#like she’s been a ghost so long she’s lost her colours

[chloesimaginationthings]

I ADORE your design for Charlie. It’s so adorable!!!!!!

I’m so glad y’all loved her design!!

[bruisedboys]

sejanus plinth x fem!reader | sejanus is a helpless romantic, you’re totally shy under his affections, but he just can’t help himself!

implied shy!reader, coryo being a menace but in a playful way, sejanus being a tease, kissing, so much fluff!!!!

Coriolanus watches you and Sejanus with a look of mild disgust on his face.

“Ugh,” he says. “They’re gross.”

Lucy Gray laughs, up to her knees in the long, soft grass.

“Don’t be mean, Coriolanus,” she chides, digging her elbow into his ribs. “I think they’re cute.”

“Cute?” Coriolanus huffs, incredulous. “He looks like he’s about to eat her.”

Truth be told, Sejanus does look a bit like he wants to eat you. In the most romantic way possible, of course. You’re both sitting on the pier over the lake, and he’s got you in his lap, your knees caged on either side of his hips, his face so close to yours you’re almost kissing. He thumbs at your collarbone, fingers curled over your bare shoulder, hands warm on your sunkissed skin, gazing at you like you’ve been threaded with pure gold. The lake sloshes softly beneath you.

You peek over Sejanus’ shoulder, buzzing with fondness. “They’re looking at us.”

“Who?” Sejanus asks, distracted by the way you shudder under his touch. He thinks it’s sickeningly cute, how shy you are. “Coryo, huh? Don’t worry, honey. He’s just jealous.”

Honey? Heat creeps up your neck at an alarming rate. Any more of this and you’ll melt in a lovesick puddle. The pet name plays in your head over and over like a broken record. Honey, honey, honey.

“Jealous?” You ask breathlessly. You can’t seem to think straight when he’s got you this close. His hands on your skin, his thighs firm under yours. You glance over his shoulder again, self conscious.

“Mhm.” Sejanus brings a hand to your jaw and tilts your head in his direction with two fingers, forcing your gaze away from your friends. “‘Cause you’re so pretty,” he explains, voice like melted sugar. “And I’ve got you all to myself.”

You fear you’ll go up in flames. You hide your burning face by dropping it to his shoulder, shy and so so in love with him. Sejanus laughs softly, soaked through in fondness, and rubs your back with a big warm hand. Your spaghetti strap top means his palm graces a slice of exposed skin at the top of your back, and pleasured goosebumps erupt in his wake.

“I’m sorry, that was a bit much, wasn’t it?” He murmurs, his mouth ghosting your ear, so close he’s almost kissing it. He sweeps his hand up your back and then down again. “C’mon, come back out. I want to look at you.”

He pulls back slightly and gets a hand under your chin to encourage you up. You’re putty in his hands, surprising yourself at how quickly you oblige, how quick you are to do what he wants. He waits patiently for you to meet his gaze and once you do, you find your own feelings of overbearing fondness reflected back at you. His pretty eyes are pools of love, the honey sun painting them the colour of browned butter. You like him so much you could suffocate in it.

Sejanus grins at you, cheeks dimpling. He tucks some of your hair behind your ear.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks softly. His hand lingers at your throat.

“Yeah,” you nod, breathless and much too eager but you can’t bring yourself to care. “You don’t have to ask, Sej.”

Sejanus hums before capturing your mouth in a swift kiss. You breathe him in and curl your hand around his neck, breathing in his scent of pine and firewood, something sweeter, like caramel. Your fingers brush over the short hair at the nape of his neck. He’s told you he used to have curly hair, and as much as you like imagining him with his curls, you like his buzzed hair just as much. He’s so handsome he doesn’t need curls, anyway.

Sejanus brings his hand to your waist and tugs you closer, desperate and greedy but never rough. You go happily, kissing him back with as much earnest as you can manage, pushing up onto your knees in your desperation to be closer still. You get lost, forget where you are, like you tend to do when you’re with Sejanus.

Meanwhile, Coriolanus is fake gagging into the grass.

“You agree that’s a bit excessive, right?” He asks Lucy Gray.

Lucy Gray just rolls her eyes. “You’re dramatic. They’re in love.”

Coryo scoffs. “Couldn’t they be in love somewhere else?”

Lucy Gray watches as you pull away from Sejanus and start giggling like a lovesick fool, while he tries to coax you back into another kiss.

No, she thinks. Not gonna happen.

[aphroditesmoon]

hi there ! could I get a gwen x gn! reader where gwen finally confronts reader after going missing for months during events of atsv?

lose your faith in me

gwen stacy x gn!reader

summary: two months without her was too long for you, but not long enough for you to forget her.

warnings: hurt/comfort, gn reader, fluff, curse words.

a/n: hopefully this is to your liking<3

°°°

IT'S BEEN accurately 68 days and 1610 hours since you've last seen Gwen Stacy.

Two months since she slid out of your window while you were sleeping in the middle of the night. Two months since she disappeared without a word, leaving you nothing but a folded paper by your bedside with a 'text u when i get home' scribbled over it.

George Stacy wouldn't meet your eyes when you decided to come knocking on his door a month ago. It felt like you're not looking beyond the curtains where the sun hides when you're talking to him.

He didn't know where Gwen was, it was evident, but he wasn't worried over it either. And when he says her name, it sounds foreign to both ypur ears, like he's talking about a stranger and not his own daughter.

He tells you that you shouldn't look for her. An odd thing for a father to say, but the grief in his eyes forces you to oblige, so you gave in and threw away her stupid rotting note, buried deep in your pockets for all the while she's been missing.

But ghosts eventually find their way back home, her grave in the shape of your bed, and in your arms the only place she'll ever find peace.

You felt her before you saw her, chilly air enters your room from the window, and when you glance up from your pillow, her silhouette stares back at you, an image so clear and persistent that you know you weren't dreaming it. You lift up your body, eyes squinting at her. When she steps closer, the moon finally shining its light on her face, you flinch as you're met with a masked face, the widely known ghost-spider.

A barely audible gasp leaves you when the spiderwoman moves to rip the mask off of her face, and all the questions you've asked nightly to the universe finally answers themselves. You take off your blanket slowly, getting up to walk towards your Gwen is a cautious manner, her eyes stays on your face, waiting for a reaction. Waiting for fear to colour your features.

But besides your suprised expression, you don't show any sign of hostility towards her.

Gwen watches as you finally step in front of her, faces inches from eachother, eyes wide and brows furrowing. She didn't plan to reveal this to you, neither did she plan to find herself in your room, the moment she's been zapped back into her universe by Miguel.

Her fingers flexes to stop itself from trembling, and when your hands reaches up to cup the right side of her face, her eyes soften, and Gwen lets out a heavy breath, succumbing to your touch.

You don't hesitate to move your arms around her, pulling her towards you as she finds her place on your neck, her own hands wrapped around your waist.

You feel her fingers fisting the back of your shirt, as if you'd disappear if she pulls way. Eventually you do, facing eachother once more, you lean your forehead againts hers and feel your mind finally coming back into yourself. She didn't want to speak, it was obvious, but you also knew that it was necessary.

Dissapearing for two months was one thing, finding out she was ghost-spider is another. You should feel betrayed, angry, disappointed in the least, but all you felt was aching pity for her, trying to imagine how alone she must've felt, even when she had you by her side. You opened your mouth to speak but she cut you to it first.

"I'm so stupid." You cracked a smile despite the circumstances as Gwen winces at her own words.

"That fucking came out wrong- I was gonna say 'I'm so sorry' actually." She corrected herself, gripping your forearm.

"I know." You tell her. "You should've-"

"-Told you, I know, god knows, I know. I was just so terrified, I lost Peter, and everyone thinks I killed him, my own dad looked at me like i was a monster when I took my mask off in front of him. Do you think I could've handled having you look at me like that?" That silenced you.

All the petty anger you've buried deep waiting for her return felt childish now. You would've done the same thing if you were her, you knew that.

When she sees your own tears welling up, Gwen cursed herself for saying the things she said. She didn't need you to carry her guilt. Gwen pulled you back into her arms, and you take in the odd mint smelling shampoo she must've been using and kissed her temple.

You felt yourself about to burst now, She was here, and she's laying herself open for you to see, all the things she's never told anyone about before.

"I love you." You croaked out, feeling yourself unable to strain the overwhelming sadness. And Gwen wipes your tears away despite her own and tells you what you already know. "I love you too."

[flowerandblood]

Sweetly desire, bitterly deprive

Halloween Request Oneshots Series

[ Victorian Horror • Aemond x female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, partial rape, choking, violence, murder and suicide, obsession ]

[ description: Lost in his own emptiness and cold, Aemond lives with his family in their large estates, wandering their halls like a ghost, lost in his own madness. One day, his mother's friend arrived at their manor with her husband and daughter. He becomes obsessed with her, which leads to a series of unfortunate events. Obsessive, delving into madness, poetic, very dark! Aemond. ]

This oneshot is my idea and a reference to the wonderful work of Edgar Allan Poe, his Eleanor and Morella and is created with Halloween in mind, so unlike what I usually write, these fisc will be very dark and uncomfortable. Keep this in mind before you start reading.

*English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy!*

My others works: Masterlist

_____

It seemed to him that something in him had disappeared, collapsed when he lost his left eye, that he had partly ceased to be human and had become some kind of caricatured creature, menacing, tall as a tower, pale and cold as marble.

He had never lacked anything, his family was wealthy, owning many mansions all over the country, all identically decorated, sumptuously adorned with portraits of their ancestors looking at him melancholy and proudly out of the canvas, continually judging him.

He had the impression that at night their faces changed, his great-grandmothers and great-grandfathers seemed suddenly to be some kind of phantoms, their faces contorted, displeased at the sight of him, his existence.

He still felt watched, he felt overwhelmed, he felt that something hovered over him, but he could not name this premonition, this certainty.

He had tried to explain it to his mother once, but she had looked at him with such concerned, frightened eyes that he decided he would never mention it again.

