#*demonic laughter*

[dachshunds-and-fondue]

well apparently you can laugh in your sleep because it was said that I snorted during the night like a demon child laughing at its victim’s eternal demise. honestly I cannot believe that you could just walk into a room and suddenly hear some deranged laughter and think you’re about to die for the final time but oh wait it’s just that person you live with chuckling at your weakness in their sleep

[dragengyrr]

He’s so dead.

Baby Vox my beloved.

[dewdropdinosaur]

But Momma, I Love Her

ALASTOR x READER Summary: After the battle, Alastor finds himself wounded while Y/N seeks to help him out. But no one is invincible. Warnings: ANGST. [Oh the way I giggled evilly when writing this.] Rating-PG Requested by @anon-of-the-void See Masterlist for Request Status and Fics

 In the aftermath of the colossal clash between Heaven and Hell, the once bustling streets of the infernal realm lay in ruin. The once proud Hazbin Hotel now laid a bare pile of brick and mortar on the dusty ground. Among the debris and chaos, Alastor, perched in his towering abode, shining red lights flickered with green – an ominous beacon amidst the devastation. His once immaculate suit was torn, and his charismatic grin was replaced by a grimace of pain.

Alastor's radio tower echoed with static as he clumsily attempted to patch up his wounds. His fight with Adam had gone…worse than expected. But his stitching efforts were in vain, for every stitch only seemed to unravel further, his crimson essence staining the makeshift bandages. His momma had taught him to stitch better than this, but even now, he seemed to fail her teachings. 

As frustration threatened to consume him, a familiar voice broke through the static. "Alastor, what in Lucifer's name have you gotten yourself into now?" Y/N's exasperated tone cut through the air, their footsteps echoing up the stairs of the tower. Storming into his tower, Y/N rushed to Alastor’s side. Like him, their clothes were marred and hair matted but otherwise no worse for wear. 

Alastor turned to face his best friend, a mixture of relief and pain in his face. His grin, while returning to save face, was tight. 

 "Ah, Y/N, fancy seeing you here. Just a minor setback, nothing to worry about," he said, attempting to downplay the severity of his injuries.

Y/N's expression softened as they approached, taking in the extent of Alastor's wounds. "Minor setback? You look like you've been through a meat grinder, Al," they chided, shaking their head in disbelief. "Honestly, sometimes I wonder if you have a death wish."

Alastor chuckled weakly, wincing as Y/N gently began to assess his injuries. 

"Carelessness is not a trait I would readily associate with myself, my dear friend," he replied, though the pain in his voice betrayed his bravado. 

“So it ain’t carelessness when my best friend decides to fight a freaking angelic being? Let alone the first man? What were you thinking, Al?”

“He got lucky, he lacked discipline, any sort of control. The man was sloppy!”

Grabbing the supplies off the desk and plucking the needle out of Alastor’s hand, Y/N set to work; their touch firm yet gentle as they began to stitch up Alastor's torn flesh. Despite the discomfort, Alastor found solace in their presence, the familiarity of their touch grounding him amidst the chaos. Alastor winced as the needle pierced his flesh, the pain a sharp reminder of his recent brush with mortality. Yet, a tension lingered in the air, unspoken words weighing heavily on both their minds.

"You still need to be more careful, Alastor," Y/N admonished, their voice tinged with concern. "You can't keep throwing yourself into fights you won’t win."

Alastor's gaze flickered upwards, meeting Y/N's eyes, a flicker of vulnerability shining in his own. "But sometimes, the battle chooses me, not the other way around. Ha ha." he replied, his voice laced with false humor. 

Y/N huffed out a sigh, gaze hardening with a mixture of frustration and affection etched across their features. "That's not an excuse, Al. You're not invincible, despite what you may think," they said, their tone gentle yet firm.

Silence hung between them, the weight of unspoken words lingering in the air. And then, in a moment of uncharacteristic vulnerability, Alastor spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

Alastor's brows furrowed, a flicker of defiance in his gaze. "And what would you have me do, Y/N? Sit idly by while angelic chaos reigns and threatens everything I have worked for?" he retorted, his tone sharp with frustration.

