#puss in boots muerte

[lacosesa]

I just think he's neat

[noritaro]

2022 dreamworks wolves i loeb yuo

[allthenamesithinkofaretaken]

There Was an Attempt:

Second Meeting

[ Death/ Muerte (Puss in Boots) x Immortal! Reader]

(Changed his name to Muerte instead of Death because I think it's more fitting. I also don't know if this is what you mean by 'more' like a part 2 to the immortal reader but that's what I did lol.)

The day had been long and tiresome, and most of the customers had already gone for the night after another fight broke out. She rolled her eyes, an exhausted sigh pushing past her lips as she moves onto wipe at the next table. Stars, why did she think it was ever a good idea to own a bar?

Slinging her towel over her shoulder, she walked behind the counter, grabbing the glasses and wiping them down before she puts them away in a drawer.

Patting her hands together, she looked over at the darkness of her bar, trying to see if there were anything else she missed to clean.

"I guess that's it for the night then," she huffed. Thinking about home already made her miss the softness of her bed. She wondered if she should finish the book she was currently reading, but then again, tomorrow was a Saturday and she had to restock some of the food for the chef by morning, and stars know that she couldn't just read one chapter of a book.

About to head home for the night, she walks to the backdoor to lock it up, about to turn and head out when a familiar whistle cracked through the silence of the bar, the fire atop the candle in front of her blowing out as he appeared.

She grinned, turning around to greet him when he presses the familiar blade of his sickle against her neck, her lower back pushing against the counter behind her.

Clicking her tongue, she places the tip of her finger on his blade, rolling her eyes.

"Come on, we've already established that that doesn't work." Pushing the blade down, she looks into his eyes, as bright red as she remembered, glowing underneath the shadows of his hood. "Now come on, do you want to take a seat and have a drink?"

Muerte huffs, rolling his eyes with a shake of his head as he sheathes his sickles, taking a seat on the stool he had previously sat on, pulling his hood down as he runs his hand down from the top of his head to his eyes. "Why else would I be here?"

"And here I thought you came to see little ol' me." She grabs a wooden mug from the drawers, filling it with his drink of choice in a nearby peg, batting her eyelashes teasingly at him with a sickeningly sweet smile. "You wound me, Muerte."

A chuckle pushes past his lips as he lifts the drink to his lips, taking a sip, the bitter taste of the alcohol feeling more than welcome.

"You look exhausted," she quipped, wanting to break the silence.

"So do you," he retorted, and she snickered, nodding her head in agreement.

"Bar fight earlier, had to break it up before they smashed a hole in the wall." She motioned her hand over to the far right where he could see a broken table just there on the side. "I'll have Corin take that out before opening tomorrow. "

"Why? Can't lift it all by yourself?" He grinned, teasing as he takes a sip of his beverage.

(Y/n) scoffs. "Just because I'm immortal doesn't mean that I have the full 'magic human' package— I don't have super strength. "

Muerte let's out a low rumble of a chuckle, and to her surprise, he stands from his seat, gulping down the remaining liquid in his tankard before placing it back on the counter. He walked over to the broken table, and she watches, amused, as he barely breaks a sweat hoisting it up in his shoulders.

"What are you doing?"

"Helping," he shrugged. She walks out from behind the counter to follow him outside, watching as he places it dowm beside the rest of the trash, patting his hands together with a satisfied grin.

"I don't owe you for this now, do I?" She teased.

"You could pay me with your life," he retorts, holding a paw out towards her. (Y/n) snickered, smacking his hand back.

"You know I'd give it to you if I could," she hummed then turned to walk back inside, Muerte following closely behind her as she did. "But for now, how about a free drink?"

"Sounds like a good bargain to me," he walks back towards the bar, sitting back down on the stool he had occupied before and watching as she prepares him another tankard, sliding it towards him afterwards.

She watches as he takes a sip from his drink, and from the way his eyes stared blankly on the wall in front of him, she could tell that there was something in his mind. The exhaustion radiated from him in waves that she never thought she would ever see the personification of death ever have, a part of her feeling a sting of guilt for having him carry the table outside.

Finally, she decides to break the silence. "You said you'd find a way to kill me,"

"I did,"

"Well is it by boring me to death?" She teased, and he couldn't help the laugh that pushed past his lips.

"Would you rather have me scare you to death?"

"Anything else but sitting in silence," she shrugged. "I've been doing that most of my living life, I don't think I'd want it to be my cause of death, too."

Death turned to her, intrigued. "Are you so eager to die?"

"Well it beats living a repetitive day to day basis," she huffed, leaning forward in the counter where he was, a glint of mischief shining in her eyes. "Unless you want to live it with me, of course."

"I see you still aren't bored with flirting with me,"

(Y/n) laughed. "I mean it's worth a shot, at least I know you won't die on me."

Muerte almost chokes on his drink, coughing up and hitting himself in the chest as (Y/n) laughs in the background.

"Easy there, Muerte. And here I thought you would be the one to kill me and not the other way around."

He grumbled, shaking his head as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I would if I could find the reason why you're immortal in the first place," Muerte huffed, pulling one lip to the side and seeming to contemplate his words before speaking. " Are you sure you're human? Did your parents do anything when you were a kid that might've triggered this?"

(Y/n) thought about it for a while, grabbing his empty tankard and seeming to play with it in her hands, then shrugged. "As I said, it's been so long that everything is muddy, but if they did tell me about it even the slightest clue, I'd either would have known about it by now or didn't catch it at all. "

Muerte sighed. "Right," he huffed. He looked out the windows that showed the empty streets outside, and he wondered if he should go. He'd been taking a break far longer than he'd anticipated.

