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lrithill · 2 months ago

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Nightmare on Clown Street (Pt. 3: Happily Settled)

Hi everyone!

This is the third and final installment of Nightmare on Clown Street.

I want to thank everyone who’s followed the story, left likes or comments — it makes me really happy to know that, at the very least, I managed to make someone smile with this paranoid little fever dream.

This shit gets really wild. It’s definitely been an emotional ride, and I’m super proud of how it all ends.

(Though... a bonus track might be coming, considering how the episode wraps up — wink wink — it’s way too juicy to just leave it there. Hehehe.)

Hope you enjoy the chapter — and requests are always open for me!

Word count: 11,000 words (but it reads fast — it's pure action)

Warnings: Violence, mentions of sexual assault and rape, blood, fights, mild sexual content, sexual humor, butt slapping, involuntary boner, humiliation, religious symbolism, weapons, unconventional weapons, zombies, mutilation, distress, despair, funny food.

Here you got the 2 other chapters.

https://www.tumblr.com/lrithill/776929905368825856/nightmare-on-clown-street-pt1-the-prospective?source=share (Part 1)

https://www.tumblr.com/lrithill/777377407333171200/nightmare-on-clown-street-pt2-the-real-state?source=share (Part 2)

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*Inside the Church, before the disaster*

A bandaged-handed James, a barefoot Trujilda, and a serene Marian speak with the nun who was on duty at the church that fateful day.

—Sister Beatrice, please… You have to help us! —James pleads, hands clasped together as if hoping for a miracle—. By divine power, we are lost!

James lamented, utterly at the mercy of evil, and really, at the mercy of everything. Powerlessness had been his loyal companion all day long.

Trujilda was holding Marian in her arms, still with her face painted—neither Marian nor James had dared to touch her for fear of angering the demon, or whatever that dark entity was.

—Sister Beatrice. —Trujilda insists—. What can we do? Or what can you do? No one is better than you at handling this kind of calamity… no one but you can exorcise our daughter!!! —she is just short of pulling her own hair—. You have the divine power, the gift that God granted you… NO INFERNAL CREATURE IS STRONGER THAN THAT!!!

CLANG

The sister silences them with her bell, not even sparing them a glance.

—Shhh—she finally breaks her silence.

She was deeply serious, her wise eyes moving over the miserable souls in front of her.

Her perfectly pristine black habit fluttered solemnly in the breeze.

A long, heavy, and voluminous rosary adorned her waist like a belt.

She decides to ignore James and Trujilda’s desperate pleas and walks straight toward Marian—the bearer of the curse.

Trujilda lets her down so the nun can attend to her.

Sister Beatrice looms over the child, gazing at her with an almost sorrowful expression.

—Oh… Daughter… —she said with compassion.

—WHAT—Trujilda shouts.

CLANG

Sister Beatrice silences her again with a strike of her bell.

—Child… —she continues—. You had the dream, didn’t you? —she explains—. You carried the power of fire. And you emerged from the frozen waters.

“James, are you understanding a damn thing this woman is saying? The only thing I want to burn is myself,” Trujilda whispers in his ear.

“Seems like there’s not a single normal person in this place, damn it” he mutters back.

—Listen, Sister—James gets serious—. The coldest bath my daughter’s ever taken is at the beach. —he chuckles at his own joke—. We’re here because just a few hours ago, a man… well, a sorcerer of the dark arts, marked her as part of his cult.

—Exactly—Trujilda confirms—. So if you could do us the favor of helping, we’d be VERY grateful, and we’d be VERY happy to leave as soon as possible. —Trujilda smiles like the Cheshire cat from Alice and nods.

—A man did this to her? —She pulls away, Sister Beatrice’s expression softens.

She studies Marian’s face, grabs her chin, and drags her finger across her cheek, smearing the paint in the process.

—Well, would you look at that? The paint job turned out pretty nice, kid —she says like a granny.

—See, Dad? She likes it too! —Marian sticks out her tongue, mocking him.

James slaps a hand over his face in frustration.

—Alright, I’ve had enough of being mocked for today… Are you messing with us, Sister?! —he glares at her, defiant.

In response, the nun rolls up the sleeves of her habit, revealing some impressively toned arms.

Her expression, serious as an inquisitor.

James doesn’t even want to imagine what it would feel like to take a bell strike to the head from this woman—she looks more than capable. He immediately backs down.

—Y-you’re v-very strong, Sister… —he stammers, attempting to flatter the horseman of the apocalypse.

—It’s all from prayer: 3x15 reps of Hail Marys in the morning; and, Our Father, to failure. —she finishes with a bicep flex.

“If my hand wasn’t bandaged, I swear…” James grumbles under his breath.

—Do you think I’m deaf, you insolent? —inhales deeply.

—No… no… Sorry Sister… —James excuses himself pathetically.

She raises the bell aggressively above her head in a movement that surpasses the speed of light.

James clenches his teeth, closing his eyes… The worst part? He doesn’t even try to dodge the fake blow. It’s like he’s already accepted his fate.

Sister Beatrice chuckles.

—Even Jesus would bully with this misguided soul. —the nun laughs confidently.

Then, she takes a deep breath, regaining her composure.

—Your daughter was not chosen, fortunately. —she explains.

—Thank God… Wait, what does that mean? —Trujilda asks, nervous.

—The devil painted in white likes to play, yes… but he wouldn’t have let you escape so easily if she were an angel.

—THE DEVIL PAINTED IN WHITE?! —James and Trujilda scream in unison.

They cling to each other, and Trujilda blows her nose into James’ shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably.

—What have we done to deserve this? —James cries—. Our poor daughter…

—I’m fine, Dad.

—NO!

Trujilda now turns to Sister Beatrice.

—Do you think I might be cursed too, Sister? —Trujilda blurts out, showing her fingers—. He licked my fingers, I still feel like my body’s been violated… he even held me in his arms. Do I have leprosy? LOOK! —her eye twitches… both eyes, actually.

—Pfff, child, worse things happened to me at the abbey’s summer camp. And here I am, almost 90 years old. —she dismisses it.

—Sister, for someone who’s almost 90, you’re as well-preserved as a can of tomato soup. —Trujilda remarks, astonished.

—That’s what going to mass does to you. Stand - kneel - amen - stand - kneel - amen... 1,2,3…1,2,3…1,2,3…

Trujilda crosses herself —Amen—.

—Oh please, you’re the one complaining? —James snaps back—. The white-painted devil dug his claws into my hand, I even had to bandage it, for God’s sake!!! —he shows his wrapped hand to Sister Beatrice—. It feels like the bones in my fingers are turning into knives, cutting me from the inside out. —his expression is one of sheer terror.

The Sister examines him.

—Mmmmm… That’s arthritis, son. —she rolls her eyes so hard they almost reach Christ himself.

CLANG

—Now I’m the painted devil girl, Daddy, hahaha— Marian grins.

—You have to do something, Sister Beatrice— James drops to his knees.

—The truth is… I feel his presence within you. In fact… I feel it drawing near and near.—her voice echoes through the church walls—. It’s almost upon us… —she finishes.

—-------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, Bruna, Art, and you on the road:

—AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH

HONK HONK HONK HONK —Art's mouth puffed up like dogs hanging out the car window.

—-------------------------------------------

—HOLY MOTHER OF GOD! —Trujilda nearly faints. James catches her in his arms.

—You will protect us, don’t you, Sister Beatrice? —James begs, while holding his wife.

—The devil was once God’s greatest angel... If the fallen angel rises, who am I to stand on his way? I AM NOTHING BUT THE BELL THAT RINGS IN HIS NAME…

CLANG

—If you wish to be saved—she announces—. Then God must test your worth.

CLANG

Sister Beatrice walks steadily toward the church doors with the confidence of someone who’s personally headbutted the devil. She gestures for the miserable family to follow.

They do—barely able to keep up.

—God gave me these legs to defeat evil, and I’ll run up the damn walls if I have to. MOVE, THE BEAST IS RIGHT BEHIND US!

James and Trujilda whisper to each other, breathless.

—Holy crap, this lady’s on turbo! —James pants—. She’s got the divine power stored in her calves!

—I don’t know if I should join a gym or a convent— Trujilda wheezes, trying to keep up.

Sister Beatrice comes to an abrupt halt at the church entrance. She looks over her shoulder with a confident smile, then blows a kiss to the sky dramatically, like claiming the very gods.

The sky darkens instantly. The sun is swallowed by clouds.

For a moment, it even looks like the moon tries to eclipse the sun—moved by nothing but Sister Beatrice’s unshakeable faith.

—At the convent, we pray hard… and hit harder. —She cracked her knuckles into a fist.

CLANG

Without another word, the nun slams the doors open.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Judgment has begun.

Right beside the entrance, sitting on the ground, there’s a homeless man.

Wrapped in rags, with silver hair so long it looks like a pigeon condo, his sun-worn skin and glassy eyes tell a thousand stories of life on the street.

In his lap rests a cardboard sign that reads: “Help me.”

—Feed the man— Sister Beatrice commands.

CLANG

—Let’s get to it. —the vagabond spits, not even pretending to care.

James, Trujilda, and Marian exchange glances.

Sister Beatrice slams her bell against the ground like a monkey.

CLANG.

—God is testing you. —she declares firmly.

Silence.

James rummages through his pockets and pulls out... an empty gum wrapper.

—Does this count? —he asks and wrinkles his nose

CLANG.

—Are you seriously trying to bribe God with trash? —Sister Beatrice glares at him.

—For God's sake, James! —Trujilda shoves him—. Don’t you have anything else?

James digs deeper quickly.

—I’ve got… a penny, an expired movie ticket, and… half a broken ibuprofen. —His mouth curls sideways, revealing his lower teeth…awkward.

—Why don’t you just hand me your toupee while you’re at it, genius? —the vagabond raises an eyebrow—. Brother, this is an insult even to a stray dog…

Trujilda, panicking, looks inside her purse and pulls out… her broken high heels, a used lipstick, and a half-bitten stocking (she chews them to relieve stress).

—TAKE THIS OFFERING. —she offers it like a sacrifice.

The vagabong dumps her offering onto the ground.

—The alley cats will be forever grateful to you, sister. —he smiles sarcastically.

Sister Beatrice covers her eyes with one hand, in absolute disappointment, as if she had just witnessed Christ himself stumble under the weight of the cross.

—But mom… —Marian tugs on her blouse—. You’ve got some chocolate bars back there.

—WHAT? NO, NO, NO. —Trujilda backs up against the wall, trying to cover her butt—. These kids… always clowning around, hahaha… —laughs nervously.

—You’re not fooling anyone, woman. Just a bite, come on… —the vagabond says with scorn.

—Those bars were bought for you, Marian! —she says, indignant—. And with our own money! —Trujilda nods frantically—. If they’d been a gift, that’d be different!

—Even Judas wasn’t this stingy. —the vagabond rolls his eyes.

—You’re beyond salvation— Sister Beatrice looks at them like she’s staring at Pontius Pilate himself.

—And you, child? —the vagabond asks Marian, without expectations.

Marian pulls a notebook out of her backpack.

—I can make you a paper plane… —she says sweetly, and folds one—. Look.

She throws it. It crashes immediately onto the floor.

—It flies like a pigeon throwing itself off a third-floor balcony, dear. —the vagabond mutters, deadpan.

Sister Beatrice sighs with the weight of a thousand disappointments.

—I expected nothing… and I’m still disappointed. —he says, rolling his eyes.

James crosses his arms.

—Look, sir… we’ve just moved houses, fled for our lives, I don’t even know if I’m gonna make it… I need a doctor —he shows his poorly bandaged hand to his face—. When exactly do you think we had time to stop and buy a sandwich?

Then James remembers… there’s a sandwich in his pocket (he saved it for later). Slowly, he slips his hand into his jacket and feels it.

“Maybe just a tiny bite…” he thinks.

But then he notices the bread’s already a bit stale… and instead of giving it to the poor man, he decides not to share it because “he’s not going to enjoy it enough”

—We are literally being chased by the white-painted demon! —James blurts out before his intrusive thoughts win, and he unconsciously pulls out the sandwich.

The vagabond raises his eyebrows in surprise.

—Oh!! So you’ve met my boy—he says with genuine joy—. How’s he doing? Still not brushing his teeth? We’ve got a bet going on who can last the longest without brushing. —He grins, revealing a set of teeth that look like he just devoured three packs of Oreos and a bowl of lentils.

Trujilda bends over, gagging into his ripped stocking before throwing up. She throws it near a trash pile, and a cat nearby also vomits.

—Is he your friend? —Marian’s eyes light up.

—IS HE HIS FRIEND?! —James whips around to Sister Beatrice, demanding answers.

—I simply tolerate him… unlike you. —the vagabond scoffed, with disdain.

Sister Beatrice massaged his forehead with her fingers, on the verge of snapping

—If none of you have anything to offer God’s servant… I will be forced to pass judgment. —Sister Beatrice declares.

The vagabond nods, supporting Sister Beatrice’s words.

—SIR! OUR DAUGHTER IS POSSESSED! —Trujilda shrieks.

—The only one possessed here is you, lady. —and then he looks at James—. Are you sure you're running from the right demon? —he sideyes his wife.

Trujilda is so offended that, if she could, her head would be doing full 360º head spins.

—Look, I get it… —he continues—. The demon, the possession, blah blah blah… but damn, you people are miserable. —He drops his head in his fist, radiating apathy.

Sister Beatrice sighs and shakes her head.

CLANG

—You have failed the test.

James and Trujilda stare at each other, utterly dumbfounded.

—WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE FAILED?!

The nun turns away indignantly.

—Didn’t you just beg for God’s mercy a few minutes ago? How do you expect mercy if you don’t even have a shred of compassion? —she points to the lying homeless man.

—Unforgivable. —the vagabond says, shaking his head in disapproval.

James stammers, unable to come up with a response.

He turns to his wife, desperate.

—Honey, how do we fix this?!

—I mean… maybe we can get him something later… —she replies.

The vagabond lets out a laugh of sheer disbelief.

—Oh, sure. Either you pay for my retirement, or don’t bother. —He brushed the words away with a flick of his hand

Sister Beatrice sighs, rubbing her temple.

—There’s nothing more to say. You are condemned.

—WHAT!?

—I said, you are condemned.

—Isn’t there, like… a Plan B? —James tries to negotiate.

—Plan B was feeding the man.

Trujilda presses her hands against her face.

—God, I want to set myself on fire RIGHT NOW.

James inflates his chest like a pigeon.

—Trujilda, listen to me… This is bullshit! —James shouts, completely furious—. There is no God, there is no Devil, and these two scammers are just messing with us. You enjoy our suffering, huh? —he says, referring to them—. Well, guess what? You’re both gonna burn in hell! —James lets out a deranged laugh—. Trujilda, Marian, we’re getting in the car and we’re leaving. YES, YES, YES… AND IF THE DEVIL REALLY EXISTS, LET HIM STOP ME FROM GETTING INTO THAT CAR!

BOOOOOOMM

He doesn’t get to finish before James' beloved vanilla-colored Beetle, suddenly, bursts into a massive fireball.

A towering tongue of fire rose into the cloudy sky—just like the tongues of flame that hovered over the apostles’ heads on Pentecost.

A blazing, red-hot flare –like a dying poenix–, that, to the family’s terrified eyes, definitely had a clown face.

James dropped to his knees—so hard—that he probably ripped his pants… in the back.

Prrrrrrc…

He clutched his head with both hands.

—MY CAAAAAAR!!! —he screamed to the heavens, just in case God was listening.

He stood up and ran, Trujilda and Marian following close behind toward their fiery destiny.

The vagabond watched them run off. Then, with a shrug, he reached under his mane of hair and pulled out… a sandwich bigger than his own head.

He bit into it with pure satisfaction.

—Bunch of idiots.

He proceeded to pull a bottle of wine from his coat and raised it in a toast to the empty air.

—God bless these morons.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chaos reigned.

A thick cloud of smoke and dust blanketed the landscape, making it nearly impossible to see anything. Glowing embers floated in the air—beautifully and deadly—burning the lungs and skin on contact.

James, Trujilda, and Marian held hands to avoid getting separated, slowly pushing forward through the choking haze, waiting for it to clear.

—I see something! —Trujilda announced—. A figure!

—Careful, it could be anything —James replied, fearing the worst.

The silhouette comes running toward them.

James assumes a defensive stance—the majestic “bald eagle with hippo on crack variation” pose.

The smoke clears just enough to reveal the mysterious figure and it’s…

—Bruna?! —Trujilda can’t believe her eyes—. What are you doing here?!

—Guys, for the love of God, you have no idea what I’ve been through… —she says, panting.

—Oh please, tell us? —James laughs—. I guarantee whatever happened to you doesn’t beat our nightmare.

—I literally almost died. —she begins—. I have driven downhill at over 180 km/h—

—I’m the hero of this story. —James cuts her off, silencing her mouth with his finger—. Stop trying to steal the spotlight.

—YOU?! Allow me to list all the heroic things I’ve done that you haven’t: I tried to rescue a hostage… I drove with a psychopath hanging off my car, I—

—A PSYCHOPATH HANGIN OFF YOUR CAR?! —James and Trujilda shout in unison, horrified.

—The clown you told me about over the phone. —she replies—. I only got here because you told me about him.

—Is he here? —Marian asks, a little too excited, a smile creeping onto her face.

—TELL ME YOU KILLED HIM! TELL ME YOU BLEW HIM TO HELL! —James screams.

—Blew him up? Yeah. But that bastard landed just fine. —she clenches her fist in frustration—. That dude’s good… way better than me.

—NO… NO… NO… NOOOOOOO— James cries out—. THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING.

—HE’S THE DEVIL—Trujilda grabs Bruna by the shoulders—. Sister Beatrice told us so at the church…

—I don’t know that who that Beatrice is, but honestly? I don’t want to meet any more new people today… —she sighs, tired.

—She’s good, she’s gonna help us when that freak shows up —James starts hyping himself up—. There’s six of us now, against two of them… they won’t stand a chance.

—Six? Who’s the sixth? —Bruna asks.

—The homeless guy, he’s with us too… WHETHER HE LIKES IT OR NOT. —fist clenched in fury.

HONK HONK

Everyone jumps.

The fog finally clears completely, revealing the silhouettes of the really main characters in this story.

You’re leaning against his chest, safe in the shelter of his presence.

Art removes his sunglasses and pulls down his hoodie, revealing his blood-streaked face—his own blood, to everyone's surprise–. He grins from ear to ear –his three new friends have returned.

He greets them with his signature wave, fingers fluttering. Bruna had delivered him exactly where he wanted to be.

“Should I tip her for the ride?” he wondered.

You’re terrified. You don’t know how this is going to play out, you don’t know what Art’s plan is—but you do know he loves intrigue. And best of all, you know he’s going to win.

—STAY BACK —James orders.

Art pulls an exaggerated “scared” face, lifting both fists to his cheeks like a little girl. As if James had actually intimidated him.

—Oh, so you’re still laughing at me, huh… Well, just so you know, now we’ve got the cornerstone… the one who, with the power of God, is going to destroy you. —James says confidently, a smug half-smile on his face.

To this, Art raises a hand to his brow, pretending to scan the horizon like he’s looking for this so-called Goliath they’re referring to.

Then he glances at you, frowning. He strokes his chin, fingers tapping dramatically as if deep in thought.

“Who the hell is this Messiah they’re talking about?”

