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idkfitememate · 4 months

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Deer Bones and Golden Crowns Pt.1

♡︎ « Next Part ⋙

૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა Pairings : GN! “Normal” Reader x Vil (& others!!)

૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა W.K. : 5k

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ Tags/CW&TW : Descriptive Gore, yandere-esk reader, bodily gore

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note :(My sincerest apologies(/s), but this is a male reader! He/Him pronouns!! Anyone can read of course, but if I find any comments of a fetishized nature, your comment will be deleted and you will be promptly blocked! Thank you!!~)

Wendigo’s are spirits that claim body over the dead and force the risen corpse to eat the flesh of their brethren, turning others into flesh eating creatures such as themselves.

Changlings were many things, but the one thing they all had in common was that they were placed in the cradles of human children who were snatched away in the night by fairies. They had the innate ability to change their forms and appearances to become something they weren’t, to convince others they were that new form.

Now… what if these two creatures were to mate? A creature of infinite flesh and identities and one of never endearing hunger for flesh and a spirit of famine?

You would get the second in command of the young Schoenheit. Vil’s right hand man and assistant since birth.

(y/n).

He was of average height, average build, average hair color, average eye color, average everything.

Nothing about him stood out amongst the gorgeous crowd of those whom he would work with.

Though, he had an innate eye for beauty and details, even in the most of drab places. He had the ability to turn any old lump of coal into diamond. He could spot anyone and turn them into a star.

That’s why his parents worked out a deal with Vil’s.

(y/n) works with Vil to keep appearances and popularity stay shining, and Vil’s family will continue to house and tend to (y/n)’s.

Fair, yes?

Well it was, for some time anyway. Before Vil was whisked off in that Ebony Carriage guided by those horses of bone, off to Night Raven College, leaving (y/n) behind.

Leaving his friend behind.

At least, (y/n) would like to say they were friends, but he knew better. He was nothing more than another tool in Vil’s arsenal to keep him in the spotlight, but honestly? (y/n) couldn’t complain.

After years of being a glorified servant of the other, he grew an attachment to the blond/purple haired man. Seeing him everyday was apart of the fae boy’s daily routine and him being missing from it was already messing with him.

Even though Vil had only been taken shipped off around a day ago. But that wasn’t the biggest issue.

The biggest issue would have to be the fact that an Ebony Carriage had come for him a few nights before, and in a fit of rage he destroyed it.

Though he did more than just throw stones or bricks, he intended to send a message. YOU intended to send a message.

A message asking why the fuck they would dare try to separate you from your *kostbar schimmernder stern.

You broke the coffin in, shattering the glass surrounding it. You did torch the wood of the carriage, and completely destroyed the small mirror that rested on the top of that forsaken coffin.

You sent it on its way as a warning.

Only to come and regret that decision as you watched from the tree line as the carriage that now held the sleeping body of your friend rid off under the moonlight.

After his leaving, you barely left your room, only carrying out your job with… lesser clients via email or a messenger. Though if not in your room, you’d be in the forest, most likely with your parents.

Speaking of, all your life you kept your family heritage a secret. Whenever someone wanted to meet your parents - such as Vil’s parents - they’d speak through a servant or you. Not to say that they looked inhuman, in fact, they were like you in human forms. Both shockingly average.

But rather because neither, no matter how much practice they had, they could never get over their… urges.

Your mother was a very, very old wendigo, older than most fae really. You could hear her cries beyond the gates of the house, the signs of a successful hunt. Never was she not bloody, her hair drenched in the red, sticky substance and her teeth stained crimson. She carried the scent of death with her everywhere, and sometimes you could see her “fixing” her body, otherwise known as sewing her skin back together. She had made an effort to never allow you to see her “true” form, but that was for naught as very early on in your life you had seen her stalking back to the house, two dead bucks trapped in her maw as her bones and joints creaked with every movement.

Her bloodshot eyes meeting yours. Blood dripping off her skull and large, sharp antlers onto your dolls.

You personally could say the dolls looked better dressed in red.

And your father, ever the trickster he was. With a glance of the untrained eye, and he would seem entirely human. Though, by living with him you could both see and feel, deeply that something was wrong. How his joints would twitch and jut in odd ways, how his expressions were always just slightly off the mark. How he wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t drink. How he never slept or even breathed. If you pressed into his skin enough, you could feel a wooden texture beneath the flesh, and his eyes were dull, as if carved from stone.

His teeth twitched as though alive, and his throat would make the oddest noises, such as bark rubbing together or leaves rustling against each other. Sometimes you could find him staring into the forest, his eyes completely blacked out, his body changing and shifting. His arms too long and his legs too short. His hair both shaggy and sleek while long and short. Haunting noises scraping themselves from his throat.

And sometimes you could hear something respond.

After Vil left, you’d go hunting with your mom, seeing the love she put into every kill for you, as you began to eat with her. She forbade you from eating meals with her due to her diet, but seeing how upset you were, she made an exception.

The feeling of raw deer flesh on your tongue as you gnawed on bones to help clean your teeth, feeling blood run down your chin as you shoved your face into the neck of a fresh kill, your mother kneeled over in her true form, chuffing and licking at your back with love. The grime of dried blood and small hairs beneath your nails as you clawed deeper and deeper into the corpse.

You found a beauty in it.

The beauty of life and death; the circle of life, you supposed.

You’d do the same with your dad, him helping you with your magic output. Finding out that you had inherited your mothers instincts with your fathers innate ability to change. Not your signature spell, but a powerful magic nonetheless.

You spent your days inside or with your family as grief at the loss of your friend consumed you.

You regretted not going when you had the chance. You wanted and needed to find a way inside that damned school.

As you cuddled into the warmth of the pile your family had formed on a pile of blankets and pillows under a window that allowed sunlight to stream onto you, you began to form a plan.

Didn’t that designer work there? What was his name…

Divus Crewel?

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍮🍯🍧୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

It hadn’t been hard really, to get in contact with the fashionista, but after a couple emails you finally got one back.

The school year had started by now, so designing for him was more of a pastime right now rather than a job. But that didn’t stop others from making requests. And no matter how punctual he was with his years of experience, there would always be something or someone to throw him off. Having someone to manage a schedule and otherwise would be a large help, and with your rather impressive portfolio, you knew he’d be bound to say yes.

And yes he did say.

You were scheduled to move to NRC in a few days, packing your belongings in a large suitcase. You heard the door open to your room but didn’t move from your packing instead letting your mother walk to you. You closed the suitcase in time the stopthe blood splatter from the large dead bear she dropped to touch your clothes. Finally looking up at her, she had a small smile on her patchwork face.

“Eat.”

That was all she said but you understood. Usually - with you anyway - the hunts were small with deer or bucks, the occasional fox, wolf or small bunny for a snack. But a bear, that was something worth celebrating. Not to say your mother couldn’t catch something larger, but it was the largest thing she caught for you.

It was a parting gift.

You knew that hunting would become a scarce activity and that’d you’d once more need to get acquainted with regular foods, so this was a very welcome gift, as after this it’d be nothing but cooked meats for you, unfortunately.

Your hands easily gripped the flesh through It’s fur, tearing a large chunk off its neck. You ran a hand through the thick coat before tugging, and with a swift pull, nearly all fur came off the chunk.

You brought the bare skin to your mouth, sinking razor sharp teeth into it. You could tell it was fresh, from the mass amounts of blood that spilled down your chin. The disgusting sounds of flesh being chewed could be heard throughout the home as your father walked in, in his hands a box.

You placed your bite down and rubbed your hands on your pants, turning to him. He stepped over, not minding the blood now on his shoes, and crouched dow, placing the box in your lap.

He ran and hand through your hair as you took in the box.

It was white with a large red bow, small black accents patterned across the top.

Gently untying the bow and lifting the top, a butchers set and a makeup set lay before you, in the center a small gemstone mixed with purple and red sat before you. Picking it up you realized what it was.

When practicing your magic, your parents would offer up an old wand or pen, as was customary. You had yet to do anything with your own life, in the sense that you had yet to fly the nest.

And here you were, making your first decision for yourself. One that would lead you away from here.

From them.

A magic gem.

You could feel the power dripping from inside it, pushing into your being and forcibly flowing through your veins. Looking at the knife and makeup brush sets you noted the small indents in parts of their bases. You gently placed the gem in the sharpener - it was the most normal looking compared to the others, looking like a metal wand - and waved it a bit, small sparkles emanating from its tip.

You stared at the duel sets, then gently set the sharpener down, before leaping up and hugging your father. Your mother quickly got up as well, wrapping her much longer arms around you and your father, none of you minding the blood staining your clothes.

Tomorrow was a new day.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🎂🍭🍡୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

“Glad to see you made it in one piece.”

You stood before Divus Crewel, sciences teacher of Night Raven College and fashion designer. Together in the hall of mirrors, he motioned you forward and began to walk to another mirror, to what you only could assume were the teachers housing.

Dragging behind you were multiple bags, considering the contract you both came up with required you to be on campus the whole time you were employed during the school year, if only to keep you close. The black and white man apparently much more preferred face to face meetings over calls and e-mails.

Divus looked back at you. You had at least five large suitcases and a slew of smaller bags, but were carrying them with ease. By now you had both stepped through the mirror towards his current home and were simply walking the trail to the building, but you were keeping up with his brisk pace with no problem.

He’d be a fool to say he hadn’t heard of you. Just like all the models he worked with, your name was all over the high world of acolytes. You had clients in every circle, and not one of them was dissatisfied. One of the youngest in the business, at only eighteen, Divus would’ve expected you to be a bit ‘shaky on your legs’ so to speak, but you held yourself up high, no signs of stopping or of any fatigue.

Such an interesting boy you are…

“I meant to ask before, but what made you so eager to ask for this role?” Crewl was many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. He knew Vil had just recently came to NRC, leaving you without your biggest star. So to reach out to Crewl just a few weeks later, he had a feeling he knew why you were here. But he wanted to see if you’d admit it.

“I had recently seen your work. And after… ‘loosing’ Vil, a lot of my work time has dropped. I needed to be busy again, after my few weeks of down time. I hope you understand, fashion is a bit out of my expertise, but I figured it’d be a fun new experience.”