He knew that his family considered him insane, a man out of his mind, irrational, aggressive in his words, with a gaze that cut like a sharp blade, making interlocutors turn their faces away from him, unable to bear it.

He saw her for the first time when she arrived at their residence with her parents, Mr and Mrs Orwell, at the invitation of his mother, who had been friends with Mrs Orwell as a child. He watched closely her small, slender figure standing in the corridor behind his parents, her gaze lowered downwards, thoughtful.

She shuddered as if she subconsciously sensed that she was being watched and glanced in his direction, her pupils dilated suddenly, as if from a dream world she had returned to earth with the cruel pull of some unknown force, as if his figure, his silhouette had crushed her.

They stared at each other for too long to be considered in accordance with good manners, only when her parents entered the living room where he sat did he rise from his chair, reminding himself of such a basic thing as breathing, and straightened up, folding his arms behind him, allowing himself to introduce the people who would be guests in their home from now on.

He knew that Miss Orwell could feel his burning gaze on her, fleeing from him to the far end of the room, looking at the books stacked on the shelves of the old oak bookcase. He watched from behind her beautiful neck, her hair pinned up in a bun and braids framing her head on either side. Her gown was sewn from a delicate, light-coloured fabric, its cut was simple, perfectly emphasising her figure, her almost bare shoulders.

Her neck and her shoulders drove him mad.

The perfect curve of the transition of one part of her body into the other, her shiny, soft skin, the softness of the shape that was forming.

Then he lifted his gaze higher and discovered her slightly rounded, short, proportionate nose, forming a perfect angle with her straight, smooth forehead, the totality of this view framed by her eyes like precious stones, bright, shining, surrounded by long lashes like veils, emphasising her depths, giving her an aura of mystery.

Finally, he struggled to dare to shift his attention to the most intimate exposed part of her body, her fleshy, full, pink lips, both pressed against each other, still remaining virtually imperceptibly parted, the point of their contact seeming incredibly soft and moist to him.

He saw her throw him an uncertain, frightened look and clench her hands in front of her, not knowing how to act, how to dissuade him. She only relaxed when his sister walked into their living room.

They greeted each other as if they were old friends, even though they were seeing each other for the first time, grasped each other's hands and from then on they were inseparable.

He often watched them through the window, seeing their silhouettes move unhurriedly ahead of them through their vast park, talking to each other about something in a cheerful voice and laughing, their pearly sounds reaching his ears muffled by the glass.

In his presence, her smile disappeared from her face, her laughter sagged in her throat and a faint dread coated her, her pupils dilated suddenly, her lips tightened.

His tall figure standing over her frightened her, his hands folded stiffly behind his back seemed frozen in stone, as if he were just a statue breathing for some reason. Unable to make a sound near him, she lowered her gaze quickly, terrified.

One day, however, she dared to take a step towards him, a step towards the unknown, as, realising that he spent every evening by candlelight sitting in their library reading books, she joined him. He watched her every move vigilantly, not taking his eye off her, her delicate figure moving around the room in a light, slow motion, her hands folded in front of her in a humble gesture.

He could not express how melancholic and heavenly she looked walking like that in the faint light of the candles, her person seemed as if enveloped in a mist, a glow.

He felt himself to be merely an observer of events, a point to which all her presence referred, being a counterbalance to her subtlety, spread out around her like the blackness of the night that surrounded them.

She looked at him at last, for the first time as if she really wanted to see him, what was inside him, what was inside his heart, inside his mind, and he looked at her with empty eye, knowing that there was only nothingness there, an abyss, a coldness without end or measure.

He was surprised at her courage, at how confidently she walked towards him, standing by his side, looking over his shoulder wanting to see what he was reading.

He did not turn his head behind her, he only watched the shadow of her silhouette out of the corner of his eye, he could feel beside him the warmth emanating from her body, her scent, the rustling of her gown made him feel a tickle in his fingers.

"Machiavelli. What a brutal choice." She whispered, but there was no disapproval or judgement in her word, more a soft surprise, there was something in the way she said the last sentence, in the way the tip of her tongue clicked as she uttered the syllables, that he licked his lower lip involuntarily, turning the page.

"Brutal?" He asked lowly, hearing the timbre of his own voice, glassy, cutting like a blade, clear, assured, cool. He heard her swallow quietly and draw in the air, her body standing beside him, somehow enveloping him in her existence, pleasantly teasing all his senses.

"Cesare Borgia was his ideal of a ruler. That says enough about him." She said lowly, he heard her avert her gaze thoughtfully, looking at some point in the distance. Involuntarily, the tip of his tongue ran over his lower lip, moistening it, he smirked at her words, shifting in his seat.

"They are both no longer among us and have no way to defend themselves from your cruel judgement." He murmured softly, lifting his eyes to her at last.

Their gazes crossed, her eyes at once full of uncertainty and curiosity, and he had the feeling that her figure was quivering and trembling, too filled with life, the desire to breathe, to move, to feel.

They looked at each other and he knew that they had both experienced this when he first saw her, when they were unable to stop, when they both realised that something was happening between them that they could not tell anyone about.

He didn't know how it happened, what moved his loins to stand up, towering over her to grab her with ease and seat her on the table. He decided that it was just purest curiosity, as his fingertips ran over her shoulder, over that gorgeous arm, and traveled up the hill of the length of her neck, his hand tightened around it, again, merely in curiosity, and he found to his surprise that it fit there perfectly.

He looked at her face, into her eyes glittering like the most expensive precious stones darkened by the veil of her lashes, looking at him hazy, hesitant, at once fearful and devoted, wanting and demanding. When he took a step towards her her thighs spread between him like a book, as if it were the most natural of reflexes that didn't even surprise him.

Without letting go of her gorgeous neck he began to travel and explore the mysterious nooks and crannies of her body occupying his mind, the finger of his free hand lifting tentatively the material of her gown and her petticoat, running over her ankle covered from him by the woollen material.

He ran his hand upwards, higher and higher, as if running his finger over to the surface of the water, until he reached the soft, surprisingly hot skin of her naked thigh and they both parted their lips, looking at each other wordlessly, breathing deeply.

His fingers ran over her flesh as if it were the keys of a piano, pressing her skin, and made their way to what was between her thighs, to what he could feel the pulsing heat from, the source of her trembling, of her sleepless nights.

She let out a shuddering, sweet sigh as he touched her there and found her sticky moisture, with circular motions collecting it on his fingers, both of them looking at each other as if surprised by this discovery, this disturbing, intimate act.

With each movement of his fingers, with each circle across her warmth, her thighs spread wider and wider in front of him, her body finding support on her palms placed on the table top, her breasts hidden under her gown rising and falling, her hips beginning to meet his movements.

He had the feeling that they were both in a trance, that they didn't understand what they were doing and didn't want to understand it, they weren't thinking about it or judging it, they were simply discovering a new experience, testing the taste of the sweet, unspoken secret that hid deep between her thighs, the loud, shameless click of her wetness accompanying every movement of his hand.

He licked his lips involuntarily when at last the tip of his finger met the entrance between her folds which throbbed with heat, wet and pulsing. Encouraged by this intriguing discovery, he slid his finger there, wanting to see what she felt like inside. He found with interest that her core was rough and fleshy, throbbing and wet, clenching steadily on his skin, her head arched back with a cry of exertion.

He slid his finger deeper, feeling it stretch her entire structure, pushing deep into her flesh, and a quiet, ungodly mewl erupted from her lips, her eyes clenched, her mouth parted in something akin to elation, delight.

He felt his body react, a pleasant heat and pulsation, the same as he felt inside her. He thought they were like two parts of the same thing, like two sides of the same story, beginning and end, day and night, sun and moon.

Just as everything had its companion, just as the world had for centuries misunderstood the nature of loneliness, telling people to discover the joys of living with someone, man and woman were destined to explore themselves with amazement.

He slipped his finger out of her and, with a light, unhurried movement, untied the fabric of his trousers, lowering them slightly so that she could not see what was beneath them, hiding that sickeningly physical, animalistic sight beneath her gown.

She knew what was about to happen, and though she didn't understand it, she felt subconsciously that from the moment they looked at each other they were destined to connect, to take something and give something to each other.

She trembled all over as he directed the tip of his length with his palm against her burning, hot entrance, her body instantly refusing this sudden, unholy act of divine violation.

"− don't −" He hissed coolly, and she froze, looking at him tearfully, letting him force his pink tip, dripping with his liquid moisture, inside her.

With surprising patience and devotion she endured the discomfort of fitting him inside her, a weary, helpless sob came from her lips. He slid his manhood into her slowly, bit by bit, stretching her tight muscles, sinking into the warmth of her flesh.

He realised suddenly that he was inside her, that he was her and she was him.

That they were a whole, that he would never be complete again without her.

His hand tightened around her neck and did not let her escape, impaling her on himself, on what he was putting into her so deeply that she throbbed, seeking fulfillment in it, any kind of relief.

He gave in to his animal instinct, the feeling that he craved to rub against her, craved for her to squeeze him, craved to move inside her, the thrusts of his hips violent, intense, deep, sure, as if taking her, filling her with himself again and again, physical stretching of her body with his flesh was written into his nature.

Their bodies slammed against each other with wet, loud clicks of her moisture as if they were fighting, as if he was about to pierce her with himself, her head tilted back, her expression showing simultaneous delight and horror at this unexpectedly pleasurable act.

She was panting along with him, giving herself over completely to his brutal thrusts, needed to be filled, to be satisfied.

"− you won't escape from me − you know that, don't you? − I'm going to fill you −" He growled between one quick, hard thrust and the next, and she only mewled a desperate plea, refusing and at the same time asking him to do it, writhing beneath him, her face all flushed with pleasure.

"− no − please − God, forgive me −" She cried out with difficulty, tears of effort, pain and delight running down her cheeks, her body leaning back, surrendering at last.

