-Rook!?” 

Rook applied more pressure, they couldn’t breathe. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes half-lidded, his thrusts were becoming erratic and sloppy. He could only focus on their tears, and how they turned him on. A visible bulge was present, no doubt from where Rook’s cock was hitting. He released his hold on their neck, 

“R-Rook! F-feels g-good! So m good~!” 

“Come w-with me, Mon Ami~!” 

Rook threw his head back, releasing his cum inside. He made sure to thrust a bit harder, plugging up their hole with his thick creamy cum. [Reader’s] head turned to the side as they came, their cum mixing in with his.  He slumped on top of them, giving them light kisses. He licked their tears away and brushed their sweaty hair away. [Reader] was waiting for him to pull out, they were eager to clean themselves out. 

“R-Rook, c-can you pull out?” 

Instead of a yes or no, he gave a light thrust. 

“I told you, I won’t allow this to happen anymore. I’ll keep you bound to me, you’re always mine, Mon Ami~” 

What did the prey expect when they baited the hunter? 

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

Numéro 23, Part 2

Part 1

Well, based on this, here's a (I'm so damn sorry you have every right to sue me) a very late part 2 to this snippet.

TW: Mentioned bone fracture, mentioned murder, restraints, alcohol drinking

"Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you," a smooth voice called out from the corridor, the sound of footsteps gradually becoming louder as the villain walked into the room.

Their eyes darted over to Hero, their gaze almost patronisingly disapproving as Hero struggled to break out of their handcuffs, with their fractured leg allowing for very limited movement.

The hero resisted the urge to roll their eyes and stopped what they were doing, trying to sit up, glaring at the villain as though they could incinerate them with simply their eyes.

The criminal simply ignored any attempts at threatening displays from their nemesis, settling down on an armchair in front of their bed. They were dressed in a dark teal sweater and a pair of loose-fitting jeans, an outfit that the hero had seen them wear countless times before in college, but this time its casualness was so awfully jarring, simply because it was just so damn difficult to imagine that they were the murderous assassin they were hunting down.

It didn't matter. Didn't matter how much the crime-fighter despised it, the kill count was there on that file they'd seen yesterday. The three oppressive digits staring at them with as much certainty as the deaths their vis-a-vis had caused.

"How are you feeling right now?" the villain asked in the same velvety tone, snapping them out of their reverie.

"What do you want?" the hero huffed out, raising a skeptical eyebrow and clenching their jaw.

"You didn't answer my question." It was a warning, not a statement, and the hero noticed the way the villain's shoulders tensed subtly, except they payed it no heed.

"Let me rephrase that. Why didn't you kill me?" The hero made absolutely no effort to sugarcoat the venom in their tone. If they didn't kill them when they should have, then they wouldn't just throw that away now.

A ghost of a smile graced the villain's lips, fading away just as quickly as it came to be. They let out a sigh of defeat, turning the full weight of their steely gaze on the hero. "Because you don't deserve to die," they answered simply, the edge of finality to their tone highlighted by them clasping their hands together.

The hero let out a disbelieving snort. "Oh, so your three-digit kill count is a testament to how you should be made the absolute authority on who gets to live and who doesn't."

"Not exactly, Hero. But have you bothered to look at my targets before throwing those accusations my way?" they challenged, raising an eyebrow, "or do you just follow the agency like a blind-folded bull through everything?"

"I know the agency's full of crap. I wasn't born yesterday. Still, I have a hard time believing you killed those people simply out of the goodness of your own heart."

The way the crime-fighter took in the room in which they were placed wasn't lost on the villain; they knew the hero could tell they were somewhat well-off. "So my job pays well. Is it a sin to reap what I sow?" The villain was growing visibly impatient, their jaw clenched, their lips pressed together in a thin, hard line.

"Let's cut the crap, shall we?" the hero bit out tersely, flashing the villain a fake grin.

"I'd like nothing more," they answered back, their voice just like steel, silk-smooth and yet terribly cold. And yet they had the audacity to have a genuinely hurt look in their eyes, as if the hero was the one to betray them.

"You didn't kill me."

"I saved your life," they corrected, getting up to go into the kitchen and coming back with what was probably a ridiculously expensive bottle of alcohol and pouring themselves some in a glass as they sat down again.

"Which means I owe you for this. But it doesn't mean I suddenly believe you're a saint."

The villain didn't say anything, simply responding by pouring themselves more wine and giving the hero a pointed look. It didn't take that long though for their gaze to soften as they set their now empty glass down on a small table and walked over to stand at the foot of the hero's bed. They frowned at their enemy's wary gaze, at the visible tension in their shoulders, at every sign of mistrust the hero's body failed to hide.

"I'm not the kind of person you think I am," they attested their voice barely above a whisper as they crossed the distance between them, pressing down onto the mattress with both of their hands and looking straight into the hero's eyes.

"Who I thought you were. You've made that perfectly clear," Hero replied, their harsh words rendered almost ineffective due to their shaky voice.

"Our time in college together, these moments, they weren't fake. We don't have to give them up," they attested gently, their hands mere inches from the hero's own, slender fingers skirting over the handcuffs. "I saved you because I care about you."

They half-expected a snide remark, but the hero let out a measured breath and something in their gaze changed, almost imperceptible, but the villain noticed everything. "Whatever was between us. . .was that friendship-"

"Or love? I know there was friendship, I know there could be love, but this is a two-way street. I won't force your hand. Not on this," they stage-whispered, close enough till they were practically breathing each other's air.

"I know. Those three digits on that file make it almost unthinkable to trust me. But that's all you know. All you've been told. Aren't you the one who said to me that you'd never build an idea on someone based on a single fact? That you need the full picture?" they urged, their eyes widening not looking at anywhere besides straight into the hero's chestnut brown gaze.

Straight into the line of fire.

Hero wished, more than anything, with the same desperation as a sinner's prayer for atonement, that the villain couldn't take note of their chest rising and falling rapidly with their erratic breaths, of how their blood roared in their ears, of how badly they wished to tear their gaze away from their enemy's face.

"Let's look at the situation at hand here," the hero replied, and they caught the villain's soft, quiet laugh at the statement; at the familiarity established by the number of times the hero had used it. They still didn't comment. "I'm injured and at your mercy, so there's not much of a choice here."

At that, the villain let out an inelegant snort. It wasn't the first time they'd heard it, but it wasn't the first time it had seemed disconcerting to them, never matched the villain or their graceful nature. "Don't downplay your abilities, darling. You'll figure something out if you need to."

An involuntary shiver snaked down the crime-fighter's spine, leaving a strange tingling in their nerves that almost seemed to find its way through the muscles of their shoulders and most of their back at how perfect the pet name sounded in the criminal's voice, even if there was a chance it was sardonic. "With a broken leg?"

"A small obstacle." The villain's smile was subtle, but it could've blinded the hero, dagger-sharp and yet strangely gentle at the edges, their eyes crinkling at the corners.

It wasn't the first time they'd seen the villain genuinely smile, but this kind of smile, almost feline in nature, was a new experience. But again, it wasn't like ruminating on their enemy's various and ever-changing facial expressions was a new interest of theirs.

"But I actually want to earn your trust," they countered, something in their demeanour sobering up as the playful, razor-edged glint in their eyes softened into something warmer. They unlocked the handcuffs with a key in their pocket, inching closer again to them to place a gentle kiss that seemed to last longer than it really did to their forehead, alcohol and honey mixing together with the fresh scent of the villain's conditioner and wafting into the hero's nose without the courtesy of a warning. They spent a good few moments rubbing some feeling into the hero's wrists with their fingers, the warmth and the gentle touch melting the discomfort away quicker than they'd thought. It felt as though they were apologising for causing the pain in the first place.

"I'll make us breakfast," they said, pulling away from the hero and smiling, a much more tender expression than the Cheshire cat grin they were previously wearing.

The hero simply nodded their agreement, hoping their face hadn't betrayed the sudden disappointment that ran through them like poison at the cold left behind on their skin, on their forehead and their wrists, at how the villain's scent still lingered in the air around them even as they walked out.

They hated how they even managed to feel any kind of dismay, how for a moment, they'd let themselves get lost in the soothing touch and all its comfort, as though villain's kill count and the ruthlessness with which they fought had sobered them up forcefully, like a heavy vase had shattered abruptly, destroying a pin-drop silence. But right now, they just had to follow through with this and keep a clear head so that their conflicting emotions didn't destroy everything for them.

Life is a game of both chance and skill, all of the factors affecting its course on a dice of infinite sides. The mind wishes to believe it can override the heart and never fail, but moving mountains is easier when the heart remains living, breathing flesh and not stone-hard and burnt blackened. We are not as powerless as we like to believe; a lie despair of our own fashioning tries to sell us. Because wisdom was never having all the answers, but having the courage to find them.

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[covencupid]

I Want You (The Cabin Story) Chapter Three

Next chap already because I kept y'all waiting.

Fair warning, this one's different.

Danny's had his eye on you. He's been finding himself enjoying the times he interacts with you a little too much. He's got to get you out of his system. A little house call. Once that's done it'll be easier for him to go for the kill. Right?

Pairing: Danny Johnson X Fem!Reader. Use of gendered language.

TW/CW: The usual (stalking, manipulation, threats of violence, actual violence) gore, descriptions of torture, corpses, and murder. Psychological horror, child murder (imma need you to hold your judgement on this one, it's not what you think, but it's also not good), hallucinations, descriptions of visual hallucinations.

Tags will be updated as needed, but to be honest I kinda forgot what I put in this.

It's always the fuckin' woods, man.

Shorter chapter, but the one that leans into the warnings the most. Also the one that warrants the psychological/supernatural horror tag. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Though I, personally, don't think I made it too bad, if you are not comfortable with anything that involves violence against children, heed my warning.

Daddy Issues? More like Danny Issues.

Your Place // The Cabin // The Woods

~I Want You~

Chapter Three: The Woods

The first hours of his departure were filled by exploring his bookcase. Mostly horror, some non-fiction, books on social sciences, forensic journals, various textbooks. You plucked a book from the middle shelf. “The Hellbound Heart” by Clive Barker. You decided to sit on the breakfast table, a nice view of the back yard, or really forest. As the hours of the day bled into night you found yourself immersed in the hellish world of the cenobites, and the twisted love affair between the once-human Frank and Julia, his brother’s wife. As you you flipped the page, out of your periphery you thought you saw something move in the woods. Looking up, you are met with trees and a dense thicket, now shrouded in the dark. The moonlight made shapes on the leaves. Oh we’re scaring ourselves now, this book is good. You went back to your place on the page. Reading a few lines, your attention is brought to a fuzzy, vague shape in the fringes of your vision, outside the window. Your eyes shoot up, nothing. Ok, no. You looked down at your book, not reading. Your eyes were on the page but your concentration was on the faint, blurry image, just above the book. You saw the shrubs sway. Your eyes locked on the scene outside. They couldn’t move, stuck staring until you weren’t really seeing what you were looking at. The trees began to swirl, and the ground waved as though blown by the wind. Your vision blurred slightly, triggering you to blink rapidly. The world outside looked normal again. Nothing. It’s branches moving in the wind, and the fact that you’re in the middle of the forest. It’s a recipe for the creeps. Just focus on the real horror, in the book.

Jumping back into the book, you were able to read a few pages until you were certain you saw an arm reaching out from between the trees. Was it an arm? You couldn’t be sure what exactly it was. You doubted the strength of your peripheral vision before, but you knew you saw something this time. You abandoned the book on the table. Eyes locked on window you walked toward the back door. Gripping the doorknob, you slammed the door open, hoping the loud crash would scare anyone out there trying to scare you. Staring into the trees a little deeper in, a bit too far for you to really be sure, a flash of white passed between the trunks. You took a step back, ready to run into the cabin when you heard it. 