"Hey, if you can't find a way to kill me, it's fine," her voice cuts her off his thoughts, turning to look at her as she gives him a small smile. "I don't know if it's fine for you seeing that you were so worked up about my immortality when you were here the last time, but I'm honestly fine living a few more hundred years." She paused looking away as she lifts a hand to the back of her neck. "So long as you visit me from time to time... if you want."

Of all the times she's flirted with him, she was never this embarrassed, and he could feel a small smile tugging up his lips as a chuckle pushes past his lips at the sight. Well, it's not like he has anything better to do in his free time.

"Of course," He grinned, removing the look of excitement that crossed her face when he flicks her nose, a laugh escaping him as she curses him under her breath. "I mean someone has to check if you're keeping out of trouble."

"I asked for a friend not a babysitter," she poked her tongue out at him, and he huffs out a laugh, pushing himself off his tool and standing on his feet. He raised the hood to his head, his hands finding their way to the sickles that hung on his hips.

"Hey, you're getting both, that's the jackpot for me."

"I'd call it a jackpot if you add a kiss on the lips on the list," She winked, but instead of recoiling like he usually did, he laughed, tilting his head to the side as he smirked.

"Remind me in a hundred years and I might. "

Before she could think of replying, he turns, walking towards the door with that familiar tune on his lips, leaving (Y/n) on the counter, baffled, eyes wide and lips parted in a small 'o'.

"Oh shit," she huffed. "I need a pen and paper."

--

[antiverser]

Rather different than what I usually post, but I've been havin quite the bit a brain rot with this movie and its characters

Also wanted to try drawing anthro characters for the first time, so I hope it didn't turn out too rough

[deathisararemercy]

Red String

Death x ghost/soulmate!Reader

Oh. This definitely wasn’t supposed to be happening. For starters, you were dead. Secondly, you could finally see your red string. Lastly, the person in front of you, the person who was supposedly supposed to be your soulmate according to the string, was Death.

A/N: aka Muerte doesn't expect anyone to really love him and needs a friend/partner. This started as an introductory exploration and lengthened into about 1500 words. Not sure if I will continue with more of this, but this was fun and much needed after a long week.

Part 1 | Part 2 |

Oh. This definitely wasn’t supposed to be happening.

For starters, you were dead. Alive one second, staring at your lifeless body the next. You weren’t even really sure how you died. You were in the middle of the forest by a river. There was no one else in sight. You knew you didn't want to die yet. You had more things to do, more sights to see, more life to live. You had these things. Whatever your death was, it got in the way of all of this. But every time you tried to remember your death or examine your physical body for details, your vision started to blur and your head felt like it was ready to split straight open. It was better not to look at your body or try to think too much about the details.

Secondly, you could finally see your red string. When you were alive, it seemed like almost everyone had one. People were finding their strings and living their “happily ever after”s with their universe-designated soulmate. Granted, some people lived perfectly fine lives without red strings, but you always want to be able to find your soulmate and see yours. So you met as many people as you could during your life and tried many new and different things in order to hopefully run into your soulmate. Unfortunately, you didn’t see your red string while you were alive. Now, you were dead and that stupid thread was right in front of you, glowing a brilliant ruby red.

Lastly, the person in front of you, the person who was supposedly your soulmate according to the string, was Death. Given the way the wolf’s sickles fell to the ground with a soft thud, the way his red eyes widened, and the fact he quietly said “mierda” upon seeing you, he was just as surprised as you were about this sudden development.

His red eyes were glowing brighter than the thread, but Death didn’t seem angry, just…stunned. The string caught him speechless. He removed his hood. Shaking his head, he approached you, picking up and effortlessly sheathing his sickles. “Is this some sort of practical joke?” In shock yourself, you remained statuesque as he inhaled deeply, inches from your face. He frowned as he pulled away. “You smell dead.”

As he circled you, looking up and down, you plucked the red thread that connected your chests together. It played a high note over the sound of the nearby water. “Honestly, this is probably as weird as it is to you as it is to me.” Death continued to circle you. “So are you going to ship me off to the spirit world or what? We’re both sort of stuck here until you cut me loose.” You gestured to the silver cord coming from your chest and connecting to that of your dead body.

Death waved a paw dismissively, leaving you to give him a bewildered look. He sat on the ground several feet away from you, back against a tree. “I’ll get around to it,” he said, picking at the grass. “I’d just like to know if you’re seeing what I’m seeing.”

“Yes,” you drawled, “I see the bright red string. We’re soulmates. Apparently.”

He slapped a hand on his forehead, dragging it down slowly as he said something inaudible to your ears. He looked like he had half a mind to get up, walk off, and leave you stranded in the forest. Something must have changed his mind, however, and he got up, walked towards you, and tried to cut the red string with a sickle.

The string really didn’t like that.

It remained uncut, resonating with a low and angry hum, but the both of you winced as a sharp pain shot through your chests. As quickly as it had come, it was gone. Death grunted before rising back to his full height, raising his sickle to strike again.

You raised a hand. “Don’t.” He stopped, staring at your firm look. Cautiously, you walked as close to him as you could without being yanked back by your dead body, and placed a hand on his arm. You lowered it slowly, looking Death in the eye as you spoke. “We can’t break it.”