Y/N's hands paused mid-stitch, their expression a mixture of hurt and exasperation. "That's not what I'm saying, Alastor, and you know it," 

“Then what are you saying dear? That I am weak, a fool? When you speak your rancid insults do annunciate, it’s the polite thing to do..”

They replied, their voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I can't bear the thought of losing you."

The admission hung heavy in the air, the weight of unspoken emotions finally coming to the surface. Alastor's façade faltered, his crimson eyes softening as he met Y/N's gaze. "Y/N, I..." he began, the words catching in his throat as he struggled to find the right words. He had messed up. 

Before he could continue, Y/N shook their head, a tear slipping down their cheek. "Forget it, Alastor. I shouldn't have said anything," they whispered, their voice thick with emotion.

As the last stitch was set in place, a silence washed over the radio tower, a brief respite from the chaos of the world below. Standing up slowly, Y/N moved to take their leave. Suddenly, Alastor grabbed their wrist, forcing them to stay in place. 

"Perhaps I'm not as invincible as I'd like to believe," he admitted, his gaze falling to the floor. "But in a world as chaotic as ours, sometimes protecting the person you…cherish… that’s the only way to survive."

[twisted-dork]

Giyuu!Yuu: Lilia always tries to scare me because I’m his s/o. What he doesn’t know is I can sense him near me. So I pretend to be surprised when he pops up.

Silver: May I ask why you do that

Giyuu!Yuu: I guess *looks at Lilia reading to Nezuko!Yuu* because seeing him smile makes me happy *smiles*

[shortandintroverted]

*wheeze* what the fuck-

[lilbeanz]

Sorry to be an annoying pest, but 'the Study of Muggles' has officially got a higher word count than 'the Horror of the Heir'

And we're still typing away, folks ✨️

[tinyperson00]

✨Nezuko’s gone inter dimensional ✨

Not my video!!

I WAS DYING LOL 😂 😂

[kny-fanclub]

Alright. This is officially how I die.

Her lil giggles 😭

[hestialovesranwan]

My friend just started watching Haikyuu!! and is now on episode 7. I recommended the holy (angst) trinity of the fandom to her and told the summary for each one.

I still laugh at her horror each time I said, "--oh and (u know who) discovers that he has a terminal illness and--"

[contritecactite]

Dear barred owl outside my window:

Welcome back! You are beautiful.

But you are LOUD. Please consider whether it is necessary to make that particular sound at that particular time of night. I would be happy to discuss alternatives, such as the other perfectly serviceable tree just fifteen feet to the north of that one or perhaps the park two blocks down.

Thank you for your consideration.

Sincerely,

A very tired caddis

P.S. Seriously bro. I woke up in a panic from a very solid sleep because I thought someone was in my room (but also thanks I guess for waking me up from that nightmare?).

[normaltothemax]

Last of Us (Show) Starters ❝ you keep your eyes on me. and don’t look anywhere else. ❞ (jason m&m)

Jason remembered dying the first time. Remembered what it felt like. The pain and the cold and the nothingness. He was strange mix of them, now, laying there, struggling to breathe on the cool, hard ground. Somewhere between feeling cold and feeling nothing at all, all that pain still lingering.

Those weren’t the worst parts about dying, though.

No, the worst part was the fear.

The fear of knowing it was all coming to an end, that he was going to die and it was going to hurt and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. That Dean couldn’t do anything to stop it. There wasn’t time. Jason was hurt far too badly, had lost far too much blood. It wouldn’t matter if Dean broke the sound barrier driving, Jason wouldn’t make the trip.

But it was okay, because this time, Jason wasn’t alone.

This time, someone had made in time.

This time, his dad was here with him.

His grip on Dean’s hand was weak, but he held on stubbornly, not willing to give up the contact if he could help it. “N-no—” Blood speckled his lips and chin as he coughed, the harsh sound tearing up his throat. “No deals,” he choked out. “N-no…no deals.” Jason didn’t want that. He didn’t want Dean throwing away his life for him. He didn’t want to be brought back if it would cost him the very best thing he had. “P-promise.”

Promise him, Dean.