—Art… I really don’t like this… What if… What if it’s Sienna? What if it’s a warrior angel? —you grip his hand tightly, knowing how serious that would be.

Art feels the way you squeeze his hand, and brings it to his lips, kissing it gently. Trying to calm you down, telling you without words: “it’s going to be okay”..

He looks at you with one eyebrow raised, then flicks his eyes toward the family, and back at you —with a condescending air— as if saying:

“Do you seriously think these people are a threat?”

CLANG

Art goes on alert, waiting for the mist to reveal the source of the bell.

—HA HA HA! THERE SHE IS! —James tastes victory on his tongue—. LONG LIVE CHRIST THE KING!

CLANG

Art scans the fog, his eyes darting rapidly from side to side.

CLANG

Finally, she appears. That unmistakable cloak, that face carved from stone, those cold, her all-knowing eyes locking onto Art.

Art meets her gaze. His smile spreads, revealing bloody teeth. His pupils dilate like a predator’s.

You glance at Art with uncertainty—when suddenly… he dashes away from you at full speed.

Sister Beatrice also charges toward Art, her veil whipping behind her in the wind, the burning ashes scorching her clothes.

Bell in hand.

Everyone holds their breath.

James lowers his thumb like a Roman emperor demanding death in the coliseum.

“Something has to happen. He’s always one step ahead”, you think.

The collision between these two forces of nature is imminent.

Art’s hands are raised in attack position, ready to grab that old woman by the head and slam her skull into the ground, splattering her brains across the ground.

Sister Beatrice charged at full speed, her eyes shut, her feet moving so fast it looked like she was levitating.

Her right hand was clenched into a fist, with only her index and middle fingers raised—possibly casting some divine miracle to shield her during the fight. At the same time, she whispered a prayer.

James dropped to his knees, trembling with emotion.

—SHE IS GOD’S CHOSEN ONE! THIS IS THE END OF YOUR REIGN, CLOWN! —he shouts at the top of his lungs

Everything had been decided.

The immovable force was finally meeting the unstoppable force.

The trumpets of the apocalypse echoed.

Fire rained from the sky.

The serpent against the Lamb of God.

Two weapons of mass destruction about to collide in a supernova of light and devastation, obliterating everything within a 50-meter radius.

And…

And then…

Let there be light

CLAP

And there was light.

HIGH-FIVE.

Only the wind stirred the dust and embers around them.

Bruna blinked three times, trying to process what she had just witnessed. James stood there, mouth agape, his brain shutting down like an old Windows PC.

—WHAT. —James couldn’t comprehend—. Wh-what was that? —He quietly put away the sandwich he had been enjoying (because, honestly, what better moment to have a snack than while witnessing your enemy’s destruction?).

—Wait, wait, wait… WHAT?! —Trujilda is absolutely dumbfounded—. James… fix this! QUICK!

Art and Beatrice pull each other into a tight hug, loudly slapping each other’s backs multiple times.

HONK—Art greets her.

CLANG—Beatrice responds.

Art claps his hands together, excited.

He gestures for you to come closer. Without hesitation, you do.

—Oh! So now you’ve got a girlfriend, huh, you rascal? —Sister Beatrice pokes him playfully in the chest.

Art grins and shrugs, moving on his heels side to side—putting on his best innocent little boy face—before puckering his lips in an exaggerated kiss, as if to say: “Who could resist this face?”

You give him a kiss on the cheek.

Art immediately puts on a shocked expression, as if you’d done something inappropriate. Then, without warning, he smacks your ass.

CLAP

The sound echoes through the entire arena.

—ART!

He simply points at you with his thumb, shaking his head while rolling his eyes toward the sky.

"I can’t take her anywhere."

—What I have to deal with… —you say, though you’re obviously joking.

—I feel for you— Sister Beatrice sympathizes, but for the first time, she actually laughs.

You introduce yourselves properly.

—Art, what the hell is this?! —you ask, still shocked.

To which Art responds by raising a hand to his ear in the shape of a phone —thumb and pinky out— and wiggling it, as if saying:

“I’ve got my contacts.” He winks at you.

He then starts mimicking a phone call while staring at James, mouthing the words like he’s talking to him through an imaginary line:

“Yes, yes, hello, yep, the alliance is confirmed. Uh-huh, everything’s in order. Kisses, bye.”

And ends it with a comical hang-up gesture.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The dust cloud finally clears completely, and now everyone can see each other’s faces.

The sun has been completely swallowed by the cluster of clouds summoned by Sister Beatrice. Streaks of lightning—like glowing arteries—are visible in the sky, followed by deafening thunder.

A thunderstorm is approaching.

And storms? They're good friends with black magic—harbingers of the supernatural.

The only light illuminating the combat arena now is the fire from James’ car explosion, which—unlike Bruna’s car—is still burning and only growing more monstrous by the minute.

—I’M CALLING THE POLICE! —Bruna yells, phone in hand.

—YOU SHOULD CALL THE POLICE ON YOURSELF, YOU NEARLY KIDNAPPED ME! —you shout from a distance.

Bruna starts dialing the police.

Just as she’s about to press the green call button—

WHAM

James slaps the phone out of her hand and immediately stomps on it.

—If you’re gonna call the cops, do it to report me… ‘CAUSE I’M ABOUT TO KILL THESE BASTARDS! —James beats his chest like a gorilla—. YOU CAN WALK OUT OF JAIL, BUT NOT OUT OF THE CEMETERY. —He rips off his suit jacket and cracks his neck.

Bruna is speechless, staring at her shattered phone on the ground… and the gorilla-man standing in front of her.

Art is absolutely losing it, cracking up at James’ declaration.

He starts posing like he’s Mr. Olympia, showing off his “big and mighty” muscles to James (which he absolutely does not have). He flexes his spaghetti arms with such intensity that his face looks like he’s suffering from a severe case of constipation—but hey, it’s the effort that counts.

But when it comes to muscles? Sister Beatrice’s got the real deal.

She unleashes the massive rosary wrapped around her waist and wields it like a nunchaku with the skill of a seasoned ninja.

—ORAAAAA —she yells like she was just pulled straight out of JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure.

She launches into a flying kick, and the momentum carries her into two more spinning air kicks.

She soars through the air like a peregrine falcon.

She lands on the ground at the same moment a lightning bolt strikes her, electrifying her rosary and infusing it with the power of the storm veil.

You and Art watch her from behind—”thank God she’s on our side”, you both thought.

Art is powerful too. But you? Not so much. He glances at you, thoughtful. Then he looks around… and gets an idea.

In an attempt to help you not look totally underleveled, Art picks up his "CIRCUS" sign that somehow survived the chaos, and hands it to you.

It has powers. (Good luck figuring out how to use them.)

Trujilda ties up her hair and removes the stiletto heels from her shoes, brandishing them like dual daggers—slay queen mode: activated.

Bruna enters her “main character energy” phase.

Marian hides behind a bush, as if she’s watching a live episode of Power Rangers.

Both sides stare each other down from opposite ends of the arena.

In one corner of the ring:

James, bare-knuckled and burning with righteous rage.

Bruna, with her iron will forged in fire.

Trujilda, wielding stilettos like dual vampire-slaying stakes–ready to taste blood.

In the other corner of the ring:

Art, with his raw, innate power. (He doesn’t need description)

Sister Beatrice, armed with her electric rosary and unshakable faith.

You, holding the “circus” sign –at least it’s 1 meter long, for the record–, but you look more like you’re headed to a flat-earther rally, to be honest. (That stupid “circus” message making you feel like a real clown).

(Art still has that absurd butcher knife in his back pocket from this morning, but seeing that James wants to go bare-fist, he decides to level the playing field—for dramatic tension, obviously.)

And the fight begins:

Sister Beatrice charges in first, moving like a ninja, flipping through the air like a holy hurricane.

She’s moving at the speed of light—doesn’t matter. Bruna has already mapped out her trajectory down to the last millimeter… even before she moved.

Intercepts her mid-air with a powerful leap. A brutal kick lands directly on Beatrice’s face.

Any normal human would have their jaw unhinged by a hit like that—but Sister Beatrice keeps her composure, face dead serious—even as Bruna’s foot presses into her cheek like a soccer player winding up for a kick straight out of Inazuma Eleven.

Without breaking expression, Sister Beatrice twists her neck like a ragdoll.

Bruna’s foot slides forward from the remaining momentum—

And with her electrified rosary, Beatrice whips it like a cowboy lasso, snaring Bruna’s leg with the speed of Jesus turning water into wine.

She spins Bruna mid-air and slams her into the ground, hard enough to make the pavement quake.

Bruna is flung into a pile of trash bins, pinned there.

Sister Beatrice dives after her like a bald eagle from heaven, arms stretched wide like the wings of a fallen angel, bare feet aimed squarely at Bruna’s skull…

—MOSES SPLITTED THE SEAS! AND I’M GONNA SPLIT YOUR HEAD IN TWO!

Just as she was about to deliver the final blow, Bruna smiles.

She turns.

And…

MEOW

A cat.

Bruna grabs it without hesitation off the ground and hurls it into Sister Beatrice’s face. Claws sink in. The nun screams. Her eagle vision—blinded.

Bruna spins out of the way just in time, watching as her opponent writhes on the ground, struggling to pry the beast off her face.

She shows no mercy—unleashing punches worthy of Mike Tyson. If it weren’t for the rabid cat tangled in Beatrice’s hair, she might’ve bitten an ear off too.

—Try peeling that cat off, mother Teressa—she spits.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Elsewhere in the arena—there you are.

You see Art closing in on James. You’re not sure if you should help him…

When suddenly, out of the corner of your eye, you spot Trujilda coming at you.

BAM!

She slams into your side, throwing you off balance.

Her hands—gripping her stiletto heels—swing toward you. She’s trying to stab you in a frenzied combo, an endless flurry of strikes, like she’s got infinite stamina.

She moves like an assassin, those sharp daggers aiming to pierce your flesh and kill you through sheer blood loss.

—THAT HOUSE IS GONNA BE OURS! —she screams, her teeth showing.

You stumble backward, dodging clumsily.

Her face isn’t even human anymore—it’s the face of a rabid dog, foaming at the mouth, like a starving, diseased vermin.

—I’M GONNA KILL YOU HA HA HA —she cackles—. I’M GONNA DESTROY YOU.

She raises both heels high above her head, preparing a fully charged overhead strike straight for your skull.

Now it’s clear.

The moment she lifts her arms, she leaves her chest completely exposed and—

BAM!

You slam the edge of the wooden sign into her ribs.

Trujilda spits blood and folds over, clutching her gut.

You seize the opportunity and strike her in the skull with the sign, dropping her to her knees.

You’re about to land another blow to keep her down, when she drives a stiletto heel straight into your foot with all her strength.

You scream in pain, trying to lift your foot—but it’s pinned to the floor, completely stuck.

With the other heel, she stabs you in the side of your thigh, making you bleed down your leg.

Trujilda stands up and goes right back on the attack—a hook from the right, followed by another from the left, over and over.

Several of those punches land—your blood spilling fast. . You stumble backward, and she stalks after you like a beast cornering its prey.

But then—you gather yourself.

You raise the sign and use it as a shield.

An attack comes from below—you deflect it.

Another from the left—you block it cleanly.

—I’M GONNA DESTROY YOUR STUPID SIGN! —she screams and spits blood in your face.

Her heels hit so hard they start puncturing the wood, splintering sharp fragments into the air.

The splinters dig into your fingers, pricking you, making them bleed—you won’t be able to hold this position much longer…

You need to attack.

Then, without warning, you shift the sign sideways, taking advantage of its aerodynamics in this position.

You smash the jagged edge right into Trujilda’s face.

You watch as splinters and her tears fly out of her eyes upon impact.

You don’t stop. With a swift backhand motion, you swing the sign again, striking her from the opposite side—another perfect blow, full of raw power.

This time, it’s not just tears flying—it’s teeth.

She spits blood but… for a brief moment… She smiles —that artificial smile, like a poorly made doll, with eyes nearly bulging out of her skull. Defiant. Still hungry for a fight.

You sense the advantage and push forward, winding up for a third strike—

But this time, Trujilda is ready.

Before you can land the next hit, she lunges at the sign, biting down on it like a velociraptor.

Her teeth sink into the wood, and with a violent shake of her head, she tears it from your hands, flinging it meters away.

Leaving you completely exposed.

She pounces on you.

You try to escape.

You run toward the sign, but you’re too late—she’s already leapt onto you like a wild snow leopard.

You crash to the ground in a whirlwind of heels, kicks, and fists.

You grab a handful of sand from the ground and hurl it into her face.

She inhales the sand, choking violently, as her eyes fill with grit, blinding her frenzied gaze.

She claws at her own face, screaming, scraping her skin raw with the sand, like an animal

Maybe that buys you some time.

But elsewhere in the arena—

The final battle is unfolding.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Art vs James

—NOTHING IS GOING TO SAVE YOU FROM THIS— James laughs, full of arrogance.

Art slowly turns around, raising an eyebrow, as if he seriously can’t believe this guy is talking to him. He points to himself, expression dripping with sarcasm:

"Mmmm… you talking to me? That was a good joke."

He chuckles and rolls his eyes, like he just heard the dumbest thing in the universe.

—When I knock your teeth out, we’ll see if you’re still laughing, asshole… —James grits his teeth—. You humiliated me in front of my wife and—

James stops mid-sentence.

His brain short-circuits at what he’s witnessing.

Art has turned around. His own arms are wrapped around his torso, mimicking someone making out with him—mocking the way he kissed Trujilda before.

Finally, he spins back around with a smirk, points at James with a single finger, and sticks his tongue out — mocking how pathetic he sounds.

—I’M GONNA TAKE YOU APART PIECE BY PIECE! SLOW ENOUGH FOR YOU TO FEEL EVERY SECOND, YOU PIECE OF SHIT… —James growls.

Art slaps his thigh in silent laughter dramatically —clearly amused.

James unwinds the bandage from his injured hand. His bones crack as he stretches it out, a dry, unsettling noise.

Art’s mouth forms a dramatically exaggerated 'O', then stretches into a mischievous grin.

And then—

RRRAAAHH

James rips open his shirt, revealing his bare chest (beer belly included), like some kind of tribal warrior preparing for battle. If he had a knife, he’d probably carve up his own pecs just to paint himself in his own blood.

Art’s pupils dart around, looking side to side, scanning for a hidden camera.

"Really, dude?"

—I’M RIGHT HERE! —James spreads his arms—. I WANT A REAL FIGHT! FIGHT ME LIKE A REAL MAN!

Art swallows hard.

He pretends to take off his pants, acting like he misunderstood James—as if to fight like a "real man" you have to strip down completely.

—OH! NO, NO —James covers his eyes with his hands—Just the upper body, god…

Art pulls a face like “ahh, of course,” and calmly buttons his pants back up.

It’s not that he has a problem stripping down, but the situation is so ridiculous he can’t help but laugh. Besides, he’s so pale that if he takes off his hoodie, he might blind everyone around him… this guy looks practically fluorescent.

He chuckles to himself, gestures to James with his finger as if to say “hold on a sec,” and starts undressing.

Out of habit, he glances at you—intending to turn this into an improvised striptease just for fun—

But then he notices you’re busy fighting for your life against Trujilda.

That concerns him a little bit.

He decides to get serious and wrap this up quickly.

Art pulls off his hoodie in one smooth motion, revealing his lean but moderately defined body.

For a brief second, he covers his nipples with his fingers, feigning shame—then immediately regains his battle composure.

He honks at James.

Honk? = "Fine?"

James gets cocky at the sight of Art’s slim figure—he doesn’t exactly look like a threat in a hand-to-hand fight.

*(Author’s note: Between you and me, Art is criminally hot and we would absolutely devour him head to toe. You know it. I know it.)*

James narrows his eyes.

—I’m not stupid… I know you have a knife. I saw it this morning. —points at his jeans.

Art rolls his eyes and mimics talking with his hand, opening and closing his fingers like a puppet—mocking James for running his mouth.

Slowly, he reaches into the back pocket of his pants…

And pulls out an absurdly large butcher knife.

(How the hell did that even fit in there!?)

He lets it drop to the ground with a loud—

CLANK

Art raises both palms, arching an eyebrow at James.

"Anything else, princess?"

—That’s it…— James grins, malice spreading across his face.

Art motions with his index finger.

"Come here."

James doesn’t need to be told twice. He lunges forward.

Art watches him approach, but he remains completely calm.

After all, he’s practically immortal—sure, he can feel pain, but at most, James might leave him with a couple of bruises before he knocks him out.

James throws a punch with everything he’s got, aiming straight for Art’s face.

But—Art moves with insulting speed.

PLAF!

His hand catches James’ fist mid-air, as effortlessly as a pro baseball player snatching a slow-pitched ball from a child.

James hears a crack.

—Shit…

Art twists his wrist —James’ immediate reaction is pure agony.

He doubles over, overwhelmed by the unexpected strength of Art, who’s now manhandling him like a ragdoll.

With his free hand, Art mimics a yawning gesture, as if this fight is boring him to death.

"Too easy."

James’ blood boils—if this guy wants to take a nap so badly, he’ll make sure to put him to sleep himself.

With his free hand, James swings a hook toward Art’s side, aiming below the ribs, straight at his organs.

But Art was already expecting it.

WHAM!

With his other hand, Art catches James’ second fist mid-air.

Art grins, watching him struggle completely immobilized—and without a second thought—

CRACK

Art slams his forehead into James’ skull with a dry, sickening thud.

A burst of pain explodes inside James’ head, and his vision flashes white.

If there’s one thing Art’s got, it’s a massive head (both, indeed)—that shit is like a bowling ball.

The bleeding is instant—blood gushes from James’ forehead, dripping down his nose and chin.

Art laughs—loud and unhinged—still holding James’ now completely useless fists.

—Oh, so that’s how we’re playing, huh? —he muttered under his breath.

James seizes the moment—he wraps his leg around Art’s knee, trapping him.

(Showing off those two Jiu-Jitsu classes he took.)

He pushes with his arms, trying to throw Art off balance—forcing him to let go, or risk falling to the ground.

And—

PAOW!

James headbutts Art right in the mouth.

Art is taller, so the impact smashes directly into his lips, splitting them open. Blood spurts.

—Who’s laughing now, dumbass? —James sneers.

But Art— Instead of spitting out the blood—

He licks it off his lips.

His pupils dilate—blood threads blooming in his eyes like shattered glass.

His sharp-toothed grin, now smeared with crimson, shows something more than just mockery and amusement.

Killer instinct.

The taste of blood awakens something feral inside him.

His gaze shifts, darkness spreads across his irises —fueled by the demon that lives within.

Art charges at James like a predator.

James doesn’t even have time to react before he’s slammed to the ground.

Art’s hands instantly reach for his neck, crushing his windpipe.

Choke—it’s the only thought in his mind.

James flails, throwing punches in every direction—desperate—writhing beneath Art.

But the force above him is inhuman — too strong, too ruthless, draining every ounce of his strength.

His lungs burn.

Art’s blood drips onto his face, thick streams sliding into James’ mouth, making him gag and making it even harder to breathe.

Art is determined — he’ll choke and crush until James’ neck looks like a vulture’s, until his nails puncture the trachea and shatter the cervical spine down to the bone.

His eyes no longer look human.

Not now.

He watches James’ face turn blue with satisfaction—and smiles.

But then…

Out of the corner of his vision—

He sees you, still fighting Trujilda.

And he remembers.

He remembers that you don’t want anyone to die.