“Hello? Please? Help me, please!” a small, scared voice trickled into the clearing. A desperate whisper, “Please I just want my mama,” a little girl. Timpani drums echoed in your throat. You inched closer to the tree line.

“Can you hear me? Where are you? Are you hurt?” You heard the rush of wind shaking the leaves. A beat.

“My legs hurt. I want my mama” you heard the girl wail. She sounded close enough to be clear, yet it seemed like distance filtered her voice through the thicket. Maybe she was hiding. You could only imagine, a little girl lost and alone in the woods. You were about to step in when you remembered Danny’s words, but you weren’t going to run. There’s a child that needs help. You had never heard of the Ghostface killing children. He’d have to understand. Swallowing your heartbeat, you went into the trees.

Walking through the trees felt like pushing through a crowd. The underbrush's spindly limbs unfurled to grope at your ankles. Your legs pulled at the vines. There was no sign of the girl.

"Hey! If you can hear me, try to follow my voice!" No response. You had heard about how disorienting the woods can be. Imagining a small child trying to make their way through the woods made your heart tug towards the deeper parts of the wood. You'd have a better chance of making out the way through, you knew where the cabin was. All you had to do is find the girl and get her inside. Then maybe once Danny comes back he can go and find help for her.

"Hello? Can you hear me?" No response, but maybe you heard crying? It was hard to tell, you'd have to get closer.

"It's gonna be okay! We're gonna find your mom, but I need to find you first. Can you hear me?" The cabin was fading away from view in the background, but you couldn't tell. You were determined to find the girl. The sobbing grew a little stronger, not louder. You heard it carry in the wind. You closed your eyes, turning your head on a swivel, trying to ascertain exactly where the crying came from. To the left? The wind made it feel like your ears were being cupped. The sound of the ocean roaring through. No, the crying sounded like further right. You stepped closer. You heard the girl cry out.

"My head hurts! I want mama!" The girl's words came as long drawn-out wails. You ran to where you heard the voice call out. You heard it getting louder, you had to be close. Your legs tore through the thin vines and prickly weeds.

"I'm going to you, just stay put!" you called out. The girls cries increased in intensity. You heard the girl break out into a blood curdling scream. Shit.

"I'm almost there!" The girls cries filled the forest, her voice surged through the leaves, filling every empty space with her sorrow and fear. It was getting harder to tell exactly where it was coming from. Just when you were feeling turned around you saw a small figure crouched over something. The underbrush making it hard to make out what it way. You heard soft crying. You drew near with all the trepidation of trying to approach a frightened deer.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm gonna get you somewhere safe." The air chilled and the wind picked up like her cries directed the strength of the gale. Nearing the girl all the blood drained from your body. The girl was cowering over the body of a woman, pale and gaunt. Words stuck to your throat. Thick molasses coated your tongue and slowed your speech. 

The girl sobbed over the body, "Mama my head hurts." A strained noise is the only thing that escaped you. The girl stopped crying and the forest was still. Turning her head towards you, liquid fear replaced the blood in your veins. Your eyes first locked on her cheekbone, exposed and bright. Above it a hollowed out place that once held her eye. The side of her skill looked like it had been chipped away. Brain matter mated with moss. Slow-moving worms spilled out from the hole of her eye. As they fell your attention was brought to her jaw. It fell slack as if threatening to tear from her head. She choked and sputtered blood. Drops fell onto the woman on the forest floor. The woman's eyes looked straight into the sky, her jaw hanging low to the side, a perpetual scream. You wanted to open your mouth up wide to match theirs and howl out. Soft crunching sounds brought your attention back on the woman. The little girl was standing now and the woman's body arched, trying to reach her.

"Mama needs help." The little girl's voice came from behind your ear. The little girl took a step forward and her mother let out a gurgling groan as she writhed, lifting herself up. They were going to approach you. The ice that locked your feet to the ground finally released you. You broke into a sprint, wanting to put as much distance from whatever it was that you saw. You tried to orient yourself as you ran. The trees appeared to sway.

You didn't know how far you had run, the ache in your legs was starting to give way to fatigue. It felt like the structure of your legs was beginning to break down. Ahead of you, you saw it again. A wisp of pale white between the trees. No. No. It can't be. They were far behind you, you were sure of it. You took a few quick steps in reverse, disbelief making you feel woozy. The heel of your shoe caught on a root of a tree, knocking you onto your back. Pain shot from the base of your skull radiating down your spine. When your eyes shot open you were met with a tall dark figure looming over you. A trickle of relief washed over you and fled before you were able to hold onto it. You thought it was Danny, it almost looked like him, tall and broad. The figure leaned to hover over you. Your eyes met with the black pits in this man's skull. His face, beyond rotting, looks like it was stuck in stunned silence. The holes in his head looked through you. You felt your muscles being pulled into the ground by some force of gravity, the thicket would swallow you hole. The rotted man stuck out a hand, holding a stone the size of a baseball. As if pulled by an invisible hand, your jaw forced itself open. Your tongue desperately waggled in your mouth. You retched. Screams died in your throat the way they do in dreams. Let this all be a dream. A terrible nightmare. You felt the stone tap against your teeth. The taste of salt met your tongue. Thick, sweet grass rooted into your taste buds. Warm tears spilled at the side of your face. Death above you straightened and lifted his boot, heel pointed to your jaw, to hover over your head. He was going to force the rock down your throat. As if broken from a trance, you tore away from the ground, spitting the rock from your teeth and rolling to the side in time for the man's boot to come down on the ground. Your head whipped back as you began to run away, but the dark figure was already gone. Endless trees surrounded you. You tried to make out the cabin through the trees, but you couldn't be sure on which direction to go. You wanted to be anywhere but here, you wanted to be back inside the warm walls of the cabin. You wanted to learn how to carve the bunny, and read all the books Danny had. You wanted Danny, you wanted to be wrapped in his arms. Feeling a deep pit of despair, you fell to your knees clutching the trunk of a tree. You cried, wishing it was his chest you could lean against.

It took a moment for Danny to realize he was humming to himself. He was feeling really pleased with himself. Tonight would be an unforgettable night for them. Danny had spent the better part of the day scoping out the location for his little date. It was almost too perfect. The local drive-in was going to be playing a special showing of "The Lonelies", a campy slasher movie from the 70's that he saw the girl had on her shelf. He could already see the girls eyes light up. You had to get tickets to park, but the sound came from a local radio frequency. Danny didn't need tickets, he'd be giving her the best view in town. Overlooking the drive in was a a steep cliff, inaccessible to the general public. A couple years back he had stumbled upon the vista after taking some backroads a mile out from the cabin. The road he took up was technically private property, but it didn't matter to Danny knowing he put the owner quietly in the ground two years back. A recluse living off the land, no one ever came looking. 

Pulling up to the drive, Danny almost felt giddy. He hoped she'd have a dress on, something to show off her legs and give him immediate access to her thighs. But when Danny walked into the cabin he felt the cold emptiness of her absence. No. He burst through the bedroom, hoping he'd startle the girl as she readied herself. Empty. "Lying bitch." Rage coursed through him. Fury was burning into the marrow of his bones. He was going to make her pay, make her hurt for every lie she told him. Oh please oh please Mr. Ghostface. I didn't mean it. Only cure for a liar, take the tongue.

Danny noticed the back door cracked open. Stupid bitch, leaving her little breadcrumbs. Danny walked back out into the cool night air. A soft breeze moved the leaves. It was quiet. Danny walked into the trees. As if sensing his presence, the faint breeze stifled into stillness. The forest held it's breath. On the ground, he saw where the forest floor was recently been disturbed. She ran through here. His form cut through the trees as if they parted just for him.

He felt eyes on him. He turned to face nothing. The deeper in the woods he got the more he felt the resentment rise in his chest. Here I am like some sorry fucking clown. Making me believe her. I asked for one thing. Though he was very much infuriated by her escape, the fact that he had let his guard down enough for her to manipulate him made him seethe with wrath. That's what you get for going soft on her. She fucking played you like a drum, idiot. I should've wrung her neck when I had my hands on it. He wouldn't make that mistake again. He wouldn't let her talk her way into his good graces. She walked herself out of the cabin and into a grave. She could've had it easy, could've been taken care of. She ruined it. He'd ruin her. Carve out her still beating heart and show it to her. Squeeze the muscle in his fist and watch the life drain from her scared little rabbit eyes.

A gust of air rolled in, pushing the leaves on the forest floor out as if leading his way. Danny felt compelled to follow. As he walked their path he heard muffled sobbing. He followed the sound. As it grew louder he eyed something crumpled low to the ground by a tree. He saw rounded shoulders shuddering. Caught. He approached slowly, allowing the sound of her sobs to cover his footsteps. Pulling his hunting knife from its sheath, the moonlight glinted on the blade. Maybe he'd grab her by the hair, put the knife to her throat and show her real fear. He was so close. Danny inched forward, a twig snapped as she was catching her breath. alerting her. Her head snapped back, face red from crying. Her face would soon split in terror, she got up to run. He gripped his knife tighter, he was ready for the chase.

The girl crashed her body into his, holding him with a ferocity he had not expected. His arms were held frozen hovering over his sides. She's sobbing into his chest. What is this, regret? It's too late for tha-

"It was awful, Danny. I- I'm so scared. I t-t-thought she was hurt, I just w-wanted to help. I don't know what ha-happ- she looked so- she was with a woman. She was dead, they were both dead, I know they are, but she was crying, and her skull was crushed, Danny I could see inside." Her sobs wracked his chest. He could feel the spot on his shirt that her tears made damp. Danny stood frozen. "She was a baby, Danny. And her mother- sh-she had h-her mouth op-" She was gripping him hard, he felt her fingers tremble from the force. "H-he was gonna d-do the same to me." Danny's veins ran cold. "He p-put the rock- he made he hold it in my mouth, I couldn't move, I couldn't-  I wanted to scream. H-his boot c-c-came over me-" Danny held her tight. The feeling of his embrace making her collapse. He held her steady as her sobs turned to wails. Her whole body shook and Danny felt her fear reach into him. Danny sheathed his knife, using the same hand he had planned to gut her with to smooth her hair. Danny stared straight into the woods. He wanted to see him. He wanted to lock eyes again with him and send him back to hell like he did once before. Even in death, his old man found ways to haunt him. Instead he looked away, down at his little bunny. Frightened beyond measure, clinging to him for comfort, for safety. She hadn't tried to leave him, his father's ghosts drew her out.

"I wanna go back, I don't wanna be out here." She was looking up at him, eyes overflowing with tears. Danny kissed the top of her head, he smelled the wet ground mixed with her scent.

"It's okay. We're going back to the cabin, okay? Can you walk?" Danny led her to take a step. Her legs wobbled. "That's fine. I got you." Danny hoisted her up into his arms and carried her out of the woods.

When they got to the cabin she still would not let go.  He let her legs down gently, but her hands still held tight around his neck.

"Can we go somewhere else, please?" she whimpered. Danny carefully tipped her chin up to look her in the eyes, puffy and irritated. He wiped her remaining tears with his thumb.

"Yeah, I'll take you somewhere nice, huh? Why don't you go get dressed?" She looked at the bedroom door and back to him.

"Come with me." She wasn't asking, but her big pleading eyes begged him to follow her.

"Okay."

