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eruden-writes · 7 months ago

Note

ooooh, for the smoochin' roulette- how about a gargoyle platter with a side of #41 (kiss out of spite)

For anyone interested in sending a monster + prompt, the list is here.

So, uh, gargoyle platter x human.

tw for mentions of cheating and sexually charged commentary

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Gargoyle's Gambit

Unlocking her front door, Brisa pushed her way into her darkened and quiet home. For a second, she stood, thinking of how the effort of getting ready had been wasted and how the delight for the evening had withered. The black dress that was classy, but sexy. The makeup she had agonized over. The jewelry carefully chosen. The excitement and delight when Lars’s parents had looked her over approvingly.

She didn’t understand why her supposed-to-be in-laws wanted to host so many soirees, but tonight just made such events taste even bitterer in her mouth.

Unceremoniously, she dropped her purse to the floor and kicked off her heels, rubbing her cheeks woefully. The dried tears, mixed with eyeliner and mascara, scraped against her fingers.

In the dark, she trudged toward her bedroom. After a wave of her hand, the lights bled on and all semblance of quiet and isolation shattered.

“Oi, oi, oi, what’re you cryin’ about now.” From the far wall, Emerick shouted. Brisa winced but ignored the gargoyle platter that hung on her bedroom wall as she went into her ensuite bathroom to scrub her face. If she’d had her choice, he’d be hanging in the living room at all times.

However, the last time he was permanently in the living room, she was woken up at all hours by midnight singing or him bemoaning his inability to use a television. Very loudly.

Not to mention, he often insulted or offended her guests. Again, very loudly.

Undeterred by Brisa’s cold shoulder, Emerick continued, “What’d that sod you call a fiancée do? Run screamin’ when he saw you without makeup ‘cause he didn’t recognize you?”

“I don’t feel up for this tonight, Emerick,” Brisa sighed as she made her way back into the bedroom. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she peeled off her stockings and considered changing for bed. Rubbing at her cheek again, she sighed. A shower was probably in order.

“What’d I do? What’d I do?” As always, Emerick continued on, a motorboat for someone made of stone. Every so often, the platter would vibrate against the wall as he waved his clawed hands. Brisa shot a glare his way, watching as his large round eyes widen in faux innocence. “Just makin’ conversation, all polite-like.”

Not for the first time, Brisa wondered what the point of a gargoyle platter had been. She’d asked Emerick and he always came up with a different answer.

Scaring off rats – or ants, or pill bugs, or any number of pests – from the kitchen.

Scaring off thieves from the pantry or the silverware.

Scaring off unworthy suitors for a family.

Though Brisa understood the whole “scary ugly gargoyles frighten off bad vibes” belief, it never seemed like the whole story. Emerick was certainly… unconventional to her human standards.

A wide face that reminded her of a bulldog, with a snub nose and two rows of sharp teeth. Large ears, like that of a bat, almost hid the little nubs of horns right behind them. The more Emerick moved, the more of a body was shown, though Brisa never saw too far below his torso. Carved muscles rounded the slow of his shoulders and his chest was bare. Behind him, wings flicked, though – if he had been an actual creature – she doubted their size could carry him.

In truth, he wasn’t terrible to look at. It was just what came out of his mouth that made him a pain to be around.

Flopping back against her bed, Brisa snorted, “The last thing you are is polite, you dinner tray.”

“Oi! That’s slander! Never once has dinner been served on my face.” Emerick’s chest puffed with indignation, but a sly grin slid over his craggy lips. “But if you want to set some cake on my face, I ain’t gonna complain.”

“Ugh, you’re so gross.” Brisa rolled onto her side, facing the wall with the platter as she wrinkled her nose in distaste.

“I didn’t say it had to be your cake. Your friend, wasshername, the one with the short red hair that’s spiky in the back—” Emerick made a motion with his large hand, swiping it over his own spiky bits that Brisa thought was supposed to be short, cropped hair.

“Sanguine,” she supplied with an unimpressed tone.

“Yeah, yeah, Sanguine’s cake’ll do. Wonder if it’s red velvet, if you know what I mean.” Emerick’s tongue came out in a cheeky grin, his teeth seemingly biting down on the appendage to add to the rascality of his expression.