The demonic glow in his pupils fades.

His hands release their grip.

Art’s eyes return to their usual color—green.

James is unconscious, breathing shallowly, but —he’s stable.

Art moves off of him, but remains seated on his body, exhaling deeply.

He finally relaxes, realizing James is still alive.

PLAP

He slaps him—maybe a little too hard…

PLAP

Another one, this time with the back of his hand—definitely too hard.

Art laughs, playing with his new toy.

—AGH!

With a violent jolt, James comes back to life— dragging in a desperate breath of oxygen.

Art gives him a thumbs-up and raises an eyebrow.

“You good?”

James barely nods, gasping for air.

Art gets up and turns around, admiring the chaos in front of him:

Bruna beating the crap out of an old lady who’s got a rabid cat tangled in her hair…

You, fending off Trujilda’s stilettos with a giant wooden sign…

He wipes a hand down his face, staring at the fucking daycare center unfolding before him.

“All this… just because I didn’t want to sleep on the couch.”

Art turns back around, giving James a soft, sarcastic clap, like “Well done, buddy. Not bad. You even made me sweat a little. Now go take care of your goddamn family and get the fuck out.”

Art turns around, and his eyes come face to face with a blade.

It flies straight for his neck.

Art turns just in time to dodge it—but not fast enough.

The blade slices his skin.

His jugular.

A jet of dark blood sprays out.

Art clutches his neck, trying to stop the bleeding.

His bare body gets immediately drenched in blood—the wound impossible to close.

His vision blurred.

—If you play dirty, then I’ll play dirty too... —James murmured, twirling Art’s butcher knife in his hand.

Art bared his teeth.

He should’ve seen this coming… He spared his life, and this is how James repays him—

With a knife to the throat, in cold blood.

“Bastard…” he thought.

Art staggered backward, retreating from the blade, feeling the flood of blood filling his lungs.

James walked toward Art, slow and deliberate.

—You are not gonna rest in peace, you are gonna rest in pieces… and then I’m gonna burn your body in the flames of my car. —He aims the knife at Art, already picturing where each cut will land, thirteen cuts exactly. No more. No less.

And then—

The ground trembled.

Cracks tore through the scorched battlefield, branching out like lightning beneath the burning wreckage of James’ car.

Deep fissures yawned open, splitting the earth with a thunderous groan — the world itself seemed to scream.

The fractures widened. A blinding, golden light surged from the abyss, as if heaven and hell had merged in molten brilliance.

Crimson and gold dust swirled upward in spirals, dancing like the ashes of forgotten gods.

James’ beloved car began to sink, slowly at first — then with sudden violence — swallowed by the earth's insatiable hunger, its maw opening like the jaws of some long-forgotten mythological beast.

The ground gave way beneath their feet, snapping the arena in two — twin islands adrift in chaos.

The roar of the earth echoed across the battlefield —

And somehow… It sounded like music.

A strange, sweet scent wafts up from the glowing chasm below.

“Gobble up your order, quick!

Before it runs away!

’Cause food's a little funny

At the Clown Café!”

Everyone stares downward, frozen in wide-eyed horror.

The ground is gone. Only nightmare remains.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Elsewhere in the arena, Bruna’s luck runs out.

The ground collapses right under her, sending her plummeting straight into the void.

She lands on a tiny tea table.

—Mind your manners... Don’t forget the pinky... —whispers an old lady, who’s stirring her tea with a severed pinky finger—. HA HA HA.

Bruna jumps up instantly, totally disoriented.

She throws the tea in the old woman’s face, who just keeps laughing as it scalds her skin —bubbles rising across her flesh.

Bruna tries to climb the rocky wall, scrambling up. But just as she reaches the top...

MEOW

Sister Beatrice throws the same cat Bruna threw at her earlier.

(Revenge. Feline edition.)

Bruna screams in pain and falls with a thud.

Sister Beatrice dives into the pit after her, landing with flawless form.

She whips her electric rosary around Bruna’s neck like a lasso.

—Bad dog—Beatrice hisses—. That’s what you get for misbehaving,

She leaves Bruna chained to a pole like she’s a pet.

—AARRRGGGHHH!

Bruna growls and squirms, trying in vain to break free from the power of faith.

—God bless this disaster—she mutters.

CLANG

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Marian rushes across the twisted arena, desperately trying to find her parents.

She watches as each of them runs off in opposite directions, unsure where to go—She starts to cry.

—Have you opened your present yet, sweetheart? —a woman’s voice drifts up from the pit—

Every child gets one. There is no telling what you may find! —her tone is warm and sweet.

—A present? —Marian asks.

—You never know what surprises are waiting... —the woman giggles— Art will be so happy to have you come play with the other children.

—Art?

—And, speaking of surprises, he might even let you ride his tricycle... He only shares it with his favorites—Her voice is pure sunshine—. And judging by your makeup, I can tell you must be very special.

The cloud of red dust clears, revealing the woman behind the sweet voice.

She’s dressed like a clown, wearing a blue dress, a matching hat, and purple striped tights. Her makeup is also blue, with a wide, painted smile.

She begins strumming a banjo and dances cheerfully to the music.

Marian doesn’t hesitate—she jumps.

She lands on a couch shaped like a mouth, complete with teeth and a tongue.

A little boy with balloons for eyeballs hands her the black makeup pencil her mother had taken away earlier.

—Thank you —she says.

The boy smiles and floats away, inflating his colored balloon-eyes as he rises.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the other side of the arena…

Trujilda pulls away from you in terror at the sudden “earthquake,” jumping onto a platform that breaks off without warning.

She tries to leap to solid ground but ends up dangling from the edge.

—JAMEEEEESSS! —she screams.

Trujilda dares a first glance into the hole.

And what she sees… gives her all the strength she needs to pull herself up.

Something was approaching her foot…

A writhing mass of corpses—or is it a single creature?—twisting together in a tangled mess of charred children. Arms, legs, heads everywhere, like puzzle pieces forced to fit together.

—AAAAAAAAAAAAH! —she screams, a shriek so high-pitched it could shatter glass.

She finally scrambles up on her own, frantic, searching for James and Marian, terrified they might’ve fallen into this cursed pit.

But her eyes land on something else.

She now finds herself on Art’s side. His body covered in blood from the hemorrhage James caused—and the sight almost makes her vomit.

—Looks like my coward of a husband isn’t such a coward after all—she chuckles—.

Gave you what you deserved, you freak.

But Art isn’t listening.

The ground has split open between him and James, leaving a deep abyss between them.

Which, thankfully, saved him from more machete attacks.

But…

Who’s going to save you now?

Because James has just landed safely on your side of the battlefield.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

James staggers, but regains his balance just in time to turn toward you.

You take a step back as you see the shirtless man wielding a machete.

—Well, well, well… —he mutters, wiping the blood from his forehead with the back of his hand—. Look what we have here... Miss Clown herself. —he says, twirling the machete—

Nothing personal, but if your boyfriend wants to play with my stuff… I’ll play with his.---His eyes darken.

He licks his lips. That predator grin spreads across his face.

Art, still on the other side of the fissure, keeps pressure on his neck with both hands—blood slipping between his fingers.

He’s helpless…

But not helpless enough not to react when he sees James approaching you with obvious intent.

Art’s eyes blaze with fury.

—Well, well… from Arthur the Charmer to Arthur the Nearly Headless—Trujilda mocks Art, walking toward him with cocky steps— What trick are you gonna pull now?

Art doesn’t let her finish the sentence—

ZAS

He grabs her by the hair.

He shoves her face into his armpit, pressing hard, muffling her irritating voice into silence.

—jhafdoisnhd—she mumbles into his skin.

She tries to hit Art’s chest, but her arms go limp. Her screams fade. She collapses at his feet.

(Chloroform. The best deodorant. Approved by Art.)

Art turns his attention back to James—and you.

His brain calculating like a computer.

James steps toward you, crushing the wooden sign you were using as a shield.

You're standing dangerously close to the edge of the abyss.

—And you know what the best part is? —he says, looking at you— That when this is over, that clown will have to live knowing he couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it. —He smiles, remembering how James himself couldn’t stop Art with Trujilda. —HOW IRONIC, RIGHT?! —he shouts over to Art.

You take a step back, your stomach turning from the way he looks at you.

The danger is thick in the air, like a knife pressing against your skin.

You know you can’t beat him in strength.

You know Art is too far away to save you...

—No… don’t come any closer —your voice comes out weak.

James laughs.

His shadow swallows you as he takes another step forward.

—Is that all you’ve got? Fear? —he tilts his head, pretending to pity you—. Don’t look at me like that… I just want Artie to know how it feels. And if I remember right… that true love kiss? That was your idea, you bitch. —he spits, and charges toward you.

Your hands shake, sweat making your clothes cling to your skin.

A chill runs down your spine as James lifts his hand, like he’s about to touch you.

On the other side of the abyss, Art stands frozen, out of options.

The gap is several meters wide—

He has no way to reach you…

Wait.

No way?

His eyes flash.

“What if…”

He could reach you… in part?

Without hesitation, he drives his fingers into the wound on his neck in one brutal motion, tearing the flesh apart—widening it, more and more.

He grits his teeth in pain—

But it’s the only way.

With most of the tissue now separated, he grabs his own head with both hands—

And starts to pull upward...

Pull...

Pull…

And then…

SHRUAAACK

He rips his own head off.

The flesh tears completely apart, and a fountain of dark blood bursts from Art’s neck like an oil geyser.

Art’s body holds his severed head above his shoulders.

His long, muscular esophagus, still attached to the head, drips blood like a cursed tentacle.

With one hand, Art’s body lifts his own head—. And with the strength of a professional pitcher, he hurls it in your direction.

Art’s head soars through the air, tongue flapping out like a dog sticking its head out of a car window.

HONK!

Art’s body calls for your attention.

You turn instinctively.

You see something flying toward you—strange, fast, impossible to process—until it lands in your arms with a solid, wet THUD.

Art looks at you.

You look at him.

He gives you his best smile and winks.

—WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?! —James freezes in place.

Still holding the head, you notice Art wiggle his esophagus, swinging like a handle.

And you understand perfectly.

—Don’t worry... I’ll aim for the squishy parts—you tell Art, analyzing James’ body—So, basically... all of it. —you laugh.

Art’s eyes light up—he loves seeing you so ready to beat the living hell out of James.

—You gave me your head... I’ll give you some head after this. —you whisper to him with a wicked smile—.A fair trade.

Art’s mouth drops open in shock—then he grins devilishly, his esophagus wagging like a happy puppy’s tail.

You grip the esophagus tight, wielding Art’s head like a medieval mace.

James can’t believe what he’s seeing—Is that woman seriously swinging her boyfriend’s severed head as a weapon?

(That’s relationship goals).

James steps back, but it’s too late.

—WHAT THE FU—

BAM!

You slam Art’s head into his face with all your strength. James yells in pain and stumbles backward.

—Our relationship is as solid as my boyfriend’s skull —you laugh.

BAM!

Another hit—this time to the gut. James doubles over, gasping for air.

Art’s skull is shockingly heavy. Hard as a rock. It’s like swinging a wrecking ball—one that won’t stop staring at you with that shit-eating grin.

James lifts his head, nose broken, eyes swelling.

He weakly raises the machete, trying to aim it at your body.

But you’re faster.

—Catch! —you call out to your boyfriend / weapon.

Art opens his mouth—And you swing him forward, never letting go of his esophagus.

His teeth sink into the blade of the machete—like a pit bull—just before James can swing it.

You yank the esophagus—And Art brings the machete back to you.

You catch it with your free hand, consider using it… but it’s not worth it. So you casually toss it aside, far away.

—This can't be real…THIS CAN’T BE HAPP—

BAM!

You shut him up with another skull-slam to the temple.

James drops to his knees, spitting blood, his nose broken. He has no time to react.

—We’re the perfect couple, James —you say triumphantly—The dream team. The dynamic duo.

Art smiles — then immediately makes a skeptical face, like—

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who’s gonna be living on aspirin tomorrow.”

But whatever—this is way too fun for him.

You lift Art’s head and plant a passionate kiss on his lips, tongues dancing, right in front of James’ horrified, disgusted face.

Art’s esophagus coils around your leg, which might be a sign of affection—maybe even sexy—

but, well… it’s still an esophagus.

(You don’t care. You love it. You’d swallow his entire digestive system if he asked—deeper, wetter, messier).

—HOW THE HELL DOES A SEVERED HEAD HAVE A BETTER SEX LIFE THAN ME?! —James pulls at his hair. —I HAVE ALL MY LIMBS AND LOW STANDARDS!

—–––––––––––––––––––––––––

Meanwhile, on the other side of the arena—Art’s body wobbles a little, arms hanging loose by his sides, awaiting commands from a brain that’s… not there. It stays upright, only reacts and moves through sheer muscle memory—Basically functioning like a zombie.

A puppet of nerves and instinct.

Until he detects movement.

Specifically—Trujilda, stirring at his feet. Still loopy from the chloroform, groggy and mumbling nonsense.

She grabs onto Art’s legs clumsily, trying to find something to help her stand. Her small hands, with long nails scraping against Art’s skin… similar to yours…

Instantly, his body associates this with one thing.

"Woman."

And, naturally, he does exactly what any brainless man does the moment he registers the presence of “woman”.

He sits down.

Grabs Trujilda.

And puts her across his lap, in the classic “old-school dad punishment” position.

CLAP

The sound of a spanking echoes through the air.

—Aaahh—Trujilda moans, still high as a kite.

CLAP… CLAP

Art’s body keeps spanking her, completely unbothered. He moves like a machine, showing no reaction. Just following his natural impulse, spanking with mindless dedication.

His body moves on instinct—muscle memory at its finest. He’s far too used to your rhythm.

Trujilda keeps moaning, babbling, drooling, her body flopping around like a ragdoll over Art’s lap.

And, obviously, let’s not pretend—He has an erection.

—–––––––––––––––––––––––––

Trujilda’s moans and the sound of spanking reach your ears.

—Oh! Oops… Did you see that, James? —you tease, pointing at them—Looks like your wife is finally finishing what she started. —you laugh—. All it took was a little alone time with Artie, and she threw herself at him. Guess she really wanted it all along, huh? —you love messing with him.

Art and you burst out laughing.

—I’m jealous now, I want a turn too… —you whisper into Art’s ear.

Art wiggles his eyebrows —twice— already picturing all the filthy things he’s going to do to your ass later.

—TRUJILDA, STOP MOANING LIKE A DOG IN HEAT, FOR FUCK’S SAKE! —James yells, his face so red it looks like he’s about to explode, the vein on his forehead bulging like a damn river—. STOP HIM! —he orders you.

Art and you exchange looks.

Both of you raising a single eyebrow, completely baffled by James’ request.

—HIM?! —you reply sarcastically— She’s the one throwing her ass in his face… —you glance down at Art’s head in your hands— Uh… well, technically, in his neck.

Art bursts out laughing.

You’ve had your fun.---It’s time to end James’ suffering.

You take control of the situation.

You walk toward James, smiling, swinging Art’s head like a weapon at your side onze more.

—No… No… No… —James pleads—. We’ll leave, I swear!

—And where exactly do you think you’re going? —you ask.

—We’ll move far, far away from here… —he laughs nervously, still backing away, trembling.

—That’s what I like to hear… —you continue walking.

—We won’t tell a soul. We’ll leave you alone forever; just let as go, please… this stays between us. —he lifts his pinky in a pinky promise.

—That’s what I want to hear. —You nod—. Now, you’re gonna grab your family… and you’re gonna get the hell out of here.

—YES! YES! Absolutely! —he clutches his chest, dramatically—.Thank you… Oh, thank you!

Art sticks out his tongue mocking how pathetic he sounds.

—See how soft he gets when he’s put in his place, babe? He’s basically a chihuahua. —you say to Art.

You both laugh.

James, taking advantage of your momentary distraction—

Runs.

But oh… James.

God has other plans.

In the blink of an eye, James finds himself falling off the cliff.

PLAF

He plummets into the cursed abyss, as if he had tripped over something invisible.

—AAAAAAHHHHH—he falls like a cartoon character.

He tumbles down dramatically.

—AAAAAHHHHH—he keeps screaming, even though he’s already on the ground...

Well… more like inside a pot.

—SPECIAL DISH! —a sausage-faced chef spins around, multiple arms holding different kitchen utensils (Knives, a blender, salt, a frying pan with boiling oil).

—You can’t make an omelet…—his egg-faced assistant mutters—, without BREAKING a few eggs. —crushes two eggs in his fist, yolk and shell dripping between his fingers.

—Ugh… Another one? — says an obese clown in the kitchen—. Well, at least this one looks juicy.

—TRUJILDAAAAA! —James wails like a little bitch, realizing his fate.

Meanwhile, back on solid ground— the most effortlessly cool man in the universe lies calm.

—Idiot... —the vagabond mutters.

He was perfectly camouflaged with his ragged coat and wild hair—If not for the smell of food and wine, he’d be completely undetectable.

He had been hiding in the bushes, tripping James at the perfect moment.

—Hey, Art… You still going through with our bet of not brushing teeth? —he says.

Art stares at him in silence, then smiles—very, very slowly. His smile shines… but for all the wrong reasons.

—That’s my boy. —He pops a mint into his mouth and…—Ha ha ha! You fell for it! —He spits the mint out—.YEEEAH!

You have no idea who this guy is. And frankly, you don’t care.

Art and you exchange looks.

Art blows a raspberry at James in the pit, emphasizing the ridiculousness of the situation.

"What a way to go."

You glance at Art’s body on the other side of the abyss.

Trujilda has gotten up and is now fleeing from the headless body, which is desperately trying to hug her and grind up against her like a needy dog.

Eventually, it gets tired of chasing her— So it just kicks her in the ass, sending her flying face-first into the Clown Café.

—JAMEEESSS! —she screams.

She lands in a swimming pool full of cereal.

A child with pure white eyes emerges, grinning.

—Look! I found a balloon shaped like a snake! —he says.

Trujilda forces a disgusted smile.

The balloon immediately morphs into a real snake and lunges at her.

—JAAAAMEEESGLUGLUGLU— she gurgles, sinking into the milk mid-scream.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You turn to Art’s body, which is standing there, literally like a headless chicken. Just existing. He's standing there, not knowing what to do, staring into nothing, thinking about… nothing, of course.

Art gestures with his pupils toward the "CIRCUS" sign on the ground. Somehow, it looks brand new.

You crouch down to pick it up and hold it in your arms.

—Should I throw it at him? —you ask.

Art nods, moving his pupils up and down.

You throw the sign at Art’s body—like a boomerang. The body senses the movement and catches it automatically when it hits the ground.

It disappears…

—Wait… what? —you mutter, wondering where it went.

And then—it appears right next to you.

—Ooooh! So that’s what it was for.—you laugh… but you still have no idea how he did it.

Art rolls his eyes:

“Of course, girl…”

The hole suddenly closes— just as fast as it had opened.

For a moment, it almost sounds like it burps. It seems to have accepted its sacrifice. And now, it’s satisfied.

You approach Art’s body, about to reattach his head, but you realize—yeah, you’re gonna need duct tape for this one.

You hand his own head back to him. He holds it at belly level, like he’s cradling a bag of potatoes.

—Mmmmmm, hey Art— you ask your boyfriend’s severed head— What do you think is gonna happen to them down there?

Art furrows his brows.

He rests a hand on his chin and makes a deep thinking face—as if to say:

"I’ll think about it later."