Danny stared at the point in the wall where the wood boards met. He was sitting on the edge of the bed while the girl got dressed. On any other night, Danny would’ve savored the opportunity to watch her change into something for him. Danny stared into the wall, beyond it, watching as his mind made the lines of the wood swirl. Danny was in the woods again. He remembers the girl and her mother. He had picked up food for himself, his father would be out. Turning into the drive he saw his father’s car, engine on, with the passenger door wide open. When he got out of his truck he heard the screams. It came from the “hunting ground”, as his old man called it. He wasn’t supposed to be back until the next day. He found someone early, then. Danny went out back to the entrance of the woods. A succession of raw, stilted, cries rang out. He had probably opened their jaw. As he neared the sound he saw his father’s boot come down on the head of a young woman. Her cry cut off by the crunch of her jaw. When her crying stopped, another started. Smaller, shrill, a child’s. She had to be no older than five. His father hadn’t noticed him yet. If he did he’d make the girl run and have Danny go after her. Danny crouched down low, ducking behind a tree. He heard the little girl sob. She was crying for her mother, her wail increasing in pitch. “Your mama’s fine, we’re only playing.” his father mocked. “Now it’s your turn.” He heard the shuffling of leaves. The girl cried as she spoke, “No, I want mama. I don’t wanna play.” He heard his father bark out a laugh. It echoed through the woods. “You play this game, you get to go back home to your mama, sound good?” He spoke low, a conspiratorial whisper. Danny realized he was holding his breath. His instinct, lest his father sense his heart beating. The girl whimpered in response. “It’s a lot like tag, first thing you gotta do is run.” At first he heard nothing, then the skittering of little steps bolting deep into the forest. He heard his father stretch with a groan. He was waiting to give her distance, to give her hope. His father broke into a sprint. She never had a chance. He hears the hope drain from wailing cry. When he’s certain his father has gone far between the trees, Danny rises from his spot. He walks back into the cabin, the girl’s wailing mocking him, taunting him for his cowardice.

“How does this look?” Danny is back in the present, the wall no longer moving. He turned face her. His breath is caught, this time in admiration. She’s wearing a short, black button-down dress. There’s a slight pattern in the fabric, almost visible. It had a mesh fabric on what was maybe silk. the sleeves were short, barely covering her shoulders. The neckline plunging slightly to give him a good look down her dress. “So you like it?” Her head cocked slightly, a coy little smile playing on her lips. It was good to see her smiling again.

“Yes, I do.”

[thepaintedlady00]

Burden

Chapter 14 |

Chapter 15: Forget Me Not

TW: some awkwardness, confusing visions, Daniel makes an appearance, mentions of major character death and spoilers for the comics, a bit of Dark!Munin, The Fates, some intense memories and mentions of violence, pain, and allusions to assault, a bit of trickster god energy (I'm not super familiar with Puck and Loki from the comics, so please don't crucify me if they're not great!), threats, some cryptic shit from Destiny, a pretty big revelation, and finally, some soft fluffy goodness to give our story a happy end before the rewrite.

I really struggled with this last chapter! 😅 I think because I already know I'm going to rewrite it the words just didn't wanna cooperate with me and I'm overall not super thrilled with how it came out. I do really hope y'all still enjoy it and are looking forward to getting the rewrite whenever I have the time to get that going. Thank you all so much for your love, support and patience with this series!

Awkward felt like an inadequate word to describe the stiff silence that now consumed Hector's home. You quietly took a sip of your drink, eyes darting back and forth between the two men as they stared one another down across the living room. You’d quietly hoped that the two would use this time to let go of the strenuous circumstances they’d previously met under.

Hector finally leaned back and spoke, “Make any pregnant women cry today?”

Or not…

Dream’s face tensed slightly, but his voice was steady as he replied, “No.”

“You could’ve given us a minute to say a proper goodbye, you know,” Hector insisted with a sneer. “She had to go through so much all alone… we didn’t even get a chance to talk about baby names. I don’t… I don’t even know how they’re doing.”

This made Morpheus soften, and for a moment, you wondered if he was thinking about his own son, that had been long lost to him. “Daniel. Your son's name is Daniel, and he is doing well. I’ve had my raven check in with them on occasion.”

Your friend smiled and looked out toward the trees. “Daniel. What about Lyta?”

“She’s been more…” Morpheus chose his word carefully. “Restless as of late. A just reaction, I suppose, after learning all she has.”

“Couldn’t you help her with that?” Hector asked. “Isn’t that your job or something?”

“I could, but she does not wish for my help.”

“Sounds like her,” his smile was soft and sad but filled with a restfulness you’d not seen in him for a long while. “Lyta was always the stubborn one between us.”

Morpheus glanced at you, an invisible smirk plain to your eyes. “A struggle I understand too well, spirit.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Are you calling me stubborn?”

“I said no such thing,” he insisted with a wicked gleam in his eyes that answered the question for him.

Turning your head away, you smiled at Hector. “Apologies for bringing up such painful memories. It was not my intent, my friend.”

He shook his head and waved your concern away. “It wasn’t so bad.”

Morpheus allowed the man to show him the home he’d built, taking in details he’d missed the first time in his haste, and, you thought, the two seemed less at odds with one another by the time you departed. Your beloved remained as long as he could, spending time with you to tell the children stories while you held Sirius and got lost in the sound of his silken voice. A loud screech and a string of curses echoed from the wood, bringing you and the Dream Lord to your feet, shielding as many ears as you could reach from the vile things being shouted.

The Corinthian stumbled out of the woods with Kat hot on his heels, talons bared and clawing at him with every swoop. Her feathers were ruffled, and the noises she made were ones you’d never heard before. “Kat!”

She heeded your voice, halting her attack on the nightmare to settle on a branch beside you. The Corinthian shook his clothes off, looking at the deep tear in his suit. “Your beast owes me a new suit!”

Kat’s eyes burned. “The only thing I owe you is a slow and painful death, nightmare.”

“What is the meaning of this?” You demanded as Morpheus distracted the children.

“Is this not the nightmare that betrayed you, my lady?”

“It is,” you answered honestly. “But he has been remade now. He will not hurt me again.”

“Once is more than enough,” She bit back. “This was something you knew once.”

Your eyes narrowed, and you tilted your head at her words. “What do you mean by this?”

Kat shook out her feathers. “Nothing, my lady. If you say the nightmare means no harm, then I shall trust you.”

“Thank you, Kat,” you answered, her words still rattling around your mind, but the golden owl took to the skies before you could question her further. 

The Corinthian bared his teeth at the shredded suit jacket. “Daunty, love the new realm and all, but you gotta get a tighter handle on your greeters.”

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head at him. “Relax. I’m sure your maker would happily repair your suit if you asked nicely.”

He scoffed. “I’d rather live with the tears.”

“Stubborn.”

“Always,” he replied with a grin. “So, you gonna give me the tour, or are you too busy for little nightmares now?”

Linking your arm with his, you smiled at Morpheus, who continued telling the children stories beside the fountain. “I always have time for you, dear Corinthian.”

*

It had been a few days since you’d spoken with Hector, but the sad look in his eyes when he’d mentioned not being able to see his son had stuck with you. You approached the young tree with a gentle touch and kind gaze upon the face carved into the trunk. Hector's son was still quite young, and his tree of memory reflected such. It was smaller than his mother's that stood beside it, but the roots were strong and ran far deeper than any mortal. Daniel, you quickly realized, was special. Different. Like you.

The face seemed to stare back at you, white leaves peeking out from beneath the lush green canopy. You approached slower, urging the roots to lift and open the young one's mind to you. His memories would be few, but there was no doubt much you could learn within them. Veins of white stood out in the darkness. Some roots, the ones that borrowed deeper, were pale and sung with power and immortality. The song of The Endless. But, the tune wasn't Dreams, or Deaths, or Desires. It was its own song, still unfinished.

You walked through the light, lush still forming along the walls of his memory, focusing on the memories he found joyful. You intended to share them with Hector, a gift to show your gratitude for his hard work and kindness. That, however, was not where the tree led you.

Stumbling into the blinking light, you found yourself kneeling in deep sand. Sand scratched your palms, sticking to you like sap, just as it had the first time. Except now that sand, once a deep void of black, was white. It sparked like tiny perfect crystals in your palms as you stood and looked out at the miles of glistening sand and bright cerulean waves.

You knew this beach better than any save its creator. You knew the placement of each stone and the feeling of the sand as it molded to your steps. This place felt different… All at once, the beach you knew and not. It was old and new and entirely confusing.

The fragile ground beneath your feet seemed to remember you as you walked toward where the Gates of Horn and Ivory should have been. The sand didn't swallow your feet or try to slow your steps. It felt as though you were walking on nothing at all. Before your eyes, the entrance stood, an entrance that was not the gates you knew at all.

Glossy white marble caught the light and cast an ethereal glow all around you. An aura of both light and color, beautiful and bright. The gates stood open, revealing a sight you'd grown to know well. "The Dreaming."

As you passed through, you admired the fine craftsmanship of the carvings in the marble gates. A story familiar and also not… Something that had not yet been told. Familiar things were more abundant here as you walked through the town and admired the dreamers. Dreams and Nightmares, old and new, greeted you like a friend and wished you good fortune as you made your way to the palace.

The regal and beautiful palace of The Dream Lord was quite similar to the one you’d known. Only some small changes in the stone and the statues caught your eyes, but as the doors opened to the throne room, a wave of unfamiliarity washed over you at the sight. The white marble of Dream’s palace was pristine in every sense of the word, reflecting the array of light and color that swirled around the room, drawing your gaze to the tiny crystals that hung in the air like drops of frozen rain. It was beautiful, marvelous, but not what you knew to be.

The stairway leading to the throne was wrong as well, far more winding and long, a path of almost transparent crystal. The stained glass windows above the throne shifted to reflect you, a perfect vision of white mist and black dogs and golden leaves. It was as if The Dreaming was trying to welcome you… trying to lull you into a feeling of peace or comfort at all that was not as it should be. And there, in the place of the throne, you knew Morpheus to have was something entirely not his. It looked far more organic, like a split geode holding an uncontainable cosmos of stars and cosmic clouds inside it. And sitting on that throne was a being that was not Dream of The Endless. Not your Dream.

The pale being lifted his head, and not a single strand of his cloudy white hair strayed. His black eyes consumed you entirely, two small slivers of starlight shining brighter as they looked upon you. The robes he wore were white, adorned with golden designs, and there, sitting proudly upon his chest, was a glowing emerald dreamstone.

“It is a great honor to meet you at last, Munin of the Emerald Wood.” His voice was silken and light, Dream’s but not his. 

“You are not my Dream… are you?” You asked with tears building in your eyes.

With a soft sigh, he rose from his throne slowly, almost as if he thought doing so any faster would scare you. “No, I suppose I am not.”

You didn’t dare look away from him as you asked, “Then who are you?”

“The name you would likely know me by is Daniel. Daniel Hall.”

Lies. “Daniel Hall is little more than a child. You could not possibly be him.”

“Not as you know him to be,” he said, slowly descending the winding staircase. “But, as you’ve already noticed, none of this is as it was. A future carved in stone, written in Destiny’s book of things, a future only you can stop.”

“Future?” You questioned, looking around at The Dreaming. “You mean to tell me I’ve stumbled into the future?”

“No,” Daniel replied with a light chuckle. “More of a vision.”

You watched him carefully as he stood before you, hands clasped and a soft, childlike smile on his lips. “So this is what is to come then? You mean to steal this realm from Morpheus?”

His brows furrowed. “I’ve stolen nothing. The Dreaming and the title Dream of the Endless was given to me by he who came before.”

“Morpheus would never just give his realm or his title away,” you insisted. “Unless…”

“He did all he could to stop it, but The Kindly Ones were relentless in their attack. His sacrifice saved The Dreaming and those that remained.” Daniel could see the pain in you, and with a sigh, he added. “He did not suffer. Death greeted him and showed him the way. He was at peace in the end.”

You shook your head, tears rolling down your cheeks. “And what of me? I did nothing while he perished?”

“There were… things complicating your involvement.” He shook his head. “It matters not. You are here now.”

