#ask to tag for.... horror writing?

[potionofinstantdamage]

disjointed excerpts from my evil science au scraps doc, in which it once again becomes increasingly clear that i have just read jeff vandermeer's annihilation and been deeply affected by it

[crybaby-bkg]

serial killer gojo who likes to stalk you on campus. watch you from across the cafeteria. follows you to your male friends dorm, who ends up maimed the next morning.

who gets tired of never being seen, even though he’s brighter than a fucking dying star on campus, and yet you never notice him. who gets tired when the campus is empty and you’re all alone. finds a knife that’s almost bigger than your head and chases you across the open fields.

he’s laughing, the whole time. his head thrown back and his smile wide as the blade hangs limply at his sides, as if not in threat. as if your heart doesn’t beat so hard against your ribcage, that you think you hear the bones crack with every thud. like your bleeding heart may burst from your skin and splatter onto the ground before you.

he’s a killer, but he’s kind. he’s a killer, but not to you, never to you. holds you so sweetly when he catches you, because of course; he was always going to catch you. licks away your tears and smiles at you, disarming, everything and not. his eyes too ocean wide, his teeth too bone white. you see your reflection in his incisors. you see prey. you see your reflection in his eyes. you see love. it’s always been love for him.

all you have to do now is accept it.

[saintbleeding]

[ID: Digital art of Lady Mowbray from The Magnus Protocol. She is a tall older white woman with grey hair, wearing an old-fashioned hunting suit with jodhpurs and tall boots, and wielding a double-barrelled rifle. She is shown from an extreme low angle, smirking with satisfaction, one boot on the side of her human victim. They are shown from the back, a wound in their head and bruises visible on the skin of their lower back. Behind Lady Mowbray is visible a red and yellow sunset above a clearing in a greenish-black wood. End ID.]

ohhhhh she’s despicable i love her

[gauloiseblue]

[TW: implied non-con, somno, stalking, horror]

There's something strange going on in your apartment.

It had been going on for a while, but you've only noticed it recently.

Your sleeping schedule wasn't healthy per se, but there'd be the time when you felt so sleepy, you almost passed out on your way to the bed.

At first you suspected it was the calming tea you bought, but the drowsiness still came, even when you drank something else.

It happened at the same hour, too. Because the moment you hit the bed, you saw the same exact numbers on your clock.

8:00 PM

You rarely had a dreamless night, but somehow you always did when it happened. It's almost like you're sleeping like a rock, only to wake up, feeling groggy, and strangely sore.

Your neck was hurt, your shoulders were tense, and your hips felt like they'd been bruised.

Sometimes you found some strange bruises on your body. When you took a shower, you saw one in your inner arm. And later one, you discovered more on your inner thighs. You weren't that reckless to get a bruise in such places, so it was very confusing at that time.

Of course you've checked yourself to the doctor, but the result was nothing out of the ordinary, so there's nothing you should be afraid of. Though the doctor said it's possible that you've been sleepwalking, which would explain most of the odd things that's been happening.

After a night of heavy sleep, you woke up to find something that's out of place. You swore you didn't use that much tissues, but somehow they filled up your bin. You vaguely recalled putting your phone beside the pillow, but you found it on the nightstand the next morning.

One time, you felt so sleepy after a bath, that you didn't pay attention to your clothes. But you knew you had your shirt right, so why did you find it backward the next day?

There was a lingering smell that was foreign to you. It's almost like a musk, but not strong enough to be distinct. So you shrugged it off and thought of it as the remnant of your sweat. Which, you didn't know why you did, but you sweat a lot that night.

One or a few times, you stirred from your sleep and found yourself unable to move. All your limbs were heavy, as if something was weighing you down. And when you slept on your stomach, you often felt restrained, as if a large snake had wrapped itself around you.

It should've been obvious to you that something was wrong. Something was off about your apartment.

The first time you had a hunch was the moment you saw the CCTV of your floor. It was when you lost your spare key for the second time, and the security asked you to fill the form at the office. There were multiple screens in that place, which monitored each floor of the building. You glanced at the section of your floor, and saw your neighbor entering his room. The blond man has a room right across you, on the right side from the lift.

When you came to your floor, you noticed the security camera at the end of the hall was pointing at the lift. You looked back to the closing door, before your eyes went back to the small black dome on the ceiling, staring at the red dot.

It didn't click in your mind that something's off. Which you blissfully ignored as you stepped into your nightmare.

That night, you fell on the bed with your top only. Because you didn't have the energy to put on the rest of your clothes. And when you rose up from sleep the next day, you felt a cramp in your stomach. Your hip was so sore that you had trouble walking.

That's when you began to suspect something.

You had no idea what it was, but there was something in your apartment.

You tried to stake out for the night—once or twice every week, but nothing happened. Nothing was off about your room. You did doze off on one of the nights, but you didn't wake up sore the next morning. You're just… a little cold.

That was three days ago, and now you're preparing for another night.

You're drinking a glass of water when you glance at the clock. It's 7:58 PM, and it shouldn't be long before the lethargy seeps in. You finish the drink before you put the glass down on the table.

Yet it slips out of your hand before you could place it.

The glass rolls away under your bed, and you try to search with your hand, before you kneel down by the bed.

The sleepiness has taken effect on you, and you almost fall on your face when you try to peek into the darkness.

It's hard to get your eyes to focus, as you squint your eyes to locate the glass. It's near the hand of a mannequin, and you reach out to get it from under your bed.

But the hand is warm to touch when your knuckles brush against it. It was… too warm… too veiny for a mannequin.

It's not until its finger twitches, that you're hit with a delayed warning.

You don't own a mannequin.

Your body stumbles backward, as your mouth hangs open with a silent scream. In your mind, you were shrieking, it should be loud enough to alert the neighbors. Yet what comes from your mouth is a whimper.

You scramble to get on your feet, but the floor feels like sinking sand whenever you take a step.

The door is heavy when you pull it, before your knees give up, and force you to crawl into the small gap. The skid sound of your skin is drowned by the ringing of your ears, further disorienting you from getting to the front door.

Yet the moment you're close to the exit, your body collapses under its own weight. You fall flat on your stomach, with your eyes threatening to close at any time, pulling you down to your slumber.

You stretch your hand towards the door, which is a useless attempt since you can't reach the handle. The world seems to grow bigger, while you just turn smaller and smaller.

A heavy footstep awakens you from your daze, and you muster your energy to drag yourself away. Though it's no avail, since you can no longer feel your limbs.