—Guess you could say they’re finally… happily settled? —you laugh at your own joke.

Art’s body does a little happy hop, clearly approving.

It enthusiastically nods Art’s head up and down—let’s be real, if his stomach were still connected, he would’ve thrown up at least three times tonight.

His pupils swirl around in their sockets like a cartoon character.

You decide to take his head back into your arms, cradling it like a baby.

You kiss him on the lips.

Instantly, his body reacts.

A —very prominent bulge—, forms in his pants.

—Oh! He felt the kiss! —Art never ceases to amaze you.

You can’t help but glance at his decapitated body–which, let’s not forget, is still shirtless.

—Damn, you look sexy like this —you murmur, licking your lips.

Your hand trails down his abs, appreciating every inch of his lean muscles—but you stop right before reaching his very obvious boner —it twitches.

Art blushes.

He definitely felt that.

“There’s clearly a connection between you two,” you think, smirking.

—Time to go home, guys, —you announce—. It’s late, and we deserve some rest. This has been one hell of a ride.

And with that, you, and both halves of your boyfriend, walk back home to your sweet little haven.

One hand holding Art’s body’s hand, the other hand holding his head.

—I love you so much, Art. —you sigh, full of affection.

His body lifts your hand to his lips to kiss your hand, just like he always does when you tell him you love him.

Of course, this time… there is no head above his shoulders. No lips to kiss your hand.

—I get it, —you tell his head, chuckling—.This is proof that you love me with your heart, mind, and body.

Art flutters his lashes, smiling.

"You make me lose my head," he thinks, laughing to himself.

Without a doubt, no one would ever set foot on Clown Street again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hope you liked it.

And yes — Sister Beatrice and the vagabond are the Clown Café characters from Terrifier 2.

If Damien’s not gonna develop his characters… then I will.

If I ever end up making Chapter 4 (wink wink), I apologize in advance, because that's gonna be so deliciously nasty, in the best way possible.

Here you got the 2 other chapters:

https://www.tumblr.com/lrithill/776929905368825856/nightmare-on-clown-street-pt1-the-prospective?source=share (Part 1)

https://www.tumblr.com/lrithill/777377407333171200/nightmare-on-clown-street-pt2-the-real-state?source=share (Part 2)

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 1 year ago

Note

Can I please request Rosaria, Kuki, and Eula with a robotic S/O who doesn't know how to show love properly so they just bring them "interesting objects"(anything from shiny rocks to a ruin guard)?

Thank you for writing ^-^

(Genshin Impact) Rosaria, Shinobu, and Eula with a robotic-like S/O

Very related image:

Good Burtabos, Rosaria thought she was bad at showing affection.

S/O had all the expressive capabilities of a rock. And that was insulting the rock.

They didn't really understand how love worked, not that she was any better, yet they were together.

Rosaria's love language was her actions. S/O's seemed to be gifting her the most random object in the most deadpan voice.

(Rosaria) "...S/O, why do you just have an entire crate with you?"

(S/O) "It is full of Dandelion Wine. I am aware you like to drink it."

(Rosaria) "Sure, but where did you grab it?"

(S/O) "It was lying on the floor unattended. I believe it does not belong to anyone."

Rosaria didn't know whether to laugh or facepalm.

They stole it, pretty much.

(Rosaria) "Thanks but, did you at least ask?"

(S/O) "...I did not. But, it is 'Finder's keepers', as they say."

(Rosaria) "...Eh, what the hell. Care to share a glass?"

Well, at least Shinobu didn't have to worry about S/O doing anything stupid on purpose, unlike the Arataki Gang.

Instead, S/O showed their affection by bringing her some objects that reminded them of her.

It was sweet honestly, but given their nature, it was bound to get...weird.

(Shinobu) "S/O, there you are. What do you have in your-"

(S/O) "These are masks belonging to fallen Samurai. Please, accept."

The only visible expression change on Shinobu was her eyes blinking, which S/O blankly dropped the mask at her hand like a dog.

(Shinobu) "Thanks...I think."

(S/O) "You are welcome. In case if your mask ever gets damaged, we can use these for repairs."

Shinobu just chuckles underneath her mask, eyes softening as she looked at S/O.

(Shinobu) "Remind me to get something for you too, S/O."

(S/O) "Shinobu, you are to-"

(Shinobu) "-Later, I mean."

It's a good thing Itto didn't reach S/O first, otherwise he'd definitely tell S/O the complete wrong ways to show affection.

They'd probably have them do something stupid, like punch through drywall or something.

Eula and S/O were complete opposites on the way they spoke to people.

Eula was usually mocking, prideful, or just saying something she didn't actually mean.

Meanwhile, S/O was deadpan, direct, and extremely literal.

How they ended up in a relationship, even Eula didn't really know or see coming.

Especially the ways S/O displayed their love.

(Eula) "...S/O, what the heck are you doing?!"

S/O was carrying a boar encased in ice inside a wagon, with S/O looking completely emotionless as they responded.

(S/O) "You said that a dish was best served cold. So I have procured us dinner in the coldest state possible."

(Eula) "Wha...But I-...How, why did...?!-"

Eula sighed before deciding there wasn't really any point questioning anymore.

(Eula) "I'll get ready to cook the boar. Mind getting that ice cube near a fire?"

(S/O) "But you said-"

(Eula) "It's a figure of speech, S/O! But...thank you, you didn't have to do that."

(S/O) "I comprehend."

(Eula) Do they...?!

#genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #rosaria x reader #kuki shinobu x reader #eula x reader #rosaria genshin impact #kuki shinobu #eula lawrence

291 notes · View notes

akiranzee · 8 months ago

Note

Hi! Could you please do a Muzan x female!Reader..

She was dating one of the hashiras (you choose, preferably male) when she was sent on a mission to get close to Muzan and relay information. She ends up falling in love with Muzan and him her, but one night he follows her and finds out where she’s been going and sees the other dude kiss her, he’s obviously furious and starts a whole ass fight. He ends up giving her an ultimatum, she can either come live with him and be a demon or she can stay and die with the other guy, she chooses Muzan (he’s super smug, he knew she’d chose him), the other guy is begging her not to do this and that he’s brain washed her etc…

I don’t know how to end it but I really hope that makes sense, but do whatever you want with it!

Thank you so much if you do write it! If not no hard feelings 🩷

🎗️ • ° ` — \\ “WRONG TIME, WRONG PERSON?”

╰┈➤ PAIRINGS: muzan x hashira!y/n ╰┈➤ W/C: 4.5k+ ╰┈➤ CONTAINS: ONE cuss word., violence, choking, hints of killing, & muzan is 1,000 while reader is 21. (but both r 1,000+ yro in the bonus.) ╰┈➤ A/N: HELPP WTF THIS WAS SO LONG FOR A REQUESTTTT.

-------------Loading…------------

------------Complete!------------

november 29, xxxx.

“sanemi! happy birthday to you!” enthusiastically, you peeked your head in the wind hashira’s estate, “look! i brought some ohagis over!” as the wind hashira’s gaze could only soften and welcome you into his warm home.

in this world, it was not so often that births are celebrated. not only because of the ordinary populace’s decline in poverty, but also because of the demons who make those of “heroes” forget.

that’s why, in this smallest gesture you could ever do, sanemi loved you, even when it was hard for him to express it.

and that’s also why, three days later, sanemi disapproved of the news, and wished to instead take on your mission in your place, saying that it was too dangerous, but of course, he could do nothing as it was per oyakata-sama’s orders.

due to the help of the kamado kid last week, the hashiras and possibly the whole demon slayers have already known muzan — the demon king’s face by now.

and so, there you see him, strolling around at the red light district, with his supposedly “wife and daughter” as you have already started your mission just about two hours ago.

his red, crimson eyes say everything, and his evil aura could be felt from miles away.

sneakily, you blend in to the crowd, hoping to not lose sight of him, and thank god, you did not. you took a newspaper from a random old man’s hand, sneaking in a little “sorry” as he looked at you with a flabbergasted expression.

discreetly, you started to “read” the newspaper as you keep switching places to another, as muzan and his “family” kept sauntering away to wherever location they were going.

honestly, you didn’t know why you were the hashira chosen for this mission. both shinobu and mitsuri are far more capable, but they did say your beauty is outmatched, one that could mesmerize even the coldest of hearts. i mean — just look at sanemi, that man is as hard as rock, as cold as ice, and as angry as fire. and yet, here you were, making him go all putty in your hands, as if he was never the man he was before he met you.

after a few stops, muzan and his “wife” arrived at a readied, secluded carriage, in which he sent his wife and daughter away, leaving him still in the area.

as you slowly, discreetly, go back to the bench you were once sitting at, you continued to pretend reading the still newspaper in your hand, as he made his way to a certain building — for prostitutes.

expectedly, that’s what evil men do anyway, cheat on their wives, hurt them, without any ounce of care as muzan just held his head up high as he walked towards the building’s entrance. but surprisingly, this demon king had a lot of time in his hands as if demon slayers never existed.

and so, you waited, and waited, until he came out of the building. it was for ten minutes, which was so long for you, but so short if he ever participated in any sexual orientation.

for the past few days, you followed, and followed him around like a lost puppy, still avoiding his eerie, deadly gaze.

until, one day, that spying from afar ended, when he found out and cornered you on an empty alley.

“how pathetic. you like me, you say?” you nod your head vigorously, as you lied through your pink, plump lips, with the claim that you followed him around because you liked him, as his deep, gruff voice asked you.

“hah. do you not know that I am a married man?” he said, with pure mockery in his voice, but you could only resist rolling your eyes in response, as you know full well that he does not even love his wife, and he dares to say that with such fake pride.

“i-i’m sorry...” you could only mutter a pitiful apology, after all, this man wrapping his whole hand around your neck can just kill you before you can even blink your eye.

“why apologize-” as muzan was about to retort something, he could sense that one of his demons was nearby, and he couldn’t risk having his identity revealed to you, yet.

he let out a disappointed “tsk” as he then, disappeared out of the alley.

and from that encounter on, you learned that this mission was just as hellish as hell.

you took a short break for three to four days, currently eating at a ramen shop, when,

“we’ve met again.” again, a deep, gruff voice was behind you, its familiarity was so hard to forget, that you shivered without even seeing the source of that voice.

eagerly, a child’s voice could be heard right after the man’s voice, “daddy, i’d like my usual ramen!” curious, you finally looked behind you to see the demon king himself, standing tall and proud along with a little girl standing beside him.

“hm,” muzan hummed in agreement, “go on then, doll, order up. i’d like to catch up with my dear old friend here.” almost immediately, he was sitting in front of you, leaving no choice but to humor him and act all clueless again.

“it seems we have some unfinished business, hm?” he leaned back against the couch, with an underlying smirk threatening to appear.

he heard you gulp, “...haha.. do we..? I don’t remember, unfortunately-” and almost immediately, he ‘accidentally’ knocked out the glass full of water on the floor, making you shiver and jolt in surprise; “oh please.. I don’t like to play pretend.”

you gulped again, but this time, you had to build up pounds of courage to finally stop him from whatever imaginations and delusions he might come up with.

“yes, I do like you! b-but what of it?? ‘ts not like you’re gonna like me back or somethin’-” you immediately shut up after that, afraid to slip your ‘true’ words, trying to continue the act of a lovesick-pathetic girl.

“hmm... indeed, but there’s really something about you that I can’t quite get out of my mind.. hmm.. your beautiful features? or.. your blood, perhaps?” that last question sent chills down your spine as he tilted his head mockingly.

did he find out? did your act fail? is he gonna kill you here and now?

“daddy!” suddenly, a loud, cheery voice could be heard as the little girl from back then — who you now remember as his daughter, carrying a bowl of ramen and proceeded to sit beside her ‘dad’.

muzan simply looked at her, and back at you, still with a sinister smirk threatening to appear.

but, you wondered, even though he was a cruel, evil man, a child seems to have taken a liking to him.

maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as bad as they’ve all said, or maybe he was just manipulating the little girl-

“so? your answer to my question, please.” sarcastic. you thought, as if a demon would ever say ‘please’ out of sincerity.

wait- what question?

oh.

“i-i’m afraid there’s no answer to that question, muz- mister!” your eyes widened in horror as you accidentally slipped out a word that may have broken your stuttering-pitiful-scared facade.

“oh? is that so?” his grin widened. it was at this moment that you knew he knew everything.

“muz what?” of course, he’ll ask.

“oh, no! nothing! i was simply having a speech error haha-”

“speech error? never heard of that.” muzan immediately cut you off, despite the grin still in his face, you know you’re playing a dangerous game with the changed look in his eyes.

“daddy, why does she look scared?” again, the little girl interrupted, she’s probably saved your life two times this hour already.

“hmm... what do you think, darling? does daddy look scary?” he asked his daughter with a sweet tone, leaning in on his daughter with a hush whisper.

“no, daddy doesn’t look scary at all!” from her father, she turned her head towards you, “he’s the best daddy in the whoooooleee wide world!!” she said, emphasizing the word ‘whole’ with her hands expanding on an invisible space.

it makes you rethink. again. was this all a manipulative act, or a sincere admiration of the little one?

“hm.” muzan hums in agreement, a smug, distinct proud smile on his lips.

“lady, what’s your name? daddy barely has any friends, so i want to know you!” the innocent voice of the child despite insulting words makes you look at muzan, who was not very happy with his child’s words, side-eyeing her even, his smile completely fading.

it makes you chuckle.

~~~~~

you didn’t know what happened, but.. why are you and the demon king himself babysitting his daughter in the park?

“hehe! come, y/n! let’s play some more!” oh goodness, hearing the child’s cheery voice makes you shudder in dread, she was innocently evil for making you catch pigeons for her.

yet, unbeknownst, you had fun. it made you forget your problems, your mission, and... the fact that you were with the demon king himself. that day, he was only muzan to you, a sophisticated man. nothing more, nothing less.

sometimes, you also forget you once hated children. they were the epitome of the devil, you say; yet here you are — laughing with a child that you knew for only a few hours.

and so, the day has come to an end. as you slowly walk away, you can hear sniffles coming from little anna, muzan’s daughter’s name.

muzan didn’t try to soothe nor comfort his little girl, despite her messy attempts at wiping her tears and snot.

meters apart, you felt relief in your chest that you weren’t the only one who got attached. softly, did you smile, and slowly, did you turn and completely walk away.

yet, not even four steps ahead, the little girl ran and clung on your leg, “y/n!! don’t leave, don’t leave, i want you to stay!!” her snot only grew longer, and her face only became wetter.

you knelt down, using a piece of cloth you always bring around to wipe her snot and tears. unbeknownst, muzan watched the sight with dear. it was the first time that his daughter had easily grown attached to a grown up. after all, the little girl was taught never to talk to strangers.

“tomorrow.” suddenly, muzan spoke. “she will come back.” he continued. then, with eyes full of hope, the little girl looked up to you, “promise?” as she slowly stopped crying.

quietly, you sighed, and discreetly, you glared at muzan, having to be forced to see his face again.

but yet, how could you say no? anna stopped crying, whilst her eyes glimmered in such hope. you’d be evil to crush that light out of her eyes when you say no. so, instead, “i promise.” reluctantly, you agreed, and smiled.

~~~~~

hours, days, weeks, had passed. and the tomorrows’ seem to never end.

little anna chuckled as you both spent your time on the ground, relaxing for a moment after an exhausting race with her.

“hehe, you’re so fun to be with, y/n.” little anna’s head swayed side by side, as if lulling herself to sleep with the cold, comforting breeze of the wind.

then, her head fell forward, as you caught her and positioned her in a more comfortable position, her head against your shoulder. yet, you never fail to hear the words that escaped her mouth before she had been lulled to sleep, “i wish you were my mama..”

your eyes widened, looking down at the now asleep anna against your shoulder. muzan only chuckled, who — by the way, scared you to death as he bought some ohagis, and never announced his return.

“seems like she likes you.” he said, as he plopped down and handed you your fair share of ohagis.

“thanks for pointing out the obvious.” you chewed on a ohagi, one with the sesame and soy bean flavor, its taste somewhere along with ‘strong’ or ‘rough’, something not really your type, but sanemi’s type.

right- how is sanemi? it’s been long, way too long, actually. you never went back to the demon slayer base, nor went home to your estate.

you missed him, dearly. you’ve been way too distracted with this man in front of you, eating the same flavor of ohagi that your beloved liked.

you hated the beat of your heart that would grow faster each and every time your skin brushes against his, when he’d look at you differently than he would look at everyone else, or even when right now — when he’d hand-feed you the same ohagi he had given to you, and the same one that he had chewed on.

it made your heart flutter, and you hated every single bit of it.

the guilt of falling in love with an enemy is unbearable — it makes you want to kill yourself.

you stared at his deep, red, crimson eyes. it was the same eyes that looked at every living thing disgustingly, yet also the same eyes that looked at you with affection.

right, how did it start? it was merely little anna that you thought who grew to enjoy your company, and like you. you never noticed anything, but a few weeks before, muzan had started to place himself nearer to you, started laughing at your lame jokes, and you guys eventually started to get along in most things.

it had given you an advantage, yet the only problem was he still had his guard up high.

hell, you didn’t even know what to do, the only instruction given to you was to gather information, but even up until now, oyakata-sama never sent you a single letter.