Crewl opened the door to the rather large mansion-like building, guiding you down hall after hall, you immediately making note of every twist and turn as the salt and pepper haired man showed you to what you assumed would be your room for the rest of the school year.

“I see… well, these will be your living quarters till the end of our current contract. I will leave you to get situated for tonight and will show you around the school tomorrow. This weekend will be spent showing you around the rest of this building and fully ironing out your role and duties under me, understood?” You nodded.

“Good pup. Have a good night.” You stared at the back of his head as he walked out of the room and closed the door. You immediately looked around the room taking it in.

It was large, much larger than your own back home. High walls with near ceiling to floor length windows surrounded you, the walls painted in grays and black with hints of purples and golds.

A tribute to the Headmaster of this place, you assumed.

Your new Alaskan king sized canopy bed sat in a corner with sheets that matched to walls, the only other furniture being a desk with a chair, a nightstand, and a dresser. You sighed, knowing your pockets were about to be drained in order to personalize the room.

You walked over to a door, opening it to find the largest walk-in closet - next to Vil’s - you’d ever seen. The damn thing even had a couple levels.

Then you checked the bathroom, which had a glass shower with far too many buttons levers, a quite large and wide clawfoot bathtub, a large vanity with two sinks - why would you ever need two??? - and a towel closet that, again, was much to large for its intended purpose.

Though curiously, in the back of the towel closet, was a magic imbued safe. Quickly figuring out that it responded to a spell of the users choice, you choose a spell of Wendigo nature and unlocked it, walking back to the main room and taking out both sets of “wands” your father gave you. You removed the sharpener from the box and took the others back into the bathroom, quickly pushing them into the safe and locking it back up.

Now, it was time for a room makeover… or the best you could right now, anyway.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍪🍦🍯୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

The last of your clothes are placed into the closet and sighed. All unpacked, all that was left was actually giving the room a makeover, you were just stuck between actually putting in some elbow grease and doing it yourself, or just magicing - is that a word? - the room and being done with it.

As you pondered, you glanced out the window, noting the moon was starting to rise, sky dark and shining with stars. At that same moment, your stomach growled. You huffed and walked over to the window, staring out at the back of the building, noticing in a forest behind it. In fact, you now recalled that a forest surrounded the damn thing.

How… convenient.

You grabbed your wand and threw on a pair of boots and an over coat that was already painted a deep crimson, as well as a small satchel, and stalked out the door, humming quietly to yourself.

You snuck through halls, hypersensitive to any boards that seemed a little too loose for your liking. You leapt over railing and fell to the first floor, opening the front door silently and closing it behind you. Your nail grew into a point, and you entered it to the lock, locking the door back into place. Then, you took off into the night, rushing through trees.

You dropped to all fours and ran faster, taking in the night air.

You heard your limbs snap as your form changed, long and jagged antlers protruding from your head as the skin melted off your face. Your limbs lengthened and your legs became unguligrade, bones cracking and rebuilding themselves. Your awkward run became a strong gallop, your body thinning until your ribs pushed through your skin and spine protruding from your back.

You sniffed the air, taking in the scents of different animals that desperately ran from you already, your presence already disrupting the peace of the forest simply by being there.

… a little doe was nearby.

Your head snapped in her direction. Skin that was still rotting off you flying off from the sheer force of your head. You leaned low, head nearly touching the floor of the forest, stalking towards her direction.

Your breathing was shallow, antlers lightly scraping the branches above you. Slowly, the doe came into view, lightly munching away on grass and flowers in the moonlight. Tan fur flowed in the wind, ears twitching and nose sniffing.

She was beautiful.

When you came into the clearing, her head perked up immediately, looking at you. You huffed and stayed low, tail wagging behind you in wait. She stared for a moment longer before quietly diving back down into her meal. If you had lips, you would’ve smiled.

You continued to crawl forward, the doe no longer caring about your being there, caring only for the flowers she feasted on. You finally came to a point where she was only a few feet away, her scent searing into your nose, making your already shallow breathing harder.

You stalled, letting the wind brush through your fur, before you strike. And the moment came.

You leapt from the ground, jaw crunching around her neck before she could make a noise. Blood licked your nostrils, splattering across your form as the sickening snap of her neck resounded through the forest.

Without hesitation you marred her pure flesh with your tainted teeth. You tore through her skin to the meat, biting down on her shoulder. You shredded the muscle, chewing till bone then working your way down till nothing but the guts remained, to which you began to shift back.

Your body was still covered in the sticky blood. You made sure all your clothes shifted with you, counting the layers in your head. With a nod you whipped out your wand and whispered a spell, the remaining guts and bone bunching themselves together. With the small satchel in hand, you scooped up the remains and began the trek back to the house, moon hanging in the sky, the only witness to your brutality.

You went the way you came once entering the establishment, steps light and airy. You made it to your room in record time, waltzing into the bathroom and hiding your cloak and boots in the back, near the safe. You removed the pouch from a pocket and set on the sink as you washed up, a quick shower rising you of your sin. You and the pouch made your way into the bedroom and the pouch made its way into a small drawer in your nightstand, a chilling spell placed over it as you snuggled up in the side sheet, satin pajamas hugging your figure.

It was only a few hours you slept, rising when the suns rays had just barely touched the surface of the world. You rose with no hesitation, wide awake almost immediately. You rushed to the bathroom and began your morning ritual, having picked up some tips from Vil as the years went by. Face creams and masks, makeup of all types. You’d gotten so good that you knew you could rush with no restraint.

You had more than enough time before school started, hell, you knew you were most likely one of the only people awake. But it was for a purpose.

You needed to be on the good side of the teachers above all.

You may have only been employed with Crewl, but throughout your day, you mostly only be speaking and seeing the teachers. Rushing to your drawer - without changing. There was no need right now - you took out what was left of the doe. You slipped on some fuzzy slippers and rushed down the halls, again, missing all creaky floorboards and sniffing the air, following the smell of herbs and coffee in the mansion.

You made it to the kitchen without trouble, opening the pouch and feeling around in the pouch, removing the intestines.

Sausage was on the menu this morning. You hoped no one was a vegan.

It was easy to begin cooking. Vil loved your cooking. No one could do it right like you, he constantly said. Once more, you were fast and effective, starting the coffee maker. You also started some eggs and hash browns, biscuits and chopping fruit.

You multitasked, buttering the biscuits and flipping eggs, making both sunny side up - a personal favorite for you - and scrambled. As you took the hash browns out, you heard shuffling behind you, as well as the meowing of a cat.

… Can cats eat sausage?

You turned around and met the gaze of an older man with greying hair and a black cat around his shoulders.

Mozus Trein… and his cat, Lucius.

“I assume you are Crewl’s new assistant?” Short sweet and strait to the point. You simply nodded, taking the fresh made sausage out the pan and letting it cool off to the side. With a step, you took the cup you placed from under the coffee machine, turning back to him.

“Do you like anything in your coffee? Or do you prefer it black? Or, would you prefer anything else?” Lucius jumped off from the older man’s shoulders onto the island counter, him taking a seat and crossing his legs. You noted he was fully dressed for the day, despite it barely being six am.

“Milk and two sugars, thank you.” He hummed. The glanced away before turning back. “And would you mind grabbing the paper? We get it delivered, should be at the door by now.” You nodded and took off, not looking back.

Now that it was light out, you took your time to examine the halls a bit more thoroughly. Paintings lined the walls, each of different landscapes that painted the world of Twisted Wonderland.

The most prominent being - of course - the seven lands in which The Great Seven all hail from.

The Queendom of Roses, Sunset Savana, the Coral Sea, the Scalding Sands, Briar Valley, and others.

Each portrait was lifelike. Each snowflake glinting back at you and each thorn looking as though you’d cut yourself if you poked at it. You could see each individual grain of sand and scale on a fish. It was impressive.

Finally making it to the front once more, you were met with a man who was getting ready to head out. He had dreads and was wearing something akin to a suit, though a waiter’s apron was tired to his waist. You had come from behind, so hearing you he turned, and you also saw he had white paint streaked across his skin.

“Now, who may you be?” He asked, you staring becoming blatant. Your eyes didn’t move from analyzing him, grunting. After another moment of silence and the man seemingly starting to sweat, you hummed, moving to the front door and throwing it open. You quietly picked up the newspaper and turned back to him.

“Crewl’s new assistant, (Y/n).” Was all you said, though you kept staring. After another moment of silence, he seemed to note that you were waiting for him to introduce himself.

“Well then uh… names Sam. I run Mr. S’s Mystery Shop. Pop by if you’re in the need for anything..?” He drew off as he watched you walk away, back in the direction of the kitchen.

“What a weird kid…”

Your steps once more echoed in the halls as you re-entered the kitchen, seeing that Mozus had helped himself and served himself up a plate. Before you could announce yourself, however, a large hand clapped itself on your back, making you stumble forward.

Without a word, you fell face first onto the floor, newspaper still in hand.

Still, quiet silence followed.

“Uh… you okay, kid?” Your grunted, still lying on the floor. A hand, the same one you guessed, grabbed you by the scruff of your sleep shirt and yanked you upward, you still like a kitten. When you were dropped back onto your feet, you turned and found the PE teacher, Ashton Vargas.

You nodded at him before he could speak and wondered over to Mozus, who was watching the whole interaction with little care. You gently placed the newspaper in front of him and he thanked you with a nod, Lucius meowing at you.

You then faced Ashton, holding a hand out. He grasped it and squeezed - though you’re sure it was unintentional - and shook it with vigor.

“Sorry ‘bout that! Ashton Vargas, PE teacher here at Night Raven. You?” You nodded in kind.

“(Y/n), Crewl’s new assistant. Pleasure.” Your face remained blank through the interaction, gaze breaking for a moment only to look at the breakfast you’d prepared, then looking back at the rather built man.

“I’ve prepared a breakfast if you-“ “I’m good, thank you.” Your eyebrow raised in question and the man laughed, making Mozus groan.

“I already ate about… twelve-dozen eggs this morning during my pre-school work out!” Your eye twitched at the thought. Due to your biology, you could ingest raw egg no problem, but to eat twenty-four strait raw eggs just sounds… you couldn’t do it. So instead, you simply nodded and walked over to the food, grabbing a bit of everything before looking back at the two.

