#blood moon fic

[artfinderartist]

This is a piece I commissioned from @kaluwa-del-conte ! Thank you Kaluwa for the permission to show this beautiful piece! This goes along with Chapter 5 of my fic of Blood Moon!

They have a Redbubble and a Ko-fi as well! :)

Thank you again !! I would love to commission again if you are down! <3

[ficbrish]

Last Line Monday

[29Jan2024]

Smut one shot wip for my Kinktober one-shot collection 🥰

Astarion/Tav; post-canon smut

Even after all the time they’d had together, her lips still quivered as they met his. It felt like all the great love stories, and the dreams they bore. She was always afraid he didn’t feel it too, but the look in his eyes as he pulled away was always saturated with it. How dare she ever doubt him.

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

do robots dream of electric sheep? do robots have nightmares of murders committed in their sleep?

have you slept, or are you afraid of things that in the dark creep?

[once-in-a-blood-moon]

solomon couldn't stand your pact marks.

well, no, that wasn't the right way to put it. he was proud, even jealous of your pacts. they were one of the many admirable things about you! he just hated... looking at them. he knew what other people thought when they saw them.

when one would see those marks on your skin for the first time, they would be able to get a glimpse at your relationship with the brothers. one of trust and respect, gathered from just a glance. meanwhile, one would have to be told about his and your relationship. one look at you couldn't decipher all the time you two have shared together, filled with chatting between classes, practicing magic for hours, and endless love.

at first, solomon tried to mitigate this with his own marks upon your skin. wearing lipstick as he placed a kiss on your neck, a few stray bite marks from your time together at night. but those, while fun, were temporary. and solomon needed something permanent.

why not a ring?

(Hope you don't mind me adding on, anon. Thank you for the delicious meal! Literally so honored to read your beautiful work! 🥹)

Getting the ring was the easy part. Getting you away from the brothers long enough to propose...was not.

The lengths Solomon went through to be able to have a private moment with you might put him in a record book as the three realms' most whipped man. With the mask of his "shady" persona secured, he lets his silver tongue weave him through these seven obstacles, the sin of each dripping from it with only you on his mind.

Swallowing his pride, breathing in greed, spitting out envy...his wrath, lust, gluttony, and sloth. A vicious rinse, repeat until he's either buttered them up or grated them down until they finally gave in. But he did it. With the day cleared of any interruptions, his plans were set in motion.

He decides to have a redo of your very first date, flying you up and walking in the sky amongst the stars. It's just the two of you against the ever inky black sky of the Devildom, a place that has become synonymous with your presence. Only this time, there are no surprise gales, no surprise drones -- just the surprise of a velvet heart-shaped box in the inside pocket of his coat.

Solomon brings up fond memories of your time together as you both near the spot he's picked to pop the question. He's filled with a giddy glee that soon you'll have something that binds you to him, something to show the world you're his.

Still, there's a little voice in the back of his head reminding him that you could say no. That perhaps he's not worthy. Does he deserve to have matching rings adorned on his and your fingers forevermore? Does he dare stand by your side as your equal when you are, in fact, so far above him?

He decides it's best not to dwell on such thoughts as this is meant to be a happy occasion, as long as all goes well.

Your feet touch the ground once he lowers you both on top of a cliff that overlooks the Devildom, the moon hanging brightly above. As you take in the magnificent sight, he lowers himself on one knee behind you, waiting with bated breath for you to turn on your own volition.

The moment you do, he knows he'll have to keep this memory stored away with his magic, just staring in awe. The moon is angled just right that it shines right behind your head like a halo. Your eyes are as wide as saucers while your jaw is slacked. With the way you look, he truly wonders if he's in the Celestial Realm.

Nervously, Solomon begins his improvised speech after clearing his throat, "my dearest apprentice, it is with great honor that I'm knelt before you tonight. I have dreamt of this moment more than I'd care to admit, yet I never thought it'd come true. But here I am, willing to give you all of me, if you're willing to give me all of you. You are the sun to my moon, the air in my lungs, the very reason why I believe I've lived so long. I was always meant to find you and work side by side to protect the human realm together. And most importantly, to love you. So, please do this old sorcerer a favor...by marrying me..."

He pulls out the ring box, opening it to offer you the ring within. The blessed box is shaking as he trembles, waiting patiently for your answer.

Happy tears spring from his eyes once you say, "yes." The ring is carefully slipped onto your finger, and a single word comes to Solomon's mind.

Mine.

[midnight-mourning]

DCA Promptober Day 31: Trick or Treat

Last one! Took a little extra time but we finally made it! Hope you enjoy, this is a fun little something something for the Confused Spirit fans in the audience

Additionally, if you have not read Confused Spirit, many of these characters will have no value to you I'm guessing, so, sorry about that. There's also some slight, implied spoilers for the fic as well. That being said, hope you enjoy!

Word count: 6392

Content warning: mentions of blood, injury, and death, reader descretion is advised

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

It's Halloween at the Plex, and you're, well you're not sure how to feel about it. You had to work, meaning your sister and brother are currently out trick or treating with Clara instead of you, which is a bit frustrating. Not to mention, you'd gotten all dressed up and had nowhere to go until you got off in an hour or so. 

You think a mandated Halloween party, on top of having to work on a project, wasn't a great combination, but with the glare Sarah had sent in the meeting last week to you and the other division heads, you didn't have much a choice. Have to set a good example and all that. 

At the very least, you weren't the only one dressed up, so you didn't look as ridiculous sitting hunched over a desk covered in green paint and fake stitches.

Your team all had various costumes on, differing in degrees of effort and style. Pete went classic vampire, Jesse was a mummy, and Tyler was a zombie. Liv was rocking a great Mia Wallace costume, and Savannah had on a witch hat but really went for it with her makeup look. 

Currently, as both a way to kill time and to potentially fix the problem you'd been having, you were all trying your best to fix the issues going on with Fazerblast.

Specifically, something had been messing with both the electric and the mechanical components of the entire attraction. While Lizzy and their team worked to determine what had been causing the random power outages, your goal was attempting to fix the malfunctioning laser guns and rogue staff bots. 

You'd tried to tell both Sarah and Rachel that the place really needed shut down for a few days to actually work on it, but no luck. Seems they wanted it open for Halloween, regardless of how bad an idea you thought that was. 

When your code crashes again you groan, tempted to run a hand across your face before you remember the paint.

"Frankenstein's monster was a good choice for you. You really sell it," Pete quips, sipping on a blood red slushy in one hand, still typing with the other.

You turn to him, eyes narrow, "Remind me why I'm helping you with coding again? When I could be doing literally anything else?"

"Gives him an ego boost," Jesse answers from across the room, "No offense."

You scoff, turning to the coworker across from you, "Figured as much. Savannah, any word from the company that sold us the trigger pins?"

"Not yet," She sighs, puffing out her cheeks, "But I keep checking the reviews and nobody else has had the same issues we've had here. They shouldn't be freaking out like this."

"Figured that much, too. Liv?"

She looks up and over to you, tired, dead stare on her face as she holds up the phone, "Still on hold. I'm guessing corporate left early for the day and couldn't be bothered to let everyone know."

You grimace, and check the time. It's after six now, the party starts at 6:30. That's more than enough for you at this point.

"Right. You know what, we're done here. Pack it up, we can grab food before the party because I know Sarah's going to be stingy about it."

With muted, half-defeated cheer, your team closes out of their computers and shuffles to the door. Besides Tyler, he's in a great mood still, but you expected as much. 

As you're grabbing your jacket and turning out the lights, you swear you see something out of the corner of your eye by your computer. Something purple. When you turn, you find that your computer is on again, login screen staring at you. 

"You coming?" Savannah calls from halfway down the hall.

You turn to yell back, "Yeah, give me a sec, just hold the elevator."

Slowly, you walk back over to your computer, giving it a once over. It looks fine, just turned on. You take hold of the mouse, and hover it over the shut off button again. As you click it, the screen freaks out, glitching before turning black. At the same time, a shock goes up your arm and you yelp, purple flashing across your vision. 

Dazed, you shake your head, and clutching your arm, make your way out of the office and to the elevator. 

You shuffle in, and as the doors close Jesse leans over and mutters to you above the chattering of your team.

"You alright?"

You nod, "Yeah, just, a little tired I guess." Your head feels funny, but otherwise you're fine. You think.

"What'd you do to your hand?" He asks, looking to how you're still holding it.

You let it go, shaking it off and letting it fall to your side, "Stoved it on my way out. I'll live."

He nods and you continue your ascent. But you can't shake the feeling that something's wrong. Your arm twitches and at the same time your vision becomes glazed over in a purple hue. You shake your head, and it's gone again. 

The upper levels are filled with activity. Kids rush from place to place, already tired parents in tow. The words 'trick or treat!' are echoed everywhere as children go from the different tables and booths set up for the holiday. 

If Lisa knew this was going on she'd have a fit that she was out going house to house instead of being here. But asking Clara to watch her in this chaos would have been cruel, and so, the less your sister knew, the better. Besides, Gabe deserved an authentic trick or treating experience as opposed to getting themed-corporate garbage in his candy bucket. For one of his first times at least.

As you pass by the Daycare, seeing many children playing in costumes and such, you see the doors are propped open, and Sun is handing out candy to a long line of trick or treaters.  

"Damn Pete, the Daycare Attendant really outshone you huh?" Savannah elbows him and nods to the animatronic's costume. 

Sun is also a vampire, with a large black cloak, and white shirt. His pants are somehow all black, and the change of shoes is also a surprise. Two lines of red streak down from his smile, which is still as friendly as ever otherwise.

Pete huffs, "It's literally the same costume, besides he doesn't even have fangs!"

You all start walking again, laughing. 

"True, but he wore it better, even without fangs."

The comment causes Pete to start arguing with the speaker, which to the surprise of no one at all, was Jesse.

You keep your gaze on Sun a few moments more, head feeling a bit clearer for just a moment. He glances up suddenly, and waves to you, head tilting just slightly. Surprised, you also wave.

There's a buzz in your pocket. As you start to walk away again you check it. 

'Your costume is nice.'

You wait for another message, you don't get one.

'Thanks???' You're confused. 

'Something wrong?'

'I just would have expected you to say something snarky at this point. Genuine compliments aren't your style'

You narrowly dodge an eager trick or treater running by you, nodding at their parent as they apologize. 

'It's Halloween. I'm in a good mood, don't sour it for me'

You scoff, 'There it is. I don't plan to, though it's tempting to have Clara swing by with the kids just for the fun of it'

From there, your normal bickering comes forth, and you continue it both as you head to the party and while at it. It's a bit busier than you expected, more employees than you expected are there mingling about the dancefloor.

The entire west arcade, like the rest of the Plex, is done up with decorations that set the mood. There's even a fog machine, adding to the spooky but cheerful atmosphere.

You still feel pretty funny though, and thus take the time to go 'cool off' out in the hall for a bit. 

It grows worse and you have to lean back against the wall. Head throbbing as you try to drink more punch in the hopes that will solve it. Your vision flashes again, purple, and suddenly you're not in the same location anymore. 

It's dark, and you're standing over someone. You can't see their face, it's covered with static. They're crying, hands up in surrender. You feel yourself chuckle, but it's not your voice, your tone is off. It's gravely. Not your own. 

Suddenly, out of your control, your hand, which is not your hand but some, clawed, thing, comes down and-

Your vision goes red and you clutch your head in pain. Gasping, you find yourself back in the hallway, back in your body. Back to normal. 