He blinked before sighing. Death sat back down, allowing you to sit across him. The river continued to flow languidly. “I should have known that Fate was up to something when she got into sewing,” the wolf grumbled. “I just didn’t think she’d wrap me up into this. So, we’re going to have to figure this out then?”

“Yup.” You stared at him. It would be weird in any other context, but you were dead and he was Death, and you didn’t really have much else to stare at other than trees, rocks, and water. It didn’t seem like he wanted to talk much either.

Though his large frame was relaxed and slumped over gently, he wrapped his arms around himself, hood pulled over his head again. Bending your head slightly down, you could see that his red eyes were trained intently on the ground. His white-grey fur seemed dark in the shade of the trees. He was…pretty. That didn’t feel right. What was the right word to describe him at this moment? Contemplative? Brooding? Handsome?

“I’m sorry you died.”

Your gaze was quickly directed towards the tree behind Death. “What do you mean? It’s not your fault. Besides, you see people die all the time-” You realized what you said as soon as the words left your mouth. If you hadn’t died already, you would’ve died of shame. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Death shrugged, getting up. You followed suit. “No, you’re right. No one ever escapes me.” He drew his sickles and approached your dead body. “I should rephrase what I said: I’m sorry your passage to the afterlife has been delayed by this…unprecedented development. I know you spent much of your life looking for your soulmate.” Using the back of one of his sickles, he tapped the red thread connecting you to him. “But I’m not sure if I would make the perfect partner. Not many people would consider Death a ‘happily ever after.’”

He tapped the silver cord that connected you to your dead body. “So, I’ll cut you loose and take you down to the spirit world. You might be able to make friends there. Who knows?” he laughed. “You could find your own soulmate there.”

You really liked how he laughed. Oh my fairy godmother. You were falling for Death. And right now, signs were pointed towards him not wanting to have a soulmate. If he wanted one, he wasn’t making it obvious. But why did Fate apparently tie you two together by this red string?

“Muerte?”

The sickle fell to his side. “Yes?”

“Do you think our red string will break? If you cut the silver cord, I mean.”

His eyes widened a little. “I didn’t think about that.” He began plucking at the two strings. “Silver cords have pre-dated red threads. Me cutting your cord probably won’t break your thread, and it won’t automatically send you to the spirit world either. You can stick around the mortal plane if you’d like.”

“I think I’d like that. Do you mind the company?”

Muerte clearly didn’t expect you to ask that. He frowned. “You’re seriously not asking to hang around me are you? Not many people are fans of my work, or at least, what they think it entails. It’s the sort of job that makes someone lonely.”

Time to be blunt. “You don’t have to be lonely?” You pulled him closer by tugging on your string. “I’ll ask you again: Do you mind my company?”

The wolf was at war with himself. His ears twitched a little as he turned away from you, pacing back and forth. He spent a great deal of time muttering to himself before facing you again with a resolute expression on his face. “Alright, fantasma pequeño. I’ll cut your cord and you can come along. Whenever you want to go to the spirit world, you just tell me.”

Now, his tail was wagging a little. You smiled a tiny bit as he tried to subtly grab it firmly and stop it.“I’d love to hear more about you and the people you’ve met. You’ve lived an interesting life, you know.”

“Yes, considering I was there for all of it.”

At this he chuckled, before baring his teeth in a wide grin. His sickle was comfortably back in his hand. “Well then, it’s time to go. Ready?

 You nodded, and with one clean motion, he cut the silver cord. For a moment, your life flashed before your eyes, before a calmness settled into your body. You felt lighter than before.

“Well,” you said, smacking your lips. “This will take some getting used to.”

“Certainly,” Death laughed. It was an intoxicating laugh. He grinned charmingly. “But you have me here for you.”

“Until the end of time.”

“God, I’d hope you wouldn’t stick around that long.”

You punched him in the arm for teasing you, and he laughed again. Accepting his offer, you linked your spectral arm in his, and together, you went off to see what the world had to offer for Death and his ghost.

[mythicamagic]

Death Comes Knocking

AN: Not finishing projects seems to be the norm right now- so just take this lil 1,000 words of Lobo/Muerte x reader bc he gave me brain worms okay? Puss in Boots The Last Wish was so good you guys omg.

Pairing: Muerte x Female Reader

Rating: T

Summary: She's given a stern warning. 'No more of your kind are allowed' so she extends an offer to Death in return.

---

She’s seen him before, on the faces of those she’d loved. Their eyes would glaze over and become empty, void of all animation, becoming quiet and still as they took their last breaths. There- in the right hand corner of that glassy void in their pupils- the shadow of Death could be briefly seen, passing over and stealing all light.

The silk spinner has witnessed this countless times- from the luxury of these people’s bedsides as they peacefully passed, to freak accidents involving one too many drunken unicorns and a travelling puppet show. The world she inhabited was colourful, vibrant and endless- so it stood to reason that in this world, Death himself could be a real, breathing creature.

She just never expected to gain a personal audience with him.

“You’re becoming lonesome, inmortal.”

The woman jumped, startled so badly she lost grip on the white sheet she’d been taking down. A large hand snapped out to catch it mid-air, slowly lowering it back down to her in offering. It took a moment for her frozen hands to accept it, gazing up at the creature looming over her washing line. His shadow swallowed her whole. He gazed at her with a kind of unblinking- red eyed fixation- the kind that betrayed his identity before the suffocatingly still atmosphere did, as if time itself had frozen.

A wolf had entered her garden.