“Where is Mr. Crewl’s room?” Ashton blinked before nodding towards the door.

“Just down the hall, he’s closest to the kitchen actually. Shocked he ain’t out here yet honestly.” You nodded and made your way out of the kitchen, walking steadily down the hall, balancing the plate on one hand.

Walking down the hall, you kept an eye out for the correct door. You didn’t want to open a closet or anything. But suddenly, someone crashed into you. Crewel fell from the impact, your form still standing strong with the plate of food unmoving.

“Where were you?!? I’ve been searching for ten minutes now!! Come come, time is waisting and I still have to put you in uniform.” You tilted your head as Crewel stood back up, walked behind you and began to push you to what you could only assume was his room.

“Uniform?” You questioned. Crewel sighed, but smirked as well. “Yes uniform. A little something a threw into our contract at the very end. You don’t mind, do you?” You grunted. Should’ve seen something akin to this coming, you supposed, but you couldn’t loose this. You hadn’t even seen Vil yet.

“Fine.” “Good, now, come along.” And off you both went, to gain your new uniform.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍩🍮🍨୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

The uniform wasn’t too bad. A fluffy tailcoat - with coat tails, not real ones - that went to the backs of your knees, a vest that was the reverse of his in terms of color, black dress pants and black dress shoes. You looked nice, in your own opinion at least.

As you looked yourself over in the mirror, Crewel sat at his desk, munching away on the breakfast you made.

“This is pretty good...” He mumbled as he watched you twirl in the mirror, taking in every part of your new outfit. He hummed, placing his fork down and grabbing his teacher pointer and standing.

“Come on, let’s not waste anymore time. I’ll give you a quick rundown of some things I’ll need you to do at the school, but as I said, we will fully go over your duties during the weekend. Understood?” You nodded and walked out with him, patting your body and sighing when you felt your ‘wand’ in your picket.

And off you both went. Walking the trail towards the gate that would lead to NRC.

To your new life for the next couple of months, maybe even years.

Something inside you, your heart perhaps, beat rapidly at the thought of seeing Vil again, even if just for a class period. You were… excited?

Yes, excited.

It was time to begin. To get your Vil back.

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : Nah I gotta split this motherfucker up because what in the hell-

I’m so fucking tied but I wanna continue this but it’s already so fucking long- eh I’ll finish it later have this-

Love you guys <3

#vil shoenheit x reader #vil x reader #vil schoenheit #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #x reader #yandere reader #male reader #x male reader

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ketterdamskaelishprince · 6 months

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theo stop scaring the students (idk if this is even possible)

ok so in regards to this post i made yesterday i thought i would just like add to it.

going to once again state i literally have no clue what i'm talking about everything i talk about i say with like 99.999% uncertainty and i'm always open to being wrong and having conversations about characters and stuff like that's my JAM.

anyways, i have only two real possible like things to back me up on this:

the fact that it looks like a dear skull. in the comics we learn that theo loved to hunt and he would often bring home venison for lenore and it ends up being her deathwish meal. i also looked up a deer skull for this and guys as somebody who hates bones i did this for you all

i want to say the picture below looks like it's horse hair that's overgrown, or i want to say it's like bits of bark from a tree. either support my idea.

see the way that looks makes me immediately think of the way he died. since we all know he died by basically having a tree fall on him in a storm.

my only question is how did he get out here? because, being honest and this will not be poetic in the slightest, bro looks a bit deranged. and we know that theo, when he was at nevermore, was the top student.

which then just makes me wonder if he went rogue/he did something that fucked up his place in the spotlight and he was booted out and look he's here. i suggest all of these things not out of thinking i'm correct but because i literally have no clue.

with episode 100 coming out literally tomorrow, this could be the dumbest thing i've ever posted because i could have my theory shot down immediately. and if it is, i'm going to laugh. and if it isn't– i might just like, i dunno, crawl into the fetal position and wonder how i was correct.

i never get things like this right.

#theo nevermore #theo stop scaring your sister!!#nevermore webtoon #nevermore webcomic #nevermore #lenore collect your brother he's doing his cosplay dead deer stuff again #is this why he chases them down #“dear sister of mine!” and it's just random growls #best family reunion ever #ex wife and brother meet irl!

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rozyrne · 6 months

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𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐑 !

rivalries are put aside, and camaraderie takes their place. and for the golden deer, pulling neck and neck with the eagles and lions despite having the fewest contestants in the ring is all the reason to celebrate! or so rosado and hortensia thought. at the post-tournament grand banquet, the elusian pair have set up a golden deer corner, complete with yellow and cervid decor and drapery, and both hosts arrayed in house colors and face paint. "three cheers for knoll! three cheers for hilda! three cheers for eliwood!" "fear the deer!" a celebration lifting up the class heroes who'd carried them from underdog into the spotlight, and for all the deer who cleared the way valiantly to let them get there: —hip-hip hooray!

FOOD & DRINK:

— CUPCAKE DECORATING ╱ from yellow-sugar icing to pretzel antlers to cookie toppings shaped like deer, there's no shortage of supplies to make your cupcakes look any which way you want.

— CARAMEL MERINGUES ╱ a triple layer of chocolate and caramel in glass containers, tied off with a bit of string attached to a spoon. perfect to grab and take with you, or feed to a loved one.

— DOE POPS ╱ cake pops shaped like deer heads! and something sticking out of each one. a paper fortune? what does yours say?

— GOLDEN SPICE CIDER ╱ a warm and buzzy autumnal drink, perfect for the season and sure to banish any chills. both alcoholic and non-alcoholic varieties available.

— CROUCHING CHOCOLATE, HIDDEN STAG ╱ a culinary minigame? a table is arranged with a terrarium-like miniature woodland display, complete with moss, trees, golden deer flags, and a herd of deer themselves. one item in this display is made of chocolate. how many things are you willing to bite to find which one it is?

ARTS & CRAFTS:

— THIRTY-POINT CROWN ╱ craft your own glorious headpiece with paint, twigs, and twine to show off your deer pride! who can boast the most impressive rack? ( of antlers, duh. what were you thinking? )

— WOOD CARVING ╱ for the dexterous and crafts-minded, a setup with display and instructions to carve your own wooden deer to take home. organizers are not responsible for injuries.

— DEERLY BELOVED ╱ a stack of deer-shaped paper and pens greet you. "write a compliment and stick it onto its recipient!" the instructions say. if you're fast, maybe they won't even know it's you.

— READY-TO-PAINT CERAMICS ╱ a station of unfired bowls and plates and small vases invites you to decorate them however you want! several stencils are provided for the uninitiated, or you can go where your hart takes you.

— DECORATE A FRIEND ╱ from washable paint to stick-on sequins, glitter bombs and pinnable deer tails. find a willing victim to array in deer spirit — or make one.

GAMES:

— FÓDLAN CHESS ╱ a traditional strategy board game using a triangle-shaped board that can be played by two to three people. the objective is to be the first to move all your pieces to one of the other corners by jumping over your opponents' pieces. are you up for the competition?

— LIMBO ╱ everyone knows that being a deer isn't just about strength or smarts, but flexibility. challenge mode: wear an antler crown while playing, and don't let it fall off your head!

— ANTLER TOSS ╱ you have five tries to land as many rings on the tines as you can for a prize. if a friend is willing, they can wear the antlers on their head for you to aim at instead!

— DEER PONG ╱ the classic party game, with alcoholic and non-alcoholic versions. some say that the non-alcoholic one misses the point of the challenge, but at least it lets everyone play, right?

— HEADLOCK ╱ in a classic show of strength, stamina, and bravado, it's time to wrestle like the stags do! put on a headdress of real oaken antlers ( not light, that ) and lock heads with your opponent to throw them to the ground! no use of other body parts or implements allowed.

GUIDELINES:

reblog this ask meme to indicate that your muse is participating! anyone who's reblogged the meme is automatically accepting asks, so no need to double-check. 　

please be mindful of not only waiting for interactions to come to you, but try to be proactive about sending to others too. it's not quite polite to always expect others to do the work! 　

muses from any house are welcome! it's a celebration meant for everyone. 　

this is still narratively part of BOEL, but to keep things separate from the BOEL tags, you may use the tag #GDPride2024 for related posts if you wish!

#GDPride2024 #a little smth smth for boel celebrations!#as stated anyone is welcome to come have fun not just deer folks :softsmile:#consider this as rosado's reblog for participation #tho he'll also be helping to run the stand kjslksg

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songoftrillium · 1 year

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NPC Spotlight: Burned Hide

art credit @morggo licensed to use with permission

CW: Animal death, fire, scars, generational trauma beneath the read-more link.

Wolf-Born, Galliard, Athro Older Brother, Master of the Rite

One day, Ape was sitting on the back of a horse, and stopped at the foot of Dume’fa. Ape doesn't know whether to go around her or try to go over her. One asks a nearby wolf, "Wolf. Does she have a rocky face?" And Wolf says that she does. Ape orders the horse onto her face and gets stuck in her logfall and underbrush. Ape shouts to Wolf, "One said she has a rocky face!" And Wolf says, "One did, Ape, all mountains have rocks for faces. Keep sinking and one will find it, this one is certain," And Wolf howls for one’s packmates to gather. — Burned Hide

Despite having had no visible likeness to her kin, she was the direct descendant of Rala Blood-Claw, and the last living descendant of any member of Tawatuy. Born the pup of a lone wolf and her two yearling packmates, her siblings and she had spent their early years catching trout and hunting for grouse, deer, rabbits, and elk in the fall, moving farther into the cascades over winter when the canyons and high desert turned bitter and cold. This had traditionally been the time when Younger Brother roamed into the region along with the Northern Paiute and Yahuskin, though times had changed since then. Her story began with the fall of Gulaka’i. Her grandmother, Aleshanee In-The-Sun, had witnessed numerous other garou begin succumbing to the Bitter Rage. Heeding the warnings of Muskrat, she had worked tirelessly to save as many wolves around Gulaka’i during the Snake War and the war of Rogue River as she could. She had eventually been taken by a Bitter Rage in her attempts to save more tribe members. Her once sweet, playful nature had been reduced to a frothing spittle in 1867. She was survived by her kin-pack, which had lived in the canyons just south of what is now Valley Falls, many miles away from Dead Mountain. When those wolves roamed too close to the cattle ranchers near Paisley, many ate poisoned meat and died painful deaths. A pack of yearlings had dined on grouse earlier that morning and had not gone on the hunt, sparing their lives. Those surviving wolves formed a pack with a number of coyotes; and in the spring of 1899, Burned-Hide was born.