You take a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. You don't know what that was. You don't want to find out, either. 

"Not enjoying the party, Andromeda?"

You look up, standing above you is Moon. He's also dressed up for this, wearing a witch costume that has more aspects of his usual wear to it than Sun's did. His color scheme is purple with bits of orange, and his usual hat is replaced by a large witch hat. 

You relax, the pain is gone, for now, "Trying to. I've not been feeling so hot, honestly."

"What's wrong?" He sits down across from you, cross-legged.

You shake your head, "I don't know. My head has just been, feeling funny. And hurts. A lot, really. Been blocking it out I guess."

"How unfortunate. Perhaps I could be of help?"

You shrug, "You can try, but don't feel like you have to, either."

Moon holds out his hand to you, and you set your palm on top of his. He intwines your fingers, which makes your face heat up, but you think with all the paint on your face it's impossible to tell. You look up to him, waiting. 

"Close your eyes, and take a deep breath," He urges.

You do. The pain has subsided some, though not by much.

"Breathe in," Pause, "Breathe out."

You follow his instructions, each breath helping to soothe you bit by bit. 

You realize however, that even with your eyes closed, there's a purplish tint to the blackness behind your eyes. You frown, and notice that it grows when you breath in, and subsides as you breathe out.

Moon's grip tightens on yours, but keeps speaking. 

"In," His tone shifts, growing hoarser, sinister? "Out..."

Alarm spikes in your stomach, but yet, your mind stays calm, almost like its-

You open your eyes, smiling softly, "I think I'm good now. Thanks, Moon-man."

He nods. 

Then, something occurs to you.

"Wait a minute, shouldn't you be passing out candy to the kids-" You blink, and you're alone in the fully lit hallway. 

You rub your eyes, had the lights been on that entire time? You knew that sometimes the two AI could avoid a switch if the light level wasn't fully one way or the other. But this was different. 

You don't get to dwell on it, as a scream erupts from inside the west arcade, several others following. Alarmed, you sit up, ignoring the pain in your skull that's back with a vengeance and rush inside. 

You find a crowd has gathered around the center of the dancefloor. The music's been cut, and people are muttering with horrified looks at whatever’s in the middle of the group.

As you move past people who are covering their mouths or eyes, some are crying, some are shaking their heads in disbelief. You find your team among them.

"What's going on?" You ask after shoving past another person. 

Savannah shakes her head, and Liv cowers further into Tyler's arms. You've never seen him so grim. 

You realize two of them are missing, your fear grows, "...Where's Jesse and Pete?"

Tyler nods to the center of the crowd, and you quickly take the few further steps to burst out into the opening, finding your fears confirmed plainly. 

Pete sits on the ground, crying as he cradles a body wrapped in white cloth stained red. You have to flick your eyes away from it for a moment, the sight being beyond shocking.

Swallowing and keeping your eyes to the ground, you slowly approach Pete and sit down. Briefly, you find your eyes meeting your, Christ, your dead friend's. His eyes are wide, mouth open in pure horror.

You turn back to the man beside you, setting your hand on his shoulder as he jumps, "What happened?"

"The, the lights cut, just, he just," He can't seem to look away, he's shaking, "I don't, I don't know how this would've, who could've, do-done this..."

You put your other hand on his other shoulder, forcing him to turn and look to you, "Pete. Breathe. Just breathe. Okay?"

He nods slowly, and you turn to behind the crowd behind you, "Please tell me somebody's called the cops?"

"No signal, trying to get ahold of Derrick in the office, but haven't had any luck," You realize that it's Bri who's answering you, looking rather grim in her black cat costume. 

You nod, "Right. Who's got basic medical training? I think he's gone into shock."

Someone steps forward, and starts tending to Pete. Someone else comes forward and lays a sheet over Jesse's body. A ghost costume you realize, how ironically morbid.

You stand, and-unfortunately being the person with the most experience in this scenario-try your best to take charge and calm things down. You also feel some level of responsibility, given that all the other Division Heads seem to be missing now.

Working with Bri, you send a group to the security office to see if they can't notify the police of what's happened. Additionally, you try to lock down the area to keep this from getting beyond the walls of this room and causing mass panic. Not to mention, you have no idea who did this, meaning they're still among you as far as you're aware. 

It's all going as smooth as it can be until Bri and the other guards’ radios erupt with screaming. Causing you to pause in your discussion with Savannah. 

You can barely make out what they're saying, only catching snippets here and there.

"-Something in the office!"

"Everybody's dead, oh god, they're all-"

"Help! Please! Anybody!"

To make matters worse, the lights cut again, sending the growing paranoia among the crowd into a full blown hysteric mob. You can't make out a thing in the dark, and when your head starts aching again, purple blinding you, you know you're a goner for the time being. 

Another vison comes to you, this time, the room is dimly lit, and you can tell this is a closet of some kind.

Again, you tower over a cowering figure who you realize is, David? What in the world is he doing here? What is happening?

"I don't know what they see in you, if anything at all," A voice that's not your own, yet comes from you, says. It's familiar but yet you can't-

David's sentence is shaky, "Look, I don't know what you want but I don't want any trouble. Okay?"

"Trouble? Friend, you're in a lot more than just trouble," There's something heavy in your hands, it glints in the light, "I'll tell you what though, if you hold still you'll be saving me a lot!"

Axe, it's an axe and it's swinging, down, down, down-

"Hey, it's alright. You're alright," Bri's shaking you, hand on your shoulder. 

You take a deep breath, realizing you're on your knees in a room lit by a red emergency light and some flashlights. Glancing around, you see all your friends, including Abby and even Jacob are here with you. There's a few others who you're guessing are other security guards based on how they stand near the door, on edge. 

You look back to Bri, "How'd I get here?"

Bri juts her thumb, "Tyler found you half out of it on the ground and grabbed you. Somehow carried Liv here too."

"I'm stronger than I look," He flexes with a nod. 

You manage to crack a weak smile, clutching your head as more pain shoots through it, "What happened? Where are we?"

"Security office by Fazerblast," Bri answers, glancing over at the covered window in the door, which you realize has been barricaded, "Furthest we could get safely with this many people."

"What do you mean by safely?"

She opens her mouth, but Pete speaks up, "The bots have gone awol." You turn to see he's on the ground, leaning up against the wall, blood dripping down the side of his head, face solemn, angry, "They're picking us off one by one. Anybody in sight is getting killed off. Doesn't help that we can't see a fuckin' thing and they can."

Your eyes widen, "What? …but, why? How?"

"Does it matter?" He asks, looking to you now, "We're dead meat if we try to leave, but we're sitting ducks here."

Bri scolds him, "We're not sitting ducks. This our best chance of getting out of here alive. If we can get power to the cameras, even better."

"Working on it," Liv says, something sparking as she speaks, "But I'm not an electrical engineer."

"Just give it up, Liv. There's no point," Pete scoffs, shaking his head.

He and Bri start arguing, Savannah trying to interject to keep the peace.

Someone sits down beside you, hand resting on your shoulder. 

It's Abby, her Glamrock makeup is smeared with dried tear streaks, "Hey."

"Hey," You sigh.

She bites her lip, "Are, are your siblings...?"

Your eyes widen and shake your head.

"God no. They're, they're safe. Out trick or treating with Clara," You put a hand to your face, relieved as you realize that fact, "Your brother?"

She sighs, "Also safe. With my parents. Not here. But," She stops, and you know exactly what she's thinking. 

You nod, turning away as you hear her sniffle. Your friends are still fighting, the guards by the door are getting antsy, another spark startles Liv and she looks ready to cry. You need to do something. 

Your vision turns purple but you shake it off immediately. Whatever this is, it can wait. You're going to make it.

Standing, and clutching your arm to keep it from twitching, you clear your throat, "We're not going to die here. Not on my watch. Bri, you and your guys here have any sort of weapon?"

"Tasers. And there should be a baton in here somewhere. Why, what are you thinking?"

You nod to the control panel for the cameras, "If there's anyone who can get those working in a blackout, it's Lizzy. And I know they were in Fazerblast before all this. Hell, it might've been their team that caused the outage."

"You want to go out there?" Pete asks, "Are you insane?"

You shrug, "Have to be at least a little bit to do this job. Someone give me a radio. We can at least double check before considering it."

Bri hands you her radio, and after a moment's hesitation, you set it to the engineers' channel and hold in on the button, "Lizzy, you still okay out there?"

Quiet. Your friends exchange a few bleak glances. 

You're about to try again when, "Uh, yeah? Why wouldn't I be?"

Relief, you think Pete even cracks a small smile. 

"There's... a lot of shit going down in the Plex right now, how have you not heard about it?"

"Dude we've been stuck in Fazerblast for hours. Besides trying to fix the power the doors got jammed. I'm not leaving until this is done though, so we just kind of ignored it. Did think it was weird there was no parents complaining about not being able to use a half-functioning attraction though." Their tone is so casual you have no choice but to believe it. 

The information, however, is huge, "That's, actually the best case scenario for us right now. So listen up, we gotta do this right or we don't stand a chance."

After explaining the full situation to Lizzy and their team, you work with your friends to come up with a plan. A good one. Something tells you you're only going to get one shot at this. 

Meanwhile, you struggle to keep it together. You keep getting more and more flashes of that other perspective. Speaking in those voices that you can't quite place how you know. Increasingly, you start to recognize the locations they're in are getting more familiar to where you are currently. 

It's a no brainer to you then, that you're a part of the team that goes to retrieve Lizzy. You force Bri to stay in the office, along with one of the guards. If you don't make it back, you at least want some people to stay safe. 

You try and fail in vein to stop Pete and Abby from coming with you, Tyler picks you up again when you question him coming along. 

"We're better off in even groups," Pete argues, gripping the metal chair leg he stole tightly, "Makes our chances that much better."

You don't disagree, but you don't like it either, "Fine, you're right. Now put me down please, Ty."

"Can do boss," He sets you down. 

You're all armed as best you can. The guard, Joseph, has a taser, and Tyler has-apparently-pure brute force on his side. Pete has the chair leg, which is similar to the stun baton you're carrying.

Abby has brass knuckles. You don't know how she has those but you're not going to question it. Apparently, Utah state law doesn't have any clauses relating to them, now you know.

You move quickly and silently through open darkness to get to the staff entrance to Fazerblast, which is thankfully only a short distance away. You all stay close, not saying a word as you navigate. 

There's not a soul around, human or machine. You don't know if it you puts you more on edge or not. 

When you get to the door, Pete's able to get it open quickly, and you all file inside, locking it again soon thereafter. 

The light inside the attraction is blinding in comparison to the darkness outside, the music and sound effects playing as if everything is entirely normal. It's almost more eerie in that regard. 

You find Lizzy and their crew sitting around one of the towers, the reunion is brief, but happy. It's agreed that the senior engineer will come with your group, and the parts and service crew will stay for safety reasons. You're about to depart again, when the radio starts going crazy. 

"We've got issues here!" Bri shouts down the line, "Don't come back, it's not safe!"

Static blares from the device, followed by banging, shouting, crying, and then a loud crash. The silence that follows is deafening. 

"Fuck. No, no, no," You bang on the side of the radio, "Come on, Bri! Savannah! Anyone!?"

No answer. 

"Dammit!" You toss the radio to the side, hands coming up to grip the sides of your head, "Dammit, dammit, dammit."