He was fading fast, couldn’t tear his eyes away from Dean if he’d tried. Not that he would. Jason wanted that comfort, he wanted that feeling of safety, even if he knew it wasn’t real. Even though he knew it wouldn’t last.

But his eyelids were growing heavy. It didn’t hurt anymore—he remembered this, knew it was time—and he was so very tired. His eyes slipped closed, the barest hint of a smile on his lips. “S’okay.” It was okay. Dean was here. The last words he spoke were a mumbled, “Love you,” Jason needing Dean to know that, before he gave in and let the darkness take him.

@therebetterbepie (x)

[xxlady-lunaxx]

Orange Spider lily | {KokuZan}

Theme: Angst

Kokushibo and Muzan were secretly dating. Well, 'secretly' is a term that they use but isn't actually true. It would be secret if it weren't for their horrible skills of secrecy. Unfortunately keeping their relationship within the two of them was out of their hands, though they had somehow hidden their existence from most humans for centuries. Which made it so stupid. But.. neither of the two cared, at this point, because it's not like it would be harmful for anyone to know.

Muzan often visited Kokushibo, because of their relationship or so he said. Today was different though. Today he'd discovered something. And so, this time when he went running to Kokushibo, he was smiling. Something quite curious to the Uppermoon, given that he'd never seen a smile quite that big on his Master's face.

"Kokushibo! Look, look I found something," Muzan said, almost like a small child finding a particularily pretty rock. 

"What is it?" Kokushibo inquired.

"This." Muzan thrust out a bag that held two beautiful flowers. They looked quite like spider lilies, only they were orange.

"Orange spider lilies?" Kokushibo asked, confused. "Did the color seep out from the sun?"

"No, no, they've been like this for a while now! I was looking through some red spider lilies and I found these!! It might be the key to the blue ones! I'm going to use some for experimenting. I'll try it and see if it'll make me be able to go in the sun. I'll use it first though. If it works you can use the other spider lily for yourself," Muzan explained, clearly having thought this out before.

"Oh? How interesting," Kokushibo agreed, inspecting the flowers closely.

Muzan nodded and took them back carefully. "I'm going to try to make something that I can easily drink, alright?"

"Okay, I'll wait here." Kokushibo watched as Muzan excitedly went to his working desk where he instantly pulled out several drawers filled with liquids of all variations.

Over the next few weeks, Muzan experimented with the flower and the different assortments of htings he'd made over the centuries. The whole time, Kokushibo stood by, retrieving what Muzan needed and always there for whatever happened. Eventually, Muzan decided he would try his concoction, saying if it didn't work that would be alright since he was a demon, and if it did, well, he had it all memorized and he would make it again for Kokushibo.

So, that day, Muzan downed half the flask and then waited. He felt nothing so he told Kokushibo to cut off his arm and put it somewhere where sunlight would shine soon. The two demons watched the hand from the safety of inside while it sat there, Muzan's arm had long since regenerated. Then the sun came by and burned it to crisp. Muzan sighed. "Maybe it just needs some time?" he suggested. Kokushibo agreed.

The two went back to Muzan's work room and talked. After a while, Muzan fell asleep and Kokushibo put him in a comfortable place, deciding it had just been from the amount of work his Master had been doing recently.

The next day, Muzan awoke with a headache. He complained that he felt dizzy and was a little wobbly standing up. But that would wear off eventually. The same as the day before, they cut off Muzan's hand and put it in the sun, watching it burn, yet again. 

"How long would it take to set in?" Kokushibo asked, confused.

"If this continues through the week, maybe I should just try again," Muzan grumbled. "I still have one and a half orange spider lily flowers left."

"Won't they rot?" the Uppermoon pointed out.

"No, I froze them so they'll be contained fresh until I need them." Muzan placed his hand on his hips in an almost proud manner. "I've thought of everything!"

Kokushibo laughed and nodded. "Yes, yes you have."

The day seemed to pass by rather slowly for Muzan for he was very tired. Eventually he went to sleep again, hoping he would feel perfectly fine when he woke up. Unfortunately for him, when he woke up he felt considerably worse, the headache being stronger and the dizzyness that had previously disappeared for a couple hours, had come back fully. Only a couple steps could lead him to nearly tipping over and Kokushibo had to help him walk, which was extremely frustrating given he felt so useless like this. So weak and foolish. 