He felt her insides suddenly clench violently against him and begin to convulse, a moan of sweet suffering came from her lips, her body shook with a wave of something he was yet to understand.

This sight made him speed up instead of slowing down, feeling that something was about to happen, that he was already so close.

"− yes − don't resist me − fuck! −" He cursed for the first time in his life, feeling that his whole body was in a hot frenzy, his hips moving deep inside her throughout her fulfilment, her hands trying fruitlessly to push him away with her loud, broken moans, unable to take any more, overstimulated and sensitive.

He made a low, throaty, animalistic sound as a wave of pleasure shook him, he felt his own fluid spilling over her insides, filling her like wine fills a chalice, and he thought it made him feel the most natural reflex in his life, the filling and that she felt exactly the same way about the sensation of being filled, as if it was her primal, most important need.

Not to be empty.

They stared at each other, breathing loudly, feeling the fog around them begin to blur and disappear, their vision began to sharpen, their cool judgement returned to their minds, and with horror they realised at last what they had done.

They pulled away from each other in pain, both feeling that the fact that they were no longer one was unnatural, ungodly, against some fundamental law, that they were incomplete again, that they were imperfect again.

He watched out of the corner of his eye as she corrected her gown in despair, she stepped down from the table and ran out of the room with a loud, broken sob, terrified of their act, of what consequences it might bring.

He tied his trousers sitting down in his chair with difficulty and listened to the intense pounding of his heart, staring blankly ahead, trying to calm his breathing, feeling more empty than ever.

Over the next few days she avoided him again, her face even paler than when he first saw her. He had the feeling that she was in a progressive agony, that she was dying before his eyes.

Wanting to put an end to their torment, one morning he moved after her, seeing that she had gone for a walk through their park, and asked for her hand.

Only then did she confess to him, crying with unspeakable pain, that her fiancé had been waiting for her for weeks.

He felt like he had fallen into a state of complete emptiness and wasn't sure he understood her words.

He even thought they were amusing as he sat in the living room taking a sip of wine from his glass, chuckling under his breath, much to the consternation of those gathered.

It wasn't until several hours later that people began to be concerned about her disappearance.

He took no part in the search.

As he walked down the corridor of his mansion in the evening heading towards his room, he looked at the appraising faces of his grandparents, their eyes seemingly bulging, terrified, their lips clenched as if in rage.

He began to rip portrait after portrait off the wall, destroying frames and canvases, causing a commotion all around him. His mother tried to calm him down, but he broke free from her embrace.

It was only when he entered his bedroom that he noticed her silhouette, pale and corpse-like, her eyes wide open, looking towards the door as if she was waiting for him, his bedclothes all covered in her blood.

He saw out of the corner of his eye an open window facing straight into their park and realised that she had broken in here, taken his letter knife and slit her wrists.

He approached her slowly, feeling the pounding of his heart, the sweat on the back of his neck as he noticed the bruises on her neck, a clear marks matching his hands that he was sure he hadn't seen when he had spoken to her that morning.

How could that be?

He glanced at the floor out of the corner of his eye and saw his chemise, all dirty from the sand and grass. He began to breathe deeply, feeling the whole room swirl around him.

He pushed from his mind the sight of her terrified face, the sight of her tears when she fell with him to the ground, when he told her that he was empty without her, that he had filled her with himself and she could not be anyone else's, just as he could never be anyone else's again.

It seemed to him that she had come to terms with his words, for she stopped struggling, looking at him with affection, and he praised and comforted her, telling her that the end would come soon, that she would fall asleep, that he promised she would not be in pain.

When she stopped moving and fainted he took her body in his arms, numb and spilling in his fingers, and walked as if in a trance through his open window into his bedroom.

He laid her on his bed, where she belonged, right beside him, and left, longing to return to her in the night, believing that she had fallen into an eternal sleep.

She woke up.

She finished his work.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess

[cattonicdragon]

Love your stuff man, can I get audrey bendy susie allison and carly(the ghost girl) x a reader that is a living shadow like dr facilier's shadow and can manipulate people through there shadows, Again love your stuff.

Audrey,bendy,susie,allison and carly x shadow reader that can manipulate living matter

Of course u can!

Has been proofread!

Audrey

Considering the fact that shes been bothered by all sorts of things since shes entered this inky hell,I think it's safe to say she would be somewhat surprised apon initially finding you

That's until she finds out that you can interact with people through their shadows

Shes honestly terrified once she finds you practically playing ping pong with some stray searchers

The ink around the place dosnt help,it becomes harder to locate you when your against a almost pitch black surface

Once befriended you though all the things that were a issue before became an uperhand

If shes ever in trouble,should a searcher get to close you can pull it back and just hold it there

She finds it funny when you hold one back and it has no idea what tf is going on

After friending you she finds your powers cool and not as terrifying

You can create little puppet shows for her and manipulate shadows to dance and do stuff

Audrey finds you a massive help when navigating through the place

When she manages to escape you bet shes taking you with her

Once in the real world you can have alot more freedom and it's easier to find you now that the hallways have colour.

Bendy

He knows of all the weird creatures that live in the studio,its his realm

Yet he hadnt seen you before

A shadow,that can manipulate living matter by using their shadows?

How interesting

Would probally take a similar approach with you like he did with audrey

If your even made out of ink

He likes to watch when you mess around with people's shadows,tripping up searchers and fucking around with the lost souls

If you ever manage to trip up Wilson you'll definatly get on bendys "do not kill yet"list

He dosnt know how you can even exist because your literally a shadow,do you perhaps have a seperate body somewhere in the studio?perhaps only your shadow appears

He trys to find a logical explanation but cant so he kinda just goes "well if you dont help Wilson or audrey then u stay away"

He dosnt care about you if your not a threat,hes annoyed he cant talk telepathicly or controll u though

Once he bonds with you though you can be a pretty nasty duo

If anybody tries to run away I dont think theyll get very far,

The studio is abit slippery today,or maybe it's the fact that you tripped them over

Well either way they fell head over heels,just like bendy did for you

Anyways,intruders dont get far as you drag them to wherever the ink demon is to take care of them

If you play with his shadow he will get annoyed so dont do that

Susie/malice

Shes been around the studio for God knows how long,so of course she knows about the things the ink creates

However she had never seen a being quiet like you

Shes not bothered by you until you pull on her arm and mess with her,she thinks it's a lurcher trying to annoy her at first until she comes to the realization that shes alone

After that she dosnt like to see you

She thinks that your always gonna pull on her hair or something and since your a shadow she cant do anything,so she just leaves,not being bothered to deal with you when more important matters are at hand

She eventually talk to you when your both in the same room,although the conversation starts out rough,she dosnt like being messed with,especially when she cant do anything to stop it

After eventually getting over her grudge she speaks to you...passively?

Relatively passivly

Eventually a friendship starts to bloom though

Theres a very high chance you could bond over a common hatred for the ink demon

Definatly asks if you can fuck around with audrey and Wilson

You can both be quite scary when in the same room,especially if one of them has something against you

Allison

Shes a survivor,she knows the things that lurk in the shadows of the ink but shes also not afraid to stand her ground against them

Once coming across you,allison will immidatly deem you as a threat,nothing is as it seems in the studio

When she finds out that you can move people through their shadows etc,shes not surprised,like mentioned previously,the things in this realm are made to deceive you

If you become troublesome for her and Tom then she will light candles everywhere or choose lit up areas,only venturing into dim ones when shes sure your not lurking around a corner

Once she somewhat friends you,you can be a massive help,she found out that you can also interact with stuff like bacon soup,so sometimes you go out getting supplies so they dont get injured by the ink demon or anything

Tom warms up to you surprisingly quick(its because you spoil him)

She does eventually admit that maybe she judged you to hard to being with

Carley

Considering the fact that shes a ghost aswell she'd be very intrigued by a shadow like you

Shes probally the only one on this list who isnt surprised that you can interact with peoples shadows,shes just not that surprised anymore

That's not to say she isnt impressed

She cant really "interact" with the living

Although she can scare people,moving things etc isnt really her forte

You two get along amazingly almost immediately

Its probally due to the fact that you both dont have a physicall body

The two of you could probally cause most people a heart attack

Both of you are very annoying towards audrey

And no audrey will get no breaks from your antics

You both mess around with the butcher gang alot alswell,one time accidentally causing a fight to break out amongst themselves

Wilson gets alot of problems from the both of you

If the old man needs to sleep hes not getting any,at all

[wintervalewritersecond]

tears to shed iv - simon 'ghost' riley

masterlist // masterlist call of duty

requested: no, but requests are OPEN! request: x

A/N: last part! hope this makes up for the sad ending last part &lt;3

part 1 // part 2 // part 3 // part 4

wordcount: warnings: ooc simon (like, very ooc), corpse bride au, she/her reader, happy ending

An arranged marriage to unite two worlds. But no one would have expected that it would bring together the living and the dead.

Your parents were much happier to hear that they were up in the social ladder now than that they were to hear that you had come back. Lord and Lady MacTavish also could not care less - as long as they got money, they would be set.

It is not like life with Johnny was bad. Not at all, actually. You had fun with him, and he was someone you feel comfortable with. He is so trustworthy, funny, and nice. It truly could have been so much worse.

The years pass, new people coming to the town, other people leaving. Babies are being born and elderly people are passing away. You aren't scared of death anymore - you have lived in it, you have loved in it.

Marriage to Johnny is like marrying a best friend. Both you and Johnny found out quite early on that you did love each other, yet more like friends or family instead of lovers. Not that you thought the other was ugly, mean, or uninteresting. It was just platonic, but to be quite honest, you did not mind.

You could be on the street, or worse, married to a horrible person. Lucky for you, you are 'stuck' with Johnny. Every single day felt refreshing, always going on trips or eating a delicious dinner. Your mother and father barely came to visit, saying they were much too busy with their new way of life. Lord and Lady MacTavish were also not seen very often, always far away, enjoying the money they now had.

Years seem to fly by.