“You’ve been expecting me?”

He smiled, chuckling softly. “No, more… hoping you would find a way here so we could speak.”

“Speak of what?”

"If the love you bare him is even a fraction of the love that lingers in me still…" he lifted a hand to your cheek. "Love he bore for you. Then you'll save him. You’ll ensure this future never has to be.”

With narrow eyes, you asked, “You would give up his power… his title, and his kingdom?”

Daniel nodded. “All I ever wished for was a normal life with my mother. Plots larger than me… Larger than him made that impossible. But you, you could change it.”

“How?”

“Seek out Loki and Puck. The end of your Dream Lord began with their plot and… my mother’s misguided actions.”

Loki and Puck - two tricksters that you’d only met in passing. Gods that were notoriously difficult to track down. “And how do you suggest I find them? They’re not known for making such easy.”

“Visit my mother,” he urged. “And myself, I suppose…” he chuckled again. “The two should be close by.”

You paused, listening to the faint sounds of The Forest calling you home. “What happens if I fail?”

Daniel only smiled, reaching out to lift your hand to his lips. “Then I hope this is not the last time we meet, Lady Munin. And that the next is under better circumstances.”

*

Lyta Hall lived in a modest apartment in a bustling city. Though you’d ventured into the mortal world before, it looked vastly different from what little you could remember. She was surrounded by those she loved, Rose Walker and Ged, and many familiar faces - faces you knew from memories alone. And while the apartment wasn’t large or lavish, she appeared to be happy aside from the large bags that hung beneath her eyes, telling you she’d not found any peace in her dreams.

For a while, you simply watched them, searching for some sigh of Loki and Puck’s coming mischief, but the longer you looked in, the more you felt compelled to venture closer. You wanted to speak with her, to reassure her that her husband was safe and loved. And so you found yourself in her apartment, standing in the kitchen and admiring the little notes, photographs, and memories each held. Lost in your own examining, you barely heard the sharp gasp and the sound of wood scraping against the floor as Lyta hurriedly rose from the table at the sight of you.

Suddenly you were reminded that it was not normal for people to appear in mortal homes simply, and you bashfully bowed your head to her. “Apologies. I did not mean to startle you.”

“Who are you?” She demanded, forcing her voice to sound firm and dangerous.

“We have met before,” you answered softly. “In a dream.”

Her face softened slightly. “You… you’re the one that took Hector.”

Nodding, you answered the question she had not asked. “He is safe. He misses you,” your eyes drifted to the small child in his high chair. “Both of you.”

“What do you want?” She demanded, wiping her eyes. 

“I simply wanted to apologize for my coldness that day. I was… I was not myself.” You sighed. “Were it within my power, I would have let him remain with you.”

“But it isn’t,” she answered bitterly. “It’s his power, isn’t it?”

You realized Morpheus was the he that she spoke so sourly of. “It was out of his power as well. The Dream Lord means you no harm, Lyta. This is why you’ve not slept, isn’t it?”

Lyta looked at Daniel and shook her head. “I don’t want him to come for my son… not while I’m under some spell and can’t defend him.”

“Dream of the Endless would not steal your son,” you said gently. “He means neither of you harm.”

“You don’t know that,” she replied bitterly.

“I do,” you assured her. As you watched her move to the child's side, you felt an odd power humming around her. The song of the Endless echoed from the boy, swirling around her, but beneath his song was power. A power that you knew. Lyta and Daniel froze, time halting as mist rolled in from unseen places, and their power engulfed the apartment.

"You are meddling in dangerous things, lost one." Their combined voices sent a chill up your spine, but not one of fear or anger… A feeling of familiarity.

The Mother tutted softly as she moved around the frozen figure of Lyta Hall. "Fate is not something easily changed, dear sun."

The Crone lifted her head, glaring at the babe in Lyta's arms. "And this fate is one you should not even attempt to alter."

"I won't let you do it," your voice was cold as mist rushed beneath your feet. The Forest bled into this illusion they thrust you in, dark, twisted trees casting long shadows over the three. Black engulfed your fingertips, and you could feel the darkness, the daunting power of it bending to your will. "Morpheus is mine. And none shall have him while I draw breath."

The Maiden tilted her head, eyes shining back at you in admiration. "You always were so determined."

"So headstrong and unafraid," The Mother continued, her eyes bearing a deep sorrow that surprised you.

"It is what led you to your doom the first time." Though The Crone's eyes were stiff, guarded, and unwilling to bend beneath your steady gaze, her voice trembled, lips quivering as she uttered a single word. "Mneme."

All at once the darkness vanished. You felt your power stripped away, leaving you trembling and bare before The Fates. Breathlessly you fell to your knees. Sparks of golden light and a searing, unbearable pain engulfed you until all you could do was scream.

Not a word. Flashes filled your vision, swarming like molten gold in water. A name. Fire blazed, and a burst of sickening laughter echoed in your mind. Your name.

Their hands offered you some comfort, albeit temporary. The Mother smoothed your hair back. "Do not fight it."

The Maiden stroked your cheeks. "Let it come."

The Crone looked down at you with tears in her eyes. Her palm pressed to your forehead. "Remember."

*

The first thing you saw once the blinking light faded from your vision was the orange hues of the sun setting over the ocean. You sat upon the edge of the cliffside, wind combing through your golden locks of hair, and a peaceful feeling settled in your chest. You were home.

"Mneme!" The Fates’ voices called out as one. 

Turning your head, you smiled at them. "Not too close to the edge, I know!"

The Maiden offered you a smile back. "The fall would be terrible indeed, even for one such as you."

The Mother waved, gesturing to you to come to them. "Come down from there, sweet child!"

The Crone rolled her ancient eyes and scoffed. "She won't fall! Our Mneme is far too surefooted to do something as foolish as that."

"Accidents still happen, sister self." The Mother reminded.

You squeezed her hand. "I'll be more careful."

"More careful!" The Crone laughed. "She's been careful since the day she was born, I doubt she's capable or more."

The Maiden lovingly braided a strand of your hair. "There's no harm in having fun every now and then."

The sky above had begun to shift to the deep star-filled night, your favorite. "I have to go."

"Back to that tree of yours?" The Crone asked.

"Back to the humans?" The Mother's question was far more bitter.

You kissed all their cheeks. "I'll be home before the sun rises!"

More light flashed, more voices echoed in your mind as your body felt like it would burst apart. You saw it through the slightly golden haze. The Great Tree standing tall amidst a bustling village. Its trunk was a rich reddish brown with golden leaves glistening in the low light of the fires the humans had lit to illuminate their festivities.

In the blink of an eye, you were in the tall branches, looking down at the bodies that moved below, watching the humans with wonder. You and the tree had been linked from the moment of your birth. A tree with roots that spanned across realms and lifetimes and a little spirit born of fate and memory. 

A rather simple pair when compared to the billions of other supernatural and immortal beings and creatures that existed. But, you were fine with simple. You enjoyed your time spent on Mount Helicon and watching the humans, quietly gifting them with long memories and thus making their marvelous stories last forever.

It had been centuries since you'd heard the lovely tune for the first time. The first song ever made. A simple and beautiful thing that planted a seed deep inside you. A longing for something real… Tangible… Something wholly yours. You had no idea what it would be, this thing, but some nights you could hear The Fates whispering. They must've known. There was little they did not see. So, you waited, hoping that it was something marvelous.

The memories raced by, quicker and more painful than before. You could feel the raw ache in your throat, a result of your screaming, but you could only hear the voices. It was all still fragmented, flashes of a happy life with The Fates that all shifted… The sour smell of decay stung your nose. These flashes were darker, the fragments blurry and hazed. 

You felt fire cracking under your skin, nails clawing at the wrong flesh that caged you. A laugh… A wide and villainous grin letting down at you. Unfamiliar hands touching you… Defiling you… The human's bright beauty slowly diminishing before your very eyes. You could taste the salt of your tears and feel the ache in your knees as you bent to the floor and begged. "Harken to me!" Your voice sounded so broken… Desperate. "Please, I beg of you! Deliver me from this place!"

The gentle hands that touched your head bore a somber tinge that answered the question you did not even ask. "Enough, dear one."

"You should rest," The Maiden said.

"You will need it for what is to come," The Crone finished.

"Help me," you begged them, lifting your drowning eyes. "There must be something you can do… Someone to intercede on my behalf."

The Crone's eyes turned cold as she sighed. "Foolish child. You are awfully bound. There are none that can deliver you from this place."

The Mother's eyes were filled with tears. "Not now, at least…"

The Maiden braided a strand of your dull hair. "Not when so much of you has been spent."

"I am so sorry, dear one…" The Mother pressed a kiss to your head. "Your prayers were wasted."

"No!" You cried out, rising to reach for them, but they were already gone. The chain binding you to this place scratched against the stone floor. "Do not leave me…"

The pieces fragmented further. Shattering like glass when you tried to hold onto them. All you could truly recall was a knife, blood, screaming, and fire. Darkness that felt warm and safer than what you'd known for so long and then breathlessness. You could see a rippling surface, bubbles floating away from you as the air abandoned you. 

As you sank deeper into an unknown abyss, you could see the golden strands of your hair fade to white, and a voice echoed in your mind as all else began to fade away. "You will never be rid of me!"

*

"Mneme," The Maiden's voice called out to you.

"Stop," you begged, voice raw and hardly understandable. This wasn't true… This was a trick. All of it. Their hands, cradling your head, felt too heavy. "Don't call me that."

“Mneme…” The Mother cooed softly as you shook their hands off you.

“Do not call me that! I… I cannot deal with this now. I… There’s…” You wanted nothing more than to sob, to let the information you’d just regained swallow you whole. 

Morpheus needed you. The events Daniel spoke of could still be years away, but you’d not risk it. Especially not now. Forcing your body upright, you looked into the eyes of The Fates. “I am going to change what is written. Morpheus will not perish, least of all at the hands of you.”

The Maiden’s tears were like diamonds upon her cheeks. “We take no pleasure in this.”

Your sound of disbelief caused The Mother to sigh, “Not much pleasure in it.”

“You cannot change this,” The Crone said, cold as ice once again. “Try as you might, what is will be and what will be is.”

“The only one you shall harm is yourself,” The Maiden replied.

"You will spend your power," The Mother warmed. "Spread yourself thin until all you are withers."

"Lost again to Lethe," The Crone finished.

“If anything happens to him… anything at all, it is you that I shall harm. Consequences be damned.”

You didn’t give them the chance to speak again, vanishing from the apartment and from their presence with a mere thought. The world felt both heavier and lighter, and with it, you felt both more powerful and less. Forcing the memories… the past from your mind, you put your plan into motion. It was just as you’d told The Fates. None would have Morpheus.

The meadow was quiet. From what you’d seen of the human world, there were few places like this that remained. Calm and untouched, reeking of old fairy magic and buzzing with godly power. Two tricksters lurking in the shadows. The combination of their power was dizzying and stunk of mischief. A warning to any that drew too near to turn back and hope you’d not caught their eye. You, however, would not be so easily deterred.

“What have we here?” An old and giggly voice purred from the shadows.

“A little witch?” Another chimed in, smug and prideful and filled with echoing laughter.

You showed no emotion as you addressed them. “I am Munin, Queen of realms of memory.”

A figure appeared a greenish beast with scales and fur and long pointed ears. Sharp teeth gleamed back at you as the deep red eyes of the spirit Puck glowed. “Queeny, Queeny, Queeny… why are you so far from your castle?”

Bright hair and an angular face examined you closely from a safe distance away as Loki grinned back. “Come to play with the old tricksters, have you?”

“More like come to talk sense into you,” you replied calmly, urging the wood around you to slowly shift.