Two days went by, and he didn't seem to be getting better. Each day they would cut off part of Muzan's arm, though each day they resorted to cutting off less and less, because Muzan's condition made him have to focus all his strength on fighting whatever this illness was, and not on regeneration. Each day they took the piece of flesh and put it in the sun, only to watch it burn.

(Why did it take me so long to figure out how to write that paragraph 💀)

Muzan's illness only grew which was starting to bring back memories. The constant help he needed from Kokushibo, to fetch him some food, to take him simply to the other side of the room, it was frustrating and he was starting to actually get worried. 

By the end of the week he could not only barely stand but his regeneration was nearly twenty times slower then his normal rate. He hated this. He was trying to convince himself this was all a before affect of the spider lily but it really, he didn't actually believe it. As much as he wanted to, it was becoming obvious that he needed to stop this. And soon. 

But how? He didn't know how. Didn't even think there really was a way. He felt hopeless. 

Kokushibo tried keeping him going, but it was hard when he himself shared these worries. He constantly fretted over Muzan and tried keeping him at bay. 

Days went by as he continued getting worse and worse. And then weeks flitted past and Muzan's condition was as shit as ever. More so, if that was possible. A month passed into this, and Kokushibo told Muzan that if he didn't somehow get better soon, he might die. And when they came to this conclusion, Muzan felt absolute dread. He couldn't believe that this would happen. He couldn't. Fucking. Believe it. 

He didn't want to believe it. He didn't want to die. It sounded childish, of course, but death was his biggest fear. He merely feared Yoriichi because Yoriichi could bring him death. He feared the sun simply because it could kill him. He couldn't bear the fact he might die.

So, he asked Kokushibo for something. One night, one more unbearable night of pain, he'd been laying down in the silence, uncomfortable. Then, casually, he said, "Kokushibo? I may have been thinking and..."

Kokushibo shook his head. "If this is another 'I think this is just an effect,' then I don't want to hear it."

"No, I was thinking something. Maybe you could turn me into a demon or something? Like, I can make you into the demon king and you can give me your blood and turn me into a demon? I mean, give me your blood for more strength? As I've done for you and the other 12 kizuki?" Muzan suggested.

Kokushibo nodded slowly. "It could work.. but it would be painful for the both of us, no?"

"Would you mind? It'll go away fast. And I've been in pain these past few weeks, I honestly don't care about myself," Muzan said, sighing. 

"True. Alright then. I'll get you some food first, though."

When Kokushibo came back, the two demons ate in silence, both absorbed in their own thoughts. When they finished, they didn't do anything, unsure where to go from here. Then, quietly, Kokushibo said, "Can I.."—he hesitated for a beat—"kiss you? In case this doesn't work.. I don't want.. I want to be with you, actually, and not just worried and getting you things to help you with your sickness. I want to do this before anything happens. In case anything happens. If anything happens. You understand?"

Muzan nodded, definitely understanding. "Of course. But you better lean down here because I don't want this 'moment' to be me dying in pain."

Kokushibo chuckled softly, though it wasn't particularily funny. "I will." He leaned down, peppering Muzan's face and neck with kisses until the smaller demon was a whimpering mess. 

He stopped, eventually, letting Muzan breathe for a minute. "Kokushibo?"

"Yes?" he hummed, caressing his Master's face.

"I know I'm shit at affectionate things, but I love you, you know that, right?" Muzan murmured, leaning into Kokushibo's touch. 

"Mhm," his boyfriend smiled. "I love you too." 

Muzan flushed, still not used to any of this. "Thank you. For taking care of me."

Kokushibo nodded. "I wouldn't leave you even if my life depended on staying away."

They were silent, the comfort of each other spreading through their bodies. Eventually, Muzan said, "How do you want me to transfer my blood to you?"

"What will hurt least for you?"

"Probably if you use my finger. Or.." Muzan paused, a sly smile creeping up his face. "From my neck or my lip?" 