In 1900, Burned Hide's first change, and the first time she'd channel Rala Blood-Claw, occurred simultaneously. A fire had broken out that raged out of control through the canyon and reached the top of the plateau, destroying 75 homes in Lakeview. When the ash began raining down, she tried to locate her pack. Overcoming her own fear, she let her human mind take over, and ran into the fire. The only thing on her mind had been her family and their safety. She ran across hot coals, and through flame, scalding her paws and igniting her fur. Charred, and choking on smoke, she located them sheltering beneath an overturned boulder.

The smoke was too much and she collapsed. That’s when Rala and she had a whispered communion in a language she was surprised to understand. In their first communion, Rala egged her to her feet, and whispered to her what happened to her Grandmother. To their family’s family, and their families. Rala held out the words and lives of the wolves that came before them, and the wolf, breathless and forgetting her pain, reached out with her heart and caught it in her teeth.

The wolf transformed into her hispo form, and feeling her breath returning to her, led her family to safety. Even with her newer, stronger wolf form, she nearly succumbed to the heat and the smoke, had she not seen a family of muskrats fleeing northwards. She had followed them, fighting against all wolf instincts and fording the creek all the way to Thaervarmet. Despite wincing when she stretched her scars wrong, they had only served to add to the beauty of her heart, and year after year, she ran with the wolves. In her own words, the scars were marks of pride that showed her family just what they meant to her. Her life as a garou was one that saw her be one of few wolf-born to live to old age. Her springs were spent with her kin back home in the canyons where she was born. Among the creatures found there, they include 11 mexican gray wolves, 7 coywolves, and 10 coyotes all coalesced into an informal family of sorts, all hunting together with multiple kin leading.

Attributes: Strength 3, Dexterity 4, Stamina 3, Charisma 5, Manipulation 3, Composure 2, Intelligence: 3, Wits: 4, Resolve 4 Abilities: Alertness 3, Assbeating 2, Athletics 3, Brawl 3, Empathy 4, Expression 5, Intimidation 2, Primal-Urge 3, Subterfuge 2, Animal Ken 4, Leadership 4, Melee 2, Performance 3, Stealth 2, Survival 3, Enigmas 2, Forestry 3, Investigation 2, Linguistics 3, Medicine 1, Nation Lore 5, Occult 4, Politics 3, Rituals 4 Gifts: Prey Mind, Beast Speech, Master of Fire, Uncloak the Hidden, Coyote Howl, Scent of Sight, Oaksong, Lore of the Land, Hand of the Earth Lords, Spirit’s Horse, Whisper in the Dark, Catfeet, Distractions, Song of Heroes Rage: 4 Gnosis: 9(3) Willpower: 6 Fluster: 2

Backgrounds: Animism 5 (Champion), Patron 12 (Muskrat 7, Dume’fa 5), Kinfolk 3, Allies 3

Rites: Any Needed Maneuvers: Evasion

Equipment: Medicine bag, Awakened Tarweed Seeds, Awakened Juniper Berries, Awakened Trillium Seeds

Appearance: True to her name, Burned Hide is heavily disfigured, with the majority of her body a lattice patchwork of only partially-healed burn scars covering over 75% of her body. This include some of her eyes, which appears to be blind,doesn’t focus and is constantly weeping tears. Despite this, the shaggy cheek tufts and leaner build present her as a Mexican Gray Wolf, bearing no resemblance to her historic relation. Her expressive eyes are the color of dark juniper bark. Despite her scars, the way she carries herself gives her a sort of Wyld quality that is strangely beautiful, and all conducted beneath a veneer of self-control that belies her passion for expression.

Roleplay Tips: You are bold and unapologetically passionate. You carry the weight of Tawatuy on your shoulders and love in your heart, and become irritable when you’re not feeling heard. Your frequent communion with Rala has instilled in you a deeply-critical view of leadership, and there have been numerous times where you have handed the wheel over to Rala Blood-Claw herself, in a manner of speaking, unleashing a rancorous warrior when you do. You believe she was the true voice of reason in the face of Voruk’ny’ket, and you being the sole descendant of Tawatuy are living proof of that. Your duties to Gulaka’i that pull you away from here are also one of your biggest fears; that you won't be able to keep this family safe. You would give your life to save Gulaka’i, but only if you know your family will be saved. When near the hearts of septs, or in late spring, you are always shaking your head, for all the butterflies that land on your face drink your tears away. Your hidden strength is your Animism. The ability to channel and use up to 5 dice will grant you a base dice pool of 11 in homid form. This could have you, true to Rala Blood-Claw’s form, go toe to toe with Legends and hold her own. That hidden power gives you confidence, despite being small and 76 years old. You’d be a legend in your own right, did you not have Rala’s habit of mouthing off to whoever is in charge.

#world of darkness #werewolf: the apocalypse #dead mountain #werewolf the apocalypse #werewolves #older brother #garou tribes #npc bios

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lanitalay · 10 months

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In the Woods Somewhere

Lucien x reader

A/n: I am a Hozier girly and this song just screams Lucien to me. Enjoy.

Warnings: angst

Word count: 1.1k

When I awoke

The moon still hung

The night so black that the darkness hummed

A gasp broke through the delicate quiet of the night. Clutch your chest, heart pounds. Shallow and jagged breathing cloud your ears. It's all you can feel. All you can hear. You don’t know how long it's been since you were unconscious. Or how you ended up in the middle of the woods.

I raised myself

My legs were weak

I prayed my mind be good to me

Calm now, you were calm. Check for wounds. Assess the situation. Feel around for your weapon. Find the dagger next on the ground. Sticky blood coating the blade. Slowly stand, try to avoid rustling any leaves. Feel trapped. Caged in by the walls of darkness, the moon a spotlight on your worst nightmare. They were getting closer, closing. The darkness now comes from above as a dense cloud blocks the moonlight. A coffin. The forest would be your final resting place. It was fair, you thought. The forest provides life but it also takes it. Eats up everything within, eventually. You feel wiggling underneath and over your feet. Worms.

An awful noise

Filled the air

I heard a scream in the woods somewhere

He had heard the scream and ran towards it. These were his woods, his forest. But they were also his brother’s. His father’s. The scream reminded him of nights spent being flogged, blood splattered on maple trees and sadistic, power hungry laughter. So he ran, dodging trees and boulders and low branches from memory. He and the forest were one and the same, an extension of one another.

A fox it was

He shook, afraid

I spoke no words, no sound he made

Dagger points in the direction of the rustling. The sound of crunching leaves nearing you by the second. You took a defensive position and hoped it was an animal. The noise stopped as quickly as it started. The lid from your casket lifted and the moon soaked the male face in front of you.

He raises his hands “I mean you no harm”, he says in a low voice. The dagger stays in place “where am I?”

“This is the Hickory Groves”

“What’s your name?”

“Lucien”. Vanserra. He didn’t have to say it and you knew enough of the High Lord’s heirs to know you were in danger. Killing him was not an option. Running would make it a chase. So you standstill. Knife pointed at his heart.

“I mean you no harm” he repeats, low, gentle.

The Hickory Groves… the part of autumn that borders Spring. Where females of all ages get discarded by their families, elders or, in your case, lover. The top of the coffin gets brought down again. You gulp. Foxes like to play with their food. If he was here it was for no good reason.

A small flame appears from one of his raised hands and you can see him again, more clearly now. He was handsome. At least you’d die at the hand of a pretty bastard. A miniscule mercy. His claws and fangs more preferable than the other creatures that stalk these woods.

I saw new eyes were watching me

The creature lunged

I turned and ran

To save a life I didn't have

Lucien remained still. You had not moved an inch in what felt like an age. Slow, calculating steps circled you. He extinguished the flame. You had seen enough. When the steps sounded like they were right behind him you turned and ran as fast as you could in the opposite direction. Leaving Lucien in between you and the creature.

Deer in the chase

There as I flew

Forgot all prayers of joining you

As you ran you heard the sound of a struggle. The thud of a fallen body. Then more steps racing. You zig zag and try to lose the hunter. The first rays of sun guide you towards the edge of the forest. You run and run and promise yourself that when you reach the valley whatever is following you will disappear. A pathetic wish of a desperate girl. But when you see more rays, the sky littered in pink and peach hues you run faster. The valley looks endless, mist coats the furry hills, green leaves fade to red in the distance. The steps had ceased, you notice but half way through a sigh of relief a towering figure appears next to you. Your heart stops.

“You’re a fast runner”

“I thought you dropped dead”

“That was not me, to the dismay of some”

“What is a lordling doing in the Grove of Rejects?” He snorts at the question “Is that what you call this place?” You shrug “everyone in my village knows that if you want to get rid of someone you send them here”.

“You were sent here?”

“Scrapped is more like it”

“By who?”

“Curious? I think it was a male from my village. He thought me too poor to marry but good enough to bed”

“Why bring you here?”

“I have a bit of a reputation for having a… temper. He must not want to face my wrath. Not that he had anything to worry about, I thought him too much of a brute to marry. Now though… I’ll gut him for this”

I clutched my life

And wished it kept

My dearest love, I'm not done yet

Warm skin presses against your back and drapes across your waist.

“What did you think of me when we first met?”

“I was sure you wanted to kill me”

“You were the one with the knife”

“You were chasing me”

“I’m still chasing you”

“You have me”

“Do I really?” You tense. Lucien had taken it upon himself to deal with the male that dropped you in the middle of the woods that day. Ever since he had visited you under the guise of a routine check up on one of the more isolated villages of the Autumn Court.

He visited frequently enough that you became friendly. He stayed late enough that you became intimate.

Turn to face him. Graze his cheek with the palm of your hand and savor the warmth that radiates within his caramel skin. Raw eyes pierce your own. He wants you. He wants this and he wants more.

“A bride of Autumn has no happy life” he knew it. He saw his mother cry.

“We could leave it all behind” you place a shaky finger on his swollen lips.