A hand on your shoulder, Abby again, "There's nothing we can do right now. We're going to have to refocus. Plan. Hope that they'll be okay-"

There's a banging at the front entrance to Fazerblast. Everyone freezes. 

You think quickly as the sound grows in volume, "Lizzy, how in control of the power are you currently?"

They dig through their bag, and toss you a makeshift remote, "It's what we've been using to test."

The pounding gets louder, and the shutter creaks. 

"Everybody who isn't armed find a place to hide. The rest of you are with me. We're gonna flip the tables on them."

Everyone scatters, and you make your way to the doors. You have no idea what's on the other side of that metal shutter, but you're going to find out one way or another. You'd rather it be on your terms. 

"Can you get it open?" You ask Pete, hitting the lights and leaving only a flashlight to see.

He nods, "You're sure about this?"

"As I'll ever be. Abby, Joe, Ty, go hide nearby. We'll assess the biggest threat and go from there."

They all nod, and head off into the darkness.

Pete gets the panel open, taking a deep breath, "I hope you're right."

You press your back against the wall beside the panel, almost accustom to the feeling of your vision switching to purple. That other perspective is right outside now. You see Freddy is the one banging on the door, along with several map bots. You squeeze your eyes shut and you're back in your body again.

"Me too."

There's a beep, and the shutter slowly starts to raise. Quickly, you grab Pete and shove him on the other side of you, using your arm to press him up against the wall beside you. 

As bots start pouring in, you lean your head back against the wall, holding your breath. 

You watch as they fan out, scouring for anyone that they think is in here. They don't see you. You relax slightly.

You turn to Pete and nod, guarding him as he moves and shuts the door again, it quietly sinks back to the ground, locking you in here for the time being. 

Moving across the wall, you regroup with the others. 

"I counted six staff bots, and Freddy," Abby whispers. The other three agree. 

Pete keeps lookout on your corner, "The music still playing helps us a little, but not a lot. We stick together, and go one by one, saving Freddy for last."

You frown, "Freddy's not last."

"What do you mean? Of course he is, he's going to be the hardest to take down."

You shake your head, "You miscounted. There's one more animatronic that made it in."

"Who?"

Off in the distance, you hear it, the jingle of bells. There's a flash of red as he lands on one of the walls, far off from you but within your line of sight. 

You shake away the purple again, knowing it's going to show you what he's seeing at that moment, "Moon."

You fare better than you expected. A bunch of humans versus machines. You manage to take down three of the staffs bots in the dark, and by screwing with the lights a few times, manage to disorient the Daycare Attendant enough to keep them from discovering your location. 

However, one of the parts n services guys gets found out, and his terrified screams as your claws rip him apart send, something, down your spine.

You know something's wrong with you now. You're taking far too much joy in beating in the metal skull of the staff bot below you. Oil splattering your clothes and face. You feel manic, alive. Out of control. 

You shake your head, stopping. You ignore the glances being sent your way, you have to make it through this. 

With this one you realize there's only one more staff bot left, then it's just Freddy and the Daycare Attendant. You flick the lights off again, huddling together with the others. 

"If we go for one, the other is going to know. Our best bet is to divide and conquer," Pete says. 

You nod, "One person with an electric weapon per team, one with something heavy. Tyler, you go with the group at the disadvantage to even it out."

Your teams end up being Joseph, Abby, and Tyler together to take on Freddy, leaving you and Pete to deal with Moon. 

You trudge through the darkness, silence between the two of you. 

There's been a voice in your head for a bit now. You block out whatever it says. Your grip feels shaky on the baton, and you can tell Pete's on edge more because of you than the looming threat somewhere out in the dark.

Keep it together. You just have to keep it together.

"Hello, Diana."

You turn, he pulls you up into the air, away from Pete. You don't even think to scream, instead only able to watch terrified as the ground and your friend get further and further away. 

Moon settles on one of the towers to set you down again, and you scramble back and fall onto the ground, looking up at him with fear. 

His faceplate twists, observing you. Then, his eyes narrow cheekily and he chuckles lowly. 

"What's the matter, Bright Eyes? You look like you've seen a ghost."

You bit your lip as it trembles, raising the baton as a threat, "W-with how this night is going it's, certainly a possibility."

"But that's not my costume now, is it?" He takes a step closer. 

You hold firm with the baton, hitting the button for the taser part to go off, "Moon-man, I don't want to hurt you. Don't make me."

The spark seems to deter him, growling.

"Why are you doing this? What did any of these people do to you?" You ask, beg in your words, "Killing innocent people? That's not you."

Moon snickers, and despite your waving of the baton, he moves closer, clawed finger resting on the end of it. He presses it down as he crouches to your level. 

You now sit eye to eye with him as he speaks, "Andromeda, would you like to know a secret?"

Your grip tightens on your weapon, head shaking once. That doesn't deter him. 

He leans in closer, his smile hovering just above your lips. 

"This is the best Halloween I've ever had," Then, he kisses you. You're so surprised that you don't feel the baton be taken from your hand until it's gone. 

He pulls away, chuckling again.

A loud bang suddenly resonates in the space, and the Naptime Attendant starts to twitch and collapse on the ground in front of you.

Pete stands over you both, breathing heavy as he clutches the chair leg in both hands. 

"Sorry, had to take the stairs."

Moon snarls and flips around, hand raising ready to slash across the man's chest. 

Panicked, you hit the button for the lights. 

But it's too late. 

As Sun's rays pop out, one by one, Pete can only stand there, blood slowly starting to soak through his shirt. He coughs, then takes a step forward, then another, stumbling past you into the wall. You quickly flip around as he collapses back against it, breathing ragged. 

"Well, at least now you look authentic," You turn back to see Sun standing hunched over, clutching his faceplate, "Though, it's still not quite as good as mine."

As he straightens, you have to suppress a gasp as it's revealed that one of his optics has shattered from the previous impact. 

His rays twitch and his focus snaps to you as you stand. 

His faceplate clicks to the side, "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes, Sunshine."

"Sun." You can't reach for your baton without it being obvious. 

"Are you having a good Halloween? I know I am." He tsks, "A pity about your costume, though I suppose the grit and grime really sells it."

You take a deep breath, running the back of your hand under your nose to wipe away the blood that's dripping. Your vison flashes purple, and for a moment you find you’re staring down at yourself. 

You're a mess. Hair all over the place, clothes torn. There's streaks in the paint covering your skin. There's still blood coming out your nose a little bit.

And your eyes are bright purple.

You come back to and watch Sun's eyes narrow.

You shift slightly, hand twitching.

You see there’s a slight shadow over Sun’s eyes. And in his good optic a small white pupil flicks to your hand. You swallow.

 "Don't do something you'll regret, Icarus."

You stamp your foot down onto the baton, it pops up into your hand and you click to turn it on.

You jut your chin out, tilting your head slightly, "Come on, Sun. You know me better than that."

You rush forward, he steps back, dodging and spinning to face you as you charge again. It's almost like a dance of danger. And it truly becomes one when Sun takes one of your hands and spins you around, dipping you low and back up as you try and fail again to use the baton on him. 

You let out a noise of frustration. Charging forward again, the two of you go round and round. Narrowly you miss him every time. Narrowly he dodges every swing. He’s fast. Faster than you’d have ever anticipated, than he’d ever let on about. You never realized how close to death you may have been all this time.

After another miss, this one the closet you’ve gotten yet, Sun puts an end to your game. He grabs hold of the baton, only flinching as you turn it on, and rips it from your grip, tossing it aside. He spins you into his arms and holds tight. 

You fight against him in vain. 

"You know, Bright Eyes. I would have thought you'd appreciate your treat a bit more than this," He snarls the words, "But maybe you've been too busy resisting it to do so."

You slow your struggling, and Sun releases you finally. The words having done the job far better than his hold to sedate you.

You turn to face him cautiously.

"You, you did this?" You ask, "You did this to me?"

Sun tuts, hands coming up to cup your cheeks, "Well, technically you did it to yourself, Bright Eyes. But I'm happy you did. Makes all of this much, much easier."

It suddenly hits you that he's right. Maybe not intentionally, or fully knowing, but you made the choice to go back to the computer. You chose to try and turn it off again. You could have left the office, it would've shut down eventually. Something had compelled you to come closer and investigate, and you had made the choice to listen. 

And now you were suffering from the cost.

"Now, let's finish this up, hm?" Sun bends and kisses you, pulling away after a moment, "You wouldn't want to disappoint now, would you?"

You don't answer. Your feet move on their own as they turn to face Pete, who seems to realize what's happening before you do. 

He clutches the wound on his stomach tighter, breathing quickening, "Come on, snap out of it! This isn't you! You know it's not."

"Quiet over there, you'll get your chance to speak in just a moment," There's something set down in your hands, you know what it is, "Don't worry, I'll help you. No need for tears."

You find that you are crying, but can't do a thing to stop it. Your body is not your own, your emotions are not your own. You are entirely out of control as Sun guides you to march staggeredly towards Pete.

Off in the distance you hear shouting as your remaining friends try in vain to take down Freddy. Not that it mattered. Even if they did, you'd be finishing the job.

Your breathing is heavy but controlled, grip on the axe tight, all you can do is stare down at Pete, who looks up at you horrified, eyes wide. You think the look matches the fear in your own gaze.

Sun's hands are on your shoulders, voice a purr in your ear, "Go on, Starlight. You know what you need to do."

The axe raises jerkily, fighting against it and losing. Your eyes snap shut, and it comes down. Again, and again, and again.

You block out everything, all noise, all touches. You block out the sound of sickening crunches and squelches, of Pete's heavy gasps, of Sun murmuring encouragement right beside you all the while. 

You block out the wood rough against the skin of your hands, the blood, sweat, and tears, running down your face. Sun's hands wrapped around your waist, head resting on your shoulder. 

You suddenly regain control and your eyes shoot open, throwing the axe away from you and stumbling back into Sun's arms. Your hands come up to your face as you sob, shaking your head. 

He just holds you as you cry, muttering things you can't comprehend as he presses kisses to your hair. 

When you finally subside to sniffles is when he pulls back to press a kiss to your lips.

"There, there, you're alright, Bright Eyes. Come on now," He lifts you to your feet, arms pulling you closer as he leans in for another kiss, "I'll let you pick who's next, how's that?" 

You shoot up from your bed, heart racing. You clutch your chest, breathing hard. 

You're at home. Sitting on your bed. You're fine. Everything's fine.

There's a yawn to your left that interrupts your thoughts. 

It's Gabe, laying on the bed beside you in his pumpkin costume. He yawns again, and stares curiously up at you, fist in his mouth. You pat his head with a sigh.

Right, you were going to put him down for a nap before heading out to trick or treat, then go to the Plex for the same thing. Looks like you ended up taking a nap too. 

You check the time, it's almost five. Suddenly, a thought hits you square in the face.

"Did I kiss Sun?" You say aloud. 

You do your best to recall the fading nightmare.

Oh god, you did. Right on his stupid flat face. Multiple times. You kissed Moon to but you're less opposed to that albeit confused-but Sun?

Involuntarily you gag, now feeling the sudden urge to rinse out your mouth, even if it had just been to his faceplate, much less a dream. 

Shaking your head, you turn to look down at your brother, who's now somehow managed to get his foot in his mouth, despite his costume. 

"Gabe, never down a bag of sour gummies and immediately take a nap, it'll give you crazy dreams."

You think you might leave the trick or treating to the kids tonight.

Something tells you that it’s for the best.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Oof, what a doozy huh? Imagine being the final girl AND the killer... crazy. Good thing it was all just a dream. Here's the promptober list and the spookvember schedule. Thanks for reading as always-

Oh?