And right before you succumb to your sleep, a pair of hands slip under your arms, before pulling you up with ease. You whine as his arms find their way around you, caging you with his strong embrace.

As your consciousness slips away, you hear him murmur something before everything goes dark.

[qprstobin]

Stobin Different First Meeting AU where they go to prom together. This was meant to be an au post and turned into a mini fic oops (written completely within a tumblr post so sorry for the poor quality)

(edit: realized I should link the fic I was inspired by for those who don't follow me and so didn't see me reblog it earlier)

Steve doesn't necessarily want to go to prom, right? Like yeah, he'd been imagining it for a while, but now that he was very, very single it just didn't have the same shine that it used to. And he really wasn't ready to start dating yet. However, he didn't want to just, not go to prom, and also knew it would seem really weird (and pretty fucking sad) if he didn't go.

Which leaves him in a conundrum.

He thought for a while that maybe he would go with one of the junior cheerleaders. While he didn't have any close friends anymore, he was still friendly with plenty of people. There were girls that wouldn't be going to prom unless they had a senior boyfriend - some he had even gone on dates with in the past who wouldn't think a single prom date meant that he wanted a new girlfriend.

However, he is pretty sure most of those girls would have... other expectations for the night. And honestly? He isn't quite sure that he was ready to get back on that horse either.

... Not that he thought women were horses.

He's pretty sure men are normally the ones called horses in riding metaphors.

Anyway.

That left him stuck. He couldn't just not go to prom, but also didn't want to wind up trapped on an actual date with someone. So who could he ask?

His solution ended up coming from an odd place.

Robin Buckley was... quite honestly, kind of a weirdo.

She was cute, in an alternative sort of way. She never took any of his shit (he wasn't completely sure she even liked him) but also reluctantly laughed at the snarky shit he said under his breath during their Film History class. And not in the fake giggly way girls did when they were flirting, but didn't actually care about what he was saying, just the way he said it. She actually seemed to think he was funny. Even if that revelation seemed to piss her off.

The only reason he was even in Film History that semester - and therefore, knew who she was - was for the easy A. He got to watch movies in class, and watch movies for homework. He was willing to plow through a couple of shitty essays in exchange for a class that he didn't feel like a complete idiot in.

(Well, he was pretty sure Robin thought he was an idiot about movies, but just because he had trouble remembering the names and shit of characters, didn't mean he couldn't analyze the themes, fuck you very much, Buckley.)

They had gotten assigned a project together early on, and it hadn't been completely terrible. She had quickly taken over doing most of the writing portions, but hadn't thought all of his ideas were terrible. By the end of the project he thought they were even sort of having fun together.

He'd always been one to try his luck, take a little more than he was given. So, after that assignment was over, he started sitting next to her in class, not wanting that easy, if sharp, camaraderie to end. Robin rolled her eyes at him and asked him what he thought he was doing the first time he did it, but she never sent him away.

They ended up chatting more and more during down times, passing notes to each other and sharing sly comments under their breaths during the movies. Steve often had trouble paying attention at school, his mind easily wandering away, and it was almost as bad during most movies, but Robin helped keep him on track.

The class turned into one that was done for the easy grade, a last ditch effort to improve his already hopeless GPA, and became one he actually enjoyed.

The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of going to prom with Robin. It made the night seem a little less unbearable.

He thought about making a big deal out of asking her, because he knows that's what girls (and even Nancy) had enjoyed for past dances. He quickly scrapped that idea, however, because not only did he not want to put pressure on her like that, but also she seemed to hate public spectacles like that.

Or at least when aimed at her, they both enjoyed watching drama unfold in the halls a bit too much to say she hated it completely.

So Steve waits until the end of the day, their film class being their last, to pull her into an empty classroom. She follows him without question in a show of trust he didn't realize she had in him. The notion warms him, and for some reason makes it more difficult to get the question out.

"Why do I feel like you're about to try to sell me drugs or something?" Robin asked, raising an eyebrow at him. He squints at her in offense.

"Why is that your first assumption?!"

"I don't know! Why else are you pulling me out of the hallway all secretive like, making sure no one followed us, into an abandoned classroom," she asks, throwing her arms into the air.

"The classroom isn't abandoned, it's the end of the day! Also, who does drug deals on campus, that's just stupid?" He asks rhetorically, before waving one hand through the air, as if trying to erase the current thread of conversation. "That doesn't matter, you're distracting me."

"Well then, get on with it! Some of us have practice we need to get to."

"It's like talking to the kids," he mutters to himself, "Whatever. I wanted to ask - will you go to prom with me?"

That stops Robin up short. There's panic in her eyes now, though Steve isn't sure what exactly put it there. Was his reputation that bad that even band geeks are terrified of getting asked out by him?

"You want to go on a date? With me?" she asks slowly, disbelief coloring her voice, though it doesn't hide her unease.

"No, I want to go to prom with you," he scoffs, "Not go on a date with you."

"That is a date, dingus! The person you go to prom with is literally called your date!"

"Okay, sure, maybe, but I don't actually want to date you," he said, rolling his eyes at her.

Like, okay, he understood his reputation for being... what did she call him last week? A 'huge effing rake'? But that didn't mean that he was trying to date any girl that looked in his direction. A lot of girls looked in his direction. That was too many women, even for him.

Robin relaxes a little at that.

"Then why are you asking me to prom instead of someone you actually want to date?"

"Because!" he says, resisting the urge to flail his hands back at her. "I don't want to date anyone right now. Most people I ask are going to expect all these things from me - they're going to want dinner, and at the very least a kiss at the end of the night if not more, or another date the very next day. Because Steve Harrington is supposed to want those things!" He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair to calm himself. "But right now? I really don't."

"Well then, what does Steve the Hair Harrington actually want?" She had relaxed fully at this point, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

"I want to go to prom with someone I consider a friend, someone who makes me laugh," he says after a moment of silence. "I want to dance badly to really corny pop music and drink just enough spiked punch that I don't remember how much I hate wearing any sort of tie. Then I want to go get milkshakes or go see a really trashy midnight horror flick, just because I'm having so much fun I don't want the night to end."

That small smile has grown into a reluctant grin on Robin's face. It makes her eyes shine and her freckles pop. Steve thought that if he was in a better place, if they had met at a different time, he could have fallen in love with her.

But they had met now instead, in some shitty public school elective course, and she was the closest thing he had to a friend that wasn't a snotty middle schooler.

"That sounds... like a lot of fun, actually," she says, mischief sparking on her face. "Who would've known the hidden depths hidden behind all that hair."