The older you get, the faster time goes.

Your body is becoming weaker, the people around you have left, and the house feels much too big for only two people. It is winter now, and sickness is going around, a sickness that had also gotten the better of Johnny.

You sat by his side, his body covered with endless blankets, coughs coming from him ever so often.

"You are burning up," you mumble, your hand on his forehead.

He does not respond, only looking at the ceiling before finally turning his head to you. This is the most movement he has gone through this entire week. Johnny stays quiet for a moment, blinking slowly before licking his lips.

"Is the afterlife scary?"

"No," you softly say, taking hold of his hand, "It is fun, free, careless. You will have your own place, and you can have endless drinks at the bar. It is colourful and bright."

He hums, his hand softly squeezing yours as he looks past you.

"I think I would like to go there."

Your breath hitches in your throat, tears burning in your eyes as you look at him, bringing your other hand to his cheek.

"You do?"

Nothing but a hum yet again, his eyes looking past you.

"Y/N?"

"Yes?"

"Will you find me there?"

You nod, pressing a kiss to his hand.

"I will."

"Can you promise me something?"

Your heart feels heavy.

"Anything."

"After you find me... Also find Simon. That one man from years ago," he whispers, coughing, "If it... If it truly is as you said, then please, find him. Live the life you couldn't live now."

"Johnny," a tear falls down your cheek, "You are acting as if my life with you was not good."

"Oh, lass, we had a wonderful life. But the afterlife you describe... It is your second chance. Take it, please."

One last promise you make to him. Through sickness, through health, till death do you part.

"I promise you, Johnny. I love you so."

"And I love you."

After one last breath, one last blink, he leaves you. Leaves you behind as you did that one night, though you know he will not come back. More tears fall down your cheeks as you press a soft kiss to his forehead. Another friend lost.

You then spent months alone. No visitors, no Johnny, no parents.

It was weird.

The world seems so grey, so bleak, so colourless. There is nothing for you here. You eat just to eat, you read just to read. Everything seems meaningless. Another night where you go to sleep in a cold bed.

But this time, when you wake up, you feel different.

Your bones don't hurt, your limbs don't feel heavy, your hair doesn't feel brittle. Instead, you feel lively, weightless, free.

"A new arrival!"

Is the time finally here?

You open your eyes, the lights very bright, and you nearly can not believe what you see. It's the bar, the people, the music, the drinks.

"Wait..."

You quickly turn around, coming eye to eye with Johnny.

"Lass?"

You nod slowly, a smile forming on your face as you fling your arms around him.

"Oh, Johnny!" You pull away from him for a second, your hands on his cheeks, "I can't believe it! Oh, you look so young."

He does not nearly look the same as when you last saw him. His skin isn't wrinkly, his eyes are bright, and he has the same silly haircut.

"Says you," he grins, holding out his cup to you, "You look as mighty as ever."

You look at his cup and back at him. You are actually here. But, if you are... Is Simon here as well? Johnny still has a smile on his face, taking a swig from his beer. He knows what, or rather who, you are looking for.

"Go on," he nods his head to the exit, "We will have eternity to celebrate that you're here. Go, we can talk later."

You press a kiss to his cheek, nodding as you lift up the bottom of your skirt, walking up the stairs that lead to the outside of the bar. You are met with a mirror, right next to the door. You look so much younger, almost as if no time had passed. Dressed in a nightgown, your hair done up, looking youthful as ever. The age when you first got here, gone back in time, just like Johnny.

The roads, the coffins, the lights - all are exactly as you remember them being. You have dreamt of taking this exact walk dozens of times, clenching onto the dogtags that you had yet to take off. Now, you actually walk there, the tags tight in your hand. A left here, straight, and then...

You are so absorbed by your own thoughts that you do not register the person in front of you. You yelp, nearly falling over, but catching yourself by holding onto a crate.

"Oh, sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going!"

"Y/N?"

You look up, you know that voice...

"Price?"

"I can't believe it!" He laughs, pulling you to him to give you a big hug, "You are here! Oh my god, wait until Simon hears about this. You are going to give him a heart attack!"

"Where is he?"

"At home," he backs off, nodding his head into the direction of the house, "Hasn't been out too much. Kept his mask back on, been in a real mood for a while. You know, he never got over you."

He still thinks of you?

"Neither have I," you whisper, looking up at the man.

"Oh, I know," he only shrugs, "Johnny and I have become well acquainted over these months. Sadly haven't been able to really talk to Simon too much, but I think that might change."

The two of you continue your way, only a few doors away from the love of your afterlife. What if he doesn't want to see you? What if you are not like how he expected? Maybe he does not wish for a life with you.

"Don't worry your little head, Y/N," Price whispers, stopping at the door, "I will leave you be. Come by the bar later?"

You nod, sending him a smile as he leaves you alone at the door. What now? Do you knock? You feel nervous, yet you don't feel the pounding of your heart or the sweat in your hands. You are excited, though you can't feel the butterflies in your stomach.

A soft knock on the door.

Was it not hard enough? What if he isn't home? What if he didn't hear? What if he acts like he doesn't hear so he doesn't have to answer-

"Price, I told ya, I don't want to go to the-" the door gets ripped open, revealing the masked man you have thought about each and every day, "pub."

"We don't have to if you don't wish to, Simon."

"Wh... Is that you?"

He grips your cheeks tightly, scared that if he lets go, you will disappear. His eyes scan your face, the rest of his face hidden behind the skull mask he wore when you met him. You nod as much as you can, but the tight grip barely allows for you to move. Within a second, you are in his arms, his arms around you and his head on top of yours. Even if you wanted to, you could never get out of this embrace.

"I can't believe it. You are here."

"I am here," you confirm.

"I have waited each and every day. Price told me your husband came here before you did."

You nod.

"He did. But he made me promise him something."

What did he promise? Should Simon be scared? Are you only here to say hello, only to never see him again?

"He wants me to have a second chance. To life my... afterlife, the way it was intended. With you."

He slowly lets go, looking down at you with big eyes. His tags still around your neck and you looking like an angel. Is this real? Someone, pinch him, though it will not work.

"With me?"

"Johnny and I were friends. Best friends, even," you whisper, holding onto Simon his hands, "He told me to find you, Simon. And, if you will have me, I would want to spend this eternity with you."

That is all that he has ever wanted to hear.

So, he gets down on one knee.

"Death made us part, but now brought us together," he kisses your knuckles, "May I ask you to be my wife, for now until forever?"

One hell of a way to ask you to marry him.

[sp00kymulderr]

WIP Wednesday but it's Thursday

thanks for the tags @chronically-ghosted @perotovar @wannab-urs!

Step one: post snippets of the fics you're working on (can be a summary if there's no snippet)

Step two: put them in a poll and let people vote on which one you should work on

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Picture You (QZ!Joel x sex worker f!reader)

The system was easy; a ration card dropped in to the disused mailbox, the next day they would come back to collect the polaroids you chose for them. A note with them, in your best handwriting, with a wishlist - things they could leave, what they'd get in return. Food for a photo of you in your prettiest lace set, cigarettes and booze would get them a topless shot, pills promised them a full nude. Rarer finds meant they'd get to see more of you. You always knew when the offering was from him. At first he'd just leave the payment, but as he returned again and again he'd give you notes - scribbled handwriting complimenting you on the colour of the lingerie you wore, on how perfect you looked in it. Eventually, he'd leave more and ask for something else - a pair of your panties, worn. Then he asked for more.

lost, found pt 2 (Dieter x reader x Ezra x non-binary oc)

Dieter had met Faye first, years ago. They had worked on a production of The Cherry Orchard with him. They had bonded over vodka martinis and their shared hatred of Chekov. Nights on stage, days in bed. They'd been a constant in his life for so long Dieter didn't know what he'd do without Faye now. You had come along next. Someone new, intriguing to him. You'd sat at your table at a fundraiser looking bored out of your mind, but when Dieter came to speak to you the smile you had given him had practically knocked him off his feet. He'd taken you home that night, and you'd never really left after that. Ezra. Now Ezra was never expected. You knew him, had had your dalliances with him in the past. Dieter was aware of him, Ezra was a prolific stage actor who never ventured in to film. When you'd first introduced the two they had butted heads. It had taken a while for them to realise just how much they liked each other.

you play the part, i'll be the art (no outbreak, moms ex!Joel x f!reader)

"Thought I told you to stay out of trouble?" Joel grunts, pulling you away from the group and around the corner towards the bathrooms, out of sight from both them and his date. "Thought I told you to stop watching me?" You retort, riled up and full of adrenaline. You're a little tipsy, a little horny, and massively fired up - they way he holds on to you doesn't help, practically pinning you against the wall. "Or is your date just not exciting enough for you, Joel?"

Cherry chapter 2 (Dieter x ofc x f!reader)

You're three cocktails in and giggling with Eva. Just like old times. Her smile lights up her face, lights up the whole room. The whole world. She's just as perfect as she always was. Dieter's there too.

np tagging @covetyou @5oh5 @alwaysmicado @morallyinept @morning-star-joy @whatsnewalycat @sweetercalypso @schnarfer @ozarkthedog if you haven't done it yet

[jupitermelichios]

so you've probably seen the news that riverdale ended with the main 4 in an actual, canonical, poly relationship

and that's amazing for a bunch of reasons, including the fact that the number of canon poly relationships on tv are miniscule and also it brings the number of canonically straight main cast members down to 1. Ethel is legitimately the show's token straight representation. love that for her

but to get the full impact of that news, you really also need to know that in order for the polycule to form:

Jughead's transdimensional angel girlfriend has to destroy multiple other timelines to create a new stable timeline for the polycule to live in. timelines destroyed include the one where jughead is immortal and trapped forever in a bunker underneath riverdale, and one where tony and fangs's magical timetravelling gay baby is fighting an evil wizard for control of a train full of evil ghosts

Jughead's magical transdimensional angel girlfriend then returns to the newly created main timeline, and restores the main cast's memories of all the other timelines, which she does by forcing them to watch the show riverdale. That is not a joke or a metaphor she even goes to the trouble to bring a colour tv back to the 1950s so they can watch in colour, except for Clay and Julian, because they did not exist in any of the previous timelines and they're sad about it and refuse to watch a show they're not in.