The two laughed loudly, clutching their guts as they looked at each other. “Sense? Oh, we’ve not had sense in ages!”

“So I’ve been told. But, kidnapping a dream-touched child is a new sort of stupidity I thought even you two would be above.”

“Careful now,” Puck growled. “I’d surely hate to have to get blood all over that pretty white dress, Queeny.”

“It would be quite the shame,” you agreed. “Though the dress could be a trophy of sorts stained with your blood.”

Puck giggled, deranged and gleeful. “I like you!”

“Focus,” Loki insisted as he languidly stalked forward to circle you. “What’s this about a kidnapping?”

You followed him for a moment but chose to keep your eyes on Puck; he was the one you’d have to be most mindful of. “Your little plan to kidnap the boy… Daniel Hall.”

“How would you know about that?” Puck questioned.

“I have my ways.” That was the only answer you offered them. “The how is hardly the point. I’m far more interested in skipping it all together so we can focus on the bit where you both use your brains and forget about this half-baked scheme.”

Mist slowly began to seep between the trees, a low groan echoing in the air that signaled your plan had worked. Loki shook his head. “We aren’t exactly known for listening to threats from little girls.”

You smiled. “I’ve not even threatened you yet, Odinson.”

“Do not call me that!” He hissed, pointing a long elegant finger at you.

“I’ll call you whatever name you see fit after you’ve agreed to leave Daniel and his mother alone.”

Puck tutted, clawed nails digging into the branch he leaned on. “Greedy, greedy. You’re getting boring, Queeny! Perhaps we should just be done with you… After all, you look so tasty!”

Sirius dove out of the mist and snapped at the spirit. “Mind your tongue, beast. Though I shall gladly rid you of it should you insist.”

Loki pulled two daggers from their sheathes as The Corinthian appeared somewhere off to the side of you, calm and collected as he casually leaned against a tree. “Naughty puppy!”

Rolling your eyes, you lifted a finger, calling forth the tree roots to bind them. “Enough of this.” The trees wound around their limbs, squeezing hard enough that were they not immortal beings, their limbs would have snapped. Loki sneered while Puck laughed. “It’d be in your best interests to leave the child alone.”

“Best interests,” Puck laughed harder. “I care little for interests.”

“You may not care,” you began, eyes turning to the god. “But he does.”

Loki shook his head, chuckling at the notion that he cared about anything at all. “You think you know me, little wood witch?”

You shook your head and walked along the tree roots. “I do not care to know you, trickster. But, I see more than just your eyes…” Memories swirled inside them, good and bad, joyful and not. “We may not have met more than in passing, but make no mistake, Loki, I know you.”

Puck was the wildcard, the mischievous being that none could reason with or bribe unless he so sought, but Loki was a god. He was shrouded in golden pride and a deep-rooted desire to make Odin love him. Loki was the one you needed to convince. Puck would follow, or he would die, a choice you’d not have to spell out for him, especially with Sirius’ watchful eye and menacing teeth gnashing in the sprite's face.

“Why do you care so much for this runt?” Loki pondered with a wide grin. “Have a soft spot for dream-touched mortals?”

“Why does not concern you.” You sat down on a high-up branch and stared the god down. “No more questions, Loki. Will you leave Lyta and her son alone, or will you die here in my little woods?”

He attempted to shrug against the branches that held him. “It’s not me you need to worry about.”

Puck rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t need to fear me! This game has gotten boooorrrriiinnggg! One little mortal, dream-touched or not, isn’t worth this kind of fuss.”

Loki glared at the sprite, clearly displeased by his so-called partner in crime's words. “Fine then. We’ll leave the kid alone. Happy now?”

“Swear it.”

“I swear it,” he sneered back. “Now let me go.”

You waved your hand, and the roots released. Puck was gone in a blink, no promises made or extra words exchanged. Here then gone, just like you’d expected from the trickster. Loki remained, anger and some ugly, wounded pride shining in his eyes as he glared at you. Sirius growled. “Leave this place, trickster. And pray you never return.”

Suddenly all emotion drained from the god's face, and he laughed. “You know, I don’t much like being humiliated, especially not by insignificant little girls. Do you think you're suddenly untouchable just because you have some new realm and a bit of power? Well, you aren’t.”

Lunging for you, Loki found himself face to face with The Corinthian, who smiled as he brandished his blade. “I believe my lady released you. That means you leave.”

“I’m not scared of you, nightmare!” The god shouted.

“You should be. Hold him down for me, pup.” Sirius surprisingly heeded the nightmares command and pulled the god down while The Corinthian worked with his blade. The screams were drowned out by the trees cheering and laughing at the now mutilated god. You stood high above it all as The Corinthian finished his work and turned, presenting you with the eyes he’d plucked from Loki’s skull. Bowing his head, he chuckled. “Any other body parts I should take, my lady?”

You accepted the eyes and shook your head. “No. Kat has already sent word to Odin. Someone will be here to collect him shortly.”

The Corinthian glanced at you. “You alright, Daunty?”

Your mind was plagued with the past that you’d still not fully regained, a thing you now had broken and confusing fragments of. “Yes. There’s just something I need to do now.”

“Need a nightmare?”

Smiling at him, you shook your head and placed a loving hand on his cheek. “Not this time, dear Corinthian.”

*

Upon Mount Helicon, a secluded cabin stood overlooking the sea. The cabin was not what you’d pictured when you thought of The Fates. You’d imagined they’d live in some large palace or a winding maze, like Destiny, but there the three stood, looking out at the sea as you quietly approached. “Such a lovely sunset.”

The Mother smiled at you. “It used to be your favorite part of the day.”

The Maiden laughed softly. “You’d sit here until the yellow faded from the sky entirely.”

“One sun,” The Crone said. “Watching another.”

"Whatever the reason for this… Fondness, you bear me…" you stopped yourself, pain that you could not yet confront boiling within you like the fires in your vision. Shaking your head, you met their gaze again. "I urge you to cease these schemes against the Dream Lord."

The Maiden nodded, "Painful as this may be, you cannot run from the truth forever."

The Mother took a step closer with a sad smile. "Oh, dear one… Is this truly your wish?"

"It is."

The Crone stood before you, cold eyes slightly less so as she wiped your tears. "Very well. If it is your wish, we shall honor it. So long as Dream of The Endless does not bring harm upon you, then we shall not harm him or his Dreaming."

“Thank you… my mothers.”

The Three smiled sadly and watched you go. The Forest greeted you as it always had, offering you soft handing leaves to dry your eyes and a melodic rumbling to ease the ache in your heart. You did not know when you would be able to accept what you now knew fully, nor did you know if you’d ever be strong enough to remember the full brunt of the pain your past life had lived through, but you did know that The Fates had spoken at least one truth. You would not be able to run from it.

A dark figure emerged from the trees, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of you. “There you are.”

“Morpheus,” you breathed, the pain easing as air filled your lungs.

His eyes narrowed as he took a step toward you. “Where have you been?” His arms wound around you, pulling you into the embrace you’d fought so hard to preserve. You buried your face into his chest and breathed in his scent. “I’ve been worried.”

With a soft noise, you smiled. “Forgive me, I did not mean to worry you. There were some things I needed to take care of.”

“Is all well?” His breath hitched at the mere thought of something being wrong. 

You smoothed your hands down his chest and smiled. “All is well. I… I learned many things these past few days and have many questions that need answering.”

Morpheus nodded, soft hands caressing you. “I trust you will tell me your meaning when you are ready to?”

“Of course,” you answered. “It would be rather cruel of me to keep you in such suspense.”

“Cruel is not a word I’d use to describe you, my love.”

You wanted nothing more than to tell him of all you’d learned and everything that had happened in your time apart, but instead, you simply smiled. “Would you walk with me?”

He seemed to understand the gentle gleam of tears in your eyes and quietly offered you his arm and a kiss upon your head. “Always, my love.”

The two of you walked through the misty forest until you found the cave of crystals and the lake that you’d once danced upon. Without needing to speak any words, he stepped out onto the water and swept you away into a starlit dance. With your head laid against his chest, listening… feeling the steady beating of his heart, you finally spoke, “Do you think we will remain together in whatever existence comes after this?”

“I should think so,” he answered with a soft laugh. “We’ve found one another against impossible odds thus far.”

"Well, if it should come to an end, this immortal coil we find ourselves in..." You pulled away from his chest and gently held his face in your hands. "I should like it to end by your side, that we might turn to stardust together or be bound in the roots of the earth as one. I shall not pass to whatever existence awaits us in The Sunless Lands without you, my dearest Morpheus."

With the software of smiles, he pulled a small thing from his cloak and held it between you. A ring. The stone in the center was an ethereal array of thinking stars with a branch-like band of roots twining around it. He lifted your hand to slide the ring on your finger, kissing it and whispering a soft oath, "I vow that no matter what comes, nothing shall ever part us again. I am yours, Lady of The Forest, Distress, Discourage, Daunt… Munin. In every existence, every realm and lifetime, I am yours."

"Just as I am yours, Prince of Stories. Always."

Beneath the starry skies and amidst the groaning echoes of your realm, you and the Dream Lord shared a kiss, soft and bright and beautiful. For that one moment, the past didn’t matter. Not Daunt or Mneme… you were Munin, and you were here. You were loved. And as you stared into the eyes of your lover, you knew you always would be.

[6lood1etting]

Hi, could you maybe write some fem reader x Scout with crying and heavy degradation? My brain goes to the reader's team losing a match and Scout rubbing it in, only to be hit back at and Not taking that well. The competitive need for control results in a good beating in addition to the noncon side of his reaction.

HELLOOOO i know who this is ilyyyyyy <3 <3 anything for u. i shoulda made this a fic tho. TAKE HEED!! scout does a quick snuffing of ur flame at the end. hope ur okay with my long winded yammering! -`✮´-

tw for : beatings/injury/gore, rape, insults, and then snuff + implied necrophilia

✮ the fuck did you expect, getting bitchy and attempting to bruise a Scout's ego?

✮ when the runner came up to you during a shit match, bruised and sore, you already knew this wasn't gonna be a fun experience. the way he wore himself, his shoulders straight, baseball held tight in a white knuckle grip. worst of all, he wore this shit-eating grin that made your hands go numb with the effort to not rip at it like an animal.

✮ backed into a corner with no teammates, you didn't feel very confident in being able to slip away.

✮ he laughed at your stressed form, making you grit your teeth. his laughter was so. fucking loud. Scout was full aware of the upper hand he had, and the fact his team was winning, he held himself like hound who stood over deceased prey

✮ " what the hell do we have here, huh? quite a bit away from your teammates, aren't we, miss? " he grinned at you, baring his teeth in a cocky and aggressive manner, " dont'cha have some people to be helpin'? you losers aren't doing much good today! "

✮ previously hunched, you stood and matched his pose. he snarled gleefully down at you, sliding his bat from his shoulder. you snarled back, less gleeful.

✮ THUNK.

✮ one quick, easy kick, and Scout yelped like an injured dog. having his feet swept out from under him, his grin twisted up at you like he was scandalized. unfortunately that wasn't going to much more than just piss him off from embarrassment, not even someone with as little durability as a Scout would be down like the dead by a simple swipe to the shins.

✮ it was more out of spite than anything. you knew full well your own stamina and ability was worn down, might as well be unreasonable until he brings that bat down on your skull and you respawn.

✮ odd enough, he cast his bat to the side and tore you down to hit the ground similarly to him. the only difference being that you quickly get disoriented by the drop of your head against the hard ground.

✮ " don't really know what you expected, doin' some dumbass petty shit like that. " he roughly stabbed his knee directly into your stomach, leaning over you, making air shoot out of your lungs painfully in a grunt.

✮ you leered, and attempted to headbutt him, missing by a mile.