“Hate to be a bother…but when you get lonely it becomes a problem for me,” he continued in his perfectly polite tone. There was a faint, gravelly edge to his voice, but it hummed pleasantly in her ears rather than frightened her.

Recovering from her shock, the silk spinner folded her sheet and placed it atop a waiting pile.

“How so?” she found her voice.

“Well, you repeat the cycle, of course- the one that led you here,” he wandered around her humble garden, taking care to weave around bird feeders and windchimes without so much as a strand of fur brushing them. He moved on two legs like any human, not an odd sight. The graceful fluidity of his movements was alarming though. Deliberate and predatory. He was looping around her in a lazy circle that was slowly tightening. “It’s only natural…everyone’s predictable in a few certain ways: one of them is the universal truth that when you get lonely, you seek company,” he mused, finally stopping before her. “And the company of mortals just isn’t cutting it anymore, is it? Hm, my friend?”

He stood a good several feet taller than her. Not even attempting to crane her neck up, the woman tidied her basket and lifted it as if readying to walk back into her tiny cottage. “I’m fine. I don’t need anyone. They all die eventually, I’m not sure why you’re worried.”

With that said she took a step, only to find her wicker basket snagging on something- a sickle. The wolf practically used it as a fish-hook, turning her back to face him, and this time she had no choice but to gaze down the grey expanse of his muzzle straight into those vibrant red eyes.

“You’re not listeniiing~” he sing-songed in a gentle, cajoling tone full of too much teeth. He tilted his head with a patronising smile. “What cycle led you here?”

As if she could forget. “My creator was…lonely,” she murmured. “So, he made me, and eventually more of my kind.”

“Right you are! And I’m not such a big fan of that. Of your…kind,” a single deadly claw skimmed her cheek in a whisper of steel on flesh. The suggestion of it sent her heart racing. “You’re all so heavy. I can feel you.” All at once the playfulness vanished from his expression, leaving only a quiet sense of malice and frustration in his tight whisper. “The world won’t withstand the weight of too many of you.”

“So you’re here to stop me before I can even think about creating more immortals, is that it?”

“Bingo! My work here is done,” the wolf leaned back with satisfaction, and it felt like the garden could breathe again. Air entered her lungs, and the silk spinner shuddered quietly when his shadow drew away, allowing sunlight to kiss her skin anew.

With his silent warning given, the wolf swung his previously concealed sickle up onto his shoulder and happily strolled toward her humble gate, whistling an eerie tune.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she murmured, so quietly it was a surprise he heard her at all. But he halted immediately in his tracks. She could see his hackles rise a little just beneath the folds of his hood. “I’m not afraid, so there’s no reason for me to listen to you- Muerte.”

Death turned and met her even gaze. His silver fur fanned gently in the breeze, his tail flicking with agitation.

“Oho I really don’t think you want to go there,” light glinted off his sharp rows of teeth, the points glinting like treacherous mountain peaks. “True I can’t harvest your soul, but you’ve seen the life flashing before people’s eyes as I’ve taken them.”

He was suddenly there before her again, tilting her chin up with the flat of his blade. Her body automatically tensed, watching as the black specs of his pupils shined white, two moons hanging in a blood-soaked sky. “You were there, just as much as I was. You know- cordera- how painful it can be. How painful I can make it,” hot, panting breath fanned over her upturned face. Those rows of teeth were now inches from her ear as he leaned in close. “You won’t die, no- but are you really prepared to suffer me, over and over again, for breaking the rules?”

She swallowed. It was impossible not to picture the numerous grizzly ways she’d seen or heard people die.

Satisfaction leaked into his animalistic features. “Heh, thought so. Be seeing you.”

But I…I’m still alone.

Before he turned away, Death seemed to notice her expression. “If you’re really that hungry for company, then find the other heavy ones weighing this world down.”

“I don’t uh- get on well with the others,” she admitted weakly, knuckles relaxing from her death grip on the wicker basket. “We’d be living together if we enjoyed each other’s company.”

“Touché.“ He shrugged his large shoulders, resting a sickle on one with a bored look. “Well it’s not my problem, figure it out on your own time.”

Alarm flashed through her chest inexplicably as he finally turned away.

“Wait-“

“Carajo!” he hissed, glaring at her like she’d overstayed her welcome despite him being the one to approach her home. “What is it now?”

“Since you’re the one who has a problem with me creating fellow immortals- but I’m still hungry for company- the solution is right under our noses, no?” She smiled and dropped her basket to spread her arms wide, gesturing to the humble space situated on the mountainside. “You will become my companion.”

It amused her to see his dark features become blank with genuine surprise. His triangular ears perched upon his head flicked and flattened to his skull as if he’d tasted something sour.

“Cómo fue?”

“You are Death incarnate,” she said, confidence filling her tone the more she spoke. Yes- why hadn’t she thought of it before? This was perfect. “You won’t die- and I can’t be killed and won’t age. It makes sense to keep each other company.”

“You want…my company? Mine?” He shot her a look like she was crazy.

“Is that a problem?”

He tilted his head, falling silent for a long, silent moment. His eyes narrowed, sweeping over her frame as he stalked closer. “…You must be starving very badly, if your need has driven you to beg for me to be in your midst. Only the souls of the suicidal and desperate call for me.”

“I’m not quite that far gone in my apathy for life. I’m 500 years young,” she smiled, offering her human hand out to his monstrously large, silver furred one to stop him from baring too harshly down on her, stopping him in his tracks. “But yes, I am…famished,” the admission slipped out oddly breathlessly, though she was uncertain why.