What's this?

Looks like there's a link down here.

How'd that get there?

...

Hm.

You should click it. See what happens.

CLICK ME

btw the song playing while writing the fight scene was I Go Crazy - Orla Gartland and it was a VIBE and a half let me tell you-

[sourtomatola]

Villainous trio drabble

1700-ish words (based off this pic) @villainoustrioau @crees-a

Solar grunted with the turn of a screw. His latest project was almost done, but now, he was feeling like getting a cup of coffee.

He was already standing when he stretched his endo as far back as he could bend. His door shut in that moment, making him jump from the sudden break of his conversation. Eclipse Sulked in tiredly, dragging his slippers across the floor and barely giving Solar a glance.

Eclipse was the one who was apart of the group without his own will involved. Solar felt bad for him, but understood that it was the reason Jigsaw had built him. His lanky lumbering body hunched in exhaustion as he wordlessly dragged himself to Solar’s desk, crawling underneath. He grabbed the sol pillow that the mechanic had left there for him and curled up. Comfort wasn’t his priority, he just needed rest and silence.

Solar paused his quest for coffee and walked back to his desk, where Eclipse settled in. Solar said nothing, knowing that Eclipse was often exhausted from the constant chattering and singing Jigsaw subjected him to. Solar held out his hand and gave his counterpart’s back a gentle stroke.

Eclipse tensed up for a second before carefully relaxing and letting out weary sigh. Solar continued to rub his back gently, careful to not chip his paint or cause anymore new cracks to his casing. He knew the Ruin Virus was tough on the guys body, and was only trying to offer quiet comfort. Eclipse accepted it thankfully, or at least didn’t have the energy to argue, and just fell asleep under the desk.

Solar stared at him a minute, marveling at how well built he was, despite the ruin virus. Jigsaw really built him strong, no doubt knowing what the virus would do to him. Solar silently wished he could have given Jigsaw an alternative way to control Eclipse, but he had none, and there was no cure.

He stood up and let his fans vent a moment in a relaxed sigh before he made his way back to the coffee maker. As he poured himself a cup, he could hear Jigsaw in the other room, chittering in giggles and other mutterings. Solar knew this meant he was charging now. While most animatronic’s charged much like they were sleeping, Jigsaw got a bit quirky.

He heard the sound of claws scraping against the floor and glanced into Jigsaw’s room. He let out a sigh, seeing the other type of daycare attendant model laying on the floor, instead of the couch he usually slept on. The broken animatronic’s endo exposed fingers scuffed noisily against the floor.

Solar leaned against the wall, watching his little leader writhe and flinch in his sleep. He swirled his coffee in his mug before taking a sip and setting it aside, making a choice. He stepped back into his leader’s room and gently scooped up the shorter animatronic, gently placing him on the couch.

Jigsaw’s bell on the end of his hat chimed, making Solar pause, staring at the familiar blue nightcap. Solar’s eyes narrowed at the hat, thinking of the one he kept close because of it’s own significance. Specifically, the passionate killing of his own Moon.

He didn’t regret it. Not one bit. He had many regrets, oh, so many, but he has never once lost sleep over that nightcap trophy in his room. If anything, seeing the unmoving stares made him rest deeper.

He made sure Jigsaw was comfortable before standing again and grabbing his coffee on his way back to his lab. When he got there, he glanced under the desk to see Eclipse Undisturbed. Satisfied, he sat back down and got back to work.

Occasionally, Eclipse would let out a soft moan in his sleep. Solar reached his leg over and rubbed Eclipse comfortingly with his foot, like a dog under the table. Eclipse would settle and Solar would unconsciously continue to gently comfort his counterpart, the rhythmic rubbing motion easing them both in a peaceful routine.

Solar got up to get another bolt from his supply box, scooting his chair away to keep it out of Eclipse’s way. He heard the taller bot moan again, but he tried to pay it no mind. He heard another moan as he was away from his desk, but ignored it until another came, accompanied with a low growl.

Solar looked back at the desk to see Eclipse squirming in his sleep, groaning and clawing at the floor, his fierce claws leaving deep gnashes in the cement ground. Eclipse started to pant, a sure sign that his hunger was growing. Solar tensed at the realization.

“Uhhh...Jig?” Solar called softly to the other room. He hoped their leader would hear him and get his creation the substance he needed to avoid any unforeseen incidents.

Eclipse woke with a start, making Solar flinch. The Lanky animatronic let out a soft snarl as he started to look around his cushion. He was looking for something to eat. Something to kill.

“Jig!” Solar called louder. “Jig! Need some food in here!” He yelled.

Eclipse’s eyes shot to Solar, making him tense up. The metal beast lumbered out from under the desk and stood up, still hunched over. Solar knew his current position. It wasn’t a slouch. It was a hunting crouch.

Solar knew he didn’t have the blood that Eclipse was carving. He knew that feasibly, he wouldn’t be a victim of Eclipse. Eclipse wasn’t just a rabid animal, biting at everything anyways. The virus did enhance his feelings though, including hunger, which was dangerous in any sense.

“JIG!” Solar yelled louder.

“Oh Solar solar, sing my name~ It would not make me hurry faster, all the same~” Jigsaw giggled as he swayed into the room.

Eclipse’s tense posture relaxed slightly, but he still growled roughly. Solar’s fans sped up with relief, letting himself vent as Jigsaw brought in a bag filled with red raw meat.

“There you are dahling, have a good nap?” Jigsaw asked as he came over and scratched under Eclipse’s chin.

Eclipse gave out a low warning growl, despite not having the ability to do anything about it. He Physically couldn’t bite the hand that fed him. He instead tried to reach for the bag, but Jigsaw pulled it away from him.

“Ah ah~ Act like a dog, and you get treated as one.” Jigsaw snickered. “Now then, sit.”

Eclipse’s growl grew louder, frustrated.  “I’m not a dog!” He snarled.

Jigsaw’s face didn’t change from his pleased smug expression. “Sit.” He commanded again and held up the bloodied bag, giving it a taunting shake.

A small bit of drool left Eclipse’s lips as he stared at the bag. He quickly wiped it away in frustration before clenching his fists and falling to his knees harshly. He was still quite a bit taller than Jigsaw. He stayed on his knee’s until Jigsaw rose his eyebrows expectantly. Eclipse huffed angrily, but sunk back into a sitting position with his legs folded flat against the floor. Now he sat just a touch shorter than Jigsaw.

Eclipse’s fists clenched into his pants, almost seeming to tear them, but not quite. Solar silently hoped he wouldn’t have to fix them if he did.

“Theres a good boy!” Jigsaw praised and gave the humiliated starving bot a gently pat on the head. He opened up the plastic bag and pulled out a misshapen bloodied steak. Eclipse tried to grab for it but Jigsaw stopped him again. In embarrassed frustration, Eclipse slammed his fist to the ground, letting out an angry roar. Solar flinched but grabbed for his coffee instead of complaining.

Jigsaw just grinned as he calmly watched eclipse Expression of fury over his situation. He waited for Eclipse to settle down for a second before he began to hand feed Eclipse the steak.

The beastly animatronic scarfed down the meat ravenously, his hands catching the blood that leaked from it. He then licked away the blood from his own hands, searching for more blood to feast on. He looked to his master’s hands before grabbing Jigsaw’s wrists and licking the blood from them next, refusing to let anything go to waste. Jigsaw giggled from the tickling licking sensation but stood still, letting Eclipse lick off all he could.

Blood seeped between Jigsaw’s joints. He didn’t seem to mind, but Eclipse growled at the escaping drip and put his lips to the joints to try to suck the blood back out. Jigsaw’s expression turned from pleased to smug as he watched Eclipse effetely kiss his fingers, every joint, desperate from more blood to quell his hunger.

Solar quietly drank his coffee as he watched their ritual of master feeding his servant.

At last, Eclipse pulled back, looking to the floor in humiliation of his behavior.

“There now, are you satisfied?” Jigsaw asked. Eclipse refused to look at him but nodded. “Would you like to go back to sleep?” Another nod. “Well then, I’ll leave you to it then~ I’d like some alone time as well. Sleep tight~”

Jigsaw left the room with a wave, humming a tune to himself as he did. Solar watched Eclipse sit quietly for a moment, seeming to let the shame seep in and settle. His hungry growls gone, leaving the room in silence again.

Instead of standing up again, Eclipse merely crawled back under the desk, facing away from Solar as he curled up. Solar picked up his project and set it on the desk above Eclipse before sitting down. Neither of them moved for a minute before Solar once again reached out his foot and gently stroked Eclipse’s back.

Eclipse let out a tired sigh before relaxing again. Solar glanced to his mug of coffee that he had left across the room. He rubbed his tired optics and took off his goggles, deciding to forsake his coffee. He leaned forward on his desk, staying seated but relaxing his faceplate in his arms on the table in a resting position. It wouldn’t hurt to shut his eyes for a bit as well.

Underneath the desk, he felt a clawed hand touch his ankle, gently grasping it, thumb rubbing against his joints and plating. Solar smiled sleepily before the world went back.

Art for this

[anonymous-dentist]

Blood Moon

The rain, supposedly, is made of blood near the Vampire Castle.

Honestly? Bullshit, the rain is rain, and the moon is the moon, and Roier is going to die, and it's all normal. The grass is just as green as the grass back home is. The stars are the same; Roier waves goodnight to the same sun he's known his entire life when it sets every night.

It's kiiind of disappointing, t-b-h. Roier wants blood. He's going to the Vampire Castle: he wants blood.

The castle itself isn't that disappointing, at least: its tall black stone towers almost seem to touch the stars, and the roofs are the color of freshly-spilled blood.

It's all red: roofs, trees, gates, windows. The flowers planted along the path leading to the castle's broken bridge are red. The ragged banners hanging from the parapets are red. The dim, dying lanters dangling from the trees' skeletal overhanging branches are red.

Castelo Arabutã: the Vampire Castle.

Roier looks at the bones scattered among the road's ruined pavestones, and he smiles.

And then he looks back at the destroyed bridge in front of him, and his smile falls.

(A small hand tugs on the back of his coat impatiently: "Come on, Apa, you're too slow! I'm bored!")

The sun continues to set, complaining its way behind the horizon even through the growing storm clouds. The rain continues to fall. The wind continues to blow, tossing the tails of Roier's headband about like an impatient child.

There's a single light on in one of the castle's towers. It dances, laughing, and Roier is just a little homesick.

But, he figures, he can't die the way he wants back home.

So: onwards!

The bottomless pit beneath the bridge beckons him.

Roier tightens his backpack's straps and reties his boots. He cracks his neck and adjusts his headband.

He waves one final "Goodnight!" to the sun, and he silently asks it to watch over its mother for him.

And then he cracks his neck, lets out a breath, runs, and jumps.

-

The castle's front doors are easily the size of three Roiers stacked on top of each other. They're big and red and imposing and Quackity would probably be pissing himself at the sight of the literal actual gruesome murder scenes carved into the wood: there's a decapitation, two separate dudes getting sawed in half via the asscrack, a spike getting shoved up a different dude's ass... all that and more just on the square meter or so directly in front of Roier's face.

The door's knocker is a screaming skull cast in black iron.

Roier's hand only briefly hesitates over the knocker before grabbing it and, well, knocking.

THUNK-THUNK-THUNK

The moon starts to rise, cutting silver through the storm, and Roier, finally, is ready to die.