✮ " you're just doin' this to piss me off! you're not gonna fuckin' win. you and your whole team know this, you full well know this! what, did you give yourself brain damage on the way down here? did'ja? " grabbing your hair, he slammed your head back into the ground to emphasize his point. he dug his stupid boney knee into your abdomen even harder, if only to make you squirm from the pressure.

✮ " i can give you some if you didn't! " he would snark, and grab the fistful of your hair tighter so he could repeatedly slam the back of your head as hard as he could against the cold ground.

✮ despite your flails, he kept you pinned with his knee, and kept you disoriented with the repeated head trauma. all ragged breaths, he was doing this out of pure cruelty. truthfully he didn't come over with the intent on killing you immediately, he just wanted pure amusement.

✮ literally the only reason you are doing jack shit is because he's probably actively giving you a concussion. you feel like your brain is wobbling and bruised, you couldn't properly focus your eyes-

✮ pulling your pounding head to face him, you moaned low, and shakily out of pain.

✮ the noise made his eye twitch, and he paused. gears turned, and turned.

✮ " why do you sound like a whore when you're close to death? " he leaned his face close to yours, " is it cuz i'm mashing your brains in? awh, am I smashing you good? damn, you even kind of look cumbrained when you're this dizzy. "

✮ a fist slammed full force against your jaw. you felt it wetly snap out of its socket, the muscles pulling painfully as they no doubt ripped under the quickly marbling skin.

✮ the same fist slammed against your nose. whipping your head back, red spray quickly shot out of your nose and all over your face. it was embarrassing how easily your nose cracked under the force.

✮ between the TBI, the knee on your soft stomach, your bruised arms, and your sore legs, you were less than prime for fighting back against someone who had looked like they were freshly healed.

✮ Scout seemed to put these pieces together pretty quick. it was funny to see you flail though, you were like a fish.

✮ it wasn't long until he grew bored of watching the blood pool out of your nose. you weakly clawed him, trying to dig your nails as deep as you could get them. another fluid joined the blood on your face- tears. wrapping his hand around your throat, he felt his breath hitch.

✮ the man looked a little TOO decisive at that moment. the fuck was he-?

✮ his hands pressed on your windpipe, ripping at your already weak lungs, the clawing desperation for oxygen very quickly took over. it could've been funny how little your lung capacity was as of the moment, if he weren't a little distracted. you lifted your hands, trying to rip at his hands to get him to undo them. more tears flooded your expression. the color blue quickly joined. The enemy above you laughed shakily, his face turning an opposing red.

✮ " god, holy shit. you're crying just from this? " his voice was quieter, " just from this? i don't feel bad for you, then! could you be any more pathetic, you fuckin' loser? i'll show you something you can cry about, babe. "

✮ the suddenness of the pet name was weird, it promised something horrible.

✮ it made due on that promise immediately, impatiently. it wasn't long until you felt a breeze against your thighs. and then your chest. coughing from the sudden ability to breathe, you couldn't focus.

✮ Scout hunched over you, eyes running up and down your bruised body for too long. your shirt had been untucked, and pulled up to expose your chest. more worringly, your pants also were discarded. adrenaline pumping through you again, he quickly noticed, pulling out his pistol.

✮ " this is just the price you pay for being a sore loser, c'mon. " he sounded too unfocused to put serious effort into being pissed anymore. he moved quickly, and you ended up with a bullet through your foot. " don't wanna be a sore loser, do ya? " he was mumbling.

✮ your underwear had disappeared as soon as you came back from the blinding white pain.

✮ you felt his thin fingers slide through your slit, spreading you open briefly. you heard him wolf whistle, leaning back from his position to check you out. you felt nauseated from pain.

✮ " wow, wet, all for me? " he sounded genuinely surprised, but his tone was edged by mockery. he bit his lip, glancing around, and then leaned back over you. you spat something through your broken jaw, but most of your words failed to be uttered. he let out a barking laugh at your sputtering. both you and he knew it was the adrenaline, not actual arousal. didn't matter to him.

✮ you felt him shifting, eyes blurring as your head pounded from the hits, and now from the tears fighting their way out of you. slurring your words, you pushed him to stop, he had no right, fervently declaring that he should just kill you. there was no need to go farther.

✮ he just rolled his eyes, " i don't see anything tellin' me i don't need to do it though. good enough for me. your fault for being a petty bitch and then sobbing like that. " he had removed his own pants, and undergarments.

✮ you didn't stop shifting and clawing at the floor, blinking your eyes against shock and tears. you couldn't feel much more than pathetic with how you lacked the ability to properly fight him, and by the way the creep was almost immediately taking advantage of you when you were low on health, he probably full heartedly agreed. you couldn't see yourself living this down.

✮ of course he was hard already. you tried to push yourself away, hissing and abusing your already injured foot. his eyebrow twitched and he pulled you back under him easily. Scout was getting sick of you and he was getting sick of the fighting quick, as proved by the half hearted hit to your crooked jaw and the tense silence.

✮ the guy wasted NO time getting in between your thighs, and yanking them open. a shrieking noise left you, painful and tired. you let out a low whine, lurching forward and sitting up out of pure adrenaline, but it was quickly corrected by a swift push back onto your back. this did not make you immediately stop resisting, until he slammed his hands against your windpipe again, and rutted against your cunt.

✮ Scout stayed like that for a while, crushing your throat. " i win. i'm the winner. i win. i fuckin' win. " he spat at you. you looked away. he let go to force you to look at him. " look at me, yo- look at me. i'm above you. i am leagues above you."

✮ his tone is demanding. everything about him is too demanding.

✮ a few adjustments later, and he was rutting inside of you like you were nothing but a fleshlight. hips flexed in an uncomfortable position, he rawed the inside of your cunt.

✮ " say it. say it, say it, say it. say i'm leagues above you. tell me i've won and stop fightin' and i might stop. " he was just getting a power high at this point, eyes bright from pure joy.

✮ the match must've ended by now, did nobody bother to look for you? there probably was no other way out of this, was there?

✮ he stared down at you expectantly, hips still slamming into your own. the way he held your gaze made you want to throw up.

✮ you felt in your gut he wasn't honest. but yet... fighting was getting you literally nowhere.

✮ through your bruised throat and your shifting jaw, you gave in easily, pathetically. agreement slipped out of you like gasping breaths. you should've given up as soon as you were cornered.

✮ yeah, he didn't stop right off the bat.

✮ what did you expect? the guy was busy internally gloating.

✮ bile ate at your weak throat.

✮ the feeling of him fucking you make you feel even more ill than the creaking of your jaw. he didn't look at you anymore, eyes shut, eyebrows furrowed. he didn't bother considering you anything more than a means to an end now. he was the winner. he was the winner.

✮ completely flushed, he looked disgustingly self satisfied.

✮ it didn't take long for him to finally cum, though. as he bucked into you as deep as he could go, he let out a loud laugh, and sucked in sharply, clawing your hips. his entire face was pink with arousal.

✮ you grimaced at him, doing anything to look away. a small whimper choked you alongside the tears.

✮ not but a few moments later, cold metal pressed against your throat. he let out a shivery huff, and grit his teeth.

✮ one more shit eating expression later, " say hi to your team for me, freak! lets hope they don't get all nosy about where you were, huh? HAH! "

✮ he wasted no time after that.

✮ i can neither confirm nor deny if he even stopped like he said after the bullet ripped open ur throat </3

[therealprismcat]

PLEASE DO IT

the people have decided, here's a fanfic rec list of dsaf fanfics that arent focussed on davesport! (in no particular order)

Centipedes by Raccoonsandpossumswritesometimes [incomplete]

Dee centric fic which is a swap between Dee and Jack. Not only is davesport not the main focus, it's also pretty toxic. TWs at the beginning of each chapter, but heed the tags.

Hello, You. by galaticanthem [incomplete]

Another similar premise to Centipedes. If you think davesport is toxic in centipedes though, here it is arguably worse. Plot is a bit confusing as of chapter 7, but as it stands, here are the trigger warnings that I can remember off of the top of my head (but basically, if you're sensitive to disturbing themes, i'd skip this one):

Murder

Abuse

Kidnapping (by the looks of it but ????)

Underage drinking

Neglect

Body horror (I think??? it's so early into the fic im unsure of half these warnings but as it is rn i think it is important they're there because thats what it looks like at least)

Dave is very objectively NOT a good person in this fic. Like, at all. I don't think any future chapter could change that. If you're a person who cannot read about their favourite character committing absolutely heinous things theres nothing wrong with that and I wouldn't read this. If you can stomach all that though, it's a good story.

Dave and Old Sport Adopt a Kid by Wario_Speedwagon [incomplete]

Davesport is there and it's prevalent and not toxic, but it's not the main focus. It's more of an accidental baby acquisition fic. I can't think of any trigger warnings for this one, but check the tags. always.

Matted Fur by Afval [one-shot]

Evil ending fic with rabbit symbolism for Dave. All TWs are in the tags.

Sharp-Toothed Rabbit by orphan_account [one-shot]

More evil end Dave ft. animal metaphors! what more could you want? All TWs in the tags.

happiest day by grimkid [one-shot]

A fic about Jack's happiest day. Jack x Steven, no TWs iirc but heed the tags.

Octane Rating by dontrollthedice [one-shot]

Canon compliant fic about the good ending, only its harrysport. i dont even like the ship but this fic makes me so unwell /pos. No TWs I think but look at the tags.

NO MIDDLE-CALLING by XYZ_Countoriss [one-shot]

Silly chatfic, what can go wrong? -oh that right. No TWs needed, but look at the tags.

Operation Get Your Brother to Remember You After Years of Thinking He is Dead by Sockth [incomplete]

A fic focussed on Peter and Jack, I think the title is self explanatory. No TWs but look at tags.

Safety Infiltration by themostneontwig [incomplete]

After Jack betrays Dee in the evil route, Dave decides he needs to be stopped. A fic based around the idea of Legacy Jack founding the pizzaplex. No TWs that instantly come to mind other than the fact that it's set almost immediately after Jack kills Dee. Look at the tags though.

Hot Chocolate by Wario_Speedwagon [one-shot]

Ouch, set right after Jack dies the first time round. This fic physically hurt me and I mean that in the best way possible. TWs in tags.

After the Storm by themostneontwig [one-shot]

Christmas fic focussed on Peter and Jack. Read this one after Hot Chocolate, it can save you. No TWs unless you're Ebenezer Scrooge in which case dni

Jack's Squad Has UNO Night by Wario_Speedwagon [one-shot]

The title's a lie they play cluedo /j just some wholesome fun. No TWs.

An Unexpected Connection by End_Transmission [one-shot]

Post good end, but Jack 'lives'. We all know Dave had at least ONE kid. No TWs.

Peter Kennedy and the Worst Place on Earth by biptari [incomplete]

AU where Jack and Peter swap places. Steven x Peter. As for TWs I can't say everything off of the top of my head but I KNOW Henry is homophobic and transphobic in this. I can't remember if he says slurs 100% but I'm pretty sure he does use at least one so like, watch out. Other than that, heed the tags.

That's all I have right now. If you know some more then feel free to reblog to add them. No hate to davesport or anything but if you write dsaf fanfics that aren't focussed on davesport then you are my lifeline /hj

[knowltonsrangers]

provenance

TURN!Marquis de Lafayette x reader

[tw//: mentions of not eating, undefined depression, and anxiety ahead. please read at your own discretion.]

Food pushing was the first sign of distress, so he’s noted.

Lack of appetite always seems to be the reasoning, the simple “I’m not hungry,” can suffice, but for only so long. It carries, the concern, into a day, then heavily when it becomes a little less than a full week.

He can only sit and abide by it for so long, until he’s ready to keel over, watching once more as your fork becomes a stick, picking and poking at dinner.