His mouth slowly upturned, sizing her up in an entirely different way from before. Intrigue, perhaps? He looked just as hungry as she felt.

“Well, well. What big eyes you have,” he purred, gazing at her intently with a wicked gleam in his own red hues.

She returned his smile with one full of teeth as her hand became engulfed in fur and warmth.

From that day on, Pygmalion’s immortal bride kept Death’s company whenever he had a moment to spare.

---

End

[slickwilhelmina]

Do you accept his challenge?

[melachanart]

Well well ...

At last week's book fair, there was a very large poster of Puss in Boots 2 visible from my stand. He kept staring at me... so it sort of inspired me XD The dialogues are based on a scene from the movie, but with some modifications (>w>)

Au salon du livre de la semaine dernière, il y avait une très grande affiche du Chat Potté 2 visible depuis mon stand. Il n'arrêtait pas de me fixer ... du coup ça m'a comme qui dirait inspirée XD Les dialogues sont basés sur une scène du film, mais avec deux trois modifs (>w>)

Chat Potté : La dernière quête (c) Dreamworks

Fanart by @melachanart​

Do not repost/steal please. Thank you.

[relaxmz]

Sketches I want to redo

[little-cereal-draws]

Ok this might make some ppl mad but I want to say it anyway

I don’t like ppl shipping Puss and death

I understand the appeal (enemies to lovers, height difference, sunshine vs gloomy aesthetics, the fact it’s a gay ship) and normally I’m a sucker for all those tropes too, but this one just rubs me the wrong way.

The movie makes a point to show that puss is terrified of death. He’s a constant threat (or perceived threat) to Puss for basically the whole movie, sending him down a spiral of anxiety and depression. He gives up all his fame and ego, he pushes away those who care abt him, he even has a panic attack (and arguably several anxiety attacks too) just bc of death.

As someone w GAD, who experiences panic attacks and self isolation/sabotage on a regular basis, I don’t like ppl shipping him w the thing that’s triggering him. It’s like if ppl started shipping me w the personification of rejection sensitivity or whatever lol Idk if that’s a good example but you see my point? It’s weird.

And yes, I know they kinda made peace at the end but I still don’t like it. I feel like shipping them is like making all puss’ physical and mental blocks, and additionally his growth and strength despite those blocks, not as impactful bc him and death are now close enough to be in a relationship. It’s like saying they’re so close now that really death never posed a threat to him and it was all in his head. Idk, maybe ppl who ship this have some amazing character arcs planned out where they address this and deal w it healthily but all I know is I would never ever want to be in a relationship w someone who triggered me like that, even if it was in the past.

And since ppl like to take things as a personal attack on the internet: NO, I am not saying ppl who ship this are bad or morally wrong. YES, I know it’s all fictional so it doesn’t matter. YES, I know that there are probably ppl w anxiety or are other things that ship this, maybe even as a comfort ship. If that’s you, more power to you. YES, I know ppl can ship what they want, I’m not saying to stop shipping it, I’m just explaining why it’s not my PERSONAL cup of tea.

[anarchic-angel]

I tried making a desktop version so I could use it for my laptop but I didn't realize that the resolution was shit so yeah 🥲

[noritaro]

I need him soooo bad

[allthenamesithinkofaretaken]

Muerte/Death x Reader:

Love?

Just a short one. I wanted to write after not being able to for so long, and this'll probably be the only one I'll post after a while because exams are coming and I have, like, 2 bedrooms and an entire loft apartment I need to design + an explanation as to what design principles I chose and why I chose them, all while I'm sick and need to finish my architectural plates. So yeah xD

She's never loved anyone before.

At least not like this.

Before, she used to think that maybe love wasn't meant for her. That it was something that she wouldn't be able to reach out to and fully grasp in her hand, feel it in between her fingertips and feel its welcoming warmth in her palm and press it closely to her beating chest like she was so used to hearing about in books and in stories. That it was only something she could look at from afar and watch as others would be complete with their hold of the feeling of romance so dear that they dared trust it near their heart.

And she wasn't going to lie. She was content with that. She was content with the thought of never finding love like the others. Because maybe, maybe that's not where her life was supposed to go. And yet even though she's told herself that a plethora of times that the words were engraved in her head and in her heart, that it replaced the prayers she muttered to herself in the morning or at night, she still looked at a couple happily holding one another with the burn of wonder and jealousy that the words she had engraved so long in her heart and brain would fade.

How would it feel to have someone you could trust enough with the darkest and most destructive part of you? Trust them enough to hold you so close in a way that you would be treated as the most delicate fine china that they'd ever seen, cup your cheek with the palm of their hand and brush the soft or calloused flat of their thumb against your cheek and feel the love in that single stroke before looking at you in the eye and whisper out those words of reassurance that she's never had the privilege of hearing.

"I love you."

The words that burned through her heart and cracked the thick stone walls she's built around her heart and engraved with the words she's told herself since she had the acceptance of her lack of romance, watch as those walls crack and crumble until she's buried underneath the debris of pain and loneliness she's protected herself from after all these years.

Now, she feels the way his arms wrapped around her form, holding her as if she's the most delicate fine china she never was, feeling him laying his chin atop her head as his evened out breaths were the only sound that mattered in the dark room. She could feel the warmth of his embrace surrounding her with more care than anyone has ever given her in her life and could only lean her head against his chest, too tired of trying to fight away the love he was giving her, too tired of denying herself something that she should be receiving in the first place.