Brisa groaned and pushed herself off the mattress, heading toward her vanity. Caddy corner to Emerick’s wall, she could still talk to him with ease while sitting before her mirror.

Her home was filled with magical items, ranging from thingamajigs to artefacts. It was part of her own witch path: history, mysteries, studying, cultures. Unveiling unknowns about the past, learning how to use these items whose manuals were lost to time.

It made her very essence vibrate happily.

But she never could understand why her grandmother kept the gargoyle platter around. Granny Nickels kept it out of sight until Brisa turned twenty-two, for stars sakes! That had to be evidence of Emerick’s unwieldly nature. He was better off in a vault or with a university, given a gargoyle platter wasn’t common.

Donating him to another home especially made sense for Brisa, considering he was one reason why her relationship of eight years was now on the rocks.

Well, Lars had a hand in the end of their relationship. Or more correctly had a dick in it.

At that thought, the make-up brush she’d been fiddling with snapped in her hand.

As if summoning a devil themselves, a message inked its way across her mirror: Please, Brisa, let’s just talk this out.

It didn’t need any signature for Brisa to know it was Lars. She could feel his magic in the message, in her own mirror. She frowned at the surface, considering what to do.

“What’d the fucker do,” Emerick needled, but Brisa ignored him.

She was thirty-two and had to be an adult about this. Adults communicated. Well, good adults communicated.

Waving her hand, Brisa accepted the message. Lars’s face soon filled her mirror. She peered closely, trying to find any hint that he weas as torn up, as bone-deep upset as herself. His face looked no different from most other calls, though.

Slim, aggravatingly handsome, tawny features. Purple-tinted eyes, large and bright with no hint of puffy redness from crying. Chestnut brown hair neatly slicked back, so different from how she saw it earlier when he was in bed with Ophelia. His pointed ears didn’t even droop in shame or worry.

“Oh, thank the gods, sweetheart, you picked up,” Lars gasped, a relieved smile tilting at the corners of his lips.

Lowering herself onto the chair in front of her vanity, Brisa crossed her legs under her dress and crossed her arms. “You wanted to talk this out?”

To his credit, Lars looked briefly abashed. Then he began speaking, ruining the effect. “I-It was a moment of weakness. Ophelia makes time for me and actually cares about my work! It’s natural that… that feelings would grow unmanageable.“

Out of the corner of her eye, Brisa caught Emerick’s platter shudder against the wall as he moved. “He did wot now? A fortnight before your matrimonials?”

When her attention shifted back to Lars, all semblance of remorse had washed away. He glared at the gargoyle, lips thin. Brisa braced herself when his gaze turned back to her, knowing what that look in his eyes meant.

“This is part of what I’m talking about, Brisa. Your family foists these magical artefacts on you and you keep them all, studying them at all hours giving us no time together!” Lars motioned toward Emerick with a sharp movement. His lips curled, nose wrinkling as his voice lowered darkly, “Even if they’re not worth keeping.”

“That’s not fair. Emerick is a very intriguing part of magical history we have yet to fully understand.” She should know. She’d been trying to study him for a long time. The markings that decorated the edges of his platter were in a language long gone. Or completely made up by whoever created him.

The point of his existence, his job, what he was meant to do hadn’t yet been determined fully.

Lars’s features darkened, his face turning a ruddy red as his words became louder, “There’s no reason to have an ugly gargoyle tray that constantly harasses you and everyone who enters your apartment!”

“Oi! I ain’t ugly. I’m distinguished.”

“You’re going to end up alone in that apartment, surrounded by dusty relics and with only that damned thing to talk to, y’know.”

“Better me than a tit like you, boy,” Emerick spat back. “I don’t go wetting my dick in egocentric muff.”

“You don’t even have a dick, you plate,” Lars growled, finally addressing the gargoyle directly.

The platter thumped heavily on the wall behind Brisa, as if Emerick had made a sharp and violent movement. “I got one, I just don’t go flashing it around. Take notes, mate!”