“One day, my love, but not today”

How many years

I know I'll bear

I found something in the woods somewhere

#acowar #acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acofas #acotar fanfiction #jurian acotar #lucien vanserra #acomaf #acosf #lucien acotar #lucien #a court of thorns and roses #feyre archeron #azriel #rhysand #acotar fanart #autumn court #autumn #hozier

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dogmotifz · 6 months

Note

hello! what would you say your favorite movies are?

off the top of my head.... ravenous, doubt 2008, spotlight, his house 2020, the killing of a sacred deer, stoker 2013, us 2019

#if you're going to watch anything off this list PLEASE watch his house it's so underrated #its about a sudanese refugee family that moves into a house haunted by the child they lost crossing the mediterranean #one of the most gut wrenching things I've ever seen

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shapeshiftersvt · 6 months

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Cryptid Collection Spotlight: The Jackalope

We're going to be spending this week infodumping about the six cryptids we chose to feature in our Cryptid Collection! We'll be posting about the lore and origins, our thoughts, experiences, and relationships with all of these cryptids, and we encourage folks to share their own!

Today we're talking about the Goncharov of cryptids, the Jackalope!

👣The Cryptid Collection 🐇Jackalope Travel Poster 👥Cryptid Binders & Sportsbras 🧵Cryptid fabric designs

Myths, legends, and tales of horned rabbits or hares have existed throughout human history and across the globe, from Central America to 13th century Persia and throughout Europe.

But we're not here to talk about those. We're here to talk about the Goncharov of cryptids, the Jackalope.

The lore of the Jackalope is particularly fun because it's a centuries-long exercise in collective storytelling. It's hard to say what the first stories were and where they originated, which is unusual with US cryptids. Even if the veracity of the reports and photos is in question, we do generally know where and when sightings of other cryptids happened, with documented newspaper articles, police reports, and the like. They detail what happened and what the cryptid looked like and where exactly they were spotted.

But instead of dates and locations and detailed descriptions of encounters, what we have for the Jackalope are lists traits, mostly unrelated, all layered on top of each other, each more outlandish than the last. It's easy to see the ways the lore of the Jackalope was told and built upon over and over — a collective folklore invented by anyone inspired to add to it and enthusiastically encouraged and welcomed by the rest.

The Jackalope is a hare, indistinguishable from a normal hare (also sometimes called a jackrabbit) except save for the pair of antelope-like antlers growing from its head — hence the name, Jackalope (not to be confused with the antelope jackrabbit, which is just a normal hare native to Arizona and Mexico). It's a fearsome antagonist of hunters, who have to include stovepipes in their regular hunting gear to wear as leg armor or risk being gored by the vicious Jackalope's horns. But a hunter can leave out some whiskey at night, preferably during a full moon, and wait for the Jackalope to chug it down and they'll have no problem hunting that wily, but now drunk, Jackalope. Which, of course, when cooked tastes quite similar to lobster. When cowboys would sit out in the desert singing songs around the campfire, the Jackalope would sing back to them, mimicking their voices. Or maybe it would sing along, always taking the tenor harmony. Maybe it only did that when there also happened to be a lightning storm. Because, of course, the Jackalope has an affinity for lightning storms, since it can only breed within the microseconds of a lightning flash.

The crowning glory of collective meme of the Jackalope, though, was the brainchild of two brothers, Douglas and Ralph Herrick, in Douglas, Wyoming. According to Ralph, the two returned from a hunting trip in 1932 having bagged, among other things, a jackrabbit which they tossed haphazardly into their taxidermy shop. It landed amongst some deer antlers and Douglas was struck with inspiration. They attached the antlers to the jackrabbit's head, mounted it in the style of a hunting trophy, and sold their newly minted Jackalope for $10 (around $214 today) to the owner of a local hotel who displayed it in the lobby.

That first Jackalope head started a whole Jackalope taxidermy business for the Herricks, which eventually exploded into a modern day Jackalope industry. Books have been written, adding to the meme with winks and nods back to the Herricks and Douglas, WY. In fact both the town of Douglas and the greater Wyoming have enthusiastically taken up the adopted and added to the lore. You can find informative articles about the Jackalope on official government websites. Stores in Douglas sell Jackalope milk. And the local Chamber of Commerce issues Jackalope hunting licenses, which permits the bearer to go Jackalope hunting on June 31st, between midnight and 2:00 AM, but only provided the hunter has an IQ between 50 and 72.

Of course when you read anything about the Jackalope, you'll inevitably see something about Shope papilloma virus. Because even when the meme is obviously a meme, there will always be someone who wants to try to explain what it "really" is.

But we don't think the Jackalope really needs explaining. The Jackalope is the manifestation of the human desire to connect and make a Weird Little Guy and tell each other stories about it.

#jackalope #cryptids #cryptozoology #wyoming #shapeshifters #the cryptid collection

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milkywaybottles · 2 years

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Terzo (Papa III) x Skittish gn!reader s/o Headcanons!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

To the anon who sent this in, I AM SO SORRY FOR LOSING YOUR REQUEST. I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED IT BUT I SWEAR, I PROMISE YOU THAT I LOVED YOUR REQUEST. I got it out just in time for Halloween.

Thank you for sending it in, love xx

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Terzo x Skittish gn!reader s/o Headcanons!

Initially, Terzo enjoyed messing with people. He loved to scare them, surprise them, muster any reaction he could from them and laugh while doing so, especially as a mischievous teenager. He was desperate to pull the spotlight onto him as the youngest Emeritus.

He would run rampant around the cloisters, pulling habits off of heads and jumping from pillars with his hands extended. A shriek would echo off the marble walls, often sending a hasty Sister Imperator to reprimand him with a stern gaze.

Many of the partners he had in the past, not necessarily romantic, but sexual, had always been rather coy but still confident enough to the point where he never had to reassure them. In many ways, looking back, it made him question whether they were real relationships or not.

When you came along, you rocked his world. To put it plainly, you forced him to rethink the way he approached his relationships.

(Slight Story Headcanons)

After a handful of months of being in a committed partnership with one another, Halloween was quickly approaching and many of the Ghouls had brainstormed the idea to go to a haunted house at one of the Autumn markets. Terzo had been dismissive about the idea but eventually agreed to join as long as you went with him.

The idea racked your brain for days, causing you to nervously fumble at random times. Doing your best to internalise your anxiety, you put on a brave face and pretended to be excited about the daunting prospect.

When Dew, who was particularly thrilled about the idea, would bring the topic up, you would often shut him down, insisting on changing the subject, even subconsciously. Though, as soon as the words left your mouth, your face would turn red with embarrassment as you apologised.

It was a common misconception for Terzo to be aloof in nature, but he did notice these things.

Not thinking much of your reaction, he pushed it to the back of his mind as the day approached.

The day itself was a train wreck on your side. The ghouls had been having an amazing time, giggling and racing through the haunted house. As they exited the house and emerged back into the central market, they mocked the childish efforts of the actors. You, on the other hand, stood like a deer in headlights at the door of the house, refusing to move from your fixed spot. Goosebumps were raised on your skin as your mouth was drawn into a wobbly line. Terzo studied you, observing as you clenched your hands until your knuckles turned as pale as your face. While his gaze softened, his gloved hand found its way to your back. "We do not have to go in, bella"

A relieved and grateful sigh left your mouth as you turned back to the group, disappointment hanging over you like a cloud.

Your lover did his very best to cheer you up, offering you cuddles, kisses, hot drinks and fair food to keep you preoccupied. Until, eventually, the thought completely left your otherwise scattered brain.

(End)

He always remembers the signs which send him on high alert whenever you display them. Kicking into overdrive, he hovers over you, offering anything to relieve you of your fear.

He does his best to help you avoid tense situations, and when it is required, Terzo helps you through it, one step at a time.

You are his top priority in making sure you are as comfortable as you can be, especially when the spooky season rolls around the corner.

He scolds the ghouls, warning them that you are easily spooked and that if they played any tricks on you, they would have to respond directly to their Papa.

Terzo developed a method of dealing with your fright and found relaxing ways to take your mind off of anything bothering you. From massages to bubble baths, movie nights to cuddles and kisses, he would give anything to see your worry leave your troubled face.

He is your bravest protector, and while intimidating, is very sweet and concerning when it comes to you <3

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#x reader #the band ghost #ghost #fluff #gender neutral reader #gn s/o #terzo #Terzo x reader #Papa III #Papa III x reader #Oneshot #answering anons #x anxious reader

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worldbeyondzine · 4 months

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our final writer spotlight is Roman!

ID: Digital graphic of a written excerpt on a dark background. The excerpt reads:

All I do is watch helplessly as the deer starts to open its mouth. The teeth are sharper, longer, and more numerous than any other deer I’ve ever seen before. Its jaw keeps stretching, further and further until it looks like its mouth splits open its face. First in two. Then in four. A tongue, thick and wet and hot slithers from the depths of its throat and wraps around the arm. With awful purpose, it slowly drags the man attached. Limbs twist and bones snap as the deer fits him into its mouth. I can hear it greedily slurping and crunching loudly.

To the side of the writing is a pixel icon of a ghostly Victorian man, and a black frame. The frame features an icon of a very minimalist crow represented as just an angular red outline on a black backdrop. Text on the top reads: “empirical-inc.carrd, Roman Greholver, Horror I love: Psychological horror” Bottom text reads: “WorldBeyond.carrd.co, @WorldBeyondZine.”

#horror zine #trans zine #zine contributors #zine spotlight #horror writer #trans writer #transmasc writer #transmasc zine #world beyond zine

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1miine-blog · 4 months

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Enough of my thoughts. Let me create a crappy RadioApple oneshot (It's just me going with the flow. Im really sorry if the povs get confusing)+(It's just Lucifer healing Alastor)

Lucifer grunts as he stares out of the windows of his freshly made apple shaped chambers. He's happy, ofcourse! Charlie is slowly achieving her dreams, and each feat she triumphantly reaches reminds Lucifer of his sweetheart, Lilith, more and more. He's proud of them, and it warms his heart knowing his family loves being a beacon of hope for the dwellers of hell.

So why are his brows furrowed and his face painted with extreme grimace? Well the stupid radio music emanating from the other side of the hotel should explain it.

If Albert wasn't hosting or blasting jazzical music every morning, he'd play fiddle with some obnoxiously loud Television guy who seems to lose every. single. time.