"Hey!" he protests half-heartedly, unable to keep a grin of his own off his face. "So what do you say? Wanna go to prom with me?"

"I guess," she sighs, acting like it was such a trial to go to prom with him. Him! But her next words make up for it. "Since we're friends, and all. However, I still expect you to buy me dinner, though you can keep the kiss goodnight to yourself."

Steve can't help the giddy laugh from spilling out of him. For the first time in weeks, he is actually looking forward to prom.

[queerxqueen]

writing my silly fanfiction and googling romantic things like "can you survive getting stabbed in the eye" and "how fast does a body decompose in water"

[villainousauthor]

The protagonist couldn't tell where the tinnitus ended, and the static incomprehensible voice began anymore. Most days it didn't matter, the ringing was a constant dull ache.

It increased in pitch and frequency when they knew it was upset, threatening to rupture their eardrums, or driving them to insanity. Tempting the protagonist to drive something sharp into their ear just to shut it up, but it would never allow that.

Too many attempts already ended in them frozen on the floor, limbs and muscle locked until they no longer thought of turning the weapon in their clutched hand on their self, or worse, it would heal whatever injuries they already managed.

The protagonist's body piecing back together, torn flesh closing in a sickly sight, organs and ligaments healed, only dried blood serving as a reminder there was any injury in the first place.

It's inhumane, incomprehensible touch burned against their skin every time like acid, and the ringing only got worse. Humans were not meant to be touched by such a being, this the protagonist knew.

They could not see it, could not touch it, but they could feel it's presence constantly, pressing against their soft grey matter, dulling their senses. Making them question their own reality. They walked through a series of dreams, nightmares, blurring and mixing with their waking reality. Some nights, the protagonist found themselves waking outside, curled up in the cool damp dirt or in their neighbor's yard.

That neighbor came to complain again, yelling loudly and threatening legal action for trespassing. The protagonist simply apologized, too tired, too drained, to care. If the neighbor noticed the deadening of light in their eyes, they didn't care. The neighbor went missing after that, never seen again.

Other nights, they woke safely in bed, but they could feel the static buzzing under their skin, like fingers digging into their ribs, hooking around their bones. They didn't know if it was real or not as they felt how full their head and their chest felt, energy that was not their own carving out space where it was not invited.

Why me, Why me, Why me

It was quickly becoming their mantra, their lifeline, as they tried to make sense of this all. There was never an answer, just that static buzz that almost seemed to purr in their ears.

One night, they wake in their living room, curled against the old and rough carpet, seemingly moved again. The windows are dark, the sky as empty as the eerily quiet house. The old box TV hums in front of them, a snowy static screen casting light across the room. The static warps and moves in odd ways as they wake.

Already they feel the magnetic tug, something on a different plane of reality pulling against them, pulling them closer to the screen. If they try and advert their head, the buzzing gets so loud they feel as if their skull will burst. They have no choice but to stare back at the glaringly bright display, and they finally feel as if they're somehow, some way, making eye contact with this creature.

Reaching a hand up, the static waves and pulses under their fingers. The screen is ice cool and burning hot at the same time, and they feel a shock of electricity run up their arm. Then another, and another, like kisses against their skin. The voice in their head gets louder and louder, but still indecipherable all the same.

The protagonist shakes their head, not knowing what it wants. The static runs all over their body, their hair rising and standing on end, current running across their skin. A prompting of something. They decide a guess is better than nothing in the face of this impatient otherworldly being. Leaning down, they press their lips to the screen, feeling the static prick at their soft skin.

The whole room begins to hum loudly, the sounds of the electricity and wires in the walls and appliances going haywire. Within seconds of their gentle caress, the room goes dark with the sound of the screen powering off.

The protagonist remembers nothing that happens after that, waking up when the sun is high and warm again their skin through the window as they lay under their soft covers. The tinnitus is quieter than it has been in months, and they wonder if they dreamt it all, if it was another strange hallucination or moment of reality blurring. They don't even remember much of anything from last night other than dreamlike impressions and strange feelings.

Later, though, when they roll out of bed, they wonder why they find all the power outlets strangely burnt and the wire to the TV melted.

[theminecraftbee]

hermit horror week day 1: season 8 or game mechanics

His teeth still taste like blood.

He's locked inside the belly of the Octagon. He doesn't know when he got there, but whoever wrestled him into it was smarter than Ren. They realized the full moon's light didn't reach the wiring. They realized it would give him time to down wolfsbane and silver nitrate. It also gave him time to throw it all up in the corner. If Doc were here, he'd be scolding Ren on the fact that silver nitrate is still a toxin and a disinfectant, and he should still be taking it in small doses, no matter how badly he wants to poison the wolf.

He curls up, shuddering, against the wires and pipes that power the shop. He feels thin and gaunt. He hopes he has not had much to eat. He doesn't have a phone or communicator on him. He doesn't know the day. It doesn't matter what the day is. The moon's visible during the daytime, too. It may have only been a night. It may have been weeks. It's probably at least been days.

He throws up again, because wolfsbane is poisonous too.

Most things that can keep a wolf down are poisonous. Ren doesn't have to take them often. He's normally... controlled. A tamed wolf on the full moon. He has a pack to run with. He doesn't need to poison himself to keep the wolf at bay. He doesn't need to take silver nitrate like it's a medicine and not a reagent.

But none of this is making his teeth stop tasting like blood. His shirt is covered in it, too. His legs. His face, he thinks--he can't see his reflection in here. He wouldn't know. But it would have to be. There's so much blood on him.

He doesn't have a scratch on him.

The only thing that stops him, then, from taking more silver nitrate is that if he respawns from the poison damage, he'll respawn out under the moon. He'll respawn back out there. And then--

He shudders. He folds himself into a tighter ball against the belly of the Octagon. In a shaking voice, he cries out for Doc again. Doc has to be nearby. Doc has to be nearby. Because if he isn't--

No one answers. Ren doesn't know who locked him in here. He wonders if it was a struggle.

He's covered in blood.

It smells horribly good. Ren feels dizzy. He's gaunt. He's so hungry. He'll hold that to his chest. He's hungry and sick, not simply sick. If he weren't hungry--if he weren't hungry--

But he's not as hungry as he should be, if it's been days, and he's covered in blood, and he resists the urge to howl, a long, mournful thing. He doesn't want to howl, or bark, or anything else right now.

Instead he cries, a human thing, and holds onto it tightly while he waits for the pain in his stomach and the shudders over his skin and the grey stains where he'd grabbed the bottle and the vomiting to end, so he can take another dose, and force the wolf further down. Down enough to be safe.