Kokushibo laughed. "Alright. So I'll kiss you while taking your blood like a vampire?" he said, amused.

"Sure, why not?" the demon lord said. 

"Okay, okay." Kokushibo paused, brushing Muzan's hair away from his forehead. "Love you, Muzan," he mumbled. 

"Love you too," Muzan said, sighing. 

The Uppermoon pressed his lips to Muzan's neck, carefully biting slowly down, making sure to make only a thin line which would be easier to regenerate. Muzan closed his eyes, concentrating on making sure Kokushibo got through with this. 

When Kokushibo moved up, feeling that that was all he needed to take in, he noticed how pale Muzan looked. But before he could ask if he was alright, pain shot through his body and he doubled over. He clutched his arms around himself, his mouth wide in a silent scream. 

But then the pain was over and he was panting heavily, sweating. He looked up to see Muzan still lying there, looking more sick than before. 

Kokushibo felt the opposite Muzan did, though. He felt alive. Powerful. Like he could do anything.

But instead, he leaned down closer to his lover and whispered urgently, "Are you okay?"

"Kokushibo," Muzan said, his voice like sandpaper. "Blood. Give me.. some of your blood."

"Right, right," Kokushibo murmured, panicking. He used his fingernail to slice his palm and he dripped some of his blood in Muzan's mouth carefully.

He watched his boyfriend swallow, and waited. The waiting was painstakingly slow and fear pressed Kokushibo's insides into a tight ball. His body felt like lead as he watched and waited. Nothing happened.

This wasn't what was supposed to happen, was it? When you were given blood, usually the effects started immediately. What had gone wrong? Kokushibo tried again, slipping more of his blood into Muzan's mouth. 

"Please, please work," he said, his mind and heart racing. He must've done something wrong. What had he done wrong?!

Muzan shook his head wearily. "Koku..shi.. Koku.. I don't think it's going to work," he mumbled, growing paler (is that a word?) by the second. 

"It will work! It has to work," Kokushibo insisted. As much as he'd known that it might not, he had hoped with all his might that it would. 

Muzan shook his head. "No, I can feel it.." He coughed rather violently, blood spilling from his mouth. "Kokushibo.. You'll be the demon.. lord now.. Continue on.. the work I've done.. Don't let it go to waste," he said, his eyes meeting the Uppermoon's. No, the demon king's. Kokushibo was the demon lord now. 

Kokushibo nodded weakly. "I will. But please don't die. Not yet. Please," he begged. 

"It's not my choice.. anymore," Muzan mumbled, closing his eyes. 

"No, no! Don't close your eyes, no, wait," Kokushibo said urgently, putting his hands onto Muzan's chest. What was it humans did? Something about chest compressions?? But this was different, no? All that could save Muzan was regeneration.. 

He desperately tried again to get his blood into Muzan, trying, and failing, to save him. Muzan coughed again, blood staining his clothes. 

"Kokushibo, it's no use," he said, his eyes still closed. 

"It has to work!" Kokushibo insisted. 

"It won't." 

The words were harsh and cut into Kokushibo like a knife. He knew it wouldn't, but the fact that Muzan had lost all hope made him feel suddenly hopeless as well. The words were so certain, so clear, and true. Unbearably true.

Kokushibo's hands left Muzan's chest and went to cup his face. "Fine," he said, all desperation drained from him. "Then.. goodbye, Muzan."

Muzan nodded slowly, painfully. "Yes, goodbye." 

"I still love you," Kokushibo murmured. "I won't stop."

Muzan's mouth twitched into a smile. "Such a flirt," he said, sighing deeply. "I won't stop loving you either, I promise."

And then he was gone. His chest stopped moving in it's uneven sort of breaths and the pale gradiant of his skin slowly went deathly white. Kokushibo didn't know how long he sat there, holding Muzan's face in his hands, but it was long enough for the touch of his fallen lover to become cold. Ice cold. 

He retracted himself when he realized that and stared at the body. Then, he realized, it was starting to disintigrate. He wondered, for a split second, why it hadn't disintigrated earlier. This was as Muzan had died first as a human then left the earth as a demon. Kokushibo's hand clutched the slowly disintigrating arm of Muzan's, until there was nothing but cloth in his grip.