Lucifer scoffs, these two surely are serious about playing a part for the Pride Ring. He can't just leave, because that might upset sweet Char-char.

It was fine, A-Okay, sure! But not exactly when he needs time to be depressed and a mess. He may NOT require sleep, but that doesn't mean he can't desire one! Probably hoping for a permanent one.. Haha... Anyway, Alaska keeps bothering his slumber and it was getting quite unbearable.

He sighs melodramatically before lightly kicking a duck prototype. It makes an adorable squeaking sound, which makes him smile for a small moment.

A loud thumping sound shakens the distracted Lucifer, catching his attention. It came from that annoying deer guy again, the noise was easy to grasp because it echoed through his mic.

Whatever, Lucifer thought, rolling his eyes in dismissal. He has to hang around the lobby with Charlie and the others. The bartender's a good guy with great champagne.

After a while of blocking away outside hubbubs to have a peaceful makeover, Lucifer finally places his iconic top hat on, touching up some strands of hair for the finished look. He grabs his cane and closes the door behind him for good.

Lucifer has a specific aura to him that reminds anyone his authority, of course it's because of his overwhelming power. But he's pretty silly on top of all that crap.

Just before setting a foot on the stairs, he takes a really really big deep breath. He makes an awfully forced smile that definitely took all of his might to muster.

"Haha! You, sir, are proving to be the most suitable choice for the 'dud' birth parent."

'Great, speak of the dear.' Lucifer thought. His eye twitches, but he stands his ground, giving no attention to the man behind him.

Alastor's smile wavers just about, one thing he disliked the most was being thrown out of the spotlight.

"Charlie would be wise to direct you to me, sir. I possess a treasure trove of fatherly wisdom, perfect for your needs." Alastor walks past Lucifer, closing his eyes in viscious mockery.

Lucifer scowls at that, he uses the end of his cane against Alastor's chest to forcefully push him aside.

"You-" Alastor coughs up blood so suddenly, it made Lucifer audibly shout "EUGH!"

"Dad? Is that you?" Charlie's mumbled voice from downstairs, her footsteps began approaching.

Lucifer widens his eyes, everything is happening too fast. But one thing's for sure, this situation is not difficult to misunderstand. He hurriedly picks up Alastor bridal style.

"H-Haha yes, Charlie! Don't wait for me, I'll be right there!" He shouts frantically, sighing in quick relief once the footsteps finally stop.

He runs back to his room and sets the injured Alastor down on his bed, which looks like it got conquered by a bunch of ducks.

Alastor who was immobilized, attempts to use his shadow to leave this terrible situation. But Lucifer simply pulled him out with his own claws.

"I WILL be healing you." Lucifer's voice turns demonic, his face dark, he's wearing a grin that would both piss and scare anyone off.

Alastor's mouth thins into a small line. Still smiling, but his ears are slightly dropped down as he looks back at him.

---

The healing session was pretty lackluster. Alastor was just stiff and silent the entire time. He still had that shit eating grin though.

Lucifer on the other hand, just wants to get this over with. He looks pretty upset.

You can imagine him sitting at the side, palm pressed into Alastor's torso as it illuminates a bright yellow glow. Alastor with his feet dangling on the edge of the bed, barely showing any movement.

Maybe it was peaceful. But who knows for sure.

#radioapple #Idk if I regret this or not #like I was that desperate to avoid thinking that I spent too much time on this (3-4 a.m.)#im so sorry for the crappiness #i did proofread a bit because I have anxiety #but my vocab and grammer aint the best.#settle for worst wheb youre with me #i just love them as a ship ngl.#you could tell I tried as much as I can to NOT make them ooc..#lucifer heals alastor #lucifer heals alastor fic

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tickletorso · 9 months

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Finding the Fun - RSS 2023 Fic

Hello @of-princes-and-savages I am your Secret Santa and damn was this a labor of love! The flu almost stopped me, but I said "not today infectious demon, I have a gift to complete." So without further ado, I hope you enjoy this kinda angsty, mostly fluffy, with just a hint of smut Rumbelle fic.

I will also post it to Ao3, but probably not until tomorrow and I wanted to make sure I got this to you today. So, feel free to read it below....

Summary: Belle and Rumple are settled in Storybrooke with two year-old Gideon. One night, Belle has a mishap and it inspires the couple to try and bring back the fun into their relationship.

Notes: This is a little bit AU, because after Gideon is turned back into a baby, the family stays in Storybrooke instead of traveling realms. So magic exists and all of the characters' history is the same but I’m glossing over the whole “Rumple needs to break his Dark One curse” thing. Also, I researched it and baby deer walk 7 hours after being born. - That’ll make sense when you read it.

Finding the Fun

Well, this wasn’t the oddest position Rumple had ever found Belle in.

There was the time in the Dark Castle when he’d found her perched high up on a ladder tugging on the window curtains trying to let light into the room. He’d been about to chide her, because it was called the dark castle for a reason, but she’d lost her balance and fell right into his arms. There were many other “Belle mishaps” (as he liked to call them) to choose from, but the ladder was his favorite. He’d ended up with his arms full of a beautiful woman, the sun shining down on him like a spotlight and she hadn’t looked at him with repulsion. Instead he saw curiosity and kindness in her bright blue eyes. He didn’t know it then, but that was the beginning of his love for her.

Currently, he was leaning against the doorframe of their son Gideon’s room. The hallway light behind him cast a luminous glow over the scene inside. Belle was fast asleep propped up by the headboard of their two year-old son’s bed. Gideon was cradled in her lap, equally fast asleep, his head resting against her bosom. He could tell even from across the room that Gideon’s breathing was a bit labored, and he could hear the occasional sniffle from what was undoubtedly a stuffy nose.

Ah, Gideon finally caught a cold from one of the other children at daycare. Well it was bound to happen at some point. An autumn chill had recently swept through Storybrooke and with it inevitably came runny noses and germ-laden hands.

But his beautiful wife comforting their son wasn’t the ‘odd’ part of this tableau. It was what she was wearing. Rumple’s eyes trailed up her legs. They were covered in sheer black stockings and just a peek of a garter belt could be seen high up her thigh. He could just make out a pair of matching panties trimmed in scallop lace before Gideon’s little body hid the rest from view. His gaze continued to drift upward to her top. It was a thin and rather ragged sweatshirt with the words Storybrooke Library stamped upon it. It even looked like she’d done her makeup more than usual. Her eyes were darkly lined with a winged effect and her lips were a luscious merlot color.

He tried to bite back a chuckle. Belle had sent him out for a bottle of wine and there had been a wicked gleam in her eyes. It appears Belle’s plans for a seduction had been rudely and quite suddenly interrupted by Gideon’s head-cold.

Rumple gently closed the door and made his way to their bedroom where he was met with more evidence of Belle’s thwarted seduction. Hanging off the side of their bed was a black corset covered in a black scallop lace just matching her panties. The drawers of their dresser were all pulled out with clothing spilling out of them and several items strewn across the floor. The male part of him groaned at the missed opportunity. The rest of him had a good laugh while he cleaned up the room.

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

Belle stumbled down the hallway like a baby deer fresh from the womb. Her legs had fallen asleep while keeping Gideon propped up on her lap. Poor little Gid had woken up crying and panicked because he couldn’t breathe through his nose. He didn’t understand that it was just a cold, and he kept pointing to his nose crying “no no no.” Once she was able to calm him down they’d sat in the bathroom with the shower steaming to help loosen his stuffed sinuses followed by a small dose of cough medicine. He still hadn’t been able to sleep without Belle propping him up making it easier for him to breathe. Thank gods toddlers don’t care what their moms look like as long they’re there, because Belle looked very different than usual.

The house was already dark so it must be late. It was always disorienting leaving Gideon’s room after sleeping with him. It felt like his room existed outside of time and space; the white noise machine, the complete darkness he needed for sleep (he must get it from Rumple), the cozy warmth of his body when he insists on snuggling until he drifts off. It all effectively shuts out the world. So when Belle tiptoes out the door, it always takes her a long time to orient herself to the sounds, the light, and the cold of the real world. She has absolutely no idea what time it is. It could be tomorrow for all she knows.

She makes her way into the kitchen trying to quietly make some tea before she puts herself to bed. The feeling is back in her legs because she definitely felt the chair she just knocked into which, of course, clattered to the floor. The sound echoing throughout the first floor of the house. With a great huff she slouched against the kitchen counter. So much for quiet.

“Well well well. What do we have here?”

Belle jumped with a little shriek turning around to meet the very amused eyes of Rumple.

“Rumple!” She pressed her hand to her heart, “You scared me.”

He shrugged and swaggered towards her pulling her into his arms. He was dressed for bed in his deep blue silk pajama set with a matching robe. The contrast in their attire was very apparent. Most of Belle’s makeup was rubbed off and her hair was a frizzy, tangled mess from the shower steam. She looked up to see Rumple biting back an amused smile. The glee on his face made him look like the imp she’d known during their time in the Dark Castle together. Despite her embarrassment, she found her heart chuckling inside of her along with him. It had been a long time since she’d seen him find something funny other than from sinister irony.

His voice was quiet and laughing when he asked, “Would you like to tell me about your evening?”

“Only if you make me some tea.”

“Deal,” he said, and with a peck on her forehead, left her arms to tend to the kettle.

Belle picked up the chair from the floor and settled herself into it. She pulled a leg up under herself, and the silky slipperiness of her stockings made her grimace. The stockings weren’t made to withstand a steam bath and restless toddler feet snagging on them. They were designed to carefully encase each leg and then dramatically shown off in a big reveal that raises blood pressure (in addition to other things), maybe a short session of eye-fucking, and then finally are peeled off in favor of more naked activities.

“I should get changed,” she muttered to herself.

“And deprive me of the sexy sight before me?”

She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Obviously this was not what I was going for. Gideon woke up with a cold and it all went downhill from there.”

Rumple set the tea tray on the table, and reached for her clasped hands. “I’m sorry sweetheart. Is Gid ok?”

“Yeah he’ll be fine. I think it scared him more than anything.”

Rumple sat across from her still holding her hand. “I suppose you can’t really explain to a two year-old what a head cold is.”

“Not really.”