so, you decided, it was best to see for yourself how your fellow demon slayers were doing, also your companion crow that was forced to stay behind otherwise your cover might be blown.

~~~~~

“aaackk!! y/n-san you’ve arrived!!” mitsuri says, with her voice full of joy and excitement, as she also greeted you with her very warm hug.

“o-okay m-mitsuri- hah- san-” you said breathlessly, after the many times you were shaken and jumped on by your arrival, not to mention; mitsuri’s hug could kill.

“mitsuri-san, please allow her to breathe in some air.” shinobu, with her ever so smiling face, calmly told mitsuri.

“oh! oops! sorry, i’m just soo excited!!” instead of hugging you again, mitsuri rejoiced in clapping her hands.

you felt relieved, everyone seemed to be okay here, and you felt happy, everyone seemed to be still the same, celebrating your arrival in one piece.

after catching up your breath, you looked around, and noticed something was off.

“where’s sanemi?” you asked mitsuri, but before mitsuri could even answer, “he’s on his estate, my child.” oyakata-sama answered right behind you, giving you a jolt of shock, but also relief that he also stayed the same.

“oyakata-sama.” you bowed your head, out of respect, whilst, oyakata-sama merely chuckled and patted your head; “go forth, shinazugawa has been down too lately, you see — your absence had made him more aggressive, even I cannot control such temperament.” even if you heard the disappointment in oyakata-sama’s voice, he still remained calm, and reserved with a smile on his face.

“yeah! he even punched tanjiro-kun on the face when tanjiro-kun only asked where you were!!” mitsuri said, feigning sadness in her voice.

“he has visited the butterfly estate quite too often, with multiple injuries.” shinobu sighed and shook her head, but her smile was still remaining on her face.

you seriously have to go visit him now, until tengen added; “yeah! i don’t know if he’s become a brute old man, or a snarly beast at this point — he’s gone waaaay too far when he shoulder-bumped me! so not flamboyant!” tengen said exasperatedly, and you could only respond in a chuckle as you walked out.

oh, you wonder, how will he look like as a brute old man?

but more importantly — how will he look at you? will he still look at you with eyes that say “i love you”, or will it be brute aggression, just like the others described?

you hated how you hesitantly knocked on the door. you hated why you were so nervous, when you’ve spent most of your time with him.

weeks apart can’t possibly make you awkward with each other, right?

maybe. as you knocked softly, you can hear a grunting, deep voice within; “go away!”

you flinched. you have yet to be on sanemi’s bad side, this was the first.

you swallowed down the enveloping fear, though. this was not the time, you missed him. too much.

you knocked again, but this time, followed by your soft voice; “sanemi, it’s me.” a soft whisper, alluring to an ear, quick steps and thuds could be heard from within the estate, and the next thing you know; the door burst wide open — revealing a groggy, haggard sanemi.

his eye bags were as deep as the ocean, as black as the void, his lips were cracked as glass, his bed hair messy as a wolf’s uncared coat.

his eyes were wide open, as wide as the door he just burst open.

you never know. weeks apart, why do you still look the same, maybe even better than before, but why he — look worse than before?

immediately, his arms clasped around your body, but somehow, you didn’t feel the same way as you did before.

you felt nothing. the expectation of your heart rising, and the excitement of feeling his heat against yours, turned to disappointment.

instead, you hesitated. you didn’t know why, but you reluctantly hugged him back, seeming as to not share the same enthusiasm with him.

sanemi couldn’t wonder enough though, he was more than happy with your arrival. he could care less about such trivial things.

he pulled away, and patted his palm on all parts of your body, trying to comprehend if this is real, that you are real.

he looked in your eyes then. he had a spark, but you couldn’t share it. no, you didn’t feel the same way as you did before, it felt as if... you couldn’t get yourself to love him anymore.

weeks apart, and things already turned out this way.

weeks apart, and you are already ruined.

his eyes held the shiniest reflection of the moonlight, yet you couldn’t admire it better than you admired a certain crimson-eyed that reflected the sun a mere while ago.

it felt weird, honestly. you thought sanemi could be the one, yet you were wrong. very wrong.

suddenly, his lips latched on to yours. you felt disgusted, as if this wasn’t the same man you shared your meals with, spent most of your time with, and battled against all the problems life had presented you with. yet, it was still not right. you didn’t hold the same affection as he did, not anymore.

suddenly, the bush that had been quiet, had grown loud, followed with a snarl that immediately lunged at sanemi.

once his lips were unlatched from yours, you felt a wave of... relief? no, you didn’t know. but you were sure it felt comfortable once his lips left yours.

but, enough of that. the shadow that leaped from the darkness of the bush tackled sanemi to the ground, a groan released from the white-haired man as his back had hit the ground.

your eyes widened — seeing the very crimson-eyed one that you had admired just a while ago under the heat of the sun.

it didn’t look at you with affection, not anymore. and somehow, it saddens you.

his eyes were full of fierce and rage, and... yet a hint of... betrayal? hah. you wonder why.

upon eye contact with him, sanemi immediately took this chance and pushed muzan off with such strength, immediately grabbing his katana from his waist.

it didn’t matter if he was the third strongest hashira though. he was still up against the demon king himself, that he doesn’t even know of.

you looked at muzan with pleading eyes, but his back was turned against you. yet, muzan could feel that you wanted to spare sanemi, and that angers him more.

once again, muzan leaped towards sanemi, and even if sanemi did manage to slice his arm off, it still regenerated in less than a millisecond, causing him to be pounced towards the wall, with a blow to his neck.

muzan had now wrapped his fingers around sanemi’s neck, holding the white-haired man three inches from the ground, against the almost broken cemented wall.

a gasp escaped your lips, it happened so fast, out of reality. this is what the demon king is, a hundred times more powerful than his companions, than his creations.

you could only look at sanemi’s face turning almost purple, and trying to save him would only mean you wished for death.

“y/n... i’ll give you a choice. come, and be a demon, or stay... with this weakling and rot together?” the last two words did he emphasize, along with sending you a glare.

it scared you, sending shivers down to your spine, even.

quiver left your lips as you chose reluctantly, “please.. l-let him go..” yet, it was not the choice of a heart, but the choice of a pity.

unbeknowstly, muzan let go of sanemi, causing him to drop to the ground, a thud following right after.

muzan sauntered towards you, and that was then, when you realized you were chained to him from all eternity, the moment he had laid his eyes on you, and the moment that his hand clasped yours.

“let us go.” even if you did not say anything, muzan knew you chose him, when you asked to let sanemi go. after all, you only asked for the benefit and pity of the other, but not for the everlasting paradise of his. which meant, to muzan and you, you chose him.

but, before muzan could even take you away,

“y/n! stop!” sanemi tried to push the fight still within him, but as soon as he tried to stand, it all fell back down, including himself.

“fuck!- y/n! he’s brainwashing you!” yeah, maybe, he is. but does that even matter anymore? all the days you’ve spent together with this man had proved you enough that you were not brainwashed, that this was all by your will.

muzan smirked. you showed no signs of hesitation, and so, he continued dragging you away, away from that miserable excuse of a man.

as you were dragged away, each of your memories with sanemi taunted you. he was the very man you swore to be with your whole life, and to protect using your whole life, was now crawling in urgency to save you from the devil, but yet, you let yourself get dragged away by the devil himself.

even if you no longer had feelings for him, a pang could you feel in your heart, that you had stooped so low and betrayed the so-called love of your life just weeks passed.

the dragging continued, until you could no longer see sanemi, and could only hope for the best.

~~~~~

the next morning, you woke up in an unfamiliar bed. it was of a soft, bouncy mattress, that even if you wanted to wake up, you’ll be lulled to sleep again.

then, the first thing you saw was the wall — an eerie color of red, one that reminded you of that crimson-eyed man so much. red roses decorated on the table, and on your right was a lamp, and on your left was a glass of water.

you chugged it down, the lump and dry of your throat was now satiated.

next, you stood up, and saw a mirror across the room. you walked over to it, and found yourself in a pretty, white nightgown.

next, the door slowly creaked open, revealing the very man you chose — muzan.

“ah, if it isn’t a beauty lingering in my room i see.” muzan teased and leaned against the doorframe, all the while little anna appeared right behind him, with swollen, puffy eyes.

she rushed up to you with open arms, all the while you accepted her whole-heartedly, asking her what had happened, whilst patting and rubbing her back.

“mom- mommy’s gone!!” sniffles, then come the loudest sobbing, as you suspiciously looked at muzan who had no look of little care nor sympathy.

“and that’s exactly why y/n here will treat you out.” his smirk widened, causing you to glare at him — knowing full well that he’s the main reason of this child’s despair.

but yet, you have no choice. “wait for me outside, okay? i’ll change first.” you wiped little anna’s tears away, and stood up.

you have no choice, because this will be how you’ll live from now on. and you don’t even hate it. not even a single bit.

★ • ° ` — BONUS:

“kyahahaha! mama can’t catch me, mama can’t catch me!” the little child giggled, as you sighed and took off your blindfold, wondering how she makes up these cruel games, and wondering how she makes you play these games.

“oh, no, i’ve fallen. i’m resting now.” you said exasperatedly, and so fake, that the child didn’t believe you and decided to sit on the couch with you too.

it’s tiresome, being a mother of two girls, but, they have become your only source of living, same goes with your husband.

ever since muzan took you under his shelter, he treated you like you were truly his wife, and turned you into a demon, same went for little anna, who successfully turned into one despite the very low chances.

and now, you look around the living room of your home, as you sit comfortably on the couch.

the walls of your home were fairly white, some parts in beige, but you didn’t miss the detail of the lighting of the chandelier, one so bright and grand simply hanging on top of you.

you wonder, if you truly deserved this luxury, for over a thousand years of living, that you’ve reached this modernized world, that most of your friends probably died of old age.

you couldn’t stop thinking about it, when the door bell rang, and as soon as the very people entered, your heart beat in joy, and your eyes sparkled under the same chandelier.

you walked up and greeted anna, who was now fairly an inch taller than you.

then next, came muzan walking in, with who knows what his smirk was about now.

even the little child you were playing with earlier simply stated; “daddy, why do you look like that?”

as if offended, muzan just stared down at the little one as all of you laughed happily.

you and your girls love teasing the only man in the family, after all.

───────────── ☆ ─────────────

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lexosaurus · 11 months ago

Text

Everything Was White: Part 22

[see all chapters]

read on: [ao3] [ffn] (please read tags)

Summary: After being accidentally revealed to the public and taken away by the government, Danny deals with the aftermath of his time with the GIW.

****

The holidays were strange, in a word.

Danny had never been a fan of Christmas, with his parents always too caught up in their work to get into the holiday spirit. And, sure, maybe some of that resentment over his parents doing the bare minimum or—on a few occasions—outright forgetting to celebrate Christmas had built up over the years.

Sue him.

But it was weird this year. As Christmas approached, Jack came home one day with a few bags full of decorations. He then spent the rest of the afternoon putting lights outside.

The Fenton house had never had holiday lights before. But Danny’s fear of his father finding a way to set the house on fire overrode his excitement about the lights.

Before he knew it, nutcrackers and green wreaths decorated the house. The next day, Jack came home with a tree, and the whole family was ordered to decorate it with him.

While they did have a tree most years, the last time they hung up ornaments as a family was…

Well, Danny didn’t remember when that was.

“Jazz, stop putting all the ornaments on the bottom branches,” Danny whined, batting her hand away as she attempted to put yet another ornament within the limited scope of Danny’s current reach. “That’s my territory.”

“Then hurry up, slowpoke!” she teased, nonetheless moving to a higher branch.

“So rude. Can’t believe you’re bullying me.”

“I moved it!”

“Mads?” Jack said, handing an ornament over to her.

Maddie had been quiet all evening. She wasn’t in her work jumpsuit either, and Danny wondered if she had spent the day at yet another meeting with their lawyer.

Curiosity was a sinister beast, and part of him wanted to ask his mom what else the lawyer could have possibly said. But considering the last conversation surrounding his zero protections against the Guys in White stalking him everywhere he went, maybe this wasn’t the time.

Jazz fiddled with the Christmas music, skipping over a particularly terrible cover of Feliz Navidad, before she plucked another ornament out of its box.

How depressing was it that Danny was sixteen years old and half of the ornaments they were hanging up were brand new?

“You’re all gonna love your gifts this year!” Jazz said brightly. “No spoilers, but I tried really hard!”

Maddie gave a weak smile. “I’m sure whatever you give will be great, honey.”

“Mine are gonna be bad. Sorry, online shopping only,” Danny said. “Also, I’m broke.”

That, and he’d forgotten that Christmas was—well—a thing.

Express shipping was truly a gift to humanity.

“It’s the thought that counts, Danno!” Jack said, putting that happy-dad mask back on his face. “That’s what I’ve always said!”

He had not always said that. His parents were typically too busy catching ghosts during the coldest months of the year to bother with the holiday season.

Which was fine. It was all just fine. Every family had different traditions, and Sam’s family didn’t even celebrate Christmas at all. But pretending this was suddenly a foundational holiday to the Fenton Family Tradition was ridiculous.

“No rest for the weary, son!” Jack said, placing another ornament in Danny’s lap.

“Sure, Dad.” Danny pushed himself back over to the lopsided tree.

Jack turned to Maddie. “Your crazy sister is coming up, right?”

“She’s not crazy, but yes.”

Jazz paused, her ornament dangling in the air. “Aunt Alicia’s coming?”

“Yes.” Maddie’s gaze flickered to Danny for the briefest moment before settling back on Jazz. “We felt bad we were too busy to get together for Thanksgiving, so we extended the offer for Christmas.”

Danny could translate that well enough: We were too afraid of our mentally unstable son to travel for Thanksgiving.

Dancing around the truth felt almost worse than his parents just openly admitting what a disappointment he was.

No, that was exactly the sort of negative thinking that would rouse suspicion. Not that he had anything to hide, of course. He was a model outpatient kid now.

They continued hanging up the holiday ornaments to the chorus of terrible Christmas tunes that had Jack and Jazz singing along and Danny trying to keep his ears from bleeding. Perfect pitch—or any kind of pitch, for that matter—clearly didn’t come in the Fenton genetic coding.

When they finished, Jack attached a green star on top and plugged the lights into the wall, turning their ornament-bloated tree into an LSD-induced fever dream.

But Danny still couldn’t get it out of his head that Alicia was coming here. Why wouldn’t they go down to Spittoon like they always did?

Maybe they were worried about his wheelchair? Which would have been even more of a reason to give Danny his powers back. Or, maybe because Alicia’s community was anti-ghost?

…yeah. Danny thought back to that old community of closed-off people. Them being anti-halfa was probably the most likely scenario.

His suspicions were more or less confirmed that evening as he floated invisibly in the hall, too lazy to use his wheelchair to go to the bathroom. Jazz, the only perceptive one in the house, was already asleep, so there was no fear of getting caught. The light was still on in his parents’ room, however. Their sleep schedules were almost as bad as Danny’s.

Danny pressed a hand to the bathroom door, about to slip through the wood, when he heard the unmistakable mutter of, “...Danny…” from their room.

His parents were talking about him. Again. If he were smart, he would have ignored it. He already knew what they truly thought about him. There was no need to ruin his night.

But, in fact, he was not smart. So he drifted closer till he was pressing an ear to the door and fighting the impulse to stick his head inside.

“...a good idea?” Jack was asking.

“She’s my sister, hon,” Maddie responded. “Besides, you know what the therapist said about isolating Danny.”

There was a sharp huff from Jack. “I know, Mads. I know she’s been concerned about those patterns reemerging, but it’s one thing to encourage Danny to connect with his classmates and another to invite Alicia into our house.”

“Whatever issues you two have—”

“This isn’t about me!” Jack hissed, clearly struggling to keep his voice down. “I’ve put up with all sorts of talk from her over the years. You’ve seen it! It’s not about me, it’s about our son.”

“She said she was willing to try.”

“Trying isn’t good enough, Mads. I know you two don’t see each other often, and I don’t want to keep you from her, but she can’t step one foot in this home if she’s going to even think about disrespecting Danny.”

There was a brief silence as Jack’s words hung in the air. Then, Danny heard the duvet on the bed shift, a heavy sigh accompanying it.

“I know.” Maddie’s voice was so quiet, Danny almost didn’t pick it up. “I’ll call her tomorrow, okay?”

“Thank you.”

“I love you, Jack.”

“I love you too.”

The light switched off, and their conversation was finished.

Danny stayed floating in the hallway for some time. So…Alicia hated him now. She thought he was a freak. She thought he was better off back with the Guys in White. And now she was coming here, staying overnight at their house. Perfect. Wonderful. Awesome.

Danny hoped he had enough painkillers to last through her stay.

****

Jazz was going to school early. She needed to do the winter orientation and get acclimated to the city. She was also doing some volunteer tutoring for the kids in the area and wanted to complete the training before the semester started.

Danny had known this. He was fine with it, Jazz, quit asking for his opinion about it.

It was like she thought he was a dandelion about to drift off with the slightest breeze. But he wasn’t.

He wasn’t.

He wasn’t some child who couldn’t exist without his "big sis" holding his hand. He was sixteen and had people like his therapists and his best friends to rely on. Of course, he hadn’t talked to his friends about Jazz leaving yet. And although his therapist had brought up the topic a few times now, they hadn’t really talked about it too deeply.

But that was only because there really wasn’t anything to say. Jazz was leaving, and that was that.

“You’re sure?” Jazz asked. “There’s really nothing?”

Nothing? Huh?

Right, there was nothing he wanted from her. Nothing he wanted to do with her. No bucket-list items. He’d already demanded too much from her. She even deferred an entire semester of her dream college because of him.

So why was she asking if there was anything he wanted to do with her before the holidays were over? Why was she wasting her time?

“I’m sure. Not like I can really get around easily, anyway.” Danny slumped back on the couch.

“Danny, I’m sure we can find some wheelchair-friendly things—”

“That—that’s not what I meant.” Despite his best efforts, he felt his face flush. Or, maybe it was partially what he meant. Who knew anymore, with the way his TBI liked to scramble all his thoughts? “I meant that—with the paparazzi…”

“Okay, then we can dress incognito!” Jazz said. “Come on, not even a trip to the movies? It would be fun!”

“You hate horror movies,” Danny pointed out.

“Did you forget about, oh, I don’t know, every single other genre of film out there? Would it kill you to switch it up for an hour?”

“Yes. It absolutely would.”

Jazz rolled her eyes. “Come on, Danny. For me?”

And there were those big eyes and clasped hands that had defeated Danny so many times before. Really, how was he supposed to say no to his sister when she pulled her trump card like this?

So unfair.

“Fine! Fine, you can dress me up in a stupid wig or whatever and we can go see one of your dumb movies before you leave. But if we get caught…”

“We won’t!” Jazz grabbed his arm, apparently too excited to contain herself.

She almost looked like the old Jazz, the Jazz that didn’t have to worry about her little brother staying out of the hospital.

Maybe focusing on other things would be good for her. Maybe it was time for her to get away. Maybe she needed this sense of normalcy again.

Maybe it was time to let her go.

Before Danny could ponder that thought any longer, the door swung open with enough force to nearly plow through the wall.

“Aunt Alicia!” Jazz scrambled from the couch. “Welcome!”

“Jazz!” Alicia stepped through the interior, her suitcase in hand. A green coat had been thrown over her overalls and plaid T-shirt, and she shed it as soon as she stepped through the threshold.

Jazz hugged her. “Good to see you! You haven’t changed a bit!”

It was true. No matter how old Alicia got, her red mullet and bulldog-like features stuck around.

“I can’t say the same about you!” Alicia pulled Jazz away, surveying her up and down with a grin. “Look at you, your hair’s so long now. And have you grown?”

“Not since I was like thirteen!”

Maddie peeked over their shoulders. “I can take your suitcase to the guest room.”

“Nonsense!” Alicia barked. “It hasn’t been that long since I’ve been here. I remember where it is just fine!”

“Don’t worry, Alicia,” Jack said, getting up from the couch. “Go catch up with the kids! I’ll bring your stuff upstairs.”

As usual, Alicia hesitated at Jack’s offer, looking him over as if he were three feet tall and made of fool’s gold.

“Thank you, Jack!” Maddie snatched the suitcase and coat from her sister’s arms and passed them off to Jack, who quickly disappeared upstairs. She ushered Alicia into the living room. “Come, sit. It was a long flight. Would you like anything to drink? We have both red and white wine somewhere in the cabinets—oh, the white hasn’t been chilled.”

Danny sat rigid on the couch, the cushions suddenly feeling hard underneath him. His brain registered a strange pressure on his thighs, and he glanced down to see his hands gripping his legs. He let go, allowing his arms to fall awkwardly to his sides, and when he looked back up, he saw how Alicia was slowly lowering herself onto an armchair, leering at him like he was some sort of alien at Area 51.

That wasn’t even a far-off comparison to make. He was the alien. Only, instead of being located in the desert, Area 51 was his damn living room.

“What would you like, Alicia?” Maddie called from the kitchen.

Alicia blinked. “Huh? Oh, whatever light beer you have is fine.”

“I’ll see what we have.”

Jazz hopped back on the couch next to Danny, stretching out like she did after returning home from a run. “How was the flight?”

“Long. It’s cold up here,” Alicia said, frowning at the window.

“It’s been a mild winter so far,” Jazz said.

“Mild to you, maybe. I haven’t been outside of Arkansas in…well, since the last time I was here, actually. When was that, six years ago?”

“Eight,” Danny said, his memory—usually so full of holes—surprising even himself. He stared at the ground, not wanting to see Alicia’s reaction to his alien voice. “I was eight. My dad tried to play Santa and—and fell on the tree.”