Every child in the Federation knows about the Vampire King. He was born out of blood in a battle thousands of years ago, back before the Federation was even formed. His name was discarded when his humanity was; he's hardly anything more than a bloodthirsty tyrant these days, plotting to destroy the Federation and restore his fallen kingdom with absolutely no considerations aimed towards the common people outside of what blood types they might have.

Famously, the Vampire King kills anyone who visits his castle: vampire hunters, lost travelers, curious historians. Idiots.

Roier knocks again, knuckles white.

THUNK-THUNK-THUNK

Roier's abuelo was a vampire hunter, now forcefully retired and in prison for treason. Roier's best friend (..."friend") is still a vampire hunter. Roier has gone through the training himself, and his son was supposed to start it in the upcoming fall.

Once upon a time, Roier was supposed to be a hunter. Then he met Jaiden.

Now, he's doing what every Federation citizen knows not to do, and he's knocking on the Vampire King's front door.

Thunder rolls, and Roier drops his hand from the knocker and slips it into his coat pocket. His fingers wrap around a loose coin and start flipping it between themselves idly as he waits.

And, oh, he waits.

Nobody knows what the Vampire King looks like. Paintings back home portray him as some tall skinny old man with cheekbones sharp enough to cut a steak with. Roier's abuelo said that he looks like how a cat would look if it was turned into an ugly man by an evil wizard. Cucurucho never spoke of him, probably because they've always been pissy about their twin brother having a huge embarrassing crush on Roier.

What Roier does know is this: the Vampire King is apparently really bad at answering the door.

(Besides, it doesn't matter what he looks like. All Roier cares about is how sharp his teeth are.)

Lightning.

Roier jumps and swears as it strikes a tree back across the bridge and catches it on fire.

He turns to look at it, eyes widening as the tree's leaves all seem to shake the fire off of themselves like a dog coming in from the rain.

Suddenly, the hair on the back of his neck starts to stand on end. His abuelo always told him that he had good instincts, so-

The door opens with a rush of wind and a screamed CREEEAK!! and a cold hand grabs Roier by the back of his coat and then, suddenly, abruptly, suddenly, he's getting dragged inside the castle by a force so strong that it has to be otherworldly.

Roier fights and kicks and reaches out on instinct towards the door even as it shuts, closed by an unseen force.

And then he stops fighting because he remembers, right. He's here for a reason.

He goes limp just in time to be let go and spun around by a hand on either one of his shoulders.

He blinks a few times in surprise as he comes face-to-face with... a guy.

A very pathetic-looking guy.

"Please tell me that you're the babysitter," he begs, a faint accent to his voice that clues him out as distinctly not from the Federation.

His fingers curl into the red fabric of Roier's coat desperately- black painted nails, bitten short.

"Um," says Roier, looking vaguely over the very stressed man's shoulder for the guy supposed to kill him.

The inside of the castle is... nice? Large throne in the middle of the room with a toy bear on the seat. Professionally-done paintings alongside childlike sketches. Crayons and pieces of paper scattered across the floors. A couple of miniature toy cows next to an unpolished, bloody suit of armor.

(His heart clenches, and he fights back tears. It won't do to cry right before dying, that's sad as hell and not how Roier wants to go out!)

There's a faint crash from upstairs and a laugh, and the extremely tired-looking man in front of Roier sighs and hangs his head.

He's... nice? Nice looking. Definitely someone Roier would be more interested in looking at if he wasn't two seconds away from his planned demise: slightly curly hair with a rather charming white streak in it, pierced ears. But then there are the circles under his eyes and the scabs on his lips and-

"I will literally give you a hundred sovereigns if you can get him to go to sleep," the man pleads, looking Roier right in the eyes.

-and the fangs.

Roier is still holding onto his coin, somehow. He squeezes it until the grooves on its sides dig into his palm.

"I don't even care if you're the babysitter," the Vampire King groans, backing off and scrubbing his face with his hands. "I'm just- Richas!"

He snaps his head up and shouts at the ceiling. Roier doesn't know what he's saying, and he definitely doesn't know what the... what the child in the room above them is saying back- are they speaking Purtuguse? Does Roier know Purtuguse?

The Vampire King has a nice side profile. His sleeves are stained brown with long-dried blood, and his vest is stained with blue paint.

Roier wants to cry.

He lets go of the coin and swallows a lump in his throat.

He offers the Vampire King a very charming smile and says, "Lead the way."

(Because he may have come to the castle to die, but he will never subject a child to the sound of someone's last moments.)

The Vampire King looks about ready to cry out of relief as he flips his cape and starts walking towards a side hallway and a red brick staircase leading up, up, and away.

Roier follows. What else can he do?

The Vampire King rambles as they walk, "I don't actually sleep, Pac probably already told you about this, but Richas does, but I don't know how to get a human to sleep anymore, and he won't sleep, and I can't work until he's asleep, and..."

And he keeps talking. He doesn't even seem to realize he's doing it, he's almost delirious in his exhaustion. (Because that's what he has, exhaustion, Roier was a soldier for long enough to know the signs when he sees them.)

Roier tries not to think about the fact that the Vampire King does not, in fact, look like an old man or a cat man or however Cucurucho imagines him. He looks like somebody Roier would have met at Maxo's tavern on a Friday night, or one of the army's reject drafts.

He's short. He's wearing heeled boots, and Roier is still taller than him. Not by much, but! The Vampire King!

The stairwell is long and winding and decorated with dark sigils and painted smiley faces.

The door at the top of the stairwell is bright blue and definitely cleaner than the rest of the castle seems to be. It's... new. Roier thinks. New, and blue.

The Vampire King stops right in front of the door and knocks once, says, "Richas, the babysitter is here."

"Fuck the babysitter!" the child inside shouts.

The Vampire King shoots Roier an apologetic look. His eyes don't look like they're... all there. He's seeing, but he isn't seeing. He's tired, and Roier almost feels bad for him. Almost.

"His other dad always puts him to bed," the Vampire King softly explains. "But Felps is..."

His eyes start to drift, and, for a moment, he actually looks like he's about to cry.

Roier, not willing to watch his future killer have a depressive breakdown, walks right past him and opens the door and walks right into the kid's room with absolutely no thoughts in his head.

He easily dodges a squishy horse toy thrown at his head and leans up against a little wooden desk, hands slipping into his pants' pockets. He looks the kid, stood on top of his bed in a pair of bright yellow pajamas, up and down.

"Hey," Roier says.

He ducks his head to the side to avoid a cow to the head.

The Vampire King slips into the room and closes the door behind him, probably trying to avoid an escape attempt.

The kid points at him accusingly. "You're locking me in here!"

"You need to sleep," the Vampire King sighs. "See? The babysitter agrees."

He nods towards Roier, who just sort of goes along with it, because what else can he do? He doesn't care about anything anymore, what's wrong with going along with the bit?

The kid huffs and flops down so he's sitting criss-cross on his bed. "I don't know him."

"And I don't know you," Roier shrugs. "Doesn't mean I can't get you to go to sleep. I have my ways."

The kid narrows his eyes. "If you touch me, you're dead."

(Gods, he's just like...)

"I don't need to touch you," Roier says. "See, I'm not just a babysitter. I'm also a monster hunter, and I just saw a monster outside."

To the kid's credit, he doesn't super react. But he's also a literal child, and Roier is a literal dad; he knows how to read a kid's face better than he knows how to read a damn book.

Roier pushes off of the table and starts pacing, looking around the room as if looking for a monster.

"It was tall," he continues, voice dropping slightly in volume as he decides to play this shit up, "and its eyes were made of glass. It was looking up at your window and licking its lips because it's the most dangerous monster of all."

He looks around some more before dramatically leaning in and whispering to the kid, "El Mariana."

The child gasps as if he knows what that is.

The Vampire King bites his lip to hold back a smile.

Roier nods, dead serious (pun intended, thanks.) "Mhmm. It's outside waiting to get in and eat you, but! I'm sure you know this, but it can't see you if you can't see it."

The Vampire King adds, "He's right. I saw it, too, that's why I brought him inside. And you know I hate guests."

The kid shuffles slightly towards his pillows and blankets, all piled on top of each other at the end of his bed.

"The best way to trick El Mariana is to close your eyes," Roier explains. "It'll think that you're asleep, and it won't eat you."

The child looks up at the Vampire King. "But it won't get into the castle, right?"

The Vampire King sighs, "I don't know, Richas. Normally, no, but I haven't been able to get Bagi here to fix the wards. Anything can get in."

"I know I'm going to go find someplace to sit down and close my eyes in until morning," Roier says. "I don't wanna get eaten, thanks."

There's an awkward silence as the child looks up at Roier, eyes narrowed in thought.

And then, thankfully, he nods and starts to lay down and adjust his pillows until they're comfy.

"Fine," he grumbles.

He looks up at the Vampire King and adds, "You better get the magic fixed before Pai Felps gets back. He won't taste very good."

The Vampire King nods. "Of course, I'll write to Bagi as soon as the monster is gone."

With one last unhappy grunt, the child closes his eyes, and the room's candles immediately, magically dim.

The Vampire King lets out a relieved breath and slips out the door, leaving it open for Roier to follow.

As they make their ways back down the tower, Roier awkwardly says, "Uh, so..."

The Vampire King nods. "Right, the sovereigns. Give me a..." (He yawns.) "...a minute and I'll get them to you. But you shouldn't leave until the morning, it's a little nasty outside."

On cue, lightning flashes outside so brightly that it turns the vampire's skin translucent.

The Vampire King yawns again, showing off his fangs.

Roier gulps, out of sight behind him.

Who else does he trust to murder him but the most murderous guy on the planet? No one else will get the job done. Everyone else has morals. The Vampire King, famously, does not.

The Vampire King, apparently, is near delirious from exhaustion.

He wont be a good killer now. Roier... should wait until he's more awake. Then, he might even be violent about it.

Casually, Roier shrugs and says, "I dunno, I might stick around for a bit. You need a babysitter, right?"

The Vampire King turns his head to look at him, and Roier just smiles.

Who knows? Maybe he'll get lucky and get slaughtered in his sleep.

(Maybe then he'll get to tuck his own son into bed again...)

[muzzlemouths]

[CW: Death/implication of death]

The clock reads a quarter to midnight when Sun powers on. Too early. He isn’t meant to come online for another six hours, and the daycare itself won’t open for another hour after that. He promptly runs a scan to determine the reasoning behind his premature entrance and when it returns inconclusive he turns to Moon. It is his metaphorical toes he is stepping on by encroaching on the night as he is, after all.

It’s quiet. The kind of quiet that settles like dust. A quiet that makes one aware of the breath that stirs within their lungs or, in Sun’s case, the gentle whir of an internal fan that perpetually keeps his system from running itself into the ground. A quiet so frequently interrupted by the welcomed voice of his other half…and yet, nothing. His question goes unanswered, left to gather with the dust, and he is forced to proceed as though these strange happenings haven’t disrupted his entire morning routine.

A routine further disturbed upon having to remind himself for the second time already that it isn’t morning, he isn’t meant to be going through the start-up procedure to begin with, and he can’t be blamed for the corrupted sense of awareness he feels as a result. Sure, the lights are on, and his systems, too, return with normal results after a precautionary scan, but there is a discomfort to all of this scratching at the inner plating of his frame. Something is wrong wrong wrong.

“…Moon?”