He held onto it tightly, fearing that if he let this go, it would turn to dust as well and he would have nothing left of him. Kokushibo's upper body shook in sharp, shuddery breaths. He was trying not to cry. But try as he might, tears rolled down his cheeks.

He hadn't cried in a long time. Centuries. He never had a reason to. He'd never felt pain that lasted, never pitied anyone to the point of tears. In fact, he'd never felt much emotion since he became a demon. And then Muzan came along and made him feel. Feel happy, for once. 

Made him cry. Ugly, shaky sobs that ripped through his body. He buried his face in his hands and screamed. How could the world take Muzan from him? How could it take the one person who had ever made him feel? 

The floor trembled and he looked up. Then, he realized with a start, it was himself who was trembling. From fear, anger, and sadness. Sorrow. He'd never felt that before. When his mother died, he had been disappointed. But he'd never really been close to her. To anyone. 

When Yoriichi died, he'd felt only powerful. And powerless. But never grief. Never anything like this. He'd never felt this sort of internal pain that teared him from inside out. His hands, still clutching tightly the bloody cloth Muzan had worn the day he died. Today. 

The day Kokushibo became the demon lord, failed to save the previous one, and lost his lover all at once. The day he felt. Felt nothing but pain. 

He looked at the clothes and buried his face into it, uncaring it was covered in blood. The blood would disappear soon. Gone with Muzan. Gone. 

The word vibrated inside his mind, bouncing off the walls in his head and repeating over and over and over. Gone. Muzan was gone. Forever.

And it was all Kokushibo's fault. He had failed his master, his boyfriend, the person dearest to him. He had failed and Muzan had died and it was all. His. Fault.

{Word count: 2600}

Well now that lightheartening oneshot is done 😊

ALSO THE PICTURE I USED FOR THIS IS SO SILLY AHOIDAKMS (okay bye you chaotic demons-)

(pt. 2 here)

[groovyace]

WIP for the second chapter of Hand for Hand by the wonderful @twoheadedoddity !!

Living out my cowboy dreams thru this guy's design i cannot 😭 E called me out on it too and i was like shhh you saw nothing 🤫

[here-have-some-stories]

Silent Laughter Chapter 8

Chapter 1 Chapter 7

I woke up about two hours later. I was still a little tired, but there was no point going back to sleep. For about five minutes, I did nothing. I just sat in bed, occasionally glancing around my room, although I didn’t know what I was expecting to see. I was bored. It felt weird to be bored when you were hiding from something trying to kill you, but I was. 

I pulled back my covers off of me and jumped out of bed, heading down to the kitchen. I couldn’t enter any room anymore without doing at least a brief check over anything, to make sure nothing had changed, or the creature wasn’t hiding somewhere, but my kitchen check showed me that nothing was different. Or at least nothing that I could tell.

I made myself a bowl of cereal. Looking at the pantry and the fridge, I could see that there wasn’t much food left. There was enough for the time being, but eventually I would run out, and have to find some more. But then again, I might not last long enough for the food to run out. 

I started walking around the house, my breakfast in my hand, eating as I moved. The only thing there was to really do was to just do continuous safety checks of each room, but all of them proved to be useless. Nothing had changed, I couldn’t find any trace of that monster anywhere. 

I turned down the hallway, planning to do the fourth checks I had already done on mine and my parents room. Walking down the hallway, I stopped for a brief second to look at the family portraits we had hanging up on the wall. There was one of my parents on their wedding day, one of me on my first day of school, a photo of the entire extended family, with all my cousins and aunties and uncles, and one of just the three of us, me, my mum, and my dad. It had been a long time since I had even acknowledged the pictures on the wall. In all the photos we all looked so happy. I was never going to get any of this back. No photos like these would ever be taken again, and I would most likely never be as happy as I was in them ever again. 

Tears started to well up, and I let them fall. This was the most I had cried since it had started. There was no one around to hear my ugly sobs so I cried like an annoying child would out in public. I had been so caught up in trying to survive and hide, that I had partly forgotten about everything that I had lost and would never get back, I had definitely forgotten all about my other family. I wonder what happened to them. Were they safe since they were in a different country? Or had everyone in the world just been killed, the creature leaving me for last? 