She's never loved anyone like this before. And when she goes to wrap her arm around his form, smell the lingering scent of the smoke of incense mixing with her bath products from the amounts of times he's joined her in the bath before, feel the softness of his fur in between her fingertips and feel the tip of his claws tracing mindless circles on her back, she knew she finally found the comfort of a home.

And though poets will tell people not to think of any person as such because they'll one day turn your comfort into fear, turn that love into hatred, and crush the thought of home from your mind that the sight of comfort would make your insides burn with anguish, she could only look up at his sleeping face, let the smile grace her lips and watch with a strange fascination as to how he'd come to change her life, and give him her full trust that he will remain as her home for as long as he wanted to be, and she knew she'd be doing the same.

[all-things-fandomstuck]

You know, several people have mentioned Muerte (Death) being there for Lord Farquaad's demise, but I think we've completely missed an opportunity.

Muerte being present for Fairy Godmother's death. I mean, the big sweeping musical number, and Muerte coming to do his job. I also imagine him being there, dressed in formal wear, even though he doesn't have to be.

Honestly, if I had the art skills I'd draw it.

[deathisararemercy]

Ties to The Past

Death x ghost/soulmate!Reader

“Wait…is it really you, old friend?” If you had any blood in your body, it would’ve run cold. There was no mistaking that voice. The wrinkled old spirit in front of you, the soul who was standing next to the lifeless body in the bed, the person Death had come to reap, was a former friend of yours from when you were alive, years and years ago.

A/N: Sorry for the lack of a post yesterday. After posting something nearly every day for about a week, it felt weird not doing so last night. However, I come bearing a 3k part two to this 2 am post, aka Red String. This story has shifted a bit, but I hope you all enjoy. I have more planned out for this AU. It shouldn't be more than five or six parts, and I'll hopefully finish it by the end of next week, if not the end of this week. In the meantime, this is a little reminder that my requests are open (guidelines in pinned)! Thank you for all the love on Red String!

Part One | Part Two |

“I’m sorry, mi fantasma. You can’t come with me on this one.”

Your eyes widened in shock before narrowing in suspicion. “Why not?” You floated over the wolf’s head, peering down at him. After what seemed like forever, you figured out how levitation worked, and it was now your favorite means of getting from place to place. Being a ghost had its perks, aside from the whole being dead thing.

Death, however, was not tolerating this at the moment. He batted you away with a grim expression on his face. “I can’t tell you.” Seeing your hurt expression, he sighed. “You won’t want to see this particular soul. They’ve done some…unpleasant things.”

You groaned, floating a bit further ahead of him as you gestured around you. “We’re in the middle of a small little seaside town,” you said incredulously. “What kind of ‘unpleasant things’ could this person have done?”

You had a point. The town the two of you walked (or floated) through was the epitome of an idyllic seaside life. The mid-afternoon air carried in from the sea was crisp and smelled faintly of brine. The red roofed houses were full of life and color. People, unaware of Death’s presence and certainly not of yours, called out to one another, selling wares, fruits, and fish, and children raced down to the seashore. Seeing the ocean’s horizon and the endless shades of blue filled you with excitement.

Slowly, you returned to the earth and walked alongside Death on the cobbled road, your red thread growing warmer at the physical proximity. “I’ve seen you work a ton of times before, Muerte. Good people, bad people. Old people, young people. I think I can handle another soul collection.”

“Don’t get cocky now,” he chuckled. He tugged on his hood to further obscure his face, though no one could see him at the moment. “I mean it, cordero,” he muttered. “When we arrive at the house, I want you to stay outside.”

You had died a long time ago. But when you did, your red soulmate thread appeared and connected you to Death. And not metaphorically or rhetorically or poetically or theoretically or in any other fancy way. Your soulmate was Death, straight up. Ever since he cut the silver cord connecting your soul to your physical body, you’ve traveled with the wolf and kept him company. Though he never said it aloud, you could tell he appreciated this, and that a small part of him needed it too.

Wolves are social creatures, you thought to yourself as Death changed the subject to a cat who was shot out of a cannon not too far from these shores. Death loved stories. His tail always wagged a bit whenever you told him a story about your life. Even after you thought you had run out of stories to tell, he always managed to dig up a memory of yours that you had thought you had completely forgotten. It amused and interested him to hear you talk about your life, and it kept you sane too. After all, it must have been…decades since you died. The fear of forgetting your life always haunted you, which was annoying because you were a ghost, and you were supposed to be the haunter and not the haunted.

At least if there was one person you knew you were haunting successfully, it was Death. Your red thread made sure the two of you were never too far from one another, but even without that thread, it would be practically impossible to separate you from his side. If being by his side and providing each other company as the world moved on and on and on was supposed to be your “happily ever after,” you weren’t going to complain.

But you were going to complain if he didn’t let you join him on this one little job. “Why don’t you think I can handle myself?” you asked him one last time. “Don’t you trust me?”

The wolf stopped suddenly. If you had a physical body, you would’ve walked straight into him. You stood in front of him now with a stern glare. The thread felt heavier than it usually did. An unreadable expression was on Death’s face. His eyes twitched a little as he spoke. “It’s not that I don’t trust you.”

“Alright then.”

“It’s that I’m worried for you.”

This wiped the glare off of your face. You faltered. “What?”