His second attempt at communication yields no better results than the first, only a vague static answering the call, murmur-soft background noise, as though someone had plucked a phone from its receiver and then walked away. Frustrating is what it was. To ignore him was childish at best, but at worst, it was concerning. His relationship with Moon was reasonably amicable even on the longest of days, he worked better with Moon than without, so the absence was unusual as much as it was alarming.

Alone with his thoughts for the foreseeable future, Sun decides there is little point to sitting around in the midst of this confusion when he could be using the time to busy himself with more important tasks, such as tidying up all the apparent dust around here. Better yet, he can get a head-start in preparation for that day’s activities. Something to keep his mind from wandering into worrywart territory, at the very least.

An ache stemming at the tail of his exoskeleton twinges with particularly horrendous vengeance upon finally convincing his legs to move. He buries the vocalization of a wince and carries on across the carpeted room with little more than a brief mental note to mention the pain to a mechanic if it worsens by tomorrow. No use in wasting company time for what he’s sure is only the result of one or both of them landing wrong after receiving a hug from one of the daycare’s more excitable children (or several).

Still, it makes the process of retrieving a stray toy from the floor that much harder when he sees it lying in wait by the slide. If anything, bending down to reclaim the doll only exacerbates the ache until it grows into a proper sting, now difficult to ignore. Yet ignore it he does, to the best of his ability. There are things to do and he isn’t about to let a pinch of soreness slow him down now. No, sirree! He has play equipment to wipe down, craft supplies to ready, and–

and…

His hand stops just short of reaching the doll, long yellow fingers curling inward, against his palm which is painted with splotches of salt and pepper, as though a bottle of dully colored glitter glue had exploded across his fingers and hand. He straightens again and lifts his other hand, noting a similar stretch of television static, one that carries beyond his wrist up the length of his forearm in smeared blotches and specks like splattered paint in dirty snow hues.

Messy messy messy. What could Moon have gotten up to that resulted in such a mess? He’d have made a face, had he a nose to wrinkle in the first place.

Instead he allows for one small tut of disgust to escape his voice box before turning his attention back to the doll, taking note of the static that stains the carpet beside its head, and just beyond it, too; a trail made up of one scattered drop after another.

Ever curious, he knows not what to do besides follow it, hoping for an answer to the many questions burning through his system. Each continuous speck leads him in the direction of the exit, every patch of static more plentiful than the last, and as he allows the strange color to guide him forward he begins to question not only its existence, but why it all seems so familiar, as though he’s seen it somewhere before.

There is little time to mull it over. He arrives at the service desk where the trail ends abruptly, and Sun pauses with the toe of his slippers stood just an inch before a stray, black shoe that might have sent him stumbling face first into carpet had he not already been looking down. A shoe isn’t the most bizarre thing to lose in a daycare of all places, and he decides right away that it isn’t anything to worry over, just another item to drop into lost and found, but where there is a shoe there is bound to be someone missing it and, well…

Sun finds the answer he’s looking for just a few inches behind the service desk.

Face down and tucked in on themselves as they are, cloaked in the desk’s shadow, it’s impossible to tell anything about the person beyond their age, and even that is somewhat uncertain — though the size 9 shoe left behind offers a decent clue. This discovery does wonders to quell the anxiety in Sun’s chest. An adult was much easier to escort from the daycare, given the lack of parental contribution it necessitated, and it looked like this one was just sleeping! An odd place to go about it, sure — against the rules, most certainly — but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed with a purposeful tap to the ankle.

So, that’s exactly what he does. Bending dramatically at the knee, head swiveling to one side, Sun’s fingers dance as though he intends on tickling the trespasser awake before extending his index finger and tapping twice in quick succession against the exposed skin between their pant leg and sock. “Rise and shine, friend!” He chirps, “It’s time to head home now.”

He’d have preferred the tried-and-true method of rousing someone (that is, a gentle rock of the shoulders), but given that their guest was currently resting in the one area that Sun was not permitted entry to, he was forced to resort to more…creative measures. Unfortunately, this action does not yield the results he is hoping for.

“Friend?” Sun calls again, allowing his voice to raise a decibel from the polite mumble it had been before. The laughter that cuts from his voicebox is nervous and too loud on its own, his anxiety returning tenfold. The points of logic he had used to reassure himself before were now quickly dwindling with each passing second in which he received no response.

With his steps now admittedly growing frantic, Sun tiptoes around the desk to the other side, hoping for a better view of their comatose companion. What happens instead is an almost comical flailing of limbs as his slipper takes to an unseen puddle of static like it were a banana peel, resulting in a scramble to keep himself upright that only comes to an end when he braces against the nearest wall for support. The distraction is agitating, but short lived. A commotion like that would surely have awoken anyone, no matter how deep in slumber they were, and the continued lack of response does nothing to relieve Sun of the stress threatening to fry his circuits.

“Friend, this is n-no time for jokes!” He asserts, speaking at full volume, now, every word drenched in tense frustration. His gaze falls to the puddle of static soaking into the bottoms of his slippers, that twinge of recognition rearing its head once more. “I’m not in the mood for games, right now, so if you’re only pretending to sleep—” his hand comes away from the wall feeling wrong, the familiar sensation of sticky static blanketing his palm and crusting in the grooves between his joints as it further dries. His fingers curl into a loose fist long enough to observe the way each digit smears against his palm and leaves behind a tacky residue that he can feel, but not see.

He looks up. There, on the wall, two handprints interrupt the static. The first is larger, an obvious testament to the humbling misstep he’d only just finished recovering from, but the other…it was far smaller, surely left behind by the same stranger currently snoozing away beneath the desk, and it ran from the lightswitch down down down to the floor, where the accusing hand now rested just outside the desk’s shadow.

How strange, Sun thinks, tilting his head to get a better look. The way the static paints their skin, it almost looks like—

“You’re doing so well, dewdrop, just a moment longer and you’ll be right as rain again!” Sun gives the small hand intertwined with his own an encouraging squeeze as the other, equipped with an antiseptic wipe, dutifully dabs away at a scuffed knee. His young patient, having tripped and burned her skin along the carpet, is nothing less than a trooper as he cleans the static from the shallow wound. Not even a sniffle!

He tucks the wipe into the flat of his palm and trades it out for ointment, smearing a healthy dollop of it along the reddened surface before wiping his finger along the striping of his pants and reaching for a bandaid; Chica pink with pizzas on one side and cupcakes on the other.

“There, now. I’m sure that feels better already!”

Blood. Viscous, cold, pooling at his feet. On the walls, the carpet. His hands. Cherry red like a lollipop and twice as sticky…or so he’s told. Nothing a robot of his nature is meant to see or understand. His censors make sure of it. Rather than allow him to see things are they are, the incarnadine color is suppressed behind a layer of static, as if he won’t care to acknowledge it at all beyond its existence on scraped knees and split lips. As if he is meant to ignore the way it feels in its abundance, caked against his palms and festering between his open joints.

Messy, messy, messy. He feels dirtied beyond repair, filthy in a way that even a deep cleaning won’t fix. The wires in his stomach feel twisted, begging to come undone, shorting like sparklers against their ports and threatening to make short work of bringing him down. His screens are flooded with alerts that warn of an inevitable shut-down if he can’t manage to pull himself back together, but moving feels impossible, an insurmountable task. He can not think past the sensation of someone else’s life soaking into the cotton of his slippers.

And what of their guest? Sun can hardly get himself to look again, pleading with the matter of logic itself as he is forced to reckon with the knowledge that this is a rest they may never wake from. But he does look. He has to.

He wishes he hadn’t.

The brief glimpse he endures before looking anywhere else is more than enough. From this angle, the static – the blood – paints a grim picture. In spite of this, Sun finds himself circling the desk a second time and preparing to draw the body – the visitor – out from under the desk. It is a daunting task, but a necessary one, by Sun’s account. If there is nothing to be done in such a hopeless situation then, at the very least, he owes this stranger the dignity of recognition and an attempt. He can claim to have looked for a pulse. Even so, he hesitates.

There is not one to be found; Sun knows this. He knows painfully well from the static lingering on his silicone that it is already too late. Oil is warmed by the processors it fuels, and similarly, blood is meant to be hot. The soles of his slippers are cold. The pads of his fingers, against even the raging inferno of his overworked circuitry, are cold.

The body is cold.

He perseveres, regardless, dragging the stranger out from under the desk by a shaky grip on their ankle one inch at a time, pausing every few tugs to look away and regather his confidence, trying so, so hard to tune out the ever-constant music as it merrily sings through the speakers.

He begs the underlying silence. “Please have a pulse.” Tug. “Please don’t be cold.” Tug. “I don’t know what to do.” Tug. “I can’t do this alone.” Tug. “You have to wake up.” Tug. “Please.” Tug. “Please!” Tug. “Please, please, please, pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseple—”

He knows this visitor. Not a friend, but not quite a stranger, either. His scanner attempts to process the identification of a man whose head is so thick with static that it returns as an error. His face is contorted grotesquely, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide with fear. They don’t look like they’re sleeping.

A security guard whose name fails to ping in his registry. Sun had spoken with him once, maybe twice before. He drank coffee by the mile and hardly stuck around long enough to do more than complain about the weather. Sun hadn’t been in a hurry to befriend the man, but he only wished the best for him. Squeezed a joke in where he could in an attempt to turn his frown upside-down. It had never worked before, but Sun was no quitter. Now he would never get the chance to try again.

“Focus, focus.” Sun carefully lowers the man’s foot back to the carpet again, choking on the sensation of bloodied clothes slipping through his fingers and resisting the urge to tear the rays straight out of his faceplate in response. He is inconsolably panicked and at a loss for what to do, two steps from outright laughing, the complete absurdity of the situation driving him to hysterics.

He needed to call security. He couldn’t call security. Security was–

Management. There were other employees that worked the night shift if Moon complaining about them making too much noise during naptime was anything to go by. If he sent out a general call for assistance surely someone would come and tell him what to do, even at this late hour. It was his best option. His only option.

“Don’t.”

The voice makes him jump clear out of his casings. He has half a mind to swear, but as it stands, Sun thinks the long divots he dragged into the service desk out of surprise are enough damage already. On top of everything else.

“Moon?” He whispers. “Nice of you to finally join us – and by us, I mean me and the deceased guest I discovered a moment ago. Do you have a clue what’s going on here?”

“Don’t?” Sun echoes, agitated, “Don’t what?”

“Don’t.”

If the tether keeping his sanity intact was fraying before, it’s now down to a single thread. “Why not?” He asks with great exhaustion, “Did you not hear me? This is an emergency! There is a dead body in the–”

“Call management.”

“I know.”

Silence answers. Despite having a hundred and one snarky retorts building in between each crackle and pop of his voice box, Sun has nothing to say to that. Nothing good, anyway. It takes nine steady ticks of the clock for him to recollect his thoughts.

“You…you know?” He stutters, “How could you…” but he doesn’t finish the question, and he doesn’t need to. Realization strikes him with an iron fist for the second time that day and it is no less kinder than the first. “Did… you do this?”

It’s Moon’s turn to go quiet.

That silence stretches on for what feels like hours to Sun, each passing second more agonizing than the last, until he starts to believe Moon had simply disappeared like before. He waits, and waits, and finally decides to interrupt the silence with a repeat of the question, despite already knowing the answer. Moon beats him to it.

The tired sigh that escapes Sun’s throat is thoroughly earned. “Well, it’s too late to figure something else out, I already sent out the emergency ping.”

“Not sure,” he says, and Sun can tell from his tone that it’s the truth. “Blurry. My head hurts.”