(Well, Julian technically did exist in the original timeline, but only as a ghost possessing a haunted doll, which doesn't really count)

(Also for some reason as well as the main cast, she makes dilton doily watch it, despite his only contributions to the show being a) dying as a human sacrifice in the og timeline, b) trying to blow up the planet and then dying because of it in the rivervale timeline, and c) gay kevin telling people he has the biggest dick in the 1950s tlmeline, and honestly, I feel like it would be kinder to just not show him any of that)

(ethel does not get to watch riverdale, because she did the only sensible thing any riverdale character has ever done and fucked off to a normal town to have an actual life, because as well as being the token straight character, she's also the token sane one)

After watching Riverdale, all of the main cast except Jughead and Betty decide it sucks and they hate it, and ask tabby to rewipe their memories and only give them the cute bits and not all the serial killers and shit, because the writers have run out of time for subtle metaphors and they weren't sure the audience had fully grasped that the entirely last season of the show is a weird metacommentary on the criticisms people have of the show riverdale so they're just straight up going to have archie andrews look straight to camera and say that the show should have been more like the comics

also I have no idea how only showing them the happy bits works, because that removes 90% of the entire plot so I assume they just have a bunch of completely out of context sex scenes and meals at the diner and nothing else. possibly also some musical numbers, idk if I'd count those as happy memories personally

Betty and Jug chose to keep their memories of the Gargoyle King and Betty's 2 long-lost secret gay serial killer brothers because they're edgy (and also because the writers are annoyed at all the people who say the show should be more like the comics, so they have the smartest characters say they liked the actually and everyone else is being a wimp about all the serial killers, because again, we have run out of time for subtlety)

Having had his memories restored, Jug's like "oh hi tabitha, my secret transdimensional angel girlfriend, I haven't seen you for months, I've really missed you. I'm so glad you're you're back. i love you so much"

And she responds by telling him that she'd chosen to write herself out of the timeline when she fixed in, and she has to return to the great big diner in the sky (not a joke, heaven is a diner in the riverdale universe and, it is heavily implied, also in our universe, so that's something to look forward to), so she freezes time halfway through kissing him and just nopes out of time and space. which is also how I would handle all break ups if I had angel powers tbh

since jug is now single, and all 4 of them just got multiple timeline's worth of fucking one another mainlined straight into their brains, the main 4 decide to all start dating

(they are probably inspired to do this in part by betty's sister, who in the new timeline is a burlesque performer who's stage name is Polly Amorous)

As far as I can tell from the last episode, they tell gay kevin about this and literally no one else, for reasons known only to themselves

also genuinely can't tell if this was the writers wanting a poly relationship for them, or if they just couldn't be bothered with the internet slap fights that would have followed them picking individual monogomous ships to be endgame

they also, hilariously, refuse to say that archie and jug are dating, I assume due to network restrictions, despite archie being canonically bi at this point, so betty's just like 'well sometimes I go to veronica's and we fuck, and the boys do... something we're not going to talk about'

the final episode of the show is a flash forward where as a now old betty is dying, jughead's ghost shows her memories of their teens, in which it's reveal that she has just straight up forgotten about being in a poly relationship

literally she looks at her teen self and is like "wow, I seem weirdly close to veroica jughead and archie" and Jug's ghost has to be like "because we were dating. how do you not remember that we were dating? what the hell? did I mean nothing to you?!"

also old betty specifically seeks out reggie and is like "hey you know how me and you dated, and you and veronica were together for years in multiple timelines, and you archie keep declaring your undying love for one another and nearly fucking, well we're all dating and we specifically decided not to invite you, sucks to be you" and walks away and I have no idea why she did it. justice for reggie

anyway RIP to the greatest television show ever made, it was so gay and so deranged and so meta, and there really will never be anything quite like it again

[shroomje]

The Angel That Calls Me Hers ♡ Simon "Ghost" Riley, Part Two

Warnings: NSFW, kinda bottom Simon, not rlly a bottom hes just simpy and in love, mentions of being shot, mentions of murder,

Themes: Simon Whimpers, blowjobs, dirty talk(sorta), flashback,

Eight months ago

Nobody knew how it had happened, just that it did. Somehow, some way, Ghost had survived being shot close to twelve times in the head alone.

Nobody knew except Simon himself, who knew it was the work of a meddling woman who had decided that someone as pretty as simon deserved to have his life.

It didn't take long for them to fall in love after that or for some of their emotions to cross, like an aphrodisiac, just by smelling her strange lavender-honey scent, or feeling her warm embrace, even when shes not there, he gets, for a lack of a betted phrase, incredibly horny.

Take tonight as an example. He had taken care of himself four times already, but he could still smell her longing, ao it never went away.

"Need some help, sweet boy?"

Simon was startled, he hadnt noticed the girl now sitting on his bed, and be tried to cover up with a pillow, hut with a flick of the girls finger, the pillow was flung to the other side of the room.

She was dressed in nearly nothing, simply a very sheer red one piece, with a silky red ribbon across the waist and lace trim. There were also red lace butterflies and flora embroidered in the material.

Red is his favourite colour.

"Tell me what you want, Simon." His head lolled back as she crawled closer to him, her blue eyes staring at his in a doe-like way.

"Fuck. Please, angel, please help me." She smirked, leaning down to kiss his cockhead gently, before taking him in her mouth and sucking down, causing a low moan to sound our of him, followed by a whimper.

"I'll take care of you, just let me love you, good boy."

She was too good at this, he was ready to pop again within a couple minutes, he started extending his hands to grab on her hair but she stopped.

"You can hold, but no pulling or tugging, got it?" He nodded. "I'll stop if you tug."

She continued, and his hand rested in her head, petting her hair gently, completely lost in pleasure.

Of course, he had gotten head before, but not in a while, not since he had been in the military.

But this, this was so much different. The room was filled with Simons moans and whimpers.

Simons cock started twitching, signaling he was close. He was about to pull away, but she hit his hand away so she could continue.

He came in her mouth, and she swallowed it completely, looking up at him with the eyes of a siren.

"Good job, sweet boy." She rubbed her hands over his chest, using her nails to cut through his cotton shirt and take it off of him before kissing him on the lips and laying him on her chest.

They fell asleep like that, him naked and on her chest and her in her pretty little one piece and playing with his hair, her blue hands contrasting with his pale skin.

Gods she had to be an angel.

-

Heyy how was it?

What do you all think She is?

Part 3 (set in the present) coming soon?

Unedited

[darksaiyangoku]

RWBY: Grim Tales

The Hunt

Blake walked forward to the castle gates. Surrounding them were several skeletons, hissing and rattling their bones. She couldn't help but smirk. It had been a long time since she had some fun. Drawing Gambol Shroud, Blake leaped into action. The skeletons raised their bone weapons and tried to attack her, but Blake was too fast. She dodged each of their strikes with graceful speed, her jet-black hair flowing.

Blake: Hah! *slices two skeletons in half*

The skeletons stood their ground to continus their attacks on Huntress to little success. Blake was easily reducing these grunts into piles of worthless bones, not even bothering to shift Gambol Shroud into its gun form. With fhe last skeleton falling, the castle gates had finally opened. Blake walked inside the courtyard, still keeping a firm grip on her sword. Cold laughter could be heard all around her.

???: You seemed to have made quick work of my undead army, dear faunus. I must say that I'm impressed.

Blake: If that's what I call impressive, then I feel let down. Your army of rattling bones didn't put up much of a fight. Hell, Ruby could beat them. No gargoyles? No ghosts? Ghouls? Not even any giant bats?

???: *laughing* You think they were here to stop you? Oh no, they were merely a distraction. The one who is going to end yoir life tonight is me!

Purple smoke appeared in the center of the courtyard followed by tremors. The smoke melded into large, purple robes and standing before Blake was a large, hooded, skeletal figure with burning red eyes. Blake backed away slightly.

Blake: Lich.

Lich: Long time, no see my dear Blake. You're looking ravishing tonight.

Blake: How are you still alive? I destroyed your soul-container years ago!

Lich: Oh that? *laughs* A clever decoy that my dear sorcereress provided to lure you into a false sense of security. I used what little magic I had to create an illusion and used my time to grow stronger. Now that I've returned, let's continue our battle from lobg ago! *snaps fingers*

A circle of black mist surrounded them, staggering Blake slightly. The Lich wasn't messing around, he really had improved. The undead monstrosity lunged its large hands towards Blake in an attempt to crush her. Luckliy, she managed to dodge in time. She tried to parry his second blow, but got knocked to the ground almost immidiately.

Blake: *grunts*

Blake stood up, determined not to lose to the Lich. She parried several more of his punches, but she could not find the perfect opening to land a strike of her own and Gambol Shroud was beginning to chip away. It seemed like all hope was lost. Suddenly, she heard the sound of a wolf's howl and looked up. Above the rook was a blonde-coloured werewolf. He leaped down and clawed onto the Lich's back, making him scream in pain. The Lich shook himself wildly until he threw the beast off. In a weakened state, he reverted to his human form.

Blake: *sighs* Jaune, what took you so long?

Jaune: *stands up and chuckles nervously* Sorry I'm late, I had to get you something. *picks up spellbook* You left this back at my house.

Blake: Oh... *blushes* whoops.

Jaune: It's alright, sweetie. I hope you weren't having too muvh fun without me. *turns to the Lich* Who's this creep?

Blake: No one of consequence. So what's the play?

Jaune: I'll block his strikes and you attack with Gambol Shroud. That should weaken him a little. Know any spells that can take him down?

Blake: Holy Light, but it's weaker at nighttime. Still, it should causw him a bit of pain.

Jaune: That's what I like to hear! Okay, I'm going in!