Down enough that he didn't maul his friends to death.

Down enough that he can know if he did.

Down enough that he won't try to leave again, as he knows he will, as the moon shines outside, and as soon as someone tries to open the door to rescue him, letting that light back in.

[agerefandom]

🧸 Hannibal?

Oh Hannibal is big caregiver energy!

I like it when people flip the script and write him as a regressor, but he's sooo settled as a cg in my brain.

Three Headcanons:

1- Hannibal is almost never protective of people, and that is intentional: the world shapes them and that is the process that fascinates him. I think that a regressor would cross that line: he would want a lot more control over what happens to them and how it impacts them.

That's not to say that he wouldn't allow harm to befall them, but he would want to be the cause of the harm, and be there afterwards to put the pieces back together in the shape that suits him best.

2- Hannibal would absolutely thrive on putting together a wardrobe for a regressor: all the little touches that reinforce regression (buttons that they can't do themselves, so he has to help: the clothes a little too big in specific spots to make them feel physically smaller)

3- he would want to Know so much, it's overwhelming to consider: he would want to know all the regression triggers, positive and negative, even the ones that the regressor isn't aware of themselves. He would want to know activities that make a regressor comfortable, and ones that make them feel vulnerable but not enough to push them out of regression: the memories that they associate with regression and the ones that they've repressed. He would want to know every inch of someone's childhood and their journey into regression before he'd met them. A vast expanse of knowledge that he can use to push in the smallest and most subtle ways.

send a character and a 🧸 and I’ll give you three random agere headcanons!

[cherry-pop-elf]

Eyes For You

Dr. Jack Griffin x Reader

Authors Note: No one asked for this. No one wanted this. But I wanted it. It’s my emotional support film and god dammit I love this insane Twink.

Sum: You were waiting for your husband to return home from a trip out with some friends. But something went bump in the night. You were no coward, and investigated. Maybe you should have been a coward

Warnings: 18+/Violence, attempted kidnapping, Unhinged madness (you signed up for exactly that anyway), Jack being EXTREMELY protective of you, unethical science, blood, babygirling horror

“Jacky? That you?” You spoke into the darkness. You had to ask. You heard a noise, and well he’s Jack. He likes to pull pranks, and is also a little bit hard to….see….So it’s easier to call than poke around.

There wasn’t a response, however. Even he couldn’t help it but giggle, whenever he tried to pull something sneaky on you. That’s how much he adored you. Unable to keep himself wrapped up enough to follow through. Just to excited to see your laughing face.

Many would have probably stayed in their room. Maybe even call some kind of authorities. You? Well for one calling the cops doesn’t work when you are married to a man like Jack. Also, what’s scarier than Griffin?

So, here you are. You climbed out of bed, stole your husband’s robe, and snuck yourself outside of your shared bedroom. Through the familiar halls of the manor, with a candleholder in hand.

“I swear if someone broke in here, again, I’ll butcher them myself.” You would huff, as you would walk down the stairs. Had a bit of a history of people not knowing when to mind their own business. You came from a well off family, and that was how you and Jack even met. Your father had a medical issue, and Jack was able to solve it. Was hired to be the family doctor, and was able to be given funding for his experiments.

You couldn’t stop your dreamy smile. The memories of how excited he was to share what he discovered to you. How someone was willing to listen his endless rambles. He didn’t love you for the financial prosperities. He loved you because you wanted him to succeed. Was like a fairy tale.

“Whoever’s in my house better get out. I’m not afraid to get violent!” You shouted, as you kicked the door open. Certainly startled the man in your kitchen. Not every day someone actually confronts the one who breaks in.

“I don’t care who you are. Get out of my house. My husband will be home any minute now, and I rather not clean up blood stains at this hour.” The intruder sure was confused at how causal your violent mannerisms were. You kinda picked up a thing or two from a mad scientist.

“Sure he is. I’ve never seen a man come in or out of your house. But I’ve certainly seen plenty of fancy equipment. You’ve got money-“ And he was soon raising a gun at you. “And I have a feeling your daddy will pay plenty to get you back.” He warned.

Not the first time someone did this. But it was the first time someone actually go into your house. Luckily, your husband doesn’t marry himself anyone dumb. You blew out your candle, and the world was casted in darkness.

He fired, in a attempt to hit you, but you were already running. You ran, and tried to think of where would be the best place to go. Should you lock yourself in your husbands lab? What about running outside? Should you risk going upstairs, and getting a better weapon? You tried to think fast, but a bullet finally landed its mark.

You have a yelp of pain, as you were soon falling to the ground. A bullet right in your leg, and your only means of any defense was clattering out of reach. Just left to bleed in the hallway. The portraits of your friends, and family, left to just watch as your attacker found you. The moonlight casting a terrifying glow over his masked features.

“Well that was easy. Husband still coming to save you?” He mocked, as you were left to try and crawl away. Just taunting you, as he knew you couldn’t stand. You suppose this was poetic justice. You were now the victim, and you now had a mad man above you.

There was also something else above you. The rise of the candle holder you had lost in the fall. The darkness made it impossible for the attacker to see, but your angle had the moonlight sparkling on it. The gold a beacon of hope, as it was raised above his head.

“Maybe I should enjoy myself. Damaged goods are still goods, aren’t they?” He cackled at you. Just saw you as nothing more than a damsel of meat to enjoy, and oh did that made your husband growl.

“HANDS OFF MY DARLING!” And down it came. The attacker was down on the ground, wondering how he was hit. Was just left to watch, in horror, as the candle holder was held up by nothing at all. To just watch it come down and hit him over and over.

And over.

And over.

And over.

The blood was pooling. So much splatter, that you could make out your husbands shape. To see the defined features he held. Like his nose, the scars in his flesh, and how his face was in a scowl. He was not one to cross. His own partner, in his own home? Needles to say you’ll need to buy a candle holder.

“Jacky-!” Despite the pain in your leg you were raising your hands up. Eager to be held by your savior. No care for the blood, as you saw it in a cruel justification. Your husband saved you, and you needed to be held.

“My darling-“ He swooned, as you were scooped into his arms. Held close to his chest, and safe in his hidden embrace. With whispers of comfort, as you were quickly taken to his private lab. Safe, and to be treated.

“Oh darling, I should have hurried home sooner.” He was quick to blame himself. The only time he ever seemed to accept blame, really. If you were in harms way he takes guilt with out a second thought. Anything else? Never his fault. He really put you above himself. Above science. Above world dominate. Everything was beneath you.