Silence lapsed in the room, and Danny risked glancing up to see Alicia’s inquisitive face once again turned on him, nodding slowly. “Right, I remember that.”

“Oh god, I’d forgotten!” Jazz laughed as if the air weren’t awkward enough to cut with a chainsaw. “Mom was so pissed!”

“Till I got the whiskey in her.” Alicia winked.

Winked.

Danny, thankfully, didn’t drop his jaw.

It…was okay? He wasn’t a disgusting little cockroach then, infesting this human home with his gross ecto-blood?

It was naive to hope that someone accepted him for what he was. He knew that. He’d been let down too many times in the past. But still, he couldn’t help it, the desperation leaking into him, lifting him up, straightening his spine. He couldn’t stop that pang of longing from stabbing through him.

And of course, it was stupid, because as soon as Danny’s wide eyes made contact with Alicia’s, a frown appeared back on her face.

Though, only momentarily, as it was broken by Maddie stepping into the living room a second later with a beer can in one hand and a glass of red wine in the other. “This alright?”

“Looks fine to me!” Alicia said.

“You’re all set!” Jack called, bounding down the stairs. “Oh, you ladies having drinks?”

“Of course we are!” Alicia said. “Jazz, you’re old enough, aren’t you?”

“I’m eighteen,” Jazz said.

“Plenty old enough! Maddie, get her a glass of something too.”

Maddie pursed her lips at Jazz.

“I’m going to college soon anyway, Mom,” Jazz pointed out.

Maddie sighed. “Fine, one glass.”

Jazz shot a smug smile at Danny, who was only a tiny bit jealous. Not that he could drink with all the medication he was on, anyway. But a glass of something to diffuse whatever tension he was causing through the horrible crime of existing sounded great.

Well, worst-case scenario, he always had the bottle of pills in his backpack. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t already taken something before this.

For the pain, of course.

“You excited for Harvard?” Alicia asked, snapping Danny from his rumination.

“So excited!” Jazz responded.

“Smart girl! I always knew you’d get there. I remember Maddie calling me all worried when you were applying, saying stuff about how hard it was to get into, and I told her not to worry one bit! I said that girl’s something special, she is. Smartest of the bunch! I said she’d show up every other applicant in the pool!”

“That she did! My Jazzypants kicked some major butt out there! We’re very proud of her,” Jack said.

Alicia only looked a little bitter that Jack had spoken to her before turning her attention back to her favorite niece. “Have you thought at all about what you want to study?”

“Psychology,” Jazz replied easily. “I got a five in AP Psych in high school.”

“That’s the top score,” Maddie explained.

Alicia beamed. “See, Maddie? They’re lucky to have such a bright young woman in their program!”

They were. They really were.

With Jazz now only weeks away from leaving, these conversations had become more and more commonplace with people they met. And Danny was happy for Jazz, and he was a little glad that the spotlight wasn’t on him all the time, but with each new mention of Jazz leaving came a new realization that Jazz was leaving.

“They are definitely,” Maddie said. Glancing at Danny, she added, “We’re very proud of both of our kids. They’ve both worked so hard this year.”

Oh, no.

Now Alicia’s attention was fully back on him. Back on his oversized sweatshirt, his plain sweatpants, his mussed-up hair that he couldn’t remember if he’d combed that morning. He felt just like when Plasmius assessed him for the first time. Tiny, like an ant being crushed under the overwhelming force of a large boot.

Just from the way her eyes squinted as she surveyed him up and down, Danny could tell that she didn’t know if she wanted to give him a fake positive answer or spit in his face. And with every microsecond she continued her internal assessment, he felt the weight of her metaphorical boot crushing him further and further into the ground.

“Yup, Danno’s been getting those grades up!” Jack carried on, his commentary doing little to settle the atmosphere. “He’s got a real knack for science, too!”

Hardly.

And, judging by Alicia’s narrowing eyes, she was certainly thinking of a different kind of science anyway. The kind that involved strapping ghosts to lab tables and cutting them open.

Still, he tried his best to go with it. “Well, when you live with my parents, it’s hard not to pick up a thing or two along the—um, way…”

Oh no. He had definitely made it worse.

Okay, time to flip the script back onto the favorite kid. “But Jazz is really better at all that stuff. She was in AP Bio last year and aced it too.”

“I didn’t ace it, Danny.”

“A ninety-two is still acing it in my book.”

Jazz’s face was red, though Danny could see the glowing pride that she was currently trying to bury. “Well, college is going to be harder than a high school class, you know!”

“And—and Danny? You’re in school too?” Alicia spoke up.

Suddenly, Danny felt small all over again. “Oh—uh, yeah. I am.”

Only for half of the day, and not in any general education classroom. But saying that out loud would have been too embarrassing. It would have just proved to Alicia that the media was right and he wasn’t able to function like a normal teenager doing normal teenage things, like going to class.

“Danny’s been working very hard to catch up,” Maddie said, offering her most loving and supportive smile, which Danny was sure had to be an act. “Especially after everything, he’s really putting such great effort into his classes.”

“So…Danny…” Alicia tried, shifting her beer can from one hand to the other. She pursed her lips, and Danny wondered what words she could possibly be searching for before she opened her mouth and said, “What do you plan on doing after high school?”

It was such a banal question that Danny almost thought that Alicia was being genuine. But then her voice echoed in his head just once more, and Danny could hear the underlying tones of curiosity and…scorn?

Or was he reading too far into her?

“Um…” Danny shifted his gaze between Jazz and his parents. “Well…I’d like to—to work for NASA. I think.”

Alicia sucked her teeth. “NASA, huh? That’s certainly a reach. Doing what, exactly?”

Danny shrugged. He’d wanted to be an astronaut before all this. But now that he had more health conditions than he probably knew?

Yeah. Fat chance.

“I don’t know. I just like space. I know it’ll be difficult, but…”

“Are you kidding, son? All the space agencies will be bidding on having a kid like you work for them.” Jack raised his glass, grinning. “You know how much money it’ll save them to have an astronaut who doesn’t need a space suit?”

Danny winced at Jack’s brazen reference to his ghost half, but thankfully Alicia had done little more than quirk a brow.

“And Danny’s really handy at working our dad’s gadgets, too,” Jazz said. “I’ve been saying for years that he’d make an awesome mechanical engineer.”

“Yeah, well…” Danny rubbed the back of his neck. “We’ll see what happens.”

“But you do wanna go to college?” Alicia asked.

“I mean, I think so? Why?”

“Well, I would have assumed you would have wanted to keep doing that ghost-fighting Phantom business.”

Ah. So they were talking about this now.

Danny had never felt so put under a microscope in his life. He would take another round of paparazzi interrogation over whatever this was.

Was it hot in this room for anyone else? Or just him?

“I—I don’t—”

He caught Jazz’s eye, who thankfully came to his rescue. “Danny does that as a sort of community service. He doesn’t make any money off of it or anything.”

Alicia, for once, looked genuinely surprised. “No? Not even on your social media? I thought all you kids were making pocket money on social media nowadays.”

Danny had to suppress a guffaw. “Um, well, I couldn’t exactly link my bank account to my social media before all this went down. I—I guess I never really thought about that. I probably could now, but…I don’t—I don’t know. It’d feel wrong.”

“Huh, well I’ll be.” Alicia leaned back in her chair. “I’ll admit, kid, you certainly never cease to surprise me.”

He had no idea if he was supposed to thank her or be offended by that.

“As I said, we’re very proud of both of our kids,” Maddie said. She sipped her wine, giving a slight nod of approval to her sister as she did.

“The world is definitely changing. That’s for sure,” Alicia mused.

Danny let out a silent breath, supposing that was about as good as it would get from her. She was an old-fashioned woman from an old-fashioned community. Danny would almost certainly be second place to Jazz in this woman’s eyes for the rest of her life, but considering that he seemed to be lower than dirt to most of the public, Alicia not considering him the favorite was hardly the worst place to exist.

So long as she didn’t show up with a gun and try to kill him, Danny could take a dose of skeptical comments here and there from her.

****

As usual, Danny woke up on Christmas Day with a foreboding sense of dread coursing through his body.

Although, this year, he couldn’t figure out why. Surely, he had undergone far worse things this year than surviving Christmas. But still, he couldn’t help but let that old resentment linger. And when the realization that he’d need to get out of bed hit him, he was half-wondering if he should just feign ill to avoid his family for the rest of the day. His parents would almost certainly believe him, with his long list of medications he dutifully took every day. Though, Jazz would be able to tell he was bullshitting.

He had to get out of bed, it seemed. But he would let himself take a little white pill first…

When the pain in his chest lessened and his limbs felt light once again, Danny was finally able to take his first real breath today. Maybe everything would be okay, and they would eat good food together, and make good conversation, and everyone would be happy.

Yeah. That would be nice.

He grabbed his walker and headed downstairs. Soon, he would be using forearm crutches. He’d tried a pair out at his last PT appointment and was surprised at just how much more convenient they were than a walker. He hadn’t been able to use them without the support of two adults bracing him, sure, but even just the taste of a smaller walking device rather than the bulky wheelchair and walker that he was currently using was more than a little tantalizing.

If he mastered the crutches, he could go on stairs. He wouldn’t be living the rest of his life under the constraints of elevators and—heaven forbid—stairlifts.

He knew logically that there was nothing wrong with using those tools. Other people who needed stairlifts and elevators should use them judgment-free. But there was something wrong with him needing those things.

Because he was Phantom.

And that was the key difference.

Pride at the forefront of his mind, he abandoned his stairlift in favor of trudging down the stairs at a painfully slow pace. He knew Aunt Alicia was watching him out of the corner of her eye, and he hoped that she could see just how much he was trying. No matter how weak and helpless the Guys in White wanted him to be, he wasn’t.

“Danno!” his father called once he’d reached the bottom of the stairs. “He’s finally awake!”

A little more breathless than he wanted to show, Danny meekly turned around to see his father in a full Santa suit, fake beard and all.

“Merry Christmas!” Jack said.

Oh, that was right. His dad was his dad. “Merry Christmas.”

Jazz sauntered over to him and plopped a Santa hat atop his head.

“Hey!” Danny glared. He couldn’t risk letting go of his walker to bat the hat away.

Her eyes sparkled impishly in return. “Just passing along the festive spirit!”

“Hi, sweetie!” Maddie said. “Merry Christmas!”

“Ho, ho, ho! Look at all the presents that I—Santa—delivered to these good children!” Jack puffed out his chest and pointed toward the now sufficiently stocked Christmas tree.

“Oh my god, Dad.” Danny almost cringed to death. “You don’t have to—”

“Of course I do, sonny boy! It’s all about getting into the Christmas spirit! Ho, ho, ho!”

“I’m going to puke.”

“Hah!” Alicia barked a laugh, her cheeks rosy.

Danny eyed her eggnog suspiciously.

“Not much for the Santa stuff, huh, kid?”

“Not really,” Danny responded. “My parents never really did this stuff before, either.”

“There’s always time to start new traditions, honey!” Maddie responded, taking a sip of her eggnog as well. Like Alicia, her eyes seemed a little too bright for the morning.

His legs sufficiently shaking, Danny wasted no time in following his family over to the kitchen where a giant spread of food fit for a family of ten was waiting for him.

“Good timing, by the way! If you hadn’t come down soon, I would have come wake you up,” Maddie said, stowing his walker off to the side once he’d gotten settled in his chair. “Brunch is ready. Juice?”

“Sure.”

“God, it’s been ages since we’ve had a Christmas together. Hasn’t it, Mads?” Alicia asked.

“I know!” Maddie closed the cupboard, glass in hand, and opened the fridge for the orange juice carton. “Not since Dad was still around.”

“I miss that old geezer.”

“He was a good man!” Jack agreed.

For once, Alicia didn’t bite his head off for speaking to her directly, likely too under the influence to care. “I’ve been trying to figure out how he makes that smoked brisket, but I’ve never quite mastered it.”

“You’ve gotten pretty close!” Maddie said.

“Mads, you’re just saying that ‘cause you have the palate of a toddler,” Alicia ribbed. Lowering her voice, she said to Jazz, though loud enough for everyone to overhear anyway, “Your mother’s a lot of things, but a chef is not one of them. One time when we were teens, she damn near burned the house down making toast. Toast! Who the hell does that?”

Maddie laughed, placing the orange juice and this morning’s dose of medication in front of Danny.

“Our neighbor thought the house was gonna burn down and called 911! The fire department showed up and everything!” Alicia pounded the table with her fist, howling laughter overtaking her.

Everyone else was also in stitches. Everyone aside from Danny, that was, who was trying to down his meds as quickly as possible so as not to let Alicia get a glimpse of the cocktail of pills he’d been prescribed.

He’d only just gotten her as an ally. There was no need to remind her that he was actually a mutant freak.

“That was a long time ago!” Maddie countered through her chuckles. “I’ve improved since then!”

“Okay, that’s fair. Although, I still did most of the handiwork today.”

“You cooked all this?” Danny asked, eyeing the pans of quiche, cinnamon buns, and bacon.

He was so thankful that of all the things the government had ruined for him, the smell of bacon was not one of them.

“Most of it! Your mom helped me some.”

“Well, let’s not dillydally!” Jack ripped off his hat—taking the beard with it—and tucked it off to the side. “Dig in!”

For once, Danny actually let himself enjoy the meal. Perhaps it was the atmosphere, this new spark of energy that there hadn’t been before. The laughter constantly emanating from the table, the warm, inviting smells of good food, the rambunctious chatter popcorning off the walls of the kitchen. It had been so long since Danny had felt like his home was truly a home. But today, at this moment, he could genuinely feel some of that cold begin to thaw, and he could almost forget that his parents were designing a chip to control his core, that Alicia secretly hated his ghost half, that Jazz was going to leave him soon.

Almost.

But not quite.

The loud conversation made it hard for him to follow along sometimes. Especially under all the drugs, his brain had a habit of zoning out mid-conversation, and when he’d blink back into the chatter a moment later, he’d be missing some key information and would have to scramble to catch back up. His loose limbs helped the pain go away, but the dizzying side effects made him noticeably slow and clumsy with his fork. The first time his fork slipped through his fingers and fell onto his plate, he laughed it off with a comment about the Fenton Butterfingers Curse. The second time he dropped his fork? Well, that was a pattern.

One that he didn’t want Alicia to catch onto.

But that aside, the breakfast was good. It was wholesome. It was proof that they were really a family. A true, loving family. One that did family things like celebrate Christmas together.

At least, that was what he could pretend.

After they finished dishes, they opened gifts. He had actually tried—somewhat—with the little money he could scrape together this year. He’d long since understood that his parents loved their practical gifts, so he got his dad a pack of metal screws, and his mom a new pair of winter gloves. For Alicia, he got her some cleaning supplies for her gun collection.

For his sister, he managed to find a notebook with little green ghosts on the cover, and the excited hug she’d given him seemed genuine enough. That, along with the promise that she would use it in her psych class next semester.

“Only if—if you want,” Danny ducked his head.

“Of course I want, Danny!” Jazz playfully batted his shoulder. “Now, it’ll be like you’re right there with me every time I go to study!”

Danny tried his best to shove down the heat that threatened to overtake his cheeks. His sister could be such a dork when she wanted to be.

Although Danny wasn’t expecting much in return—his family had never really given big gifts before—his parents had genuinely left him speechless with theirs.

At first, it was because he had no idea what the gift was supposed to be.

“Press that button right there,” Jack said, pointing vaguely at the two small metal contraptions in Danny’s hands.

“Where?” Danny asked.

“Right on the side!” Jack said. “There’s a button on each of them.”

Danny felt around the sides of one of the sleek tubes for a button, and sure enough, when he pressed it, the tube expanded into a full-sized metal forearm crutch with black and green accents.

Danny couldn’t help but let his eyes widen as he expanded the next one too. “Oh, whoa. Wow.”

“We know you don’t have your ghost form back right now, hon, but when you do, you’re not going to want to carry around anything bulky when you switch back and forth,” Maddie explained. “We didn’t think the current crutch designs were compact enough, so we’ve been working on these ones for the past few weeks. You just press the button and they’ll collapse back into their tubes that you can shove in your backpack or store wherever you need.”

Danny turned the crutches around in his fingers, his brain already buzzing at all the opportunities this would give him. Now, he didn’t have to worry if his Phantom form got tired. He could just switch back. Well, as soon as he figured out how to use the crutches, that was. But he could go outside now! And if he got good enough, he could even use them at school!

The thought of not being half the height of his classmates anymore was enough for his lips to curl up in a smile. “Wow, thanks.” He looked up at his parents, not sure if he’d managed to suppress the green glint in his eyes, and not exactly caring either way. “This—this is going to change so much. Holy—wow. Thank you.”

His dad slapped a hand on his shoulder. “Course, son! Gotta make sure you’re all set up now, don’t we?”

The rest of the gifts were doled out, and though Danny had collapsed the crutches back into their tubes, he refused to let them part with his hands. They stayed curled in his fists until long after all the wrapping paper had been cleared from the floor, his dad took a break from the festivities to disappear into the basement, and his mom and aunt made their way into the kitchen to drink more eggnog and chat about the good old days.

The tree lights gave the room a warm glow, warping around the ornaments and bubbling the walls with splashes of yellow. It was cozy, and for maybe the first time in his life, Danny understood why people liked having Christmas trees in their homes.

“Hey, Danny?” Jazz asked.

Danny turned to see her eyes trained on the fake fire flickering on the television.

“What?” he asked.

“Are you gonna be okay? You know, when I go off to school?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Danny asked, but his voice didn’t have the bite he had intended.

Maybe it was the warmth in the room. Maybe it was his fatigue hitting him.

Maybe it was the odd guilt clawing in the pit of his stomach.

“I just…” Jazz huffed.

“Jazz, you need to go to school,” he said, cutting her off. “I’ll—I’m fine. Seriously.”

Jazz didn’t look convinced.

“I’m really happy you…you stayed. But I’m healing, I got Mom and Dad and my friends. I have the—the therapists. You know? I—I’ll be fine.”

Jazz nodded slowly.

But Danny could still see the fear in her eyes.

“Why?” he asked, turning it back on her.

“I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t be bringing this up now, but I know you’re still holding back with…everything. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to bottle stuff up just because I won’t be around anymore.”

“I’m not bottling anything up,” Danny countered. At her look, he amended. “Okay, I’m bottling a few things up. But—but really, Jazz, the big stuff? I promise I’ve talked about. I’m just adjusting still.”

“You promise?” Jazz asked, her teal eyes wide with hope.

The nothingburger his lies had been now felt like a thousand pounds on his shoulders, but he knew that if he said no, then Jazz would never be able to be present at school. That she’d be too afraid to make close friends, commit to a club, or enjoy her new life because she would always have one hand on her phone waiting for a call from Maddie, or worse, the police.

So Danny put on the most reassuring, loving expression he could as he uttered the words that nailed the metaphorical coffin shut: “I promise.”

“Thank you.”

****

previous / next

****

Thank you to @imekitty and @astatia-ghast for the beta work! Also huge thank you to @bibliophilea for helping me get over my insane writer's block with this chapter. I owe y'all for real 🙏

#danny phantom #everything was white #fanfiction #my writing #angst #for those unfamiliar with this fic it is VERY dark so plz read the tags before u read the fic #im not messing around with this one lol

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minijenn · 27 days ago

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Shades of the Sea Chapter 14: Fire

Story Summary: After spending five years stuck in the World of the Ocean King, Link returns to the Great Sea, only to find it changed beyond recognition. His friends and family view him as a traitor, accusing him of causing chaos across the ocean. With his allies all turned against him and a curse threatening to take his life, he sets out to reconnect with the one person who may be able to clear his name: Tetra.