It’s a frustrating thing to look at, because no matter how much he asks, you never have an answer for him.

His nose twitches in discontent, yet he pushes forth, swallowing the anger that fights its way forward. Anger that he cannot help you. Whatever it is, you’ve made it clear you did not want to talk about it.

“Is it alright if…if I go take a walk? I need to clear my head…”

You ask, still staring down at your full plate. You’re only asking because you know if you just got up and left, Lafayette would be at your heels in a moment, wondering why you’d want to go out in the cold, at a rather late hour.

But somehow, something in that sentence brings a smile to his eyes, and he nods happily, standing from his seat.

“Shall we?”

He’s invited himself, no surprise there, yet, you’d feel like something was missing if you gone without him. You haven’t gotten to do this in a long while, and it would be your mind that would become your enemy if you took this trip alone.

“I know you do not wish to talk about it,”

Lafayette had helped you into your coat, insisting on putting your gloves and scarf on. After, he shrugs his own coat on his broad shoulders, black leather gloves to his hands.

You had begun the walk in silence, yet, Gilbert broke it after a handful of moments.

“And you do not have to. I can talk this entire time, if you would like,”

You barely blink before another sentence leaves his lips.

“However, I am so very troubled by this, y/n. I do not like it that you have not eaten, and that beautiful smile has been gone from your face for too long.”

Your hands come to shove in your coat pockets, when you take notice of Lafayette’s hand, dangling just at the perfect height at your side. It’s a subconscious feeling, and you heed it, taking his hand in yours and giving it a squeeze.

To his surprise, yet, he doesn’t question it. It’s the first move you’ve made on your own, and he would rather die than have you pull your hand away.

“Y’know…when you have those obsessive thoughts. That sometimes everything happens for a reason?”

Your voice is hoarse, unable to find anything to look at besides the sidewalk below.

“Mhm, I do.”

“It’s a mantra that I keep saying over and over, yet, I still don’t know if I believe it. Everything has been thrown in my face, and then some, and I think I’m at my breaking point.”

Gilbert’s heart sinks into his stomach, and he slows his stride just a bit, feet shuffling at your words. It’s the first time you have brought this feeling to him, and many times you have expressed it physically, just by body language, this was the first time you have spoken it, verbally.

“Well, think of it this way,”

You sniffle, eyes watery as they slowly move upwards to catch his gaze. To blatant surprise, he’s staring right at you.

“Sometimes, people walk into your life for a good reason, and walk out of it for a good reason. Same with things, places—you must take the good with the bad,”

He exhales, and a puff of cold air comes as he does so.

“If you are at your breaking point, y/n, then do not hesitate to talk about it. Whatever you need, that is why I am here. A ‘good cry’, as you call it, may suffice as well.”

You nod, pulling his hand tighter so you leaned on the upper part of his arm.

“Promise me we’ll work on that?”

Most people, in times of urgent desperation, would make the decision to allow the other to solve it for themselves, with necessary assistance.

Lafayette says ‘we’. He insists on seeing you through this, together, and it wells something else in your chest as you can’t help the smile that comes to your face.

Still staring at the sidewalk though, you wouldn’t see it, the look Gilbert gives you. His heart actually skips a beat, he thinks, just watching your smile that had disappeared for so long.

It’s a huge relief to see it back, and you have no idea what it does to him.

“Thank you.”

You whisper, picking at your coat buttons with your unoccupied hand. Gilbert shakes his head, and mumbles something about ‘anytime’ before he waves his hand dismissively.

“If it’s alright with you,”

You start warily, eyes finally able to move off the ground.

“I’d like to go back, I’d hate to waste dinner,”

He sends you that award-winning smile, nodding happily as you begin to walk back home.

“Of course,”

There’s a lapse of silence.

“Oh, and one more thing, y/n?”

He asks, just when you reach the steps.

“Mhm?”

“I love you,”

Your lips twitch upwards.

“I love you too.”

[gojou-violin]

ok. this is dark... like... really dark. never written anything like this before. so, uh. warning. but i had a thought for a csm/aki fanfic.... but i'm too lazy to write another book, so. the thought just gets yoinked onto here <3

| tw: suicide, csm manga spoilers, character(s) death(s), trying for kids cuz aki's desperate. please, please, please. heed this warning. i've never written anything like it before and i actually am starting to feel bad about posting it... please read with caution.

| a/n: i finished writing this just now. it's not as bad as i thought it was going to be-- i kind of chickened out of making it as bad as it was in my head...... but please still be careful reading if you're triggered by suicide or s/h in any way.

resources if you need help

this day was kind of inevitable.

aki told you from the get-go when you started flirting with him and he caught on to what you wanted, that his time was limited. the deals he'd made with demons were adding up. according to his own calculations, he had a little over six years to live. to you, though, that didn't matter, because you'd known him for a while through the police department you were both friends with, and you always found him interesting and thought that he was kind, so why not try to cultivate something between the two of you.

to you, any time with aki was worth it.

when you started dating, he told you that his time left was five years. whatever. that was a long time. it was enough to know him, to fall in love, to cherish him, and to feel important to him. five years was a long time. you'd make it count.

by the time your one year anniversary came about, he only had three years left. that was okay. it was still a lot of time... it just meant that you had to do everything a bit... faster... none of it changed how you felt about him, though-- you loved him. you told him as much on that day while he was sobbing, apologizing for trapping you in his life, making you suffer beside a dying man.

aki never cried in front of you after that.

not even when he told you that he only had two years left. not even when he panicked about his dwindling days left with you and decided to drag you down to the courthouse to get married on a whim. not even when he told you that night that he was dreading his death because it meant you would have to live the rest of your life without him. and not even when he told you the next morning that you'd have to move on after he'd inevitably die. he insisted that you could mourn for a day or two, but after that, you had to find someone else, you had to live your life to the fullest because that was a gift he never had.

poor aki was so upset when makima forced him to house denji and power-- because no one knew that you were living with him already, that you were married, and that he was trying every day before work and every night after dinner to get you pregnant. your home was his safe space. being with you was the only time he felt somewhat sane. but makima had trampled that peace by sending a fiend and a possessed human to live with you, ruining any "alone time" you and aki could possibly have.

eventually, though, denji and power left to go live elsewhere, and you and aki were back to it. he seemed a bit more desperate now. you could tell that there'd been some kind of change in him over the past few weeks; but you tried not to mention it because you were worried that it would only upset him more. so you just tried to be there for him. did he want breakfast? no. did he want snacks for the drive to work? no. did he want his favorite meal for dinner? no. did he want to fuck you-- yes. it was frustrating that he had closed himself off to you, but how could you complain when you only had two years left with him and needed to make every second count? it wasn't worth sulking or being angry.

you couldn't recall the last time someone physically knocked on your door. solicitors never dropped by, aki didn't tell anyone besides power and denji where you lived, and you didn't tell any of your friends that you moved in with him... so who could have possibly been at the door?

this day was kind of inevitable.

"i'm sorry..." denji couldn't bear to even look you in the eyes as he dropped the wedding ring in your hand. "if you, uh.. if you ever... need anything... just, uh... lemme know..."

you only got a quick glimpse of makima waiting at the car with a slight grin after denji left your door, his head hanging low like a sad puppy, his steps weak and dragging under him like he barely had any will to live left in him. how makima could be smiling at a time like this... you weren't sure...

when you closed the door, you put the ring down on the table, letting it rest next to the negative pregnancy test that you'd taken minutes prior. it was pretty much the same thing every week. aki would fuck you, you'd take a test, you'd both pray it would come back positive, you'd be disappointed, and then you'd just have to try again. when you heard the knock at the door, part of you was expecting it to be aki who somehow got locked out, and you were ready to show him the test before crying in his arms... but you never expected in a million years that it would have been denji, delivering the worst news imagineable.

two years. what happened to that? where had all the time you and aki had left gone to? what happened at work for his time to dwindle so quickly? was that why he was so upset? did he know that he was going to die sooner yet he refused to tell you? why wouldn't he tell you something like that?

was it because he knew what you were thinking about?

did he know how much you were going to hurt without him?

did he realize that you loved him so much that you couldn't bear to live without him?

you had decided a while ago that if your two years approached its end and you weren't pregnant or had a family by then, that you'd join aki. it was easier that way. he made you promise after you got married that you'd move on once he'd die, but you knew, and you were sure that he knew it, too, that it was impossible to love anyone else after him. aki was the only one.

the ring and the test sat on the table as the chair clattered after being kicked to the side.

[adhdnojutsu]

Hi! I am a victim of a school shooting. Please do not compare characters to real life tragedies, it is so fucking disgusting. I did not witness my classmates die and my university grieve just so you can compare that to someone dissing a Naruto character. Thanks.

I'm very sorry you had to go through that and I hope the shooter suffered for their actions. I certainly didn't mean to downplay real life violence.

I do have to decline, because it's still a hypothetically/principally valid comparison and any censorship could be applied to any and all scenarios where an anime thing has a real world parallel, not least of all war, which I am personally affected by.

It was Kishimoto's idea to write mass killers lashing out at innocents in their misguided rampage, which is exactly the MO of the average mass shooter. If we stop pointing out real world parallels in all fiction, we couldn't even recognize the characters as depicting humans anymore and as a result, moral lessons, relatability etc. would be lost. By the same token, we couldn't call ANY cartoon violence "violence" anymore, because real life violence exists. Naruto is a cartoon show that has (and downplays) a whole ass genocide. I'm Jewish and was alive for, and deeply traumatized by, the recent pogrom, but I'm not telling Kishimoto to rewrite Naruto without the toon genocide in it, neither will I tell people to stop calling it a genocide because real genocide exists. On the contrary, I want them to recognize this parallel in order to grow a sensitivity to the real life counterpart.

And where to draw the line? If I'd heed your request, I'd next have to listen to a dog bite victim asking me to stop calling Itachi Danzo's personal pit bull, then the next person could be a trafficking victim and ask I stop writing hooker AUs. Everyone is affected by something depicted in fiction, which makes fiction relatable, but also requires discretion in what we choose to consume. I'm a victim of a lot of things that appear in fan theories, fan work, canon content etc. but I won't stop people from exploring real world parallels of fictional content. Rather, I think recognizing real world parallels makes important food for thought, especially for younger people who get a lot of their life lessons from fiction.

It's our personal responsibility to curate our own online experience by blocking/muting content we don't like. Granted, my refusal to use trigger warnings makes that a bit difficult, but again, everything is a trigger to SOMEONE, and I can't put 1000 TW in my tags; but we're all adults (or close to it), so we should take our own measures rather than demanding others take them for us. Shonen and seinen anime are violent. Expect fandom to discuss this violence.

[chinchillamajor]

Hey, all. It's the Actually Older Simon cosplayer, here in the # simon petrikov mpreg tag again, with a question, this time.

See, I've been really enjoying my time seeing all the comics and drawings folks have been making, especially the ones with their own continuity. Absolutely gorgeous stuff.

And yet, I'd be lying if I claimed that browsing this part of the F&C fandom hasn't been. Bittersweet. In a way that's been really hard to describe.

But I'm wondering if anyone might be willing to draw a commission I have in mind.

Details under the cut, but heed the content warning before the jump: tw for pregnancy complications and miscarriage talk.

Let's have a little storytime, first.

I'll start off by admitting, I didn't even know I could do that.

My body is, and always has been, a wonderland of medical maladies. And as a trans man from the 2000s until people settled on the word "nonbinary" for folks like me, I'd been taking regular birth control shots that disappeared my period for decades now. I have a very scattered memory, but I always made and kept my shot appointments on time.

Until that one time I didn't.

It was an offhand comment from a friend that got me thinking. "I've been craving frosted animal cookies like whoa lately," I'd said, and she replied, "Maybe you're pregnant."