“Jacky, hush. I’m ok now. You are here now.” You tried to calm him, as he would tend to your leg. Careful calculations. You didn’t even need to see his face to know those once white eyebrows were knitted close together. That he would be sticking his tongue out the corner of rosey lips. To have his violet eyes narrowed to make sure he pulled out the bullet just right.

He made sure you were as pampered as possible, while soothing your wound. Made sure it was cleaned, and patched, what have you. Muttering away at himself about the the annoyance of mankind. The normal.

“I’ll deal with him in the morning. Along with the mess I left behind. Greymatter is all over the walls.” He laughed, as he would proceed to use a wet cloth to clean up the blood off his body. To once again vanish into nothingness.

Call yourself insane, but you swore you could always tell where he was. Maybe being exposed to him for so long has caused you to develop some kind of second hand effects. Maybe you just held a bond with him like no other. You didn’t know. You just knew that you didn’t need to see him to see him, as cheesey as it was.

“You better. My word, you bent that holder into a spiral. I swear-“ You teased, as you were scooped into his arms again. Just a floating bundle of warmth and love. Certainly would cause the strangest of sight to those who were unaware. Which is most of the population. As far as anyone knew you were a widow. That typically keeps people from wanting your hand, but not always.

“He dare lay a hand on you. To harm you. To think he could….Oh his organs would be useless for science. I’m certain they are as dead as his brain is mush. Even his body is no use!” He ranted on, as he would bring you back upstairs.

You both knew his body would be used for some experiment, but the emotions are what matter. Had you nuzzling your face in his neck, with whispers of kisses. The only thing to sooth his raging heart.

“Jacky, let’s get some sleep. I know you had a busy weekend with your friends.” That had him finally stop his muttering. For you, he would defy the laws of nature. Suppose getting some sleep will be what he could offer, tonight anyway.

You would be laid down, as if a maiden by her knight, as he went to get into some sleep clothes. Such as some boxers, and a old shirt he had back when he wasn’t the madman he was today.

It always was so funny to watch, no matter how many times it’s been witnessed. To just see a floating set of clothes. It always had you smiling. To have his mannerism so memorized that you can still imagine them. The way he would sassily rest a hand on his hip, as he paced in thought. To how he would run his fingers through his white hair.

“Jacky….Bed.” You gentler cooed. Was followed by a sigh, from him, as that invisible hand would lift up the blankets. Now a indentation on the bed. All you need to find him. To find him, and snuggle into his chest.

“Welcome home.” You yawned. Safe in his arms again. To feel his scared fingers rub your back, as he would treasure you close. With literal invisible kisses to your face. As if it would be a cure to all your worries. Suppose he was right, they were.

“So good to be home again, darling.” He returned, as you could feel his breathing relax. To have his burning heart cooled. You were the very thing that kept him away from the world. The draw bridge of civilization and a apocalypse.

Maybe if you get bored enough, one day, you’ll lower that bridge.

[spamsandsuch]

since i havent posted anything gaster related in, well, idk how long but its been a long time, i decided to prolly to give an update thats been in my au for awhile but i never actually posted abt it for some reason

so instead of two gasters now theres three. Rather than following the alternative gaster route it relates more to the shard theory now. Heres some concept art i drew recently

rough info under cut

One shard is “Aster” (first; renamed Aster because just calling him wingdings got kinda old and confusing)  and while he has a shard in their soul his body is a physical vessel part of the game (aka hes like a normal lightner that can interact w/ both light and dark world. I refrain from calling it the “real world” cuz the point of utdr is that its a game). He doesnt know this though and has no prior memories after “waking up” for the first time in the game, but they know something is up and thinks the dark worlds has something to do with it (hence why he is holding experiments relating to them). He sucks major ass though cuz he doesnt think of them or darkners as “real” and treats them as such bcuz he doesnt think their actions hold major consequences when interacting w/ darkners/darkworlds 

Second shard (middle) is currently unnamed (tho that may change) and is half physical and half part of the void (but how physical its body is fluctuates). He knows their reality is a game and is pretty content with that. He barely remembers his previous life but doesnt question it — he knows he just is, not what, why, or how. Because of that, he doesnt care what people call him because it doesnt matter much in the grand scheme of things. While knowledgable in many things, he also easily forgets things too as he sometimes has trouble recalling certain things. He also doesnt entirely understand emotions, but it knows he likes seeing or making living things happy so he is often kind to others. He is also well intentioned and genuine, but sometimes doesnt understand what may be good for others to hear. Because of this, he is willing to casually share with others the knowledge that the world is a game to the few people who know its existence, but doesnt recognize that this may be scary information to some. It is also the same gaster that convinced Jevil the world is a game.

Third one and last shard is also nameless (again, this may change) and completely part of the void—meaning, in the light and dark world he doesnt exist, but can still visit them. He cannot interact w/ anything, though, which he finds frustrating esp when observing the other two gasters. He has more memories of his previous life than the second gaster, but its still few as well as scattered—most of the time he cant make sense of them, which is also frustrating. His form is also never constant, but he struggles w/ coping with the inconsistency of his body so he tries to form like the other two gasters whenever he can to maintain his sense of self. He also knows the world is a game (for obvious reasons) but still recognizes that consequences that occur in the game have weight — whether negative or positive. As such, he has a stronger sense of judgement and morality when it comes to others but cannot act upon the majority of things because he barely exists — which is also something hes frustrated with; because he cant interact w/ the world, he concludes he’s incapable of guiding or helping others. The only other being he can actually communicate w/ is the second gaster, he later finds out though; as a result, he often sticks to hanging out with the second gaster for company and also because seeing Aster’s actions make him feel sick. Additionally, he feels a weird sense of kinship with lightners and darkners for some reason — but especially darkners. He sorta almost sees them as his children, but doesnt entirely know why. 