“I wasn’t laughing at you. The situation is just….”

“Funny.” Belle supplied with a smirk. “I know. It is. It really is.” She fiddled with Rumple’s finger while trying to shake off the feelings of disappointment and frustration. With his free hand, Rumple began to fix their tea trying to pour hot water into the teapot without spilling. When Belle noticed his adorable attempt to make tea one-handed she released his fingers and clasped her own together in her lap.

For two years they’ve been trying to heal together. They are both in individual therapy and in couples therapy. Even little Gideon went to play therapy once per month. Now that he is starting to develop his own sense of self they wanted to make sure Gideon had extra support in case their were residual effects from his time in the Dark Realm and…well, from everything else that had happened to him. Because so much had happened. Sometimes it felt like too much. All of the curses, all of the betrayals, and secrets. There were times early on when Belle couldn’t imagine their little family ever being happy together.

Now, she sees glimmers of hope everywhere. In the way Rumple holds onto her hand even if he needs it back to make their tea; in the way he packs extra snacks in Gideon’s daycare bag “just in case he’s hungrier than usual;” in the way he tells her every single time he has a craving to misuse magic, and instead they talk together until a non-magical solution can be found.

So tonight she had wanted to create something special for him — ok, for them. Not that they hadn’t had sex in the past two years, but this was intended to be different. She wanted to play and have fun. It had been such a long time since they’d just had fun. She thought bringing that playfulness into the bedroom would in turn bring it back into their relationship on a whole.

Rumple sat her teacup in front of her and she grabbed his hand before he could pull away. He looked up a bit surprised at her earnestness.

“I….” She started. “I….” She sighed. She didn’t know how to say it. How to explain what she had imagined for their night together. The simple explanation was not so simple anymore. She closed her eyes and tried to remember what Dr. Hopper had coached.

The emotions behind a simple situation make it feel complicated. Un-complicate it by first stating the facts out loud.

Belle’s blue eyes pierced into Rumple’s. He could see her internal fight, but was mystified as to what it was about. His first instinct was to jump into the conversation and try to fix it, but he knew that wasn’t what she needed. He has a penchant for trying to fix everything and anything for the ones he loves. After hundreds of years and lots of therapy he’s finally curbing that instinct.

You don’t have to fix everything. You just have to be present, listen, and then, if Belle asks for your help, you can work together towards a solution .

Finally Belle blew out a long breath and an even longer stream of words.

“After Gideon went to bed, I sent you out for a bottle of wine even though we have a full wine cellar. I went to our room, put on makeup like Lacey used to wear, and then started changing into some sexy lingerie that I bought specially for tonight. Then everything with Gideon happened — ” she pulled her hands apart and spread her fingers wide as if she could grab Gideon’s untimely cold from the past and show it to him like a picture book at a children’s story hour.

Once the facts are stated begin listing your feelings. Don’t go into the cause or the reasons for the feelings. State just the feelings.

“— and I am frustrated, disappointed, annoyed, embarrassed, and exhausted. Ok, I don’t know if ‘exhausted’ is technically a feeling but if it’s not it should be.”

Rumple brought his teacup to his mouth gently blowing over the hot liquid’s surface. A bubble of quiet contemplation settled around the table. He and Belle had been diligently working to keep their family together which meant they lived a sedate and routine-oriented lifestyle.

“Sweetheart, not that I’m complaining, but may I ask what brought this on?”

Belle groaned internally, because of course that was his response. Any sane person would ask that question. Except most people would say something like ‘why did you suddenly decide to act out a cheesy seduction on a Wednesday night?’

Belle fiddled with the tiny handle of her teacup while her mind swirled with words creating half-explanations none of which would make sense to anyone outside of herself. Several times her mouth opened to say something but all she could accomplish was looking pleadingly at Rumple with big pitiful eyes. He grasped her limp hands and held them tight.

“Belle…is there something -”

“-I’m bored!” She blurted out.

They blinked at each other both surprised for very different reasons.

“Oh”

“No, not in that way. Not bored of our relationship. I’m not unhappy. I cannot stress that enough.”

“…ok.” To his credit Rumple’s grip on Belle’s hands didn’t lessen. “But you’re bored.” He stated it like it was one of the many facts of their life together; Gideon doesn’t like peas, Rumple is the Dark One, and Belle is bored.

“I miss the fun part of our relationship,” and even as Belle said it she winced, because in truth there relationship history wasn’t riddled with lighthearted moments. “I want there to be a ‘fun’ aspect to our relationship.”

“Fun.” Rumple repeated it like it was the first time he’d ever said the word in his life. “Well, I’m not entirely certain what to do about that. Should I do something?”

Belle face glowed with warmth and happiness. The Rumple from only a few years ago would’ve never asked if he ‘should’ do something. He would’ve spent days and weeks plotting and planning without consulting her, and then revealed something ‘fun.’

“Let me try to come up with something and if it doesn’t work out then you can take a crack at it.”

“If its any consolation, what you came up with looked like it would’ve been spectacular.” Rumple placed a kiss on her hand and leaned in close, “Parental responsibilities simply got in the way.”

“So much for spontaneity.” Belle leaned in bringing her lips to his intending for a quick kiss, but the forward momentum of her body kept their lips locked together. She opened her mouth ever so slightly and Rumple’s fingers cupped her chin keeping her steady while the tip of his tongue gently caressed and coaxed hers. She exhaled and sank deeper into their kiss enjoying the comforting familiarity of it, and grateful that even after all these years her lips still tingled with excitement when he kissed her. When a natural break from the need to breathe inserted itself, Belle leaned back in her chair feeling cautiously excited about this new endeavor.

———————————————-

This. Is. So. Horrible.

Belle wished it was physically possible to impale herself on the tiny dessert fork before her. The shiny object was sitting next to a plate of pears gorgeously poached in a spiced red wine reduction, and yet the only thought running through her brain (aside from suicide by fork) was her gratitude that the dessert course had finally arrived.

Gusteau’s was one of the newer restaurants that popped up in Storybrooke after the Black Fairy had been defeated. A quiet curse-free existence seemed possible for the first time and many of the town’s citizens were investing in their hopes and dreams again. Resulting in many new businesses and restaurants opening their doors.

Gusteau’s was the prime example of a fine dining experience. Heavy beautifully carved furniture was spaced evenly throughout the restaurant and crisp white linens covered the tables. Each tabletop was adorned with a low vase of roses and a miniature lamp that cast just enough light that one could comfortably gaze upon their dining companion. The room on a whole was swathed in heavy, rich fabrics and carpeted to dampen the foot tread of the wait staff as they hurried from table to kitchen and back again.

Belle thought, at the time, it was the perfect idea for a fun night out. Gideon was enjoying a play date at the Nolan’s house. Their little boy Neal was a few years older, but he played well with Gideon always making sure to keep their games at a pace suited to a toddler. He had the sweet nature of his namesake and seemed to favor Gideon especially. More importantly, it meant their own house was unoccupied. While preparing for their evening out, Belle had visions of an elegant dinner enjoying sumptuous food and good conversation accompanied by just a tad too much wine. Maybe they would take a stroll in the crisp evening air by the water. She loved the mystery of the sea at night. It was a thrilling contrast, hearing the water churning against the docked boats, but the black night obscuring it from view. Once they were thoroughly chilled to their bones they would warm each other in front of their fireplace finding bliss in the comfort of their own home.

But now…..

She just wanted to go home, throw on some leggings, and crawl into bed until the morning when they would go retrieve Gid. Hopefully he was having a better night.

Rumple was twisting the stem of his glass of port between his fingers. They’d both given up trying to keep the conversation from stagnating. It hadn’t occurred to her that after hours of talk therapy they wouldn’t have anything to talk about. They started off the evening talking about Gideon - that was inevitable - and then Rumple’s shop and the library, but once those topics had been exhausted, neither of them knew where to direct the conversation next. They were in each other’s lives every day. There wasn’t much more to say that hadn’t already been said at the breakfast table that morning. And Rumple tried, he really did, but gods help them at one point he even commented on the weather. It’s colder than usual for this time of year…. That was it. It hadn’t even been something substantial about the weather that Belle could verbally latch onto and run with.

So now she was left staring at her dessert like it was the saddest sight in the world. Resolutely, she picked up her dessert fork and (choosing life) cut into one of the pears. As the warm flavors of cinnamon and nutmeg burst in her mouth, she tried to think of something to say.

“How is the port?” She reluctantly let the question escape her lips, but before Rumple could answer, a cheerful giggling from the adjacent table captured their attention.

Squinting, Belle could make out a very young couple, in their teens, not-so-secretly passing a silver flask between them under the table. Each time the girl took a small sip she laughed producing a delightful jingling sound and the boy looked at her like she was the sweetest thing on this earth. They were tucked together at the table experiencing their first foray into ‘adult’ dating and all that it entails — soft candlelight, fancy food and clothing, and hushed serious tones. But like most teens their natural enthusiasm for being unleashed on the world could’t be tamped down. They awkwardly held hands and fussed with their cutlery as they waited for their next course. They talked just a bit too loud.

Belle’s mind jolted with memories, but she quickly realized they weren’t her memories. They were Lacey’s. Like a book she read long ago and could only recall small portions of the story, Lacey’s memories were vague and full of feeling more than specifics. However, in this moment, she could recall ‘memories’ of Lacey as a fresh teen going to parties and playing drinking games with her peers. She could feel the thrill of drinking alcohol like an adult. Mostly she remembered laughter. Laughing while a bottle spun round and round between her circle of friends; anticipating the person it would choose for her next kiss. Laughing when she proclaimed “Never have I ever…” and watching her friends sheepishly drink a shot and admitting to some embarrassing deed. Lacey’s nights out as a teen were a strange mixture of vulnerability and….fun. Belle could confidently guess that Rumple’s cursed memories didn’t contain anything like Lacey’s shenanigans, and she was positive he’d never participated in even the simple games children played in Fairytale Land.

She reached across the table and took the glass of port from Rumple’s fingers. Gaining his attention, he seemed dazed like a schoolboy caught daydreaming during his lessons, Belle took a big breath and smiled at him. It was time to breathe some life back into this half-dead date.

“Let’s get the check and then I want you to come with me, but before you do, I need you to promise me one thing.”