I took one of the pictures off the wall, the one of just me and my parents, and held it to my chest as I slid down the wall, hugging my knees tight to me. I held the photo out so I could look at it, and so I could remember what my parents looked like, and try to remember all the fun times we had before everything happened. This photo was taken during probably one of the funnest times in our lives. We had gone on a family trip to England, travelling around the country for two whole months. It was so much fun. The photo was taken with us all standing in front of the stonehenge, a place I had always wanted to visit. Tears continued to pour out as I looked at the photo. 

I was going to move to hug it again, when something caught my attention. Through the blur of my tears, I could see something in the background of the photo. It looked long and pale, slightly behind one of the stones. I rubbed my eyes so I could see clearly, and saw that bloody creature, pale and tall, it’s creepy smile on its blank face, half standing behind the stone. I screamed, the most blood curdling scream I had ever made and tossed the photo away from me. 

I stood up and looked at the other photos. It was in every one of them. The photo of me on the first day of school had been taken in front of the house, in front of a window. I could see the creature standing through it, smiling. I threw the photo away. The family photo was taken in a nice picnic area, in a clearing surrounded by trees. In the background the creature was standing amongst those trees, smiling. I threw the photo away. The photo of my parents wedding day had been taken in front of a lighthouse, in the sunset. The whole lighthouse was in shot of the photo, and the creature was standing at the top in the lantern room, smiling. I threw the photo away with the rest of them. 

“Putting yourself in the backgrounds of photos,” I shouted out, “Pretty pathetic horror cliche!”

But an effective one, I thought. It was useless shouting out to the creature, when it might not even be able to hear me, but I was trying to make my point. What my point was, I honestly had no idea. 

Hesitantly, I walked towards the photos scattered across the floor. Turning one over and taking a brief glance, I saw that the thing was still in it. I dropped the photo instinctively, and jolted back a bit. Then I regained my courage and picked up all the photos, taking care not to look at any of them. 

I went into the lounge and walked towards the fireplace. Setting the photos aside for the time being, I grabbed some extra firewood and paper and lit them. In a couple minutes there was a good fire going, and I threw the photos into it. I stood back from the fire and stared at the photos burning, watching as the flames engulfed it and began to crinkle the paper. Some of those photos had been up in the hallway for as long as I had remembered. But I didn’t feel guilty for burning them. I had a feeling I would have felt guilty if I hadn’t.

Next Chapter ->

I hope you enjoyed reading this is you actually read it because no a lot of people do sadly. And by not a lot of people I mean literally no one. If you did happen to read it and you have any feedback and/or suggestions about the writing or the story in general I am open to hearing them. Hope you enjoyed, chapter 9 coming when I feel like writing it.

[johanneswinstonwileyatmse]

Screen Shot comes from The Stupendium's Art of Darkness (You can find their song here:

)

Anyhow, this is vibes so....

[elavoria]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @dirty-bosmer, thank you! I tag @nostalgic-breton-girl, @sheirukitriesfandom, @boethiahspillowbook, and anyone else who wants to share. :3

I’ve belatedly realized that there are a lot of Pathfinder sourcebooks online, so I’ve been doing more reading than writing lately, but I did manage to type up this bit of Isanna having too much fun at the end of Regill’s test:

“And?” she asked a little too eagerly, eyes a little too bright. “What is your judgment?” He stared at her for a long moment, then took a deep breath and said, “I must concede—in a way, I even feel obliged to do so—that you passed my test with flying colors. To my deepest regret, even some of my fellow Hellknights would have failed to impressed me to this degree.” Her heart swelled with pride and more than a little self-satisfaction that she couldn’t entirely keep out of the smile that spread across her face. “You honor me,” she said with a gracious dip of her head. “As for your assessment…” He raised an eyebrow, and her smile turned mischievous. “Your test administration skills leave something to be desired. However, the test did accomplish your objective, and furthermore, it was a very amusing diversion, so I believe that can be overlooked.”