[triglycercule]

ok so there's murder time trio where theyre best buddies and get along and sometimes even having more than just platonic interactions. and then there's also the murder time trio where they genuinely just don't like each other and avoid each other and do NOT get along and to me there's just a VERY clear timeline of events that could connect these two group dynamics. like these 2 could coexist,,,,,,

nightmare's fresh outta his little corruption sequence and he needs his henchmen. goes out and gathers the obvious three killer horror and dust (does it really matter how he got them??? kidnapping or not the trio will warm up to him). its his first time having to deal with mentally unstable grown up mortal men and he really has no idea how to manage the team so he lets them have some slack. spoils em a bit yk yk stops fights allows them to hang out allows em to screw around the castle even COMFORTS them,,,, shocking i know (a slightly nice nightmare interpretation from triglycercule? UNFATHOMABLE!!!!)

this killer's fresh outta something new so he's still kinda curious and nosy. he hasnt seen the multiverse and especially not interacted with nightmare/horrordust so he's kinda more outgoing and friendly (ish. to get to know better everyone and satisfy the curiosity of seeing what reactions and feelings these fellas could give him.) bc killer's not that much of a prick and horror and dust would naturally SLIGHTLY get along (and if in the right environment be good buddies. which is nm's lenience and killer's not shittiness) the mtt actually get along pretty well and are good buds!! like the first group dynamic i mentioned where the bad sanses are just kinda like a friend group except they have some weird work relations

and then a fight breaks out and nightmare kills either dust or horror (what about??? anything!) likely dust first because he's more likely to be wary of nm (if kidnapped) and also because he's just kinda more actively righteous compared to horror (who likely wouldn't do much against nm) or killer (does not give a shit.) dust dies, horror likely dies defending dust and that just leaves the og killer and nightmare

nightmare is like "oh shit i just killed my workers". he'll take like a week to ponder what he did and then completely move on (because hes an ass like that.) nightmare gets another horror and dust to replace the ones he killed. and killer is just like wtf how do i deal with this. the guys i were kinda friends were are dead but their copies are right here. like he knew copies existed in the utmv but he didn't think nightmare was so willing to replace them so fast???

this killer's still adapting to the multiverse and stuff (it probably hasn't even been a year since he got snatched up!!!) and yeah hes aware that copies exist and he could get replaced by one but he didn't think that it would LITERALLY HAPPEN RIGHT BEFORE HIS EYES. so he decides to stick more around nm and avoid getting replaced like the og dust and horror because it really just hammers in the point that he's kinda useless if he speaks out like those 2. hes avoidant of the new replacements as well bc hes still new to this experience and is getting used to the whole implications of two guys that were once him and he was friends with died and got replaced by basically the same person

but they still have to work together for obvious reasons. and even if killer's avoiding horror and dust they probably aren't avoiding each other and probably are like wary friends/acquaintances. and naturally killer HAS to become okay worker buddy pals with them because hes stuck living with them. nightmare's a lot stricter and cold to avoid something like dust's rebellion against him happening again. mtt are wary of each other (mostly towards killer. horrordust are pals and killer's kinda growing more apathetic to the duo because he's already experienced a lot of the stuff before with the og two that died.) but theyre still "friends" you could say

and then perchance maybe horror and dust decide to let killer in on a lil secret theyve been cooking up. theyre planning to escape (kidnapped DUH. and nm isn't as nice as he was to og horrordust to warrent them to wanna stay) and even though they don't really trust killer theyre still letting him in on the plan and offer for him to come with them because they lowkey feel bad for him and he's really not all that bad under all the bullshit

but killer saw what happened to the og dust and horror so he says no. and the night that the duo are planning to escape he just has this overwhelming sense of dread. the next morning he wakes up to nightmare standing over his bed with a cold glare telling him of horror and dust's attempted escape and death and killer just kinda. sighs. his dread was right (he was lowkey hoping that they could escape so they didn't die like the original 2)

and then the cycle repeats. previous dust or horror or both die to nightmare or some random outside force or escape (because it has to happen eventually right??) and the pair keep getting replaced. killer keeps witnessing their deaths and replacements and at this point he's just so used to it that he doesn't even TRY to interact with the new horrors and dusts. theyre not even like real people that are getting killed and replaced like robots to him anymore they're just distant coworkers that get fired and then a new one comes to take up the position

each new dust or horror is icked out by nightmare and killer. nightmare is incredibly cold and intimidating and dictatorial and just sucks in general. and killer gives them this distant look. like he knows something they dont. he's already proven to them that he knows that they should obey nightmare and how to deal with the king and they know he's been here longer than them but even when he's not with nightmare or not talking about him they get the blank stare

sometimes when a nicer replacement of horror decides to do something nice for killer like make him a meal he just gives him that look and declines (there's already been countless different horrors that tried doing nice stuff for him. it's not new and nice in his eyes anymore.) maybe when a dust replacement gets irked by killer's apathy and decides to try and say something that'll bother him or snoop through his personal stuff killer will just walk away or kick him out of his room with that creepy ass blank stare again (it's not the first time a dust has tried to rile him up. it's not new or interesting and just predictable)

killer just doesn't CARE about the new horrors and dusts. they're all pretty much the same two guy except maybe a bit nicer or meaner or quieter or even taller or something?? all he really cares about is is serving nightmares atp, no other outside relationships. and ngl he doesn't even care that much about nightmare either. he's already figured out his thinking he's already figured out all of his likes and dislikes and what not to do to piss him off. the only reason he's still dealing with him is because he doesn't have anything else better to do and he doesn't wanna be useless to the one guy that he's served all this time

he's just kinda stuck in an empty boring limbo that killer's only maintaining due to a lack of motivation and any other priorities. and personally i just think this bad sans dynamic is lowkey tragic because like killer keeps witnessing all these guys that he used to be friends or enemies or rivals or whatever with and they just keep dying or leaving him behind. not one ever stays for THAT long (because no wayyyy a dust or horror would take being under a cruel nightmare well) and it's given him this idea that none of these people matter (aside from the important one which is nm) because they're just gonna leave me and the connections ill have formed with them will be for nothing so why even try being vulnerable and friendly and interacting with these cheap copies of the guys i USED to be friends with

[crybaby-bkg]

tw: kenjaku so. angst.

his skull cracks open, and you’re not really sure if you believe your eyes at the moment. if they’re betraying you, unknowingly. if it’s your mind conjuring up something only from a nightmare, something to scare you. that if you blink long enough, he’ll still be standing there. whole. his scalp attached to his skin, his grin less leery, his eyes soft.

but he doesn’t. you open your eyes and he still stands there, holding the top of his head as if in offering to you. the skin is pale. you can see the veins in his forehead throb with the exposed air, wriggling as if they, too, know that they shouldn’t breathe the same breaths as you.

“See? I’m still the same person,” he says, this stranger in your home, in your bed, between your thighs, sharing a shower, in your kitchen, in your home. he sounds the same and yet he doesn’t; smiles the same and yet it’s too tight; stands the same and yet too rigid; eyes still soft and yet all seeing through your very flesh.

“Stranger,” you whisper. “Imposter.”

“More like a roommate coexisting in the same space.” He says, his hands offered to you, still, like communion. Like his body the bread and the blood that stills in his veins, the wine.