Rumple’s eyebrows raised at that. They tried not to practice in promises. They were still learning their own limitations as a couple and making promises could be dangerous.

“Belle, sweetheart, are you sure?”

“Trust me. Promise that you’ll keep an open mind.” She tried to infuse her smile with as much assurance as possible.

“Ok, darling” Belle almost missed the sigh that accompanied it, but she wouldn’t be deterred. This was a situation of her own making and she needed to fix it.

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

The rush of wind was wonderfully refreshing. It was just what they needed after the heavy warmth of the restaurant. Belle had insisted on walking through town. They could get the car later. Rumple had never been happier to be cold, because it meant Belle was snuggled tight into his side. The small table at which they’d been seated at Gusteau’s made it feel like he was trying to hold a conversation with someone on the opposite side of a football field. No matter how hard he’d tried to keep the flow of conversation going it was inundated with long pauses and stilted answers. It’d been excruciating. He’d felt like he was failing Belle with each course serving more awkward pauses than the last until finally dessert was served with outright silence.

Another gust of wind blew back the flaps of his coat, and he tugged them closer around him and his beloved Belle. They stood by the harbor looking out into the vast darkness of the sea. Belle was practically molded to him. He buried his face in her thick auburn tresses, once darker and curly they had straightened into waves with age, but it didn’t matter. He loved her no matter what. After all, he had changed too - his hair had been chopped short by his own hand. He was sometimes self-conscious of the change he’d made, but as if she could read his thoughts, at those times Belle would take the opportunity to gently massage his scalp letting her fingers slip and slide through his shorn greying hair. How he loved her. It was the reason he was so panicked about their lackluster evening - she was bored. She wanted to have fun, but honestly Rumple wasn’t sure he was capable of such a thing. His life hadn’t exactly been built on the idea of carefree joy. His parents had abandoned him and, until Belle came along, so had everyone else either by death, circumstance, or outright choice. What did he know about fun?

Belle turned in his arms nuzzling the smooth skin of his jawline which then turned into small kisses and nibbles. The biting cold and Belle’s amorous affection had him fighting for breath.

“Is this the part where I’m supposed to ‘keep an open mind’?”

Chuckling, Belle murmured, “Not quite.” She pulled back a fraction so she could see his face, “Have you ever heard of Truth or Dare?”

Rumple faltered for a reply. “Uh…yes, it’s some kind of game teenagers in this realm like to play.” He couldn’t keep the perplexed look off his face.

“Yes!” She hugged him tighter and he could feel her jump up and down a little. “I think we should play it.” His comically stunned face urged her to add, “I’ll even go first.”

“Why. Why do you want to play Truth or Dare? Darling we’re a bit old for such things.”

“Nonsense.” Her prim response was accompanied by a tug on his tie. “I think it’s just what we need.”

At Rumple’s raised eyebrows, she continued, “I think we are talked out. We need something fun to do. And unless you want to suddenly become more social and do a…” she floundered for an example, “a pottery class together or some other group activity, then I think playing some silly games together is just what we need!”

Rumple still looked unconvinced.

“Please, Rumple. Try. For me.”

And that was the straw breaking the camel’s back. They both knew he couldn’t deny her this. She never asked for much in their relationship, and how could he say no to a simple game? Even one that was excruciatingly juvenile. A great huff escaped him and after one long exaggerated groan, that made her giggle, he said, “ok ok. But you go first.”

Belle straightened up expectedly. “Ok, ask me!”

With an endearing smile, Rumple muttered, “Truth or Dare?”

“Truth!”

Rumple moved Belle to his side and kept them walking along the pier. He pursed his lips and swayed his head playing at putting some serious consideration into the devious question he would ask. The question she would have no choice but to answer with complete honesty. Rolling her eyes at the theatrics, Belle waited with bated breath.

“What is the last lie you told?”

Belle snapped her head up in surprise. She really should’ve known that the infamous Rumpelstiltskin, wordsmith extraordinaire, would’ve chosen a question meant to disarm her. The look of smug satisfaction on his face made her want to kiss it right off him, but that could wait.

“Hmmm I don’t lie very often.”

“Well you’re a saint, darling, but try your hardest to think of something.”

Ignoring his sarcasm, Belle answered, “Last week at Granny’s, Snow and Red were arguing about how often a couple should have sex. I happened to walk in for a cup of tea, and somehow got trapped in the conversation.” At this Rumple snorted and Belle elbowed him in the ribs, “Anyway,” she said pointedly, “Snow was saying that after a couple has children, they’ll be lucky to have sex every few months! She expected me to agree, and well….clearly she and David are going through a dry spell and I didn’t want to make her feel bad…..so I just kind of smiled and didn’t disagree with her.”

“That’s it? A lie of omission?”

“It’s still a lie.”

“Barely.”

“Oh please, it counts and you, sir,” she pointed a manicured finger at him, “are filled with glee to know that we’re having more sex than the king and queen.”

Rumple chuckled and played at trying to bite her finger.

“Your turn! Truth or Dare?” The sparkle in Belle’s eyes made playing this ridiculous game worth it.

“Dare”

“I dare you……to sneak into Granny’s Diner and leave three hundred and fifty dollars in the tip jar. You mustn’t be seen and you can’t use magic.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You have to! That’s the game.”

“What makes you think I have that large amount of money on me.”

“…….”

“Ok. I have that amount, but I don’t see why I should give it to — wait. Is it possible Granny is having trouble making rent this month?”

Belle arranged her face into what she hoped was the picture of innocence. “Life is full of possibilities.”

“Uh huh, only you my dearest Belle could take what’s supposed to be a devious game and turn it into a tool for good deeds.”

“It’s a gift.”

“I only have hundred dollar bills on me. Do you have change?”

“No, but I’m happy to amend the dare from three fifty to four hundred.”

“How flexible of you.”

Belle grinned and grabbed the collar of his coat pulling him down for a kiss designed to leave him breathless. She pressed her body against his and sunk her fingertips into his hair pulling on the short locks. When she let him up for air, she whispered, “Complete your task and, maybe afterwards, I’ll show you just how flexible I can be.”

Without giving him a chance to blink, she pulled away and walked ahead of him. If she hadn’t been wearing such high heels he was certain she’d be skipping. Rumple just stood there reminding himself how to breathe and with a shake of his head thought, So this is what it feels like to know you’re being manipulated and not care in the least.

— - - - - - - - - - - - - -

In the end, the dare was quite easy to accomplish. At that time of night Granny’s only had a few patrons, thankfully the kind that liked to keep to themselves, and the only people working were a short-order cook and Granny herself. The plan had been to wait until Granny went into the back, and then Rumple would quietly walk through the front door, slip the money into the tip jar, and continue out the back door where Belle would be waiting.

But as Rumple waited just outside the front door for the opportune moment, a giant crash could be heard and Granny went running to the back of the building.Before Rumple could register what was happening, he saw Belle scurrying down the street and Granny in the back yelling something about “damned raccoons.” Knowing it was now or never, Rumple whipped open the door, ran towards the tip jar sitting innocuously next to the cash register, and it wasn’t so much that he stopped at the counter rather that the counter stopped him—his custom-made Italian shoes weren’t made for quick movements on freshly mopped floors. So after slamming into the counter, he hastily shoved the cash into the jar, and hightailed it back out the front door.

Miraculously, no one saw him.

He found Belle hiding next to the pharmacy doubled over with snorts of laughter muffled by her hands. Her feet were bare and she was holding onto only one of her shoes. She tried to explain between giant huffs of laughter, but Rumple simply held up a hand and said, “Belle mishap.” Before Belle could ask what that meant, he gathered her in his arms and snapping his fingers *poofed* them back to their house in a cloud of magic.

Belle was still giggling as they stumbled into their entryway kissing and pawing at each others clothing. Rumple wasn’t one to let other’s emotions effect him, but Belle’s joy swept them up creating an elation he’d never known before. They landed in front of the fireplace which had magically been lit and several fluffy blankets and pillows spread out before it.

Smiling like a fool, Rumple pecked kisses over Belle’s body as more and more skin was revealed to him. Her lingerie was nothing like the black corset ensemble he’d missed out on. Instead she wore a sheer forest green bralette with matching hip hugging panties. It was staggering in its simplicity, highlighting the fairness of her skin and giving her curves freedom to move. He delighted in it; kissing and biting and even tickling the spots he knew were most sensitive. Between breathy laughs Belle managed to divest Rumple of his own clothes, and they took their time reveling in each other.

Their previous lovemaking had been permeated with an intense need to show their love and devotion with their bodies. Trying to make up for all the past hurt by clinging to each other while they physically connected as close as possible for two humans to be. But this time was about joy and happiness. Their was no rush to reach their bliss. It would most certainly come, but this was about loving each other with light not darkness. Belle found a few of Rumple’s ticklish spots and for a moment lovemaking was paused in favor of a naked tickle fight until one of Belle’s legs ended up hooking over Rumple’s shoulder putting them in a delicious position that neither could pass up. With mirth in their eyes, a wordless conversation passed between them about Belle’s promised flexibility.

They rocked together at a rhythm they both knew so well. The familiarity was far from boring. Instead they loved each other with gratitude as deep as their kisses. They were so lucky to know each other this well and for this long. The happiness on Belle’s face was mirrored by his own. It felt like sunlight surrounded them and clear blue skies were reflected in Belle’s eyes. Rumple realized that this was what fun was - it was turning your face towards the sun even on a cloudy day. It was actively finding joy and laughter, and if you can’t find it, you make it. Just like Belle did.

Afterwards, they lounged by the fire enjoying lazy kisses and caresses. They teased each other about the horrendous dinner they endured, and Belle told him about Lacey’s memories saving their date night.

“So what other games does little Lacey remember?”

Belle thought for a moment before ticking off her fingers, “Well there’s Spin the Bottle, Seven Minutes in Heaven, Never Have I Ever-”

“Hmmm group games,” Rumple grumbled.

“We could play Two Truths and A Lie.”

“You would dare play a game that requires deception with words with Rumpelstiltskin?”

“Oh I think I could manage.”

Rumple tutted and pinched her side making Belle squeak, “Ok, but you go first.”

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #rumbelle secret santa #rss 2023 #finding the fun #prompt #two truths and a lie

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