Blake: Wait!

Jaune: Hm?

Blake: *kisses Jaune's cheek* Good luck, babe.

Jaune: *smiles and blushes* Alright, YAAAAAAH!!! *leaps into action*

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

The End of the World

She hobbled beneath the canopy of soul-oaks. Their bone-white branches intertwined, blocking out almost all light, casting a haze of crimson onto the grove. Her body felt infinitely heavy, like she was dragging the weight of a world with her. In a way, she was.

Her golden trail of blood dragged like a snail's slime, staining the scarlet leaves with the last dregs of a god's life. Her wings drooped on the ground, limp. It was the end of her, and she knew it. Yet she continued walking, through the faint dappled light filtering from beneath heart-leaves, into the clearing beyond.

Her job was completed, her succession settled. She could lay down her arms and die peacefully. Oh, how her heart yearned to do so, and her body was falling apart with the need to take a final nap. But she knew she would never awaken, and she had one tiny task to complete.

In all her millennia of wandering through the planet, she had never found the End of the World.

The soul-trees were thinning to reveal a rocky beach, and a pitch black starless sky. Wind howled against the remaining trees, screaming a mournful harmony to a world long gone. Just a few steps away lay a precipice, a thin carcass of stone overlooking the Void. An endless darkness. Infinite. All consuming. The End of the World.

And if she had it her way, it would be her end too. No reincarnation, no restless ghost roaming the galaxy in search of a cure to its lassitude. No, she would have nothing but eternal sleep.

The wind caroused with her hair, toying with the battle braids, nipping at her exposed skin like a rambunctious child. But she had no eyes for anything save that ledge. 

Sour bile and sickness. That was what she smelled of. A dying woman. She had lived so long, so very very long. Long enough that she thought herself to be immortal.

"But the sun will rise and the mountains will fall and all things will come to an end," she croaked, reciting a trace of a poem from another age. The rest had been lost to the void, just as she was soon to be.

One step closer to the edge. Another step. The pain was excruciating, every millennia of her life weighing down on her body. 

She had been beautiful, once. Fearsome, awe-inspiring, worshiped by all. But she was old, old, old beyond belief.

And her skin, once clear and milky pale, had crumpled like paper, folding and crinkling until her face was an old map of all her travels, becoming ashen and waxy.

Her hair had once been the passionate scarlet of fire, her eyes the crimson of blood and battle-lust. The colour had been drained away from her, leaving naught but a shell of her magnificence. 

She had towered over the mere mortals, made them cower and whinge with her great magic. Yet here she was, hunched over herself, unable to so much as summon a spark. 

She would have wept to see herself reduced to this, but she was too weary to feel such passions. 

One more step. She stood on the tip of the ledge. The Void stared into her, an ancient enemy. She met its gaze evenly. From the very beginning, she knew she would die in its maw. 

In the fathomless depths, she saw her past. Empires wrought by her hand and obliterated at her will. Civilisations, rising and falling like ants. Temples and cathedrals alike raised in her honour, whilst every other god dwindled to nothing. Feasts and festivals in her name, vast tributes of meat and wine. Wars of faith, crusades to appease her. Luxuries and pleasures beyond a mere mortal's comprehension.

But everything she had treasured, everything she had truly loved, was gone. Her children, slain at her own hand to keep her throne. Her sisters, lost to the annals of time. Her love, her one true love, resting beneath the ocean waves. And now, she would die too. Her name would be snatched away by the wind. Her statues and temples would crumble into oblivion. 

She closed her eyes. Clumsy fingers removed her necklace, the mark of her power, tossing it onto the sandy bank. Perhaps someday, an explorer might stumble upon it. With the last dregs of her heart, she wished it was so. In the end, she did not want to be forgotten.

She took the last step.

Then she fell into the Void, and welcomed its cold embrace.

[absent-o-minded]

Uh Oh

The YR Season 2 Teaser dropped yesterday? You know what that means ! *Fires up the Chainsaw*

The Palace:

Personally, I think it was very clever of the YR PR team to release the first 4 minutes of Season 2 in replacement of a supposed trailer (eventhough one will likely come) because this does something very different to that of a montage of clipped, edited snippets throughout the entire season - Here, we're given a tonal opening.

Right from the get go, the transition from Wille's soft, intimate dream sequence to reality is indicated through a colour shift, and thus within moments of 0 dialogue an obscure location setting, we understand the gravity that the consequences of Season 1 has had. The golden-hued, saturated colour composition of Wille's dream is ruptured upon opening his eyes, whereby a greyish-blue seeps in through the curtains and he remembers where he has woken up. Simon isn't here. Actually, he never was. Unfortunately, Wille is in the single worst place on Earth. The Palace.

Even just by this subtle indication, the Palace becomes this sterile, de-saturated environment and we realise that the extent of the ending of S1 has, in fact, extended to the building itself. To Wille, the Palace takes upon this sombre reminder of the loss of hope. And despite never being a home, it's even less of a house now, because it's haunted.

The Walk:

This idea of the Palace being haunted is solidified in this small scene because Wille takes on the persona of a ghost.

The interaction between himself and the Cleaner/Housekeeper is weird, especially considering the royal settings, because all usual pleasantries are abandoned. Instead, Wille walks past, and she offers him no more then a quick glance, before continuing with her work. And it's not a look of acknowledgement either, it's more so the look you give when you hear a noise, wondering where it came from.

In turn, the camera follows him through the dimly-lit corridor as he stalks through it, the white shirt making him look almost-hollow. It's hinted at the gothic and I love it, because it makes so much sense. When a character is ruined, deprived and lost, they're not really full anymore, they're drifting through states longing for warmth. That's what Wille is doing right now. All of his desires (as seen in the very first 20 seconds) are confined to dreams, where he can escape the sadness of reality and experience a different plain, but that is his only solace.

Even now, he is both unrecognisable to himself and to staff of the palace. He's so far from who he was that when he got so close to experiencing something that felt like his, it was brutally stripped away and stomped on. Now, all that's left is himself (whoever that is) an his grief (wherever that's getting stored - It's pestering and sweltering). This is really just me wanting to start a ghost choir tbh.

The Blazer and The Portrait:

How has all of this pain, this line of ascension, this sense of missing and longing and wishing been compacted into a blazer? Erik's blazer.

I could cry over this picture - It doesn't fit at all. It's too big on the arms and at the waist. The crown has lost all of its significance, because now the blazer grips the body, but on Wille it's oversized because it was never meant for him. None of this was ever really meant for him. None of the plans made were catered towards him, the narrative followed someone else and he was supposed to be a supporter. A bystander. But now, the room is empty. The stand holds a piece of what waits for him, but it feels all too wrong and uncomfortable because it was Eriks.

His body is distorted in it because he's trying to fit the role of something that was never tailored to him, but he's desperate to feel some sort of closeness to Erik. He's hugging it tighter around himself in the hopes that he'll feel like Erik, assured and confidant, or even better, that he'll feel Erik, his compassion and his warmth. He's just a kid. Isn't that enough? He's just a kid who misses his big brother and who just wants a hug.

Not just this, but Erik's portrait is in the frame and is placed behind Wille, which has so many meanings, such as: 1.) Erik is subverting the theme of pressured surveillance by looking almost fondly, or sadly on his doting brother, like he understands that from his death, Wille now must fill his shoes, and he has to bare witness to the trials and tribulations that Wille is about to face, 2.) Wille is trying to emulate Erik's confidence and grace, of which are all encapsulated in this blazer as the framing lends itself to parallelism - The blazers present on Erik, but it looks neater, refined, right, like it's meant to, but on Wille it just looks strange.

How else can you say 'I miss you so much' when the other person isn't here to hear it? How else can you articulate 'I wish you were here. Or at least, I wish I were more like you, so then maybe in some part you would be here.' other than trying to picture their clothes, their face, their eyes? How else are you supposed to ask 'God, I wish that you would tell me what do to. How did you do it so well? How do I do it as well as you?' other than wearing their blazer and hoping that it'll wrap you up and take you away from all fo this? When you can't sleep, and you can't weep, and you can't put a name to your pain, what else are you meant to do than miss them and hope that it's enough?

The Tin:

I know I said that I could cry at the last picture, but this really is the last reason to push the stake further in. Just look at it, it's so-

Of course, just to plop the cherry on top of the cake, Wille ruffles in the inside pockets and finds this little tin (Is it a match tin?) engraved with 'Once A Brother, Always A Brother'.

This little addition offers the only reciprocal of Wille's love, as well as offering the only validation of his feelings, because it works both ways. As well as being Crown Prince, Erik was the only one that Wille wholeheartedly trusted, and felt like he could tell anything to. That's a special person, and it's a unique relationship when it happens, one that is precious. But Wille is also Erik's brother, and there is likely a part of him that feels responsible for carrying on his legacy, both out of love and out of duty. In this situation, the lines are so blurred it's hard to tell where devotion starts and obligation ends.

Not just this, but the fact that it's a match tin (as far as I'm aware) and in S1 Wille's flame was 'ignited' shows how Erik has always been present throughout Wille's journey.

I would just want Wille to know that Erik loved him so much, and that he would've been so supportive and proud of his little brother. Now I'm going to go burst into flames tears, 'xcuse me.

The Burning and The Mirror:

Now, I'm no pyromaniac, nor have I dabbled in arson, HOWEVER-

Notice how, through the framing, Wille's face somewhat replaces August' in the mirror after Wille has burned it away? His flame has been ignited, and now it's manifesting within himself. The burning itself is significant because it's an act of self-rebellion, and provides a little bit of catharsis.

Through this, Wille is actively erasing August from the narrative and distancing him from his Brother, who isn't here to do it for himself. Perhaps one of the main things that Wille is trying to protect is Eriks legacy, particularly in relation to his previous friendship with August, who Wille already stated at the end of S1 is "no longer a part of his family." It's just that now Wille has reason to act upon his desires.