Is it conversion he wants? Does he expect you to drop to your knees and kiss his detached scalp like some royal back of hand? like some godly foot? like some dirty altar stained in crimson and gore and wreckage from the demon that has invaded it?

Bur Getou—can you even call him that anymore?—only smiles, teeth too white, mouth too wide—if you look too far into it, you’re scared it might devour you—cocks his scalp-less head at you. his brain tips. his brain smiles at you with teeth it should not have. his eyes run with tears and yet he smiles. smiles so big at you that you take a step back, in horror, fear, at the agonizing realization that things have been wrong for a long, long time now.

“Welcome me home, now would you, my love?” He says, drops the scalp as if it means nothing. it rolls to your feet, the silkiness of his hair tickling your toes. all you can do is scream, before he’s embraces you.

[lordsireno]

A checkup on Project Armstrong participants goes sideways when a one of the medical staff is replaced by a rouge AI that is a little too fascinated with the bonding of flesh and metal. Suddenly the team are trying to track down the missing project subjects, including Chai, who is now fighting for everyone's lives in the depths of some testing facility.

[teecupangel]

Eyy it's Titanoboa! Desmond anon and I found a new snake for Desmond

https://www.tumblr.com/warriorcatsofficialfacts/743110736781492224/hi-do-yall-mind-if-i-misuse-this-blog-entirely?source=share

Nonny, I saw the video and my first thought was this scene from Anaconda: Blood Orchid.

Just imagine redcoats trying to cross a similar body of water and they just start getting taken out one by one.

Hell, we can change it up a bit and have Desmond’s natural habitat being the bayou in New Orleans. Have Aveline be the one to first meet Desmond who is stalking the entirety of the bayou. He recognized her from Ratonhnhaké:ton’s memories so he doesn’t hurt her and even try to assist her whenever he can.

Aveline believes him to be a smart snake who just so happen to have a taste for the people that can be considered as her enemies.

She considered him an ally that she needs to be cautious about.

Desmond just likes to chill and help out whenever he sees Aveline.

The first time Ratonhnhaké:ton joins Aveline in the bayou though…

Desmond just curled around him and tried to snuggle him. Aveline was worried Desmond wanted to eat him for like… a second or so before she realized that, nah, Desmond is just, strangely, affectionate towards Ratonhnhaké:ton.

[smolghostbot]

Unlucky Clover

... Yeah I wasn't getting to sleep until I posted this. It's been a rough two days, so enjoy the combination of my two Normal brain cells, size scenarios and vampires.

Word Count: 2.1k

CWs: pretty heavy fearplay, and it’s a sizey story with a vampire, obviously mouthplay/vore energy

=====

The snow began to fall, and Clover quickly ran towards the nearby human house. Luckily, she had plenty of provisions, but she needed to escape the cold quickly or she’d freeze in this weather. As she entered the house through a hole in the siding, she was pleased to discover that it appeared to be heated, and even the space between the walls was warmed thanks to the insulation. As she sat down and curled up for warmth, waiting for her body to recover, she came to a decision that this house would be the perfect new base until the spring.

-

It was early in the evening when Nix noticed that they weren’t alone in their house. It was easy for them to smell the scent of fresh blood, but this was no pack of mice… this blood was human. Following the scent lead to a random wall, against the outside of the house. Perhaps somebody was laying against the siding? thought Nix, but it was far too cold for them to bother checking. Besides, they could wait a few more days before their next meal.

-

It took three days for Nix to finally spot the little intruder. They hardly believed their eyes as they saw her running behind their furniture. At first, they thought it was some kind of hallucination, but the scent confirmed that it was definitely real. It seemed like they had a borrower setting up shop in their house.

-

It had been two weeks, but Nix had finally spotted the little nuisance again. For the last two weeks, small objects had been disappearing around their house, which they could only conclude was due to their little “housemate”. When they saw her, the little intruder was scurrying towards a hole in the wall, holding a few hair clips in her arms as she ran.

“You know, you’re not very good at sneaking,” said Nix, a playful tone in their voice. They saw the borrower’s spine tingle, before she ran even faster into the hole in the wall.

-

It took Clover a few days to work up the nerve to leave again after that incident. This human seemed to be… more nocturnal than most humans, waking up at sunset and going to sleep before the sunrise. Clover had heard of a “night shift” job, and figured this human must have one.

There were a few other oddities as well, including the human’s distinct lack of food in their pantry, but that wasn’t enough to deter Clover. After all, she was an outdoor borrower, she was able to go out and forage for enough food to last her.

It was almost sunrise, and Clover knew the human was probably on their way to sleep. She just needed some fabric, and she knew the human had dropped a sock behind the dryer a few days ago. All she had to do was get to the laundry room and grab it and she’d have the material for a perfect winter coat.

Making sure that the human was out of the room, she began her trek, moving along the walls of the dark house. She got most of the way through the hallway, in an area with nowhere to hide, before the worst possible thing happened.

There was a moment as Clover stared fearfully at the human, taking in their appearance. This human was pale, that was the first thing she noticed. Their eyes were a bright red, almost seeming to glow, but surely that was just a trick of the light. They wore casual pajamas, just a baggy shirt and short pants, a far cry from the nice suits or dresses the human would normally wear before going out. After what felt like both seconds and years, the human spoke again, the second time they had spoken to the borrower.

“You.”

Clover was thrown off-guard as the human seemed to move at a superhuman speed, wrapping both of their giant hands around the borrower. Cold, was the first thought Clover had. Perhaps the human had been outside recently? No, that wasn’t right. Nothing was right here. Clover stared at the human fearfully as they began to speak.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here? If it isn’t the little thief who’s been running around my house.”

As they spoke, Clover stared, wide-eyed, as she finally noticed the gigantic canine teeth of their captor. It was all starting to click… this wasn’t the house of a human at all…

“What’s wrong, little thief? Cat got your tongue? Or are you incapable of speaking?”

Clover blinked back to attention. Speaking to humans was expressly forbidden… but Clover was never one for rules.

“I… can speak…” hesitantly murmured the borrower, almost too quiet for a human to hear. However, at this point she knew she was talking to no ordinary human.

“Ah!” exclaimed Nix, a clear teasing tone in their voice, “It’s intelligent after all. Well, as intelligent as somebody can be when they break into the home of a vampire.”

Vampire. Clover had known it to be true, but to hear it out loud made her skin crawl. She had heard legends of vampires, humans given a thirst for blood in exchange for immortality. It was said that vampires needed to kill dozens of humans a year to quench their thirst… and humans had a lot more blood than borrowers did.