Meanwhile, something sinister is rising over the Great Sea--a shadow seeking to spill the hero's blood and revive its fallen master. And this time, Link may not be strong enough to stop it on his own.

Ships: Link/Tetra

Rating: T

Warnings: Angst, Trauma, Violence, Blood and Injury, Torture, Harm to Children, Psycological Trauma

Chapter Summary: A hero is caught in the line of fire. A captain seeks to spark change. By the time Link finally makes it out of the snow squall surrounding Dragon Roost, night has long since fallen. And with it, so too has what could very well be one of the last three days of his life. It’s a haunting thought that quickly spoils the newfound warmth spreading over his skin. Whether it’s from escaping the storm or from the still-spreading curse, he has no idea. He gets his answer when that warmth suddenly turns painful the second it settles in his chest. In fact, it stings so badly he struggles to keep himself upright on his snow-battered canoe. It’s as if he’s been shoved straight into a bed of burning coals, only for those coals to turn to the coldest ice seconds later. It’s getting worse, he realizes, upon checking his chest to find those faintly glowing lines creeping their way up toward his neck. Everything’s getting worse , he thinks, with the memory of what happened on Dragon Roost weighing heavy in his heart. He had been so close. He’d found someone willing to listen to him, to vouch for him, to save him. Only for it to all be ripped right out of his fingers at the worst possible time. Link can’t help but wonder what Medli might have said to Komali after he’d left. He hopes that she had, at the very least, been able to convince him of his innocence, if no one else. Click the link to read more; all comments are appreciated!

#jen writes #shades of the sea #legend of zelda #the wind waker #phantom hourglass #spirit tracks #link loz #tetra wind waker #koroks #makar ww #great deku tree #forest haven #shadow link #shades archive

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jejeminnieee · 6 months ago

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Wings of Fire x Icewing Dragon of Destiny!reader

Summary:Since hatching, you have been in the cave under the care of Webs, Kestrel, and Dune. You were the Icewing in the prophecy.You are currently a teacher at Jade Mountain Academy. (And yes, according to my headcanon, Hvitur is your father)

Clay:

You grew up side by side, so it's obvious that you're like siblings. You had the same fighting ability as Tsunami, if not better, so..... It's obvious that you were held up as an example(in the rude manner of the guardians, of course).

He's often amazed by your strength. So, okay, imagine you're playing hide and seek, and you have shiny, sparkling scales, and you can't hide. Oh yeah, the feeling of losing before you even start the game. That's why you often refused to play hide-and-seek, staying on the sidelines. (Yes, sometimes you would discreetly point with your gaze at the one who had annoyed you or displeased you today, and then he would be found first.)

P.s.:You don't feel sorry.

So, back to the topic: Clay admires your strength. Your grace that you radiate, oozes when you fight. Those spikes on your tail, ready to strike the enemy in the face, the sharpest claws—

Oh yeah, you once had an argument: which is better - cow meat or seal meat? (Tsunami shut you both up by saying that fish is better, and you threw a stinky fish at her:)

When you escaped from the kingdom of Skywing, you asked Krechet about your origins. She said that your father was Khvitur.She added that he was constantly talking about his wife (your mother), as if she were something special.

So there were two reasons to freeze Kestrel and Burn: Kestrel for daring to question your mother's specialness; And Burn for killing your father. You were really overcome with sadness,because you and your father were so close, but in one moment you became so far away....

When you went on a journey, you found out that your mother lives on the edge of the Icewings Kingdom, in God knows where. And the queen doesn't even remember her, lol.

And you thought sarcastically: "Oh, thank you, Mom. It's a good thing you live on the very edge of the kingdom."

Glyn thought how cold it is here. How can you be happy in such a cold kingdom? Like, yes, you are an icewing, but the edge of the icewings kingdom is the coldest place on earth! Are you out of your mind?!

He watched you hug your mother, and how bitterly she learned that her husband had died.

Basically, he treats you like a sibling and he loves you very much♡

Tsunami:

You two often bicker over little things, but you are very attached to each other. Since you are both sarcastic, you can't do without teasing.

Oh yeah, you two are those for whom a cold river solves all problems.

However, she worries about you, as you worry about her. When you were in danger, she was restless and slept badly, thinking about you.

The same thing happens to you when she is in danger. You can insult each other with the most absurd words, fight to the death, throw things at each other.Cool, cool, cool. But you're willing to risk your lives for each other. Tsunami will blame herself if something bad happens to you.

And yes, you two are known as the most emotional workers of the jade mountain♡

There are usually arguments coming from your office, and frankly, students pray to be as far away from your office with her as possible.

Tsunami is willing to risk everything to keep you safe, just like you are willing to do the same for her. She doesn't care that most IceWings despise you and hate you, consider you a disgrace. She is ready to drown them if it upsets you. There are moments when you both speak sincerely, without jokes and other jokes, and although it is difficult, nevertheless, it makes your connection even stronger.

Glory:

I don't think you guys fight either, but you definitely get into verbal altercations, although not as often as with Tsunami.

But honestly, she admires you. Finding out that your father was supposed to be a guardian and you would live with him, but his life was cut short like that, and then finding your mother on the edge of the Icewings Kingdom, ignored even by the queen, and very sad, but eventually hugging you, crying, and at the same time learning of her husband's death. It was a huge shock. You didn't deserve this.

She knows you feel bad when you think about your father. And she feels sad too.

She is jealous of you and Pirita because she is hitting on you. Having got to a strange place of Queen Scarlet's palace, this strange skywing pounces on you, and then she clings to you with obsession, reverence and love for you. Pirita humiliated herself, praised her queen.....and you.

Glory hated to think that this weirdo could steal her best friend. Luckily for her, you left this palace in shock. Yes, she did not see this skywing, but you told about it, and Glory snorted disapprovingly.

When she found out that Hailstorm was Pirita, her eyes almost popped out of her head. What the fuck?

Since then, she hasn't been jealous of you, because she knows that you'll remain best friends no matter what. But she sometimes catches Hailstorm's loving glances and thinks about spitting in his face if he offends you (even though you'll eat him alive faster than he dares to upset you).

Sunny:

You're her older sister. You may take her a little more seriously than Tsunami, but to you she'll still be your little sister.

Sunny gets really worried when you're in danger (lol, compared to her, you're paranoid when SHE's in danger).

She, like a warm dragon, loves to cuddle with you. The warmth of her body compensates for the cold of your scales. At first, she shudders for half a second and just as quickly gets used to this cold.

Sometimes she needs to refresh her thoughts, cool down, because there is so much movement around Sunny, one of the best options is to come to you and hug. You spoil her so much.

Basically, almost the entire academy loves you, so it's fun for her to watch the dragonets run up to you with admiration.

Starlight:

Oh my god, he never thought you could teach a class properly (Starlight thought you and Tsunami shouldn't be allowed to teach at all, but for some reason Tsunami doesn't teach, BUT YOU DO)

Lol, if I repeat again that you value each other no matter what, I'll have a nervous breakdown.

Starlight was horrified when Mogrowwiser arrived and his dragons started killing all the Icewings in the arena. He looked around to make sure you were alive. The relief that you were alive overshadowed the fact that you were having a panic attack from what you saw.

He's shocked that you managed to win over the icewing students. They didn't recognize any dragons other than the 1st-4th circle, why are they happy to see you when you're not even in the 7th????? Like, you're such a cool, beautiful icewing, you stayed in your kingdom for God knows how long, got disillusioned with the circle system and the dragons of your tribe, came back and saved the world? Oh, well, that's true, but still.......

You sometimes encouraged him to help you with your homework in exchange for listening to his history lecture.

Now you visit him in the library quite often, and you cannot regret his loss of sight.

Winter:

At first, Winter considered your behavior and origins shameful. He saw you in the kingdom for a couple of minutes, and yes, his contempt grew and grew at first. But when you left your native climate without a second thought,preferring freedom, it made him think a little about other people's preferences and the moral principles of iceswings. What is it like to know the taste of freedom, huh?

I don't know how he could have liked you at the academy(no romance). You had some energy that was not inherent in the other iceswings... The energy of liberation and freedom. He was confused and irritated by your behavior until he realized,that you just do whatever you want, without following the rules of conduct and without caring about your circle. And yes, at first he considered it shameful.

Then he felt like he was struck by electricity... You reminded him of someone... Who, who, who? Who do you resemble in character?.....Could it be Hailstorm?

From that moment on, he was drawn to you, because you emanated such spiritual warmth that emanated from a parent, from an older brother. Parents are not characterized by the manifestation of love that does not exist,but why did Winter suddenly feel love and care? Do you really care about his condition? Icewing should always be in shape, no feeling should be worth a drop of loss,even if you are fighting with yourself.

At one point he starts noticing you hugging students with your wing. He finds it super weird. Then you do the same to him and he freaks out. It's not that bad, really, but she said not to do that anymore, abruptly dropping your wing to avoid humiliating words and looks from his sister.

He's stunned when Hailstorm falls in love with you. First Pyrite alternates devotion to Scarlet with self-deprecation, and then she's crazy about you? What?

He thought that his brother's love for you would pass when he turned into himself. But no, he looks at you with adoration, though not with a sick dependence, but with love. You look at him in bewilderment "how does this dragon know me?" and Winter explains the situation to you.

Qibli:

He has no problem being your fan at all. He loves to accidentally hang out in your office, and he REALLY likes it because you treat him to sweets. It's okay if you don't have anything tasty, Qibli will be happy with any opportunity to be near you, because you are a very cool person♡

Qibli enjoys teasing Winter about his grumpiness and your openness (even though he knows you wouldn't hesitate to slit the throat of your offender).Like, Winter is sullen and closed, raised in a place where There was no freedom; only obedience to rules. And from the moment you visit the Icewings Kingdom, some dragons have begun to behave more freely.By showing how freedom feels, you gave a push to advance. Snowfall actually thought about freedom after you showed up, as did Winter.

The only difference is in your upbringing (lack thereof), but your views and behavior are radically different. Despite this, you continue to communicate with Winter, and this is the most surprising thing.

Although Qibli makes fun of Winter for his friendship with you, in reality, he understands his friend - you are perhaps the most beloved teacher in the academy, on par with Clay (if he is not lower).

Pyrite:

Pirite was simply obsessed with you. Even the spell couldn't take away her love for you. That day when she saw you, when you wandered not quite where you should have,-You were like light, shining ice. Despite her hatred for the entire ice tribe, for some reason you were so delightful that she couldn't take her eyes off you. You are a deity, so unattainable and bright.

Since you disappeared, she never forgot you. All her comments were mixed and went in circles: self-hatred, obsession with Queen Scarlet, obsession with you, self-hatred.

Pyrite kept mentioning you when Winter, Qibli, Moonwatcher, and Kinkajou went looking for Hailstorm. It was just mind-blowing.

Hailstorm:

Oh, boy in love.

It would be reasonable to think that the obsession with you would pass once Hailstorm removed the necklace, even if not immediately. No, he is not obsessed anymore, but he genuinely likes you.

When he meets the teacher of Jade Mountain Academy, Hailstorm stutters and blue blood rushes to his face while you look at him like he's an idiot. He doesn't know why the feelings didn't go away after lifting the spell. But you make him look like a lovesick fool. By the way, he feels incredibly ashamed when he reverently mentions you to his family, because in theory he should hate you.Because you don't think the Icewings are the greatest tribe, because you think that outside the kingdom is better. Trivially because you are a mudblood, the child of a traitor, one of those who deprived the Icewings promised lands.

Hailstorm thinks about his feelings for a long time, and eventually understands Winter and stops judging him as much as he did before.

Can't help but think about how handsome the teacher at the academy is, and what a teacher fair, smart, dignified.....

......The best.

Icicle:

It took Icicle much longer than her brother to think for the first time in her life about something other than Hailstorm: "Wow, this dragon is so cool."At first she is horrified that she thinks this way, because in her opinion you are trash, and trash can't be cool. She will have to go through many stages of anxiety and conflicting feelings, thoughts and opinions,before she calmly thinks for the second time in her life: "He/she is cool."

It's just that you... So kind, but at the same time cruel, decisive. You exude freedom and brightness of character, but not the usual one, like the rest of the icewings, but fueled by an indomitable disposition and the desire for independence.You didn't treat her quite like Hailstorm or her parents, you treated her more gently, much more gently, but at the same time you didn't dare challenge her strength,expecting the best from her. Icicle was often irritated by your tenderness, but you, as an older sibling... An older figure that was taken away from her.

Therefore, no matter how much Icicle turns up her nose, no matter how much she tries to resist you and distance herself, she enjoys being with you.Don't expect compliments or talkativeness from her. She can just sit with you, and that's enough for her, because Icicle finds your presence tolerable.

Tundra & Narwhal:

Tundra is definitely annoyed by your behavior and existence in general, but is more tolerant of it than Narwhal. She is irritated by your lack of etiquette, your disobedience to the rules of iceswings, and yes, she hates your dead father too.

When you were in the castle, they were furious. How dare you disturb the order?

They were even more indignant when Hailstorm returned, and after some time they found out that he was in love with you.....It... It was a shock for them.......

My little dragons, I disappeared for a very long time and did not write posts. Because of my studies, I could always sit down to work and continue it, but now I finally finished it. And yes, I still have a few work that needs to be finished. I'll create a separate post for requests today, if you have any requests.... Then you know what to do:)

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inquisimer · 2 years ago

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i carried my own ashes to the mountains

for day 1 of @zevraholics' Zevwarden week 2023, tradition and trying new things - some pre-ship Nika and Zevran, a discussion of what will come of her return to Orzammar.

pairing: f!Brosca & Zevran word count: 1200 rating: general audiences tags: hurt/comfort, platonic relationships, fluff, a hint of pining if you squint

Nika stared at her reflection, warped and hazy in the frozen puddle outside their camp. A few hundred yards back through the trees their tents formed a half-circle around the fire. Beyond that loomed the peaks of the Frostback Mountains and within them, the gates to Orzammar.

Orzammar. Nearly three years gone since she’d left and going back now felt as intimidating as leaving with Duncan had then. Her fingertips traced over the faded brand on her cheek, newly bisected by a long, fresh scar. One of three—souvenirs from their battle with the dragon in Haven. Between that, and the weight on her shoulders, and the harsh cynicism regret had etched into her, she wondered if anyone in Orzammar would recognize the rebellious little casteless who dared defy their laws.

Part of her hoped they wouldn’t. Then she wouldn’t be alone in seeing a stranger in her face.

“Reminiscing, chapparita?”

A twig snapped under Zevran’s weight and Nika’s hand fell from her cheek as she glanced at him over her shoulder. She shrugged.

“Something like that, I suppose.”

Zevran hummed his doubt. Of all her companions, he would know. When they stumbled across his ill-conceived trap, she was still fresh-faced and sun-blind, lost without the cavernous Stone to ground her. She'd nearly shanked him in her anger. But his eyes shone with the wild desperation of someone who had absolutely nothing left to lose—he would have welcomed her blade, and it was a look so familiar that to see it in another shocked the rage right out of her.

He repaid her mercy with a curious devotion, sitting up with her through the coldest, darkest watches and fording paths when their inane quests took them through wilderness where even the smallest plants stood well above Nika's head. Bit by bit, he came to know her history, wheedling it out of her as none of the others had even tried to.

Things weren’t so different between the Carta and the Crows. Antiva's operation was larger and more storied, of course, but both were ruthless and cutthroat to a fault and you were only worth as much as the success of your last job. Nika didn't know many assassins, but she knew how they worked, and nothing builds trust like a mutually assured dagger in the back.

Zevran leaned against a tree and regarded her with a knowing look.

"You are apprehensive about returning to Orzammar."

"Am not."

He huffed, an aborted laugh that fogged the air around his mouth. "Dear Warden, there are at least seven paths that could have gotten us here sooner. And don't tell me you don't know of them," he added, for she'd opened her mouth to do exactly that. "I showed you how to read the map myself."

She rolled her eyes. "And?"

"And I think you should know that you do not need to run off into the woods with your woes." Zevran squatted at her side and tilted her face toward him with a knuckle on her chin. "You do not need to hide from me, chapparita. Not after everything."

"I know it's just..." Nika pursed her lips. "It's stupid. I just need a few moments to get it together."

"If it causes you distress, it cannot possibly be stupid."

"Yes it can," Nika grumped. "I get distressed by stupid things all the time. Rain and wagons. Broken lockpicks. Alistair."

"While amusing, this deflection won't save you." Zevran caught one of her hands and traced the calloused lines of her palm. "What troubles you so about returning home?"

"Home?" Nika scoffed. "Hardly a home. A place of origin, perhaps. But there was too much anger and never enough food to really call it a home."

"But you have family there, yes? Your sister and the young man...Lester?"

Nika's gut twisted. "Leske. And Rica, yes, they're still there. Or at least, I think they are. Some of the rumors coming up from Orzammar make me think there may well be nothing but carnage when we get there."

"Is that what troubles you, then?"

"Mmm not really. The city can tear itself to shreds for all I care, 'slong as Rica and Leske got out."

"Not worried about the city, not really worried about your family." Zevran tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Your reception upon return, then?"

Nika scrunched up her face. She really was quite transparent these days—if Behraht had been able to read her that well, she'd've never been allowed in the Carta, no matter how well Rica cleaned up. She glanced down at her griffon-stamped chestplate and sighed.

"I'm not the same person who left Dust Town," she finally said. "You know—you were there for most of the changing, the struggling, the growing."

"Not too much growing," Zevran teased, waving his hand over her head. She swatted at it and stuck her tongue out at him.

"The thing is, the time and the experience and even being a Warden—it won't matter to the people down there. You can't change your lot in life in Orzammar, so..."

She brought her fingers back to her marked cheek and Zevran’s gaze followed. "Once a brand, always a brand," she said bitterly. "I'm not even sure they'll listen to the treaties, not if I'm the one asking."

In the silence that followed, Nika stewed. She could feel Zevran considering her, but she didn’t want his comfort or his pity. Not when she had to walk back on the way the surface had changed her perspective. Not when she needed to be as cold and cruel as she’d ever been, to survive a return to Orzammar.

Gentle fingers caught her chin once more and this time the pad of Zevran’s thumb ghosted over the raised skin of her brand.

“They know you by this, as you were. But that is not who you are any longer so: have you considered…changing it?”

“How can I? It’s as much a part of me as my nose.”

“You misunderstand. I am not suggesting you attempt to remove it, anymore than I would suggest expunging your history before the Wardens.” Zevran dropped his hand to her shoulder and gently squeezed. “But the rest of you has changed on this venture. Should your face not change as well?”

Nika went very still. Her eyes darted back to the frozen puddle and the stranger reflected there. She imagined dark ink spiraling out around the blocky lines of the brand, weaving in and around the scar tissue, softening the hard border of the burden she’d worn like a prize all her life, just as this journey had softened all of her sharp edges.

In her heart, the idea slotted into place, so right that it immediately drew her out of her anxious melancholy. With eager eyes, she grabbed Zevran by the wrists.

“Can we do it now? Right now?”