Pinching at her nose, Brisa tried to fend off the ache settling deeper into her brain. “Enough, both of you!”

Her words didn’t have the intended desire of quieting the two. Instead, they merely re-centered Lars’s targeting.

“Like I said, you’re going to end up alone with that thing, Brisa.” Though his voice had soften, almost pleadingly, it took on an edge again with his next words. “If you even cared about me, you would have seen how unhappy I— “

His following words turned into a staticky rush in Brisa’s ears. Pain throbbed through her temples and agitation heated her blood. It was her fault. Always her fault. She never paid him enough attention, never cared enough, never read his bloody mind.

She just wanted Lars to leave her alone. Give herself time to process her feelings and recalibrate her life without him. But he wasn’t giving her that.

Faintly, she could hear Emerick retorting to whatever Lars had said. Her eyes flicked to the gargoyle platter, rattling in its stand as the resident inside spat words. Her now-ex-fiancée always had problems with Emerick. Well, honestly, everyone had issues with the gargoyle platter. The creature was not polite, so she couldn’t blame others. The only reason she knew Emerick was tolerable was thanks to being constantly around him. At some point, the gross and aggravating commentary would pause.

Lars, however, seemed to be an endless fount of unwanted comments. “I thought the prospect of an adult life, married and kids, would finally make you choose something important and worthwhile but— “

Something snapped in Brisa. Her body moved before she could even consider where she was going. Getting to her feet and snatching up Emerick – ignoring the gargoyle’s startled yip – Brisa found her own lips pressed to the cool stone tablet.

Unsurprisingly, the platter was cold and hard against her lips.

At first.

What was cold became warm and the platter suddenly felt much larger, much heavier, in her hands. She must have accidentally lifted it from the nail in the wall, she thought.

It wasn’t until a ginger touch traced up both sides of her jaw that Brisa’s eyes snapped open. Emerick stood before her, much larger than the stone tray he had been before. He leaned over her, hands raised – the touch she had felt – blocking out the rest of the room.

Her heart stuttered in her chest, eyes unable to drink in all the details at once.

Besides being much larger and humanoid-ish in shape, there were other differences Brisa realized. His wings, for one, had grown. Now they appeared large enough to heft him in flight. The odd spiky hair atop his skull was obviously hair, now. Shaggy and less likely to draw blood from a simple touch.

He was also much more colorful. The stone platter had been a monotonous grey, much like Emerick’s skin tone. Though his hair was a darker shade of grey and he had lichen green coloring flecked over his face, shoulders, arms, and chest. As Brisa’s gaze dropped, she realized he also wore a loincloth, thanking the universe for the blessing.

The similarity and foreignness of the person before sent a throb of surrealness through Brisa, alighting the migraine at her temples again.

Vaguely, she heard Lars screeching from the mirror. With an owlish blink, she turned her head toward him, listening to him rage. “Have you been cheating on me with that thing! You ungrateful fucking who—”

With a wave of her hand, Brisa dispelled connection. She could only take one exhausting person at a time and Emerick was, currently, right in front of her.

“Well, this is awkward,” she muttered, turning her eyes back toward the gargoyle.

It was only Emerick’s mumbled grunt that made Brisa’s gaze flick back to his face. He seemed unable to look directly at her, shifting back and forth on his feet.

“Stars preserve me,” she gasped, earning a startled look from Emerick. Despite herself, an almost delirious smile spread over her lips. “You have nothing to say. Never thought I’d hear the day.”

Emerick narrowed his eyes – irises black, Brisa noted – and frowned. “You’re taking this disturbingly well.”

Cocking her head, Brisa narrowed her own eyes. There was something different to the gargoyle’s speech, she thought. But another throb of exhaustion made her sigh and drop the thought. “Today has been long and heartrending and I just want to take a shower and go to bed.”

Turning away from him, she gathered her pajamas from the closet and headed toward the bathroom.

“So…” Brisa turned as Emerick spoke, taking a step closer toward her. A suggestive grin tilted at his lips as he nodded toward the bathroom. “Should I join yeh?”