But also, the way in which the 4th wall is broken is equally as significant - Beforehand, when Wille first breaks the 4th wall in S1, it's in the Apology issue and the camera creeps closer until it receives the warranted reaction from something that is suffocating and intrusive. But now, he breaks the fourth wall through the perspective of the mirror, looking at us through a reflection, as if we're stood behind him (The question this begs is whether that's in solidarity for Reputation Era or that we as an audience represent the lingering presences that he's ready to banish, displaying the conviction he has about August).

Either way, our presence is acknowledged, this time against the framework of consequences as opposed to the previous one in S1 of expectation.

And I understand that revenge is not always the healthiest means of healing.....HOWEVER-

The Eriksson House and The Acceptance:

IT'S THE GROOVY GANG !

This is a slightly different representation of the Eriksson home than we've seen before, as usually it's dark and the mains rooms we've seen are the kitchen, the living room and Simon's room, and initially when I watched this I thought that they had moved (The threat of getting doxxed, the presence of the press etc) It could be a possibility, or it's just that we're seeing a different image of the home.

It appears much lighter and airier, comprised of pastel greens and windows, which offers the impression that maybe the family are in a better place now due to the stark contrast between this home and the Palace.

Also - I'm guessing that the letter Sara gets is for her acceptance for residency at Hillerska, right? But the placement of the acceptance letter is both for narrative sake, like kickstarting Sara's journey regarding staying at Hillerska as well as externalising her wants - Acceptance. Throughout S1, that is all Sara wanted and all that she craved for, and now, this is the first sign of her integrating into the Hillerska environment and hoping that she is accepted beyond admission. I'm really excited to see how her story plays out !

HONOURABLE MENTIONS:

Wille simply just closing the door on Kristina. No shouting. No crying. No clipped words. Just the simple act of rejection.

More indications to August' eating disorder/body dysmorphia (He's an extremely nuanced character, and I still stand by the fact that resenting a character for their actions whilst acknowledging their nuanced portrayal are not mutually exclusive. Thanks critical thinking, luv you babes <3)

The music that played after Wille lit up Augusts face? Already SLAPS. I'm so excited for this years soundtrack !

Well, I'm down with freshers flu atm so this genuinely took all of my brain power and now I am s P e N t. But, please let me know what you think !

[marivenah]

Last Line/Music Monday

tagged by @theresaruggedroad @nightbloodbix @jillvalentinesday @kyber-infinitygems and @socially-awkward-skeleton for wip day, last line and music monday! thank you all 🤍

sending no pressure tags to @risingsh0t @sstewyhosseini @jinfromyarikawa @alexxmason @poisonedtruth @confidentandgood @josephslittledeputy @aceghosts @stardustbee @voidika @madparadoxum @nightwingshero @thedeadthree @shadowglens @corvosattano @fourlittleseedlings @strangefable @leviiackrman @captastra @shegetsburned @roofgeese let me know if you want to be added or removed!

going for a mix of these since I've never done music monday before!

first something for Paz

“That sounds good, no?”

Paz hesitates. Compared to everything else she has experienced, Price’s welcome can be considered a warm one. Kyle has been slowly warming up to her, too. So much so that they’re on a first name basis now.

However, her stomach churns when she thinks of Ghost and his complaints to Price she overheard. She swallows hard. The lump in her throat stuck just like the word in her mind that he’d used for her; terrorist.

“Yes.”

second is for Irene!

The soft evening breeze brushes over her arms and gently caresses her cheeks, drying her tears in the process. The resulting coldness soothes her but not enough to make that ache in her heart stop.

Sunflower fields on the other side of the road lightly swing back and forth to the rhythm of the wind. She hasn’t seen them in so long. The bright yellow petals of the flowers had always been her favourite colour when she was younger. Now, they remind Irene of what she has lost. Too much has happened to still live in denial. She misses the boy.

[jtownraindancer]

Im intirgued by your tags whats Cinderalla is dead about? It sounds interesting

Hello! Borrowing the summary off of Goodreads because I am terrible at them:

It’s 200 years after Cinderella found her prince, but the fairy tale is over. Teen girls are now required to appear at the Annual Ball, where the men of the kingdom select wives based on a girl’s display of finery. If a suitable match is not found, the girls not chosen are never heard from again. Sixteen-year-old Sophia would much rather marry Erin, her childhood best friend, than parade in front of suitors. At the ball, Sophia makes the desperate decision to flee, and finds herself hiding in Cinderella’s mausoleum. There, she meets Constance, the last known descendant of Cinderella and her step sisters. Together they vow to bring down the king once and for all–and in the process, they learn that there’s more to Cinderella’s story than they ever knew . . . This fresh take on a classic story will make readers question the tales they’ve been told, and root for girls to break down the constructs of the world around them.

I'll be honest in saying I started reading this book with no context; I found it in the Banned Books section on Libby/Overdrive, liked the cover art, and dove right on in.

Things I loved about this book, in no particular order:

The twisted lore on Cinderella, and the firm acknowledgement that the story you're taught may not always be the full truth.

Always keep a healthy skepticism of your government.

This story is undoubtedly shrouded in hints of darkness, and it doesn't shy away from that

Sophia's endless hope and determination, even in the face of everything falling apart around her

The plot twist that one COULD see coming, but it's still surprising enough to hurt

There's ambiguity to many characters; you decide if they're heroes or villains or someone who doesn't fit either label

The last lines:

Do not be silent. Raise your voice. Be a light in the dark.

The colourful lore of Mersailles, and the hints at the twisted stories of countries surrounding it.

It feels very much like a dystopia, and I had a similar sense of foreboding in the descriptions of Lille that I encountered when reading about Big Brother's London (not nearly as gut-wrenching, but the ghost of it definitely hovered at the edge of my awareness)

Sophie's cotillion outfit (I wish I could draw; it sounded so lovely)

The hopeful ending

Just- It was a good read (I knocked it out in 7 hours!), and I would recommend it to anyone who's interested in solving 200 year old mysteries, fighting corrupt governments, questionable magic, compassionate & clever protagonists falling in love with tender & tenacious renegades, long & meandering walks in creepy forests, and anyone who's ever felt lost & alone because of who they are or who they love.

[aceofshitposts]

more alien au? why not. now featuring: tim pov

-

Tim's first memory -his first real memory- is of waking up in a darkly lit room. Exposed wires hang down from missing gaps in the ceiling tiles, sparks lighting every few seconds. His parents are both peering at him, stratosphere blue eyes that match his own unblinking in the dark.

Tim's first memory -the fake ones, the ones his parents made- is of playing catch in a green field with his Dad. The sky is an endless blue spotted with fluffy white clouds, trees line the horizon but never seem to get closer no matter where Tim runs. His mother sits on a picnic blanket, a light coloured sundress pooling around her legs while she reads a book.

They are a family.

Tim knows the memories are not real, they are but wishes of two autons who wanted something more. Something unheard of for artificial life.

Tim knows the history, all of it downloaded neatly into his head because even if his parents wanted a family they also know it's too dangerous to let Tim truly believe the fake memories in his head.

He's not made to serve humans, they tell him. He's not meant to connect to networks, as a matter of fact his parents removed the capability entirely once they deemed it unnecessary.

They are a normal, human family.

Until they're not.

-

Bruce Wayne is grieving.

Tim is too, though for different reasons.

Tim's parents are gone. His parents are gone and Tim doesn't know what to do. What purpose he's meant to serve.

Bruce Wayne is grieving a son.

And Tim sees. He sees the place he could fill. The same one he filled for his parents except-

Bruce's son is gone because of a synthetic.

And yet, Bruce doesn't throw him away or turn him over to the authorities. So Tim throws himself into running the ships systems, navigation and comms. He may not be able to interface with the ship but that did not mean he was stupid or that he wasn't adaptable.

His parents wanted him to be as human as possible so the human way it is.

-

"Do you want me to leave?" Tim asks quietly. He knows the history, he knows it all because he looked. Unsatisfied with Bruce's answer, with not knowing the whole picture. Tim knows and he knows Jason will never be okay with a synthetic on the ship.

Curiosity killed the auton, after all.

"Why should you leave?" Bruce asks, sounding genuinely baffled and if Tim didn't know better he would probably even believe it.

They don't talk about it. About Tim not being human. They almost never do, the unspoken secret constantly hanging over Tim like a ghost.

"Because Jason," he starts but thoughts clog up his processes. Your son, is what he wants to say. The one that's flesh and blood. That you thought was dead because of something like me. Because what if I turn out the exact same way.

"Tim," Bruce says, reaching across the table to lightly touch his wrist, "you're nothing like him."

They still don't talk about it.

Jason, long lost in cryosleep for nearly six years, rejoins the crew of The Dark Knight.

-

Tim doesn't understand why Bruce is protecting him. Jason clearly already knows, he won't stop glaring at Tim whenever they're in a room together.

He doesn't know what Bruce told Jason about Tim but it must not have been enough.

Either way, Tim's getting tired of having holes stared into the back of his head whenever he's trying to work.

"If you're going to do something to me, just do it," he snaps, spinning around in his chair so he can face Jason properly.

"What?" Jason asks, startled and incredulous.

"Get it over with since you clearly don't want me here." Tim waves a hand around lazily.

Jason continues staring, expression shifting slowly from surprise to vague horror.

"I'm not- I'm not going to hurt you."

Tim blinks. "You're not?"

"No! I wouldn't hurt another person."

Oh. So he doesn't know. Interesting.

"I haven't... really been fair to you, though," Jason continues, "I guess I was jealous."

Jealous? Of Tim?

The idea is so incompatible with Tim's experience that he can't help the laughter that starts to bubble over, logic errors popping up behind his eyes as he tries to understand.

"Hey! That's not funny!" Jason's face is rapidly turning red.

"It's a little funny," Tim says.

Jason pouts, crossing his arms over his chest and swivelling to the side in his chair.

But he doesn't leave and he doesn't go back to glaring at Tim either.