A sound like nothing he’s ever heard before tears itself from Moon’s voicebox. A growl, if he were to put a name to it.

“Get rid of it, then.” Moon insists through the noise, “Clean up, clean up.”

“It?” Sun gawks, “Moon, that – that’s a person. He has dignity, a family!”

“Had a family,” Moon corrects, “dead, now. No dignity. Who will they blame?”

The question gives him pause. Surely there was a better way to go about this, a solution that didn’t have his morals (and wires, for that matter) all up in a twist. Yet the longer he thinks about it, the more he realizes Moon is right. Management hardly listens when he tries to explain that it was the children who broke a piece of playground equipment, not him! They aren’t likely to give his explanation of simply having found the body any mind, much less understanding. With his counterpart practically admitting to the heinous act, already, informing management of the body would sooner see them decommissioned.

“Running out of time,” Moon reminds him, “Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick–”

“Alright, alright!” He wails, “What should I do, then?”

“Clean up.”

“Where?” Sun looks around with the desperation of a teenager attempting to play hooky, rays practically nonexistent with how he’s tucked them away. His eyes search the room from top to bottom before landing determinedly on the ball pit.

“Good enough,” Moon tuts, a rather uninspired response to the happenings around him. Of course he isn’t panicking, it isn’t him who takes the body by its ankles and drags the dead weight across the carpet. It isn’t him who shoves aside enough plastic to carefully hide a corpse in. But it should be him worrying, it should be him panicking, because if management finds out about their secret, it’ll spell doom for both of them.

“You’ll get rid of it – him – properly once there’s no one around, right?” Sun finishes reshuffling the ball pit, mostly confident that the ill deed is successfully hidden from view. “I’m going to have to wash each and every one of these balls before the kids arrive in the morning.”

Right, the kids. When they arrive in just a few hours, will he have things tidied up? Will he be able to carry on as though nothing happened? He’s a brilliant actor – or he used to be, anyway, before the company decided he better fit the role of a nanny – but this is well beyond the scripts he is most familiar with.

“They’re close,” Moon warns him, “Don’t let them see–”

“I know, I know.” No time to dwell on it now, he makes quick work of crossing the distance between the ball pit and the exit, and manages to slide his head and torso through the gap between doors within seconds of it opening, scaring the living daylights of the poor employee sent to greet him in the process.

Unlike Sun, they do swear, clutching a hand over their chest and fitting him with a downright awful deadpanned stare. “Fuck, you couldn’t have waited a few seconds longer for me to come inside?” They hiss.

“Sorry, friend! Didn’t mean to spook you,” Sun chirps. He is careful to keep his bloodied hands safely tucked behind his back. “It’s just a mess in here, is all, and I’m rather embarrassed. There’s still equipment to clean, toys to organize, papers to fold–”

“Sure,” the employee interrupts, “It doesn’t really–” they pinch the bridge of their nose, exhaling with notably less exhaustion than Sun is feeling right about now, “I don’t particularly care. What’s the big issue that I was called down here for?”

“Oh! I just wanted to know if the next shipment of wipes had come in, yet. Like I said before, much to do! Always busy, busy, busy!”

Their stare turns into an outright glower. “That’s why you called the emergency line? For cleaning supplies?”

Sun shrugs, feigning ignorance. “Well, that’s an emergency to me. Apparently our standards are not the same.” He watches them roll their eyes with more enthusiasm than necessary. ”Do you know how messy children can be? It’s practically a barnyard in here, every single day, and don’t even get me started on how much of a health code violation it would be if one of them were to pick their nose and then–”

“Fine, I get it,” they snap, “I’ll make sure your damn supplies are delivered before the daycare opens. Anything else?”

“Told you they were annoying,” Moon chimes in.

“That’s everything!” He replies, “thank you a mighty amount, friend!”

“Mhm,” they mutter, waving him off with nothing more than the noncommittal sound. When they do turn to leave, it’s not soon enough, and Sun just barely manages to close the door with a whisper instead of a slam.

His back rests against it a moment later, and he allows himself to collapse from there, sliding down the smooth wooden frame until his tailbone reaches the floor. His knees twinge as they tuck against his chest, and he folds both arms atop, resting his temple against them and taking one long, much needed moment to just breathe.

It had only been half of a lie. There was much to do, much to clean, and only so many hours remaining to get it done. The wires nestled deep in his chest had calmed, yet the tremor in his hands continued, as it likely would until the very last speck of blood was washed clean.

“…Moon?”

“Hm?”

Sun tucks his knees ever closer. “Why…why did you do it?”

“…”

“I w-won’t be mad, promise! I’m sure this is all just one big misunderstanding, after all – a one time event, no biggie! But…was it out of anger? Fear? I mean, did he hurt–”

“In my way,” Moon replies.

Sun’s head lifts from the dark haven his arms provide, noting with growing exhaustion that, for the very first time, the lights felt too bright even for him. “What do you mean by that?” He asks, “Did he keep you from doing something?”

“…I don’t know.”

Again, Sun’s head falls against his arms in defeat, and again, not two seconds later, it lifts, determined not to lollygag any longer.

His legs creak with vocal effort as he gets back to his feet. “Well, no point in dwelling on it now, I suppose. I’m sure it’s nothing.” He takes in a wide view of the daycare – static trailing everywhere – and deflates with a sigh. “Guess I better get started. The sooner we get the place cleaned up, the sooner we can forget about all of this.”

He takes a step forward, and only that, swiveling on his heel when he catches last night’s roster from the corner of his eye. A single drop of static had landed and smeared across the name of a child meant to go home later in the evening.

Strangely enough, it appears they were never picked up.

Sun shrugs, gathering the paper in both hands and crumpling it into a ball to dispose of the smeared evidence. A simple mistake with the roster, that’s all it is. The parents often forget to sign their name after all. Accidents happen all the time!

The paper lands with a soft thunk in the nearest trash can and is just as quickly forgotten. Sun pivots towards the play area once more and heads for the supply closet, steadfast in his determination to be cleaned up on time, and feeling more confident than he ought to be about how things ended, all things considered.

More than anything, he is just happy to have all of this behind them.

[grand-line-shenanigans]

Yippee!!

[selineram3421]

*stands there like a fool* So... I lied.

Other Worldly

Part 6

Part 5

Alastor X Shy Reader

Warnings ⚠

⚠ selectively mute reader, nightmare, heartbreak, 🌹death🥀(drowning), numbness, protective deer man, hurt/comfort, alastor's shadow is so cute ⚠

She was wearing a pretty pink dress. One that made her look like a cute jellyfish.

You saw her earlier when going to your next task.

It didn't come as weird that she probably found out you were taking an extra shift at the aquarium. Just the thought of her coming by to surprise you made your heart flutter.

Maybe you can finally give her that necklace. It's been in your pocket for a while, but you just got so nervous.

You knew her usual route to take around the aquarium, so she would be stopping by the large fish display soon.

The beat of your heart sped up and you began to sing to calm yourself down.

"Then afterwards we drop into a quiet little place"

It didn't really help and you began to daydream of how you would present the gift to her.

"And have a drink or two"

Standing on the catwalk over the large tank, you held the control box for the lights to adjust them a little higher, but then you saw her. Standing in front of the display.

"And then I go and spoil it all"

"Pay attention, stop making googoo eyes at your girl.", someone had said, most likely one of the six people in charge of feeding.

You couldn't help it. She was everything to you.

And then you saw some random guy put a hand on her waist.

"By saying something stupid"

Confused, you watched on and were about to drop everything to run over.

"Like I love.."

Then they kissed.

"..you..."

Everything just stopped.

You clutched the control in your hands as you felt your heart break.

Then there was a shout from behind you before the lights came crashing down on the catwalk, breaking it in half, taking you and the staff sinking down into the water.

Everything hurt.

You didn't want to move.

Metal dug into your stomach and you couldn't move your legs, the water turning red, a line of it following after as you sank deeper.

Maybe it would stop hurting if you just let the water fill your lungs.

You closed your eyes and tried to "breathe."

The water burned as it filled your lungs.

Slowly, you were losing your train of thought.

You really did like the water. Often wanting to be a mer person just so you can watch the light beams shimmering into the water.

Maybe you'll get to swim more often.

The burning sensation just got stronger, as did the sinking.

All that was left was the dark empty feeling as you sunk down deeper and deeper.

Then, numbness.

.

You sat up with a gasp, taking deep breaths of air.

The familiar sight of your hotel room greeted you. Dark red wallpaper, dresser, and the door to your bathroom.

With a sigh, you flopped back into the pillows.

Why? You thought and hid your face into your blanket.

Maybe it's because the Radio Demon had you sing to him every time you had one of those songs.

You couldn't help it. It still hurt and you didn't want to lash out and scare everyone.. So you sang. It's all you could do, it's all you wanted to do.

Shaking the last remnants of the nightmare, you got up and went to get ready for the day.

I need to forget.

.

Alastor noticed that his siren was a little more closed off than usual today.

It's been a week since he gave them the gift and they have been using it constantly. They spoke to him a little more, which is what he wanted. The plan was a success.

But why did they feel so far away today?

They had sang him those sad songs he asked for. Their lovely voice echoed in the bayou and they were just picture perfect.

He had debated on having them sing on a broadcast, but he decided to be selfish and keep their talent to himself. They were his and no one would be able to take them away, no one would have the chance to.

Back to the current situation.

His little mer was quiet. Not a peep or a squeak out of them today.

Everyone else in the hotel shrugged it off, used to their muteness, but the deer demon could not.

What happened?

Did someone cause this?

Who did he have to kill...

He had his shadow keep an eye on them, mostly because they were used to its presence and not his. Not yet at least.

Lying in wait, he sat on his chair in the radio tower. With a flick of his hand, he used his magic to connect to his shadow.

And through the shadows eyes, he saw them close. Unusually close..

Were they holding the shadow's face?

Glancing around, he saw that they were sitting on one of the smooth rocks in their little area. His shadow was most likely resting its chin on their tail.

Then they started singing.

"Days seems sometimes as if they'll never end

Sun digs its heels to taunt you"

How lovely. He thought and just stayed still to listen.

"Memories swim and haunt you

But look into the lake, shimmering like smoke

Rises the moon"

This was new. A hint of sadness but mostly calming.

"I promise you that soon the autumn comes

To steal away each dream you keep

Breathe, breathe, breathe.."

He felt like his worries were gone, as if they were never there.

"I had a nightmare today. Of my death..", they whispered with a sad smile. "I was drowning. I remember sinking down, deeper into the water. The blood."

Then they lifted their tail out of the water.

"Maybe that's why this is red."

Ah, he knew it had something to do with drowning, but that's all the file said.

What else happened? He wondered.

"It's so silly.", they laughed lightly. "I should stop bothering you now."

His shadow thankfully stopped them from moving, leaning more into the Mer's hold.

They blinked in surprise and then let out a real laugh.

"Ok, I'll keep holding your face."

Please keep smiling.

And then they pecked the shadow's forehead.

"Thank you for listening."

I had an idea and then the idea moved my hands to type.

~Seline, the person.