“Absolutely not.” Pursing her lips, she rolled her eyes, noticing a tail whipping behind the gargoyle. A million scholarly questions flooded her brain, but tiredness had a mighty hold on her. Holding her clothes to her chest with one hand, she motioned toward the door with the other. “Go watch the TV in the living room, as you’ve always complained about wanting to do.”

“Aw, but I could help you get into all those little nooks and crannies.” Emerick raised his hands, making squeezy motions.

“I’m sure you could,” Brisa said slowly, trying to level an apathetic expression at him. It was a bit ruined, she thought, as she couldn’t help glancing curiously at his hands. “But I’m more interested in a shower. Now skedaddle.”

Motioning for Emerick to leave, Brisa didn’t wait for the gargoyle to fully exit before ducking into her ensuite bathroom. Though her curiosity was great, her sense of propriety and safety was greater, so she pointedly locked the door behind her.

#exo writing #exophilia #monster lover #monster fucker #gargoyle #gargoyle x human #monster romance #monster x human #I never write just drabbles #oopsie #x_x #x.x

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littlefanficprincess · 11 months ago

Text

Your last breath

(This is unrelated by my catsworld au story)

Oneshot

Pair: Future Edd x gn!reader

Second pov (Angst)

“We should be fine around here, it’s almost abandoned” Edd says, looking over a wall. He grasps your hand tightly, the two of you walk cautiously over the sidewalk. It felt ages since Tord, or what he calls himself “Red leader” took over and banned cola. It hadn’t the best effect on Edd, since it was his one true love, but he had you to keep him sane.

You and Edd were immediately close after you moved in. Even through, zombies (multiple times), mummies, sea creatures, aliens, you stuck togheter. Sadly not so long ago, Matt and Tom had been captured by the Red Army, their current status being unknown.

It was quite, the two of you didn’t exchange a single word and that was fine. Edd holds your hand tightly, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. It was his sudden way of comforting you. He had become a lot quieter and energetic, but he was still your Edd.

“There over here!”

A voice calls out, from afar. You and Edd tense up, already knowing who the cry belonged to.

“How did they find us?”

Edd says under his breath. The both of you begin running away and bullets are send your way, lot of them flying past your face. You suddenly feel the wind knocked out of you, you ignore it and continue to follow your companion.

Making a quick turn, Edd pulls you into an alleyway. You watch as Red Army soldiers run by, desperately looking for the remaining members of the rebellion. The man let’s out a sigh of relief “that was close”

You cough, feeling something come up your throat. You cover your mouth with your hand, when you look at your palm, you find it covered in blood. Then you realised…

You had been shot

It felt like your world was spinning, horror sets in. Edd looks over, worried at your silence. His eyes widen when he sees the shot wound in your chest and the blood coming out of your mouth. He grabs onto your shoulders “Hold on, please, I’m going to get help as fast as possible”

You weakly place your hand on his “Don’t, the nearest doctor is a town away. When you reach that, I’ll be already dead. I want to spend my last moment with you” You move your hand to be placed on his cheek.

“Don’t say that!” Tears emerge from Edd’s brown eyes, a dreadful expression on his face. It’s been a while since you saw him last cry, it’s been longer since you saw him smile.

“Come on, give me one more smile. Your smile was always my favorite, you were always my favorite” you muttered out. You could barely breath.

Edd lowers his head, his soft cries turns into sobs “Don’t do this to me, you know how much you mean to me” He places his hand on the one that was on his cheek.

“If you see Tom and Matt, tell them…that I love them” You let out a soft chuckle, before going quiet. Edd feels your hand going limp, he watches as your eyes closes peacefully.

“No, (Y/n)!” He cried, bringing your now dead body into a embrace. He puts his head onto your shoulder, soaking the fabric of your jacket “How can I go without you..?”

He pulls out his ray gun from his jacket and looks up at the big distant Red Army base, his eyes darkening “If I can’t have you in the future, I won’t have a future at all” He picks up your lifeless body and walks away, looking for a place to bury you.

#eddsworld #eddsworld x reader #fanfic #x reader #Edd x reader #Ew Edd x reader #Future Edd #Future Edd x reader #angst #Death #X_X

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