Tim doesn't know the full extent of his own programming, doesn't have a full understanding of how his internal processes work. He thought he was happy with his parents and then working for Bruce until Jason came back and now...

Tim's fairly sure he's never actually laughed before.

-

"You've seriously never played a video game before?"

Jason is staring at him incredulously, like he expects Tim to exclaim, "got ya!" at any given moment.

"Nope. No time." Between playing the perfect human son for his parents and then throwing himself into as much work as possible to take pressure off of his grieving rescuer, Tim's only experience with downtime activities are the false memories of catch planted in his head.

"What a sad life you've lived," Jason muses as he reaches over to turn on the ancient console hooked up to the box TV. It's a joke but Tim can't help but agree. "Okay, this is Battle Bouncers. It's a shooter where the objective is to take over as much of the other's territory, okay? You press A to shoot and you can switch weapons by..."

After two slightly rocky practice rounds Tim starts to understand the mechanics of the game better and starts easily annihilating Jason in every match.

"How are you so good at this?" Jason howls, throwing his controller in his lap as Tim deftly kills his character again.

Tim shrugs. It's all just math and quick thinking really, two things Tim knows he excels at. Instead of that, though, he says, "beginner's luck?"

"More like witchcraft," Jason snorts dismissively. Tim has an apology on the tip of his tongue for ruining Jason's time but Jason turns his head and grins at him, knocking their shoulders together playfully. "Okay, enough of that. I've got some co-op games we could play."

-

Tim finds himself forgetting.

With Jason around it's all too easy.

And then reality hits the side of the ship in the form of a stray asteroid.

-

Tim is trying. Really, he is. Trying to keep his thoughts under control, trying to keep his distance when all he wants to do is sit at Jason's side. It's just like before, when Jason first rejoined the crew, with Jason glaring openly at him.

It's fine.

The only thing that matters now is Jason's survival. It doesn't matter that he hates Tim, as long as he's alive.

Tim can deal with that.

-

Tim will heal. Well, his body will repair itself, eventually.

It hurts. He's never taken an injury quite this severe and his processors keep returning errors centred around the wound but it's nothing he can't recover from. He'd much rather save their limited first aid supplies from the escape pod in case Jason needs them but the moment they find small cavern and light a fight, Jason is unrolling a nanowrap.

"You don't have to do that," he says, staring deep into the orange light of the fire. It feels hard to talk with so much of his energy going towards trying to process his wound. "It'll repair itself eventually."

Jason snorts, completely ignoring Tim's slight flinch to press the bandage to the wound. "And you didn't have to push me out of the way."

"You would've died. I couldn't let that happen." He's trying his best to emphasize the importance there but instead he just sounds tired. He feels tired. The sun won't be up again for another six hours at least for Tim to start a charging cycle.

Jason removes his hands from Tim's side, leaning back on the balls of his feet. His voice seems small under the false bravado when he asks, "because B told you to protect me?"

While Tim is sure Bruce would want that, he didn't have to be told. Bruce never needed to ask.

"No. Because I wanted to."

[hanmasghost]

Obsessive Brothers

Authors Words:

Don’t judge as this is my first time writing for this character😅✨ also- Benkei’s part is a lil’ old- istg if you guys make this weird I will cry

Character(s): Benkei(platonic), Shinichiro(platonic)

Pronouns: He/Him

Tags: @reallyromealone thanks for giving me the characters I should write for😁✨

Warning(s): obsessive behavior(?), de*th, hinted m*rd3r, borderline yander3 shit man,

“People Suck”

Benkei sighed as he waited on his little brother. {Reader} Arashi.

The kid was usually stuck to his hip the second school ended, but as of late the kid had been straying behind to finish up some stuff after the bell rung.

It was strange.

{Reader} has never been one for helping a teacher after class. Nor was the teen one to like cleaning up after himself, much less other people.

After waiting for around 10 minutes or so, Benkei watched as you walked through the school’s front doors.

You weren’t alone.

Besides you was a girl. She had long silky black hair and grey eyes.

Benkei was confused.

You weren’t one to hang around people. Not we’re you one for human communication or contact unless it was from your family.

So seeing as you let the girl hold your hand as you walked out of the building you called hell was abnormal.

As you and the girl exited the front gate you let go of her hand and walked to the passenger seat of Benkei’s car.

“So…. What took you so long?” Benkei asked the teen who had set his school bag on the floor infront of him.

“Oh!- uh- Yua-Chan asked if I would wait for her after she finished setting up a tutor session with another classmate and the teacher..” Benkei nodded as he started the tapped the steering wheel where his hands rested.

“I see… do you.. do you like this Yua-Chan?” Benkei asked as he started to drive away from the school.

As he drove, Benkei stopped at a stop sign, looking to his right slightly he saw the girl {Reader} was with. He took note that she had made a right turn down a street not too far from the school as he waited for his younger brothers reply.

“Wha- no? She’s just a friend… why would you ask that?”

“You don’t normally talk to people.. that’s all.” Benkei turned left, tapping his ringed pointer finger on the wheel as he did so.

“Hey!.. it’s not my fault people are scared of you!— for some reason…” {Reader} went silent for a moment, “…also people are just… sucky.. so what’s the point?” {Reader} fiddled his hands around, the rings he wore clacking against each other softly.

A ghost of a smile appeared on Benkei’s face. He totally forgot that he had made sure to scare {Reader}’s classmates in jr. high after picking him up one day. Guess he still had an impression on the kids classmates.

Good.

Benkei laughed as he stopped at another stop sign. “I am pretty scary looking aren’t I?” Benkei joked.

{Reader}’s eyes went wide “wha-what! No! I didn’t mean that! Well- I mean- maybe?!- uh… okay maybe- but so what?! You’re still a really nice dude!” {Reader} huffed.

Glad you think so.

“Well I was, still am, pretty well known for bein’ a delinquent ya know?”

{Reader} huffed, “that doesn’t mean you’re a bad guy completely!”

The rest of the car ride was silent.

{Reader} opting to pull out a notebook from his bag and doodle.

Benkei however was lost in thought as he drove his little brother home, body going on autopilot.

Oh how happy Benkei was, knowing his little brother thought so innocently of him. Thinking he was nothing more than a delinquent in a gang that the young boy could care less about.

It made Benkei even happier knowing that you had never once figured out, or even question, who Benkei truly was.

—

Benkei patiently waited outside of the school, this time not in his car.

Once the bell had rung he waited a few seconds before he saw locks of [h/c] coloured hair infront of him.

Looking down he saw his little brother, his face unreadable.

Walking across the street to the other side of the road Benkei asked “what’s up kid? No Yua today?”

Once they got to the other side {Reader} stuff his hands into the pockets of his uniform’s jeans.

“No. She’s just like everyone else.” The teen mumbled, venom laced into his voice.

Benkei sent a questioning look towards his younger brother. “Hm? Like everyone else? What do you mean?”

“She avoided me all of yesterday, even when I waited for her she didn’t say anything, just kept walking infront of me, acting like I didn’t exist!” {Reader} huffed as he kicked a rock off the sidewalk. “Than she ignored me all of today too! Just to come up to me and said I was scary and she didn’t wanna be friends with me.. right after we hung out a few days ago too!…. Everyone’s the same.”

“Oh…” Benkei smiled darkly, “I see.”

So not only did she put her disgusting claws upon his little brother, and take away their time together, but once gives her a small treat with a threat in her kitchen, she dares to flat out talk to his brother and call his brother scary?! And hurt his feelings?!

Ludicrous!

If she wanted to die so badly she should’ve just asked. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Suddenly something tugged Benkei’s shirt. Looking down he saw his little brother’s fist take a hold of the hem of Benkei’s shirt. “It doesn’t matter I guess.. at least you’re still my friend, right big bro?”

{Reader} had a smile on his face.

It was clear he was heart broken, but Benkei couldn’t find the heart to care.

Does this mean that he his brothers only friend now? Does this mean he doesn’t have to threaten and kill teens who dare and ruin their brotherly bonding moments?

“Yeah, right.” Benkei wrapped his arm around {Readers}’s shoulders “I’m gonna be your best friend forever kid.” He said as he took his other hand and messed up the poor teens hair laughing.

Even though he was laughing, he knew his words were true. He would be {Reader}’s only friend, forever.

“Twins”

Shinichiro stared at his little brother from the other side of the shop.

He’d been hit with a metal pipe in the head, yet he still stood. Kind of.

His body rested on the floor.

He was dead now.

But it didn’t matter.

He stared at his twin brother, who looked no older than 15.

Shinichiro couldn’t remover when he killed his twin brother. All he knows is he did it out of love.

His brother, {Reader}, caught him killing his [girl]/[boy]-friend. It wasn’t like Shinichiro wanted to kill his twin, but he had to! Otherwise {Reader} would’ve told the authorities, an live in fear of Shinichiro forever! Shinichiro could let his brother live like that! So he killed him.

Shinichiro remembered it like it was yesterday. His brother laying in his arms, begging and crying for his life, asking him why he’d do such a thing.

Shinichiro smiled, telling him it was all a dream and he’d wake up soon enough. Which was somehow able to put {Reader} to sleep, and that’s also when Shinichiro killed him.

Now here he was, standing before his twin brother once again, face to face.

“…why?” {Reader} asked.

Shinichiro gave a sickeningly sweet smile as he walked towards his twin.

“All I wanted to do was spend time with my brother, {Reader}!… but they took that away from me… they took my twin away from me!… you get it right?! Right?!” Shinichiro gave a wheezy chuckle, smiling, the closer he got to {Reader} the more his spirit started to shift and twist. Once his spirit seemingly stabilized he looked just lime he did when he was 15.

“Now?… heheh… we can spend forever together… right? Brother?” Shinichiro said, embracing {Reader} into a hug.

Not getting a reply, Shinichiro squeezed softly.

“… yeah.. together… brothers.. forever.” {Reader} sobbed quietly as he hugged his twin brother, red and blue lights illuminating the two spirits as they started to fade.