Part 7

Taglist@

@preciousbabypeter @poppingaround @bishiglomper @random-3455 @mistpurpl3 @darifes @chirimeimei @sharkthong @enjisthings @aspiring-bookworm @cherry-cola-100 @fairyv-ice @phoephan-123 @briethekitsune @fuzzyturtlepaws @redrose360 @+more in the comments+

ML I Alastor🎙️ | OW🦀

[pocketseizure]

There is a legend in Hyrule that a sleeping princess lies behind the door of a locked room deep under the ruins of the North Castle. When the princess rises, so too will the ancient powers sealed within her dreams. Impa knows the legend is true, and she fears the fate that will befall Hyrule should the first Zelda wake.

art by @pumpkinsouppe . ( on AO3 here ) . for @bloodmoonzine

[unnamed-proxy]

“Ways to keep your partner safe, a guide for the romantically inept”

“”We were gonna practice, he was teaching me ya know– showing me everything he knew about the instrument.”

He shook his head.

“I arrived late. Was caught up with something at the house– I should’ve left sooner—I should have known –”

His eyes squeezed shut painfully– something biting at the edges of his face.

He let out a shaky breath.

“Torn up he was. Could barely even recognize him and that thing–”

His hands clenched painfully.

Dragged him under– took us weeks to even find his body.”

I felt a chasm open in the bottom of my stomach, my eyes went wide and my skin felt cold.

“They closed up the whole beach after that, said cause it was a crime scene, but it’s been months now. They know the truth we all know the truth.”

Monty’s glare darkened. A bottomless panic started to seep into the peripherals of my vision.

“That fucking fish killed him.””

————

“Settling against him, a warmth blossomed between our bodies that was both familiar and comforting. His large hands wrapped around me, holding me close like a lifeline. I lightly traced the veins in his arms as I heard the soft breathing against my neck.

Something lingered though, just in the very back of my mind.

Just a seedling of a thought.

I tried not to think too much about how his arms wrapped around me, trapping me against the covers.

How it felt so similar to beastly waves, holding onto me and pulling me under.

No— I wasn’t thinking that.

I was cuddling with my boyfriend- like we always do. Something I never had a problem with before.

I loved Sun and nothing was going to change that.

…

…nothing…”

“Under The Surface” Chapter 12 by @ohno-the-sun

[lulublack90]

Prompt 20 - Hurt/No Comfort

@wolfstarmicrofic July 20, word count 796

Part three of werewolf Sirius

Previous part First part

CW - Blood, torture, attack, cuts, bites

The wolves were all pretty subdued after the eventful night. Most were dozing and the rest were either eating or relaxing around the camp. Sirius was sitting beside Remus, tucking into a big bowl of that mystery stew. Remus was lazily running his fingers up and down his back. 

“Tell us how you got captured then,” Marcus suddenly said. “Remus won’t tell us your story, but now you’re here, and he isn’t being such a stroppy git, can we hear what happened?” Sirius turned to Remus.

“It’s up to you, sweetheart,” Remus told him gently. Sirius opened up his mind, deciding it would be easier to show the gathered wolves what happened than try to retell it. He closed his eyes and remembered that rainy night when he and Remus were supposed to be on an easy-guarding mission.

“Why does it always rain when it’s us?” Sirius grumbled as he shook his long hair. "It's always perfect weather when Potter's about," Remus sighed at him and produced two umbrellas from inside his robe. Sirius took it gratefully. But in the split second, the umbrella was blocking his view, as he opened it, they were ambushed. 

“Hello, cousin,” Bellatrix cackled as they were stunned. 

They awoke in a dungeon. 

“Remus?” Sirius croaked, “Remus?” A groan from the other corner let him know where his boyfriend was. He crawled over to him and checked he was alright. He had a swollen cheek, but that seemed to be about it. They held each other in the dark. 

Days passed and no one came. They were both getting nervous as the full moon was coming and Sirius had discovered they’d been given magic suppressants in the water that was sent to their cell every day. They stopped drinking, hoping the potion would pass through their systems before the moon rose. 

Sirius tried again and again to transform into Padfoot but nothing happened. Remus began to ache and stayed as far away from Sirius as the tiny space allowed. 

When Remus dropped to the floor and began to scream, Sirius banged on the door and shouted for help, but no one came. He tried to change into Padfoot right up until Remus stopped writhing around on the floor. He backed into the opposite corner and waited for the inevitable. 

The gigantic wolf shook out its fur and sniffed the air. Moony prowled forward, his teeth glistening in the small amount of light that made its way into the dungeon. The wolf didn’t even bother moving quickly, he taunted Sirius with how slowly he moved towards him. Moony shoved his massive nose into Sirius’s chest and sniffed. Sirius thought for a split second that maybe Moony recognised him and wouldn’t hurt him. But then the wolf lifted its enormous head, looked him straight in the eyes and bit down, hard. Sirius screamed, the pain was unbearable. 

He woke up alone, covered in his own blood. He pulled away his tattered shirt and assessed the damage beneath. Deep puncture wounds marred the skin around his shoulder. He knew what it meant, but he didn’t care, all he cared about was where Remus was.

Finally, after another week in the dungeons, Bellatrix appeared. 

“Bella, please, where’s Remus?” He begged her to tell him, but she just smiled her insane grin and cast the cruciatus curse on him over and over, leaving him once he passed out. She came down on the morning of the full moon and tortured him. His body was already in pain. She just laughed at him when he pleaded with her not to, not today. He didn’t last long, which must have pissed her off as she cast a slicing charm on him as well, and he woke to dozens of thin, itchy cuts all over his body. 

The moon rose and his first transformation started. It was hard. It hurt more than the bite had and way more than anything Bellatrix could ever do to him. His bones broke, his tendons snapped, and his blood felt like it was boiling inside his veins. He threw his head back and screamed until his voice gave out. He didn’t remember much after that, just a few snippets of pain and fear. 

The transformation back to his human form was just as painful. He was exhausted by the end of it. He curled up into a ball and wept. 

He ended the story there, putting his walls back up and walked away from the camp, needing a moment to collect himself. It was even harder reliving those hard months below Lestrange castle. Tears dripped down his face and onto the dusty ground below. He didn’t want to be here any more, but he felt that leaving wasn’t an option for him either. 

Next part

[ginneke]

The Blood Moon rises once again...

...And this will be the final time.

-

The gods answered your prayers if you were one of the good ones. The worthy ones. Their chosen ones. But what gods would allow us to be stranded on a hostile sea, to die by inches in the heat and sun and salt?

Game: The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker Rating: T

-

Here's the story I wrote for Blood Moon Rising (@bloodmoonzine) with spot-art beautifully drawn by @mothrabbits!

-

Leftovers are now on sale! The store will be open from January 24th through February 24th.

❣️ Shop here! https://bloodmoonrising.bigcartel.com

[bluemoon1331]

Lore and talks

[midnight-mourning]

DCA Promptober Day 11: Naptime

Y'all had your fun, now it's back to business. This goes from 0 to 100 real fast so please pay attention to the content warning, also adding a read more just in case.

Word count: 956

Content warning: mentions of blood, injury, child death, reader descresion is advised

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

It's naptime, and you're not asleep.

Oh, how you would be if you could. How you so desperately wish that you could. You stand no chance at reaching the light switch. No chance at saving the day. The only thing you can do is sit crowded in a hidden corner of the play structure with the few kids you could grab. Like a coward. Arms tightly around them to try and shield them as best you can from the danger lurking outside. 

You think, hope, pray, that some of them are actually asleep out there. That they didn't get woken up by the screams of the children who happened to wake up. The others though, god the others, you can't, you won't-these kids need you. Need you to be brave, need you to protect them. You don't think you can.

One of them makes a small whimper, you near silently shush her, pulling her more into your chest so if she sobs, it'll be muffled. She clings to you tightly, and you suppress a wince. The wound across your chest thankfully isn't deep, but it hurt, and you had no way to stop the bleeding currently. 

You had felt your entire world shut down at that moment. Witness everything come plummeting down so suddenly. Instead of not being able to look away from a car crash, you were experiencing the crash. And it hurt.

You blame yourself, even if someone else would argue it's not your fault. You didn't know. Hell, you don't think even Sun knew. Is he even okay? Is he gone too? Not until it happened. Not until you turned off the lights. 

"Alright," You turn, watching as Moon appears, "Everybody's down for the count, they're pretty exhausted from freeze tag so we should have an easy go of it. In the meantime, I found my copy of The Princess Bride, I say we find a good vantage point and get a couple chapters in. What do you say to that?"

No response. He just stares at you. 

This has been happening sometimes lately, you think it may just be a delay in the switch. You know he's been self-conscious about it, so you try to make light of it. 

You make a radio noise with your mouth, "Cht. Earth to Moon-man. This is mission control, requesting cuddles and story-time while on the job. Do you copy?"

Something clicks. 

"Ye-yes, yes, let's... do that," He shakes his head, seeming, groggy. 

You giggle quietly, "Are you sure you don't need a nap, sleepy head?"

It takes another second, you swear you see his optics flash another color before he shakes his head again, chuckling. 

"Not at all," He offers his hand to you, "Shall we?"

You grin to yourself, doing your best to contain your excitement. You've been waiting for ages to get into this book with him. Not to mention spending unrestricted one-on-one time.

You take it, feeling a rush once the two of you start flying through the air. 

From there, things are good. Great even. You and Moon are able to get through the prologue and first chapter or so. The problem arises when suddenly, the power goes out to the rest of the Plex. 

You look up, instinctively putting a hand on the arm Moon has around you, "What's going on?"

"I'm, not sure."

The sudden lack of noise rouses one of the kids, he sits up, rubbing at his eyes with a yawn. 

"Ah, shoot, Morgan's up. Here, help me down and I'll-" You're suddenly cold as Moon abruptly stands up, jumping down from the play structure without a word.

Confused, you follow after him, taking a nearby slide.

You walk over to where he towers over the boy-not his usual routine for these things that should have been your first clue-and get there in time to overhear;

"It's past your bedtime."

That's, not his usual voice. Well, it is. But there's something off about it.

Morgan notices too, he looks a bit frightened by the gravely sound. 

Moon's faceplate tilts to the side, "Naughty children must be punished."

It's then that you think to look down to his hand where, when did he get claws. Why would Moon ever need claws, that kind of upgrade is only for Monty or Freddy-

He's raising his hand, Morgan is cowering. You need to move.

Without thinking, you dash in between the two, arms out wide to shield the child behind you. 

Moon hesitates, stuttering, glitching, but his hands slices across your chest all the same. 

Morgan screams, you hiss at the pain. Moon suddenly disappears into the dark above the Daycare. And kids start to wake up.

Everything from there is a blur. You remembering panicking, trying to calm down crying kids. your chest being on fire, and then everything suddenly getting ten times worse.

You still don't know what's going on out there. Out in the rest of the Plex. You don't know why no one has come to check on you all, come to save you, nobody's going to save you, just done something. But you have no way of reaching out. No way of getting out of here either. For now, you have to survive. You have to. You have to try.

You become aware of someone looking at you before you actually see the light crawl across the floor before landing on you and the backs of the kids.

Your grip becomes firmer, face more determined, as the sound of bells gets closer and closer. You take a deep breath, and steel your gaze to look at him. 

Red eyes face yours on the other side of the plastic cage.

It's naptime. And you're not asleep.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Wow man, I was uh, yeah I don't know where this came from. Oof. Angst AND horror. My b guys. ANYWHO Three promptobers in a day, my writing brain is BACK baby (it has been gone for several weeks bc of sinusitis, but I'll talk about that more in the CS ch. 35 update) The other promptobers I've done are here if you haven't seen them already. The previous ones haven’t been as intense horror-wise as this so if you're looking for something a little chiller I would suggest giving them a try. Thanks for reading!