Nix quickly interrupted the borrower's thoughts as they continued to speak. “Please, I know I’m quite attractive, but surely you know it’s rude to stare,” teased Nix, as they moved the borrower to a single hand, holding the borrower ever closer to their mouth, grinning wide with their fangs out.

“I… I… I…” was all Clover could stutter, as she stared in fear as the gigantic fangs, each one half the size of the small borrower.

“Oh? It seems like the little thief found her voice again. What were you saying?” said Nix, as they moved the borrower even closer.

“I… d-didn’t know…” spoke Clover, who was starting to tremble from fear. From this close, she could smell the faint metallic scent coming from the vampire’s mouth.

“You didn’t know? Didn’t know what, little thief?”

“I didn’t know… you were… a v-v-v…” Clover stammered fearfully.

“Oh! A vampire! Is that what you’re trying to say? It’s so hard to understand you with that stutter of yours,” spoke Nix, playfully poking Clover’s nose (or rather, her whole face) with the index finger of their free hand.

Clover could only nod, her voice caught in her throat. As Nix began to laugh, Clover recoiled back, pressing her body against the far side of the vampire’s tight grip.

“I… I d-didn’t know…” repeated Clover, as if in shock. “A-are you… g-going to kill me?"

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter what you knew or didn’t, because now you’re here, in the hands of a vampire,” said Nix, a devious smile still plastered on their face.

“Y-you didn’t an-” Clover went to speak again, but was swiftly interrupted by the vampire as they continued mocking the borrower.

“I’ll be honest with you… you smell absolutely delicious, you little thief,” continued Nix, their tone playful yet predatory. “You know, it’s been a week or so since I’ve fed… and while you certainly aren’t a meal, you’d surely be a good little snack…” said Nix, as Clover trembled in fear, staring at the fangs which may soon rip her apart.

This is it, thought Clover. I’m going to die.

“Maybe if I had enough of you… tell me, little one, you wouldn't have any friends nearby, would you?” asked the vampire. They knew the answer, but wanted to hear this intruder admit it. As Clover fearfully shook her head, Nix continued, “Ah, a shame then. I guess you really are all alone, huh? Just you and me, here in this house… far from anyone who could hear you…”

Finally, Clover regained her composure just enough to speak just one simple statement, voice soft and weak as tears welled in her eyes. “I… d-don’t want to die…”

At this, Nix stared at Clover, continuing to grin that sharp grin as their glowing red eyes looked at their captive. They adjusted their grip on the borrower, holding her between their index finger and thumb, which was still enough to keep her completely unable to escape.

“Don’t worry, my dear, it will only hurt for a moment” cooed the vampire, as if soothing a child about to get a needle. They slowly, deliberately raised the now-sobbing borrower to their mouth, bringing her right up to their fang, close enough that the borrower could reach out and touch it. As Clover cowered, she heard the vampire vocalize, a sound which shook their entire mouth, including the borrower now inside it.

“Hmmmm…”

And then, before she knew it, Clover was brought out of the vampire’s mouth, and dangled in front of their eyes by her leg. She would shout in pain, if she had any fight left in her. Instead, she could only stare at the giant red eye in front of her, waiting to see what was happening.

“You know, I was hoping for a little more fight out of you. No yelling, screaming, not even kicking? Just going to lie back and accept your fate, huh?”, said the vampire, in an almost casual tone, a far cry from their tone only seconds ago.

Clover could only continue to wordlessly stare at the vampire’s eye, unsure what they wanted her to say.

“You know, I’ve seen a lot of different reactions to my little games. Begging, pleading, fighting. But you? One weak little ‘I d-don’t want to die’”, Nix said, imitating the borrower’s voice with extreme precision, “and then you just cower. Is that just how you little things are? Ready to accept death at the slightest threat?”

“N-n-no…” was all Clover could say, forcing the word out of her mouth.

“N-n-no” mimicked the vampire, again perfectly mirroring the little borrower’s voice before rolling their eyes and speaking again in their own voice, “Seriously, you have to work on that stutter, my dear, it makes you sound even more pathetic than you already are.”

Dangling by her leg, tears stinging her eyes, and face-to-face with a monster that was now mocking her, the little borrower became almost completely unresponsive. Nix shook their little captive around, before continuing. “You know, if you’re going to be this boring, it makes me wonder if you’re even worth the effort to kill. I was expecting a little more of a thrill than this, weren’t you?”

Clover didn’t respond, until Nix shook her again, their voice growing more firm, “I asked you a question. Weren’t you expecting a little more of a thrill?”

“Y-yes… I mean, n-no…” said Clover, reignited with fear after hearing the change in the vampire’s tone.

“Well, that answer tells me nothing. You know what? You’re officially no fun. Do you know what that means?” asked Nix, that familiar devious grin on their face. Clover desperately tried to hide her face from the vampire, only to be shocked when she found herself being lowered to the ground. After being released, roughly landing on her shoulder blades before flipping around, Clover could only stare up at the vampire, wondering what her fate would be, before Nix spoke again.

“It means that I want you out of my sight. Now.” spoke Nix, though there was still a hint of playfulness in their voice. “Well? Are you waiting for me to pick you back up, or are you going to go scurry away somewhere?”

Clover was... confused. She had just accepted her death at the hands, or rather mouth, of a vampire, and now she was being set free? Despite her better judgment, she fearfully asked a question, taking a moment to compose herself so as not to stutter.

“You’re… not going to kill me?”

Nix leaned down and grinned before replying, “Hm? Did you want me to?”

“N-no, no, I just…”

Nix waved their hand dismissively before replying, “You have until I wake up to get the hell out of my house. After that, you’re fair game. Now scram, and think twice before stealing people’s things again, you pest!”

Clover wasted no time scrambling to her feet and starting to back away fearfully. “Y-yes sir, uh, ma’am, uh…”

“The more you stutter on, the more I’m regretting letting you go,” Nix said, as they turned around and began walking towards their bedroom. “And you don’t want me to regret this.”

Clover understood the message loud and clear, as she ran to her little hidey-hole and quickly packed only the essentials for her expedition to find a new place to live. The outdoors would prove challenging this time of year, but surely it was better than staying with a vampire.

-

Nix chuckled as they entered their bedroom. By now, the little pest was probably down the block. To think, she thought they would eat her. While Nix was a vampire, they’d never drain somebody dry, even a little thief like that. What kind of mindless beast did she take them for? Regardless, hopefully they had given her a good scare, and a lesson on being more sneaky when borrowing. After all, not everybody would be as kind as they were…