We both paused. Then cackled to each other for a moment, at the very thought.

And then I remembered how nauseated I'd been getting out of nowhere, lately.

I *did* remember to get my Depo shot last time, didn't I? I must've.

Nope, said the two bars on the test stick, later that night. You didn't.

My head was spinning. I gagged and coughed around the idea; it was too big for me to swallow. I was over 40, for crying out loud. How could it be that I'd get pregnant for the first time, NOW?

I waited to see my doctor. Waited a *while.* Because I honestly didn't know what to do. Previous versions of me would've been mortified, and hustled off to get an abortion immediately.

And yet. And *yet.*

The more I thought of this unlikely kiddo, the more I started wanting to fight for it. If it wanted to be a human THAT BADLY as to hole up in *my* body... shouldn't I give it a little credit?

I told basically nobody, the whole time.

And then, one day, there I was, sitting in my doctor's office, and she was telling me my body was already starting to lose it.

Well. If the kiddo changed their mind about wanting to stay, I thought, I'm not going to hold that against them.

I remember laughing. Covering my face with my hands, and breathing in. Like I'd just been shown the camera filming some wretched prank happening.

I'd just nicknamed it the day before, I told her. My little dandelion. And now...

I won't go into the process itself, in the days that followed. Some things, words just can't describe very well. (I will say, the auto-generated targeted ads that started showing me baby supplies, a few months later? THAT. Was just RUDE.)

Time passed, as it does. I hit my head, that January. Got brain damage. Slowly got better. Slowly.

When it was over, I shoved the whole experience aside. Went to my mortician classes. Never brought it up, because that would mean I'd have to think about it.

Everything's fine, I'd say, if folks said I seemed a bit off. Like Simon said at the bar. Same old, same old.

Just last month, I found a new favorite show. All my friends were talking about how one of the characters happened to look eerily like me.

I'd never seen Adventure Time in my life, before Fionna & Cake, but it made me so happy to cosplay older Simon. I was trying to learn a lot of the same lessons he was, after all.

And then, I started seeing my fictional doppelganger in some fanart where he was heavily pregnant.

My mouth hung open for a while, stunned by the hit of pure joy juice that'd just erupted in my brain.

*Simon* got to know what that felt like.

I hit Follow on the tag, and never looked back.

And after taking the time to sit and feel The Hard Feelings, I'm honestly feeling more okay with everything now. Even if it's mostly because I know there's a version of this fictional character I resemble who got to experience what I didn't. The ups, the downs. Everything in between.

I finally opened up to my therapist about it all, this week. She'd known about the miscarriage, but was glad I was ready to talk about it, almost a year later.

I'm so many flavors of grateful to get to see it. Even from a distance.

---

So. That's my take on Simon mpreg.

And I have a commission I'd like to place, at some point.

A very pregnant Simon, getting a visit from a Simon from another dimension, where his kiddo changed their mind.

This other Simon’s not glad it happened, but he's not sad, either. He just wants to give the expecting Simon a big hug, wish him the best of luck, and to tell him to treasure every moment he has with his kiddo.

That he should always know, somewhere, someone's rooting for him. For both of them.

And then the non-pregnant Simon’s back in the Time Cube, thanking Prismo for granting his wish.

You gonna be okay? Prismo asks.

Yeah, Simon says, looking up at the stars and smiling. I think we're both gonna be all right.

If there are any in-fandom artists who feel up to this? Feel free to message me about it. I'll be asking about your rates.

And if you read all that, just... thanks. For listening. I really do appreciate it.

[constellationcrowned]

Starter sentences from season 1 of The Stoker Society; the sequel to The Ever Pleasant Mr Bates belonging to the podcast series Dark Tides. Change pronouns and etc as necessary. Notable TWs: death, violence, gore, disassociation, anxiety, etc

"Firstly they don't believe me, secondly they're too scared that there is a predator or something out there."

"I....am the good memories of a bad man."

"We never saw eye to eye but we never really needed to."

"S/he really didn't fit in with the rest of us for the simple reason that the reason that drove him/her to what we were doing was love."

"Without him/her none of this would be happening now."

"It's a lovely story."

"I think it's something that a lot of people who love too much often do: they forget about themselves."

"If you were my apprentice I'd be very pleased."

"You're a fast judge of character, I'll tell you that."

"....Are you wearing my jeans?"

"Alright, you'll never see this again. It's mine now."

"I cannot guide you home, I can only show you the path."

"Carry on. Be wayward no more."

"We're in this difficult middle ground, we've got ourselves into trouble but we're not good enough to get ourselves out of trouble."

"You would do well to remember my words and commit them to memory."

"People were dying...not as themselves. They were dying as lesser things. They were dying as cowards."

"S/he died really badly but s/he died as himself/herself."

"It didn't make sense just to leave every last bit of everyone in the dust."

"If we stay true, if we hold fast, nothing will be denied us."

"I remember back, to that small town."

"Don't tell me to up my literature game when you haven't read a book in years!!"

"They didn't find most of the bodies---they were just....gone."

"No matter what must be left behind the road ahead shines."

"We can use all the lovely language that we want to get away from it but _____ was murdered and that will not go unforgiven."

"You never give me the answer that I want."

"I am the ward of the field/____ and I will protect those in my domain."

"The reason no one likes to admit that the _____ is alive is because then they would start to hate it."

"Whether you like it or not I do count you as part of my family, and that means I'm fighting for you too."

"S/he will come and s/he will destroy everything. S/he will remake all worlds exactly to his/her will."

"These have been the happiest years of my life....they were the absolute...happiest."

"You call me wild yet who stands before me?"

"You know nothing of what you speak, boy!!!"

"You call me a demon and you keep the very devil in your basement/_____!"

"If I can contain the devil, little ghost, imagine what I can do to you."

"My warning stays the same: Heed it or face the consequences of it."

"How long until you tell your master what's going on?"

"The old ways have passed on---let them die."

"I will protect those who come to me with an open heart, I don't have the strength to do more."

"There is a light, there's the sun, a place for all the shadowed ones. A place we belong."

"Well, I don't have a name so I can't tell you it, can I?"

"To nature we all deserve the same fate."

"______ served ______ in the only way a loving person can: with complete honor, respect, and vigor."

"I'm not ready to say goodbye yet."

"Hear me now, _____: the defenses must hold. All of them."

"Sometimes you have to discover things about yourself that you don't like, and sometimes when you discover those things that's when you discover who you really are."

"Shit, this is why I work in the field!!!!"

"Go on then, do your worst. All you can do is kill me."

"All's well that ends well, I suppose."

"There's no way to get ______ back without taking some very dangerous steps into dangerous territory."

"I will stretch out my hand and only darkness will follow."

"I won't run. I won't be silent."

"I don't care what _____ decides!! This is my house/______!!"

"_____? ______, look at me. Where are you? Look around, where are you? Look at me, it's alright."

"Everyone's still here, _____. We're not going anywhere."

"You might want to enlighten me because I am entirely clueless."

"You learn more as a teacher than you do as a student."

"Are you seeking paradise like all the rest?"

"I'm not a barbarian."

"Many have been....disappointed....when faced with the cost."

"Remember _____: Death is a mystery and something to fear."

"I don't know if it was nice meeting you ____, but it was interesting at the very least."

"Tell me _____, does it make you strong to stand against something weaker than yourself?"

"I'm as real as I want to be."

"What is it, what did you see?"

"____ and I spent a long time alone."

"There is nothing good that awaits you on your journey."

"Death awaits those with a great burden."

"Go home, little one. Leave that which burdens you behind."

"I can't go without you knowing....without showing you who I really am."

"I feel at peace for the first time in a very long time."

"I hope you know that we had everything and you broke me and left me with these pieces."

"I want you to hurt like you hurt me that day. I want you to lose as much as I lost."

"It's less his/her life running out him/her and more his/her will to live running out and pooling on the floor."

"This won't do. This won't do at all, ______. Not. One. Bit."

"Monsters will always be slain by those they prey upon."

[animeyanderelover]

7/25 characters for my 25 Anime special. This character was suggested. Irene just happens to be one of my Top 10 favorite Fairy Tail characters as well!

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, controlling behavior, manipulation, gaslighting, abduction, death

Yandere Irene Belserion Hc’s

❤️‍🔥She is highly possessive of her darling which can be traced back to her past of suffering and loss of humanity and child. Honestly, Irene might have thought that she wouldn't be able to truly love anyone in a romantic way anymore and then her s/o suddenly pops up and proves her wrong. She doesn't want to lose yet another important person in her life. Not anymore. Since she is a woman who puts importance into respecting her higher-ups, Irene tends to be a bit more strict when it comes to your etiquette. She is in a way your higher-up as well so she expects you to behave goodly for her as well. Whilst you are her lover and she can turn a blind eye on some of your shenanigans, you shouldn't overdo it since she will schedule a punishment to correct your behavior. Heed her blunt warnings when she gives you them.

❤️‍🔥There are no secrets kept from her at all since she is a bit obsessed about finding out more about you. She is the type to only go that deep though since she respects initially your hidden parts. She actually longs for you to tell it herself out of trust. With her position and her power she is rather manipulative if she wants to be, she belittles and berates you since she is a knowledgeable and powerful woman. Despite everything above, Irene is also surprisingly gentle and caring with you, showcasing how her personality used to be back in her days and how that part of her still hasn't died out yet.

❤️‍🔥Irene exceeds high confidence and I do doubt that that anyone would try to take her s/o away from her. She's one of the strongest in the Spriggan 12, only a fool or suicidal maniac would try anything. She doesn't kill a person though if she catches them flirting with you, she does give them a sturdy warning. Jealousy is a petty emotion, she never loses her composure since most of the time she knows that she has the upper hand. If you like someone, it's always possible for her to sabotage things here and there with her spells and the help of Juliet and Heine who are loyal and shippers as soon as they discover Irene's romantical interest. Everything for their beloved leader! Something she'd resort to as a last option would be blackmailing you into becoming her lover, though she'd prefer for you to come to her more naturally.

❤️‍🔥Surely no one in the Empire would dare to hurt a single hair on your head if they don't want to be tortured and killed by the Scarlet Despair herself. It is because of her confidence and trust that Irene, despite her neverending power, rarely resorts to killing someone. She wouldn't have a problem to murder someone who hurts her darling since she is a passionate lover who has a cruel side to her. Since your status as her lover is under her people known though, she knows that she has to worry not as much. Juliet and Heine can keep an eye out for you if she has to be somewhere else.

❤️‍🔥She'd rather have you seek her out of your own free will, she also understands that you're naturally intimidated upon getting to know her. She is dubbed the strongest woman and people in all of the Empire for a reason. Giving you time to adjust and pouring patience into her plans to help you warming up around her. When she one day suggests to come with her and become her little lover, her darling might be rather shocked. If there are insecurities why she chose you, Irene will assure you that her feelings are genuine. If there are doubts, she'll be sly enough to tell you about the benefits that would come with it. Any troubles with your work life or family can be solved with her help and you'd be respected by everyone. If things don't go the way she expects them to go, she might be mad but has always other strings she can pull. One way or another you will wind up with her.

❤️‍🔥As a loyal member of the Spriggan 12, Irene is not someone who would ever daydream or fantasize whilst working for the Empire. Everyone who tries to tease her or cooes a bit over the relationship is at worst met with another blunt remark or a very subtle smile meaning she accepts the compliment. If things are peaceful, she is normally a very caring lover for her darling. She keeps her promises and if something is bothering you, she'll be quick to solve everything with a snap of her fingers as long as it doesn't involve leaving her. Irene wouldn't even completely restrict you once you have her trust. She'd be willing to let you leave your home, visit family and friends and maybe you can even continue your work.