Muerte pointed up at the window of the large house you two stopped in front of. “Up there in that bedroom is the soul I have to collect. An elderly person who has lived a life full of popularity, wealth, and status and died peacefully in their sleep during a post-lunch nap.”

“Sounds…pretty nice,” you mumbled. A scowl crossed your face. “So what? You think I’m going to get hurt because I’m going to see a person who lived a full life? I’ve seen plenty before!”

“It’s not just that, mi fantasma,” continued Death slowly. “They did not live a truly full life. They’re alone right now. And no one will know that they’ve died for quite some time. Despite their riches and ranking, no one was truly ever close with them. At least, there is no one they hold close anymore.” He placed a paw on your shoulder. “I have the feeling that they might resist me while I try to do my job, and I don’t want you to have to see me get…” He paused, tilting his head a bit and chewing on the words. “Violent.”

Realization dawned on your face slowly, softening your features. “Oh.”

“Oh,” he nodded. The wolf sniffed the air a bit. “I have to go in now. Stay here, alright?” He gently tugged on the string, warmth filling your bodies. “I’ll be right back.”

He began to whistle his eerie little tune, and in a blink, he was gone. Your thread showed that he was already up in the bedroom. You sighed. You weren’t going to complain. You were going to listen and be a good little ghost and respect his wishes and stay outside.

But you were worried about him.

You had no doubt that Death could handle himself in a fight. He was tall and strong, and his reflexes were terrifyingly quick. Though you’ve seen him use his sickles to cut cords, you knew he could use them very well in a fight. He was an immortal being, for folk’s sake. No one escapes Death. But even so…

A chill went up your spine as you tried to lean casually against the wall of the house and fell through to the other side. You jolted upright, finding yourself in the living room of the house. You could hear quiet murmuring upstairs. Well, you were already inside. One small peek wouldn’t hurt would it?

Right?

There was a loud crash and your chest suddenly burst into pain. “Muerte!” You phased upwards through the floor and found yourself in the bedroom.

Death stood with his back to the wall, startling when he saw you. He didn’t look hurt, but his eyes were burning a violent scarlet.

You rushed to the wolf’s side, hands searching for injuries. “Muerte, are you alright?”

He tightly shut his scarlet eyes before shaking his head and opening them. They were a bit less red, but the intensity remained. “I’m fine. But that,” he said, pointing to the other side of the room, “That’s a problem.”

On the other side of the room was the phantom. They were still connected to their physical body by their silver cord, but their spectral form was fizzling in and out of existence in anger. Black and red, hazy and undefined, its aura was one of nothing but anger.

“Here’s what I think we should do,” Death began as he struck his sickles together. “We- what are you doing?” he sputtered as you left his side and walked up to the phantom.

It screeched and it hissed, and the air around it seemed to burn hot, a sensation you hadn’t truly felt since your death. Everything sounded like static, but you stared intently at where you hoped their face was.

“You’re dead, and there’s nothing you or he,” you added, gesturing towards the wolf, “can do about it.” You glanced at the spirit’s physical, lifeless body. Their wrinkled face was in a grimace. Shutting your eyes tight, you focused on being able to touch the body and shifted the face’s expression to one of peace.

The phantom was less agitated, letting out a small confused shriek. “You can’t go back to your body or the life you used to have. I know it hurts,” you added quietly, “Having to let go. Realizing you can’t wake back up. But that big wolf over there?” You gestured at Death, who stood silently behind you. “He’s a really nice guy. And he’s going to cut that cord of yours and send you off to the spirit world. You’re going to be alright.”

The phantom’s edges began to sharpen, becoming less blurry. It drew closer to you. Behind you, you could hear Death’s low growling. The red thread in your chest seemed to bunch up in a tight knot. You held your breath. And the intense air in the room was gone, and the phantom was no longer a faceless specter, but a spirit more akin to the body in the bed. In fact, that face looked very familiar.

“Is it really you, old friend?”

If you had any blood in your body, it would’ve run cold. There was no mistaking that voice. The wrinkled old spirit in front of you, the soul who was standing next to the lifeless body in the bed, the person Death had come to reap, was a former friend of yours from when you were alive, years and years ago. You had a falling out just before you died actually, if you remembered correctly.

“H-hi..” you said quietly. You offered a small wave.

They didn’t wave back. “You don’t look like you’ve aged a day since…”

“I decided to stick around the mortal plane for a while,” you said lightly, trying to lean back against the wall before realizing Death was behind you. You heard him quickly sheathe his sickles, and he caught you as you stumbled into his arms. But his hands were tight on your shoulders as he set you back up while you laughed nervously. He didn’t let go.

Your former friend blinked slowly. Oh, this was going just splendidly. You plastered a bigger grin on your face as you left Death’s grip and walked around the room jauntily. There were paintings all over the walls of different people with your old friend in golden frames. As you took a look around the room, you realized how lavishly it was decorated with bright cushions and heavy drapery, unusual for a seaside house. “Glad to see you lived a nice and full life! It looks like you had a lot of fun and are- were- erm, doing really well for yourself!”

“I did.”

“I’m kinda jealous, you know. I died pretty young,” you chuckled, enunciating the ‘t’s and wagging a finger.

You cast a glance at Death, who still stood in front of the spirit. His gaze was… questioning. Are you okay? he asked silently with a slight tilt of his head. The red string connecting the two of you tightened.

You shook yours slightly in response, but circled back to your old friend. “But I’m still hanging around and all that. I might not be alive but I feel alive getting to hang out with Muerte everyday.” Oh, what the hell. That was such a stupid thing to say.