A soft, warm smile crinkled the corners of Zevran’s eyes, a hint of wistfulness keeping it from catching at his mouth proper. But it swiftly gave way to his usual grin and he lifted her small frame effortlessly, swinging her onto his back.

“Of course, chapparita. We can begin whenever you like.”

#zevwarden week 2023 #zevran x brosca #zevran x f!warden #fanfic #hurt-comfort #pining #fluff #oc: nika brosca #zevran x nika #dragon age fanfic #dao #zevwarden

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etherealeowyn · 6 months ago

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Holiday Confessions - Isildur x Fem Reader

Y/n has been friends with Isildur for years, but as the holidays roll around in Númenor, she has realized that her feelings have become deeper.

Word Count: 921

Fluff

My requests are always open, so feel free to message me if you have an idea! I'll write for any character from The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or The Rings of Power!

The streets of Numenor were covered in winter-themed decorations; Y/n’s favorite always was the golden lanterns strung from house to house, creating an illusion of warmth even on the coldest night. Y/n held onto a basket filled to the brim with Isildur’s favorite cookies, hoping to brighten up his night with holiday cheer.

She had known Isildur ever since she was a child, and though they had been friends for the longest time, increasingly, she grew suspicious that there was something else there. Quite frankly, something felt right about telling him how she felt during the winter festivities, especially since it was the time when they first became friends.

When she had finally made it to the front door of his house, Y/n took a deep breath, nervous about the events that were about to unfold. She knew Isildur would never be mean to her, but rejection was something that she very much didn’t want to experience.

Raising her hand, she went to knock on the door, but before her hand hit the wood, she couldn’t help but smile softly at the wreath that Isildur and her had made when they were children. Her heart was full of warmth, standing in stark contrast to the cold air surrounding her.

She lightly drummed on the door, and the couple of moments it took for someone to answer felt like an eternity. But the door did swing open, and Y/n was face to face with Isildur, whose eyes lit up the second they fell upon her form.

“What are you doing here?” Isildur asked, smirking down at the woman.

“I was hoping to maybe spend some time with you if you’re not already occupied with something else,” Y/n responded, lifting the basket of baked goods, their sweet scent carrying through the air making Isildur laugh a little bit.

“How could I ever turn down an offer such as this one,” he replied, lifting the top of the basket, taking one of the cookies, and standing in the doorway.

“Isil, how dare you let me freeze out here, while you eat all the cookies. Those are supposed to last the entire night,” she joked, pushing her way inside playfully.

He shook his head and smiled at the woman before following her to the table where she set the basket of cookies down. He watched as she began to take the desserts out and place them on a plate and noticed that her hands were shaking.

They were, but he figured she was shaking from the cold when she was shaking because she was incredibly nervous. Y/n was decent at hiding her nervousness from reaching her facial expressions, but she couldn’t stop the inadvertent shaking of her hands.

“Are you cold? Would you prefer we sit in front of the fire?” Isildur asked, raising one of his eyebrows as he scanned her face for any answer.

“That sounds lovely,” Y/n responded hastily, taking up the opportunity to write her problem off simply as the cold got to her.

Even though Isildur saw the smile plastered on Y/n’s face, he began to suspect that something was up.

She was acting… odd.

It seemed as if there was something that she needed to get off her chest, but he couldn’t think of anything that would possibly be troubling her… except.

“Is something on your mind?” he asked, tilting his head to the side, his eyes widening in mild concern.

“Actually, yes there is,” she said, staring directly into the fire, making it her mission not to make eye contact with him.

“Y/n, you must be a bit more specific than that. You know I’m always here to listen and give you advice to the best of my ability. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you had to hide something from me,” He spoke softly, getting up and sitting on the ledge in front of the fireplace so that she had no choice but to look at him.

“Isildur, you’ve done absolutely nothing wrong, there’s no need for you to apologize,” Y/n started, and she could see that he was practically holding his breath while waiting to hear what she had to say next.

“I’ve been thinking about us a lot lately, and I know we’ve been friends since before I could remember, but I don’t see you as a friend anymore. I think… no, I know I’m in love with you. And it’s alright if you do not share the same feelings as me, but I needed to---.” Her voice was cut off when Isildur’s fingers gently pushed a couple of stray strands of hair around her face.

The slow, yet sudden feeling of contact with his fingers on her face made her freeze. Every word she wanted to say escaped her, and she could do nothing other than look up at the man doe-eyed.

He began to lean forward, and they maintained gazes until both pairs of eyes fluttered shut in anticipation of their lips connecting. Isildur kissed her slowly, his lips lingering on hers for a moment before they separated.

When he did, Isildur swore that how the firelight flickered and danced upon Y/n’s skin made her look ethereal. He sat there, lips parted in awe, trying to catch his breath. It wasn’t only the kiss that took his breath away, rather it was the woman that he shared it with.

“I love you too, Y/n, and I always will,” Isildur whispered, before placing a quick yet soothing kiss above her brow.

#isildur #isildur rings of power #isildur x reader #isildur imagine #isildur fanfic #isildur fanfiction #isildur oneshot #the lord of the rings #the lord of the rings the rings of power #the lord of the rings imagine #the lord of the rings the rings of power x reader #the lord of the rings the rings of power imagine #the lord of the rings x reader

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lavendermunson · 2 years ago

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enchanted IV | knight!eddie munson x princess!reader

summary Eddie tried to do the right thing but his heart can’t stop hurting. It’s time for the knight to drop his duties and come for the thing he loves the most.

tags +18, afab!reader, this chapter doesn’t have warnings at all but if you need me to mark something please let me know.

a/n read the note at the end!

wc 2.9k

moodboard | previous chapter | masterlist

After talking to Wayne about the safety of the princess, Eddie returns to his room and looks at himself in the mirror. He feels his hands too light, feeling he is missing something. He is definitely missing something.

He wonders if this is the end. It is, maybe it is. He has to let go of the fire that ignites the chimney on the coldest week of winter and stay at home with the ray of sun that has lightened his face every day in the morning.

It would be stupid to run and see you, it would be so stupidly wrong. But for a moment he thinks, and thinks. There’s a possibility of you running away with him. He can’t predict the future, god, he wishes he could and right now the only thing left is giving up.

He sits in his bed, taking a notebook from under his pillow. The first page has a drawing of his mom, he tugs it close to his heart and as soon as he rests his head in the pillow, a tiny piece of paper peeks from under the leather.

“I wanna be defined by the things that I love. Not the things I hate. Not the things that I'm afraid of. Not the things that haunt me in the middle of the night. I just think that you are what you love.”

He closes his eyes, letting all his feelings flutter inside his body. He misses his mom. He misses being happy. Being, feeling free.

It is time for things to change, he thinks.

It is time I change things.

—

With shaky hands and a pale face, terror conquers Eddie’s body at the sight of your parents. The king and queen.

“It's okay, you got this” he hears Wayne’s voice from their conversation before. Eddie got out of his room, told Wayne everything he felt, every little thing that was on his mind.

It was hard for Wayne to accept that the living reminder of his sister was telling him he was going to leave. He wanted to be mad, but he couldn't. It's what Eddie's mom would've wanted. It's what Eddie should do, fight for love.

Wayne was in love once, he understood completely. He hugged his nephew, he kissed his forehead. He wishes the best to him.

“So… what do you have for us? News?” The king, your father, speaks.

“I… i need to tell you something” Eddie's hands are no longer shaking. “I don't want to be your knight anymore, but don’t get me wrong it was an honor”

The kings, your parents, look at each other and for a moment they know. They know why, they know what’s coming, they've prayed for this.

“It is, it’s fine Eddie. But tell me, why the sudden change of mind?” your mother speaks, her voice is gentle. It surprises Eddie.

“I'm not– I'm not asking for permission. You can stop me, you can try to stop me. I need to go away, I need to get out of here. But I'm not doing it alone, I'm not going out empty handed.

For the first time in my life, I felt seen, I felt loved. Your daughter, I've been obsessed with her my whole life. She never treated me differently, no, how could she? She is the angel of my dreams, she is all I need. Her kindness. Her bravery. Her, she… she has a beautiful way of describing things, of seeing life.

I swallowed my heart for the sake of my kingdom but this is not what I want. I want her. She brought me back to life, I spent less than a lifetime with her and I need her. I need her like lungs need air. She fills me up, she… she makes me feel safe.

So I'm telling you… not asking. I need to go away, she needs to get out of here. I'm getting her out, to give her a happy, free and safe life. Im getting her away from you, and them, and this. To love her, to take care of her, and to make her the happiest girl that’s ever going to exist on this planet.”

His chest hurts, his throat is swollen. He is wondering why they aren’t throwing him in some dungeon.

The queen gets to him, away from her throne. The king follows her.

“Eddie. We are not going to stop you, you’d be doing us a favor” she says, taking Eddie’s hands in hers.

“We can’t stop this, but you can. Get away. Go away. Take care of our little girl” The king speaks, his eyes looking soft.

“We are not going to stop you, but we can’t help you either. You must have a plan by now, you are a smart boy” your mom speaks again, tears filling up her eyes.

“You can go now. Good luck, and thank you for caring about her” your dad speaks, Eddie nods.

This is the last time he is going to see them. He takes a deep breath and walks out.

—

It’s been a dreadful week, a nightmare of a lifetime. Jason’s mom keeps coming into your room, you’ve tried on thirty-seven dresses and still none of them is the right one. How could any dress be the right one, when the husband-to-be isn’t the one you love?

Every minute you spend in that castle, away from your family and waiting for Jason to come and talk to you when you know he is away with a girl somewhere. It feels like that’s all you are going to be. Always a girl trapped in some room, away from the wonders, the adventures.

From the moment Eddie let the other knights take you, your heart has been feeling heavy. The feeling of waking up to an empty bed after the best night of your life was something you couldn’t describe. It was painful.

Someone who is in love with you doesn’t betray you, he doesn’t get to do that to you. And you think, maybe this is what you deserve. To be here. Alone.

–

After getting some food for dinner you go back to your room. A room that’s too empty for your taste. There are no books lying around. No comfortable silk pillowcases. The sheets are rough, the blankets are too cold.

You look out, the tiny window in the room is enough for you to see a part of the woods. The sun is going down, it will disappear in an hour, maybe less.

“Since you don’t want any dress, I will have to give you my own” the queen enters the room, making you jump.

“I can’t. No i can’t take that from you” you shake your head.

“It is settled” she lets the modiste come in to fix the dress, it’s the less you can now.

“I have this. It’s for you… but please don’t tell anyone i gave it to you”

On her hands rest a letter, with a pink wax seal that you would recognize everywhere. Your mom’s.

“My dear, our tulip.

We have been thinking, we have been convinced. This life is not for you, it never was.

Since you were born, we have been the happiest pair. My little girl.

It is time for you to be your own person. To make your own choices. To make good things. To make mistakes.

He is going to take care of you. He is going to do what we couldn’t… He is going to make you happy.

Me, dad. We love you, cherry pie. We will miss you. You are our thoughts.

Love you. Mom.”

Tears pool on your eyes, and you blink twice and look at the paper. Hope gets over you, you spin in your feet with a smile on your face.

Him? Eddie? All of this is too good to be true.

“How did you get this?” you ask the modiste.

“Princess, i'm not a modiste. I'm some sort of a… messenger? Tonight at midnight you need to go down the stairs, through the kitchen and wait on the opposite side of the barn. You know what’s waiting, I won't tell you.”

“Midnight. Got it, thank you” you say.

“Have a safe travel, it was an honor to meet you”

—

A wave of happiness hits you. You rest in bed and tug the letter close to your chest.

The moment you’ve been dreaming for is finally here. Freedom. Love. Him.

You wonder why this couldn’t come sooner, but maybe this was the right time. The right time to be anything you want to be, to start again in a new place. Meet people. Travel. Learn.

And most importantly… be with him. Kiss him. Hug him. You miss his touch. His smell. His fingers over and inside you.

The door opens in a rush, you hide the letter under your pillow. It’s Jason, drunk, filthy, dumb Jason.

“Hello future wife, i am exhausted from just… kissing so many girls” he closes the door and gets in bed with you, pulling you to him. You try to fight back but he doesn’t let you. His arms are heavy on you. “Fuck-fuck night gowns and fuck-fuck-fuck me” he falls asleep quickly, like some sort of miracle.

You look at him, it’s the most peaceful you’ve ever seen him. You wonder why a sweet kid like him could grow up to be a nightmare of a person.

Is this what happens? When greed, money, fame and a high status gets over your head? And you wonder. Is he going to look for you? With violent knights and hundreds of weapons. If he is selfish, dumb and evil. Would you ever be safe?

The clock hits midnight. It’s time to go.

You press your fingers on his arm, delicately breaking free of his grip so he won’t wake up. His arm fell hard on the mattress, your fingers slipped but he didn’t wake up.

He is lost. Dozing.

You run to the door, quietly. Once it’s been open you close it and run towards the kitchen.

A loud sneeze comes from the hallway, you hide in a closet next to the back door. You take a peek from what it looks like to be a keyhole and realize it’s the queen. Jason’s mom.

She makes herself tea. Surprisingly, she is making a tea by herself. The clock above her head marks five minutes past midnight, you cross your fingers hoping she doesn’t take too much time.

–

Eddie’s plan has been working perfectly. Since packing his stuff, some of your stuff he got back from the cabin in the woods. He got a horse ready, fruit and bread for the ride. A map.

He gets close to the back of the barn, leaving the horse a few minutes back so he won’t get caught.

Eddie hears steps coming to the barn. The king, Jason’s dad. He is pacing around looking at the animals, maybe he can’t sleep.

After a few minutes the queen joins the king, Jason’s parents look like villains out of a book. They look old, tired and their faces always have a frown on it.

Eddie starts to play with the rings in his hands. He is anxious. They won’t go away and if you come out the door and find them they will catch you and lock you forever. He has to stop you from coming out.

His steps are fast, but quiet. He looks for another entrance to the castle and runs through the hallway. He looks at the wedding decorations.

The wedding was supposed to happen today, in the morning.

He runs through the castle, hoping no one will see him and after catching a glimpse of your figure he runs towards you. You managed to escape the queen a few seconds ago, making your way to find another exit.

The place looks like a labyrinth, everything is dark. Eddie feels himself running in circles, getting to the same place over and over. He stops to ease his breath, trying to get rid of the fog that clouds his eyes. A body bumps into him, he opens his eyes and takes in your face.

The softness of your lips. The pretty tip of your nose. And when he finally locks his gaze with yours he allows himself to breathe again.

“It’s you” you say, quiet.

“Hi, i’m here to rescue you,” he says, with a grin on his lips.

“That is… very accurate. I was going to make fun of you for that”

“What can I say? call me knight charming”

You push your body towards him, his hands fit right in your waist and pull you to his chest. Your lips met his in a short kiss, it lasts seconds but it takes you to heaven.

“I’m sorry. I have so many things I need to say to you but we have to go. Now” you nod, taking his words in, his hand reaches yours and together you run to find an exit.

–

After what felt like hours of running, you finally make it to Eddie’s horse. He gets “Peanut” ready to leave but panics as he hears footsteps, not too close so you can escape in time but close enough to make him anxious.

“Hurry” he says to you.

“I see them, c’mon!” A drunk Jason walks slowly to you. He is still far away, his steps are clumsy and it’s taking him years to reach you.

“Let’s go, sweetheart” Eddie’s voice sounds muffled, a ring in your ears starts to increase its pitch.

Your heart is beating in your heart so fast, your body is completely frozen.

“I can’t” you look at Eddie, his lips trembling.

“What?”

“I- I didn't say goodbye to my parents. I didn’t hug them one last time i-” you pause, tears run down your cheeks “This, this kingdom. The people, they need me Eddie”

“No! no they don’t. Your mom is, she is going to take care of them. Your dad said they are going to think about you all the time… sweetheart, please. It’s time to go” he reaches for your hands, taking them with a soft touch and squeezing them.

“And the cabin, I need my stuff. My books and my clothes” you look at him, he is worried but he knows you are scared.

“I have some stuff, I have the clothes and blankets you made. The mug and plates you made. Your box of jewelry” he drops your hands by your sides, his soft palms travel to your cheeks and he takes a deep breath. “There’s books everywhere, we can buy more and we can look in every place for them. Please…” he kisses your forehead, hoping it would ground you and assuring you it’s going to be okay. “Please come with me”

You nod, you take his hands away from your face and your heart skips a beat. You get on the horse with him, hugging him from behind and squeezing his body as tears fall down your cheeks again.

As you get far away from the kingdoms, the castles slowly start to disappear. Eddie manages to lose the ones that were following you and starts to focus on the road.

It was hard. Sad.

The two of you were heartbroken.

Leaving people you loved. The place you grew up in. All the memories you’ve left behind.

Eddie told you he managed to sell the cabin to a couple in the kingdom that were tired of the stupid rules and wanted to be free. It was enough to get a tiny house, your jewelry was going to help.

You were going to find jobs and live a happy life. Together.

–

After traveling around for months, you finally found a place to stay. It was a big town, without a kingdom.

There was a mayor, a woman with a strong character but she looked nice.

A sheriff, he looked serious and he was strong.

The two of them welcomed you after buying your house. It was much better than the cabin, nicer than Eddie’s house. You loved it, it was tiny and felt cozy. It felt like a home.

Hours after settling, showering together and sharing some kisses. Your now boyfriend and you walked through town, at the very center of it there was a market.

You bought books, fruit, and some ingredients to cook. Pieces of fabric, silk, old drapes.

In the corner some kids close to a carpet full of miscellaneous stuff.

“How much for the guitar?” Eddie says, taking the guitar in his hands and starting to play a melody. You watch him, his smile looks so good and his eyes are less puffy.

“I will give you a good deal if you teach us how to play the new one we got” A boy with curly hair speaks, as the others watch your boyfriend.

“Deal” Eddie reaches for the boy’s hand and he takes it smiling. “I’m Eddie, this is my princess Y/N”

“I’m Dustin” he shakes his hand “These are my friends, Mike, Lucas, Will, Max and El”

“Nice to meet to guys” you smile, they all look so friendly.

“Are you really a princess?” Max says, getting close to you with El by her side.

“Let’s say… we all are princesses” you smile at them “Right?”

“I love that!” El says, smiling.

You watch the kids laugh and dance as Eddie plays a song on the guitar and sings. Your heart flutters.

You look at each other, words aren’t needed when you know you feel the same. Finally you are free, happy. In a place where you feel like you belong. In a place when you can make your own choices and as your mom said, your own mistakes. But by Eddie’s side it will always be great, things will always be great.

hey! what a ride. this was my first time doing a long fic. i have to apologize for the ending, i tried to wrap up everything and i still feel like i missed some things but i will write them in the future, separately from this long story but in the same universe.

i dropped this story for a long time and i had a lot of plans, unfortunately i didn’t have time to do it and i just keep being unmotivated by the whole thing but i tried my best to come up with an ending instead of abandoning it.

thank you to everyone for your support 🩷 if you want to see more of them or my work tell me!!

tag list + special thanks to: @stephanie-nicks76 @mylovelycrazyworld @enam3l @punkwitchcosplay @eddiesprincess86 @nojamsonmytoast @lunar-corgimon @secretdryrose @findmeincorneliastreet @duncanhillscoffeecups @sagedbelladonna @cherry-pop3547

#leia writes ⊹ ꒱#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x y/n #knight!eddie x princess!reader #knight!eddie munson #knight!eddie munson x princess!reader #knight!eddie #princess!reader #princess!femreader #eddie munson fantasy au #enchanted series!!

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