The spirit raised an eyebrow. “You hang out with this guy? Isn’t he Death?”

The wolf rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m Death.” He drew his sickles again. “And I think it’s time for you to go.”

“Hold on, hold on. Why are you sticking around him?” Your friend’s brows furrowed. They took your hands in theirs. “Why don’t you come with me?”

Death stiffened as you let go of their hands. “Well, the funny thing is…he’s my soulmate.” You splayed your hands out awkwardly, letting the statement sink in.

The room was still for just a moment. “Your red string. Is connected. To Death?” The spirit said slowly. And then they burst out into laughter. They wheezed, clutching their sides as you stood awkwardly in front of Death. “You?” they laughed. “With Death? Oh, I’m so sorry. That’s some really messed up luck. Fate was not on your side.”

“I’m starting to remember why we had that falling out,” you said through clenched teeth.

“Oh, please. Relax. I just thought you were doomed to die alone without a soulmate. I mean, you remember all those people you’d talk to. You were so desperate to find your soulmate. And you end up dying and this guy is your soulmate? What, is he keeping you captive or something? Come on, let’s just get to the spirit world. Together! Then I can introduce you to all the famous people I met. Maybe one of them will really like you, who knows?

“This entire thing with Death was probably just a mistake. Who could ever love a big bad wolf like him?”

You were ready to punch a ghost in the face, but Death beat you to it. “It’s time for you to go,” the wolf growled, stalking forward.

The spirit raised their hands over their head as if that would stop Death himself. “W-wait!”

With one clean swipe, Death slashed their silver cord. The spirit was freed from their physical body. Death gave them no time to react. With an upwards motion, his sicles cut through the fabric of the universe. The light of the shimmering doorway to the spirit world blinded everyone in the room momentarily. But the light didn’t stop Death. Before the spirit began to process what was happening, he shoved them through the door before deftly grabbing the edges of the ripped seam and pulling it shut. He slashed the air with his sicles to clear the air.

It was all over in the matter of seconds.

He stood still, breathing heavily. His hands gripped his sickles tightly, shaking.

You could feel the string grow taut, and you hesitantly drew closer to the wolf. “They’re wrong, you know.”

He blinked, suddenly remembering you were there. He stepped towards the window, laughing as he looked outside. He refused to meet your eyes. “I know. But I’m Death. They don’t get under my skin. They can think whatever they want. They can’t escape me and they certainly can’t change who I am. I’m fine, really.”

“I hate to break it to you,” you said gently, “But I’m pretty sure you’re lying to yourself right now.”

“I’m not,” Death grumbled. He sheathed his sickles. Looking back at the body on the bed, he gently tucked it in before heading to the door. “Let’s get out of here.” He stomped out of the bedroom, leaving you to follow.

“Wait!”

You quickly ran out to follow him.

“Muerte!”

On the stairwell, his ears twitched a little. He turned to look at you, halfway out of the bedroom door. “¿Sí, mi fantasma? What is it?”

You opened and closed your mouth, trying to figure out what to say. You stepped forward, while pulling him closer by pulling on the red string. “Don’t believe a word they said. I chose to stay  in the mortal realm. I wanted to get to know you and I wanted to be there for you. All my life,” you choked out, “All my life, I looked for a soulmate. I met so many people with so many fascinating stories and lives. But even though I wasn’t alone, I still felt lonely.”

“Are you trying to say that you think I’m lonely?” Death teased.

“Yes!” you blurted out. “Yes, I think you’re lonely! But I don't want you to have to be lonely anymore! I don’t think you’re a big bad wolf! You’re- you’re a big good wolf! You’re strong and gentle and- I can’t believe I’m saying this- you are really attractive!”

What.

The.

Folk.

“Oh my fairy godmother.” Your hands flew to your face as you knelt to the ground, unable to process your outburst. “I want to die. Again.”

“I love you too.”

You looked up. “What?”

“I love you too.” Death looked down with a smirk. He bent down, elbows on his knees. His smirk softened to a smile as he placed a hand on your shoulder. “I know what you were trying to say. Thank you… I needed that.” He hesitated. And then he kissed your forehead, gentle and sweet.

The red thread seemed to come alive and your entire body felt like it was burning, but in the best way possible. Without thinking, you grabbed the string and tugged it down, leading Death to your lips. He didn’t object. And for however long that kiss lasted, you finally felt alive again. You could smell the dirt and seabrine in his fur, soft and cold under your hands. You felt the phantom sensations of your heart racing. He was tender and soft, though as you both pulled away, you could see a hungry look in his eyes, as if he were ready to devour you in an instant.

God, you wanted to kiss him again.

“We better get going,” you coughed, rising to your feet quickly.

Death followed suit. “Certainly.”

The two of you walked out of the house and into the street. Death didn’t put on his hood. But your hand did find its way into his. He gave it a small squeeze.

“I love you, Muerte.” You said quietly when you reached the edge of town. The two of you stopped. Dusk was quickly settling down over the seaside town. The two of you stood on the edge of the main road. He gave you a long look, red eyes cutting through the dark. “Do you believe we’re soulmates?”

“I do.”

He said this without hesitation or doubt. And by the look in his eyes, you knew he believed it.

==x==x==

“I must say though, I’m surprised you find me attractive. I didn’t think I’d be your type.”

“Please. I don’t want to die another time out of shame.”

[lorsdelapluie]

here have some of my art to keep you guys satiated mwua