#but I only realise it was happening when I reached the cannibalism

[nix-illustrating]

He's a little evil and deranged, but it's okay, we love him like that

Seriously tho, Tanizaki's exponential arc towards "murder is the answer" happening in the background of the first two seasons made me so fucking terrified of him when I first watched the show. I wasn't even shocked when he did his murder rampage at the mafia, just scared and wandering whether he'd be the first anime character to get sent to therapy on screen lol

Need more acknowledgement on the fact Junichiro is fucking terrifying when he wants to be like damn.

[sp4ceboo]

NO NEED FOR ME TO HIDE🙏🏾🙏🏾

Bestie, are you going to continue Atonement universe?🥺 I am very curious on how their interactions could look like in the future, now that they have an accurate understanding of their intents

A/N: U ASKED JUST THE RIGHT QUESTION MY FAVOURITE BUNNY, but bc im evil i've made this into a bunch of feyd headcanons even tho no one asked

tw: 18+, smut headcanons (switch feyd ladies and gents), cannibalism (by the harpies), i dropkick everyone with feyd's trauma, therefore mentions of sa and pedophilia (fuck you vladimir), 'who did this to you' because man if that's not one of the yummiest things ever, nightmares, children and pregnancy, also sterility, swearing somewhere probably,

wc: 2.3k

part 1 (this can be read as a stand alone, it's just feyd headcanons)

feyd does everything he can to make up for how he treated you in the first months of your marriage

you assure him that it's fine, that he doesn't have to beat himself up over what he has done, but you still notice the pain in his eyes when he looks at you

he hovers close to you at all times, keeping a hand at the small of your back or pulling you close into his side

it's a strange process, only getting to know your husband in the fourth month of your marriage, but it's a process that you treasure

you'll ask him silly things from his favourite food to his opinions on the carvings on the table over there whenever the questions occur to you

it's late at night, while he's gently cleaning you up after sex or holding you tightly in his arms, your head tucked under his chin, when he tells you the deeper, more painful things

the grief in his voice is so raw as he describes to you how his uncle pitted him and rabban against each other from a young age, how his childhood was stolen from him - you ache for him, for the things that were taken from him before he could even fight for them

you find out about his nightmares soon after that - not because he tells you, but because one happens

you suspect there was something he wasn't quite ready to tell you, but you didn't press; no hands have handled feyd's heart the way he lets you, and you're determined to honour that privilege

a storm howls outside, and you think that the rumbles of thunder were what woke you

you turn over and realise it's feyd, his features contorted with fear even in his sleep, eyes rolling under the lids as he trembles, broken pleas leaving his lips

all you catch is a 'don't' and a 'please, uncle'

something cold slithers down your spine

touching his face, you grab his shoulder, shaking him, whispering his name, trying to wake him gently

a tear leaks down his cheek, and a meek sound leaves him, ripping your heart in two - you need to wake him up, free him from this dream

'feyd.'

his eyes snap open, and in them, you clearly see the expression of a trapped, cornered animal

you say his name again, and he looks at you sharply, unseeing

he's awake and yet somehow he's still trapped in the nightmare; he wraps his hands around your throat, and you gasp, nails digging into his forearms in an effort to wake him up

with precious air, you rasp out his name again, and he blinks, slowly gaining consciousness

his face crumples when he finds his hands around your neck

distress limns his features as he backs away from you, shaking his head, horrified by his own doing

your head spins with lack of air but you reach out to him, refusing to let him slip away - you snare him in your arms, hold him tightly, kiss his face

he doesn't move, afraid to hurt you

you pull back to stare him in the eyes

'i'm okay. i am okay. you hear me, feyd? i'm fine. i'm not hurt.'

he buries his face in your shoulder and when you feel hot tears on your skin, rage simmers and seethes, wrathful in your chest

'who did this to you?'

your voice is dripping with fury; he shakes with a sob, and you run your hands up and down his back, trying to soothe him and the anger inside you

eventually, he calms, and you tilt his face up, gently wiping the tears off his cheeks, waiting

he holds out his arms again, and you oblige him, letting him hide his face in your shoulder as he tells you the substances of his nightmares - memories of the baron, eyes rabid, hands reaching, and it makes you tremble with rage

you crush feyd in your grip, and he clings onto you, his eyes wet, letting you anchor his drowning spirit

the two of you fall asleep twined together, feyd cradled in your embrace

in the morning, you cup his face in your hands and tell him that you will protect him, fight for him, love him until your blood stills in your veins

one of the first thing feyd does is dismiss his harpies from their duties

originally, he was going to get rid of them permanently, but you convinced him not to, telling him you wanted to meet them

to be honest, feyd didn't really understand (he thought you wanted to 'use' them for a bit and was kind of taken aback until you reassured him you just wanted to talk to them)

he stayed in the room anyways, knowing that his harpies could be jealous, but he had nothing to fear

all you do is chat to them, and in the same way you charmed him, you charm them

feyd marvels at the way you reach out to them and connect with them with so much ease, laughing and joking with them, complimenting their pretty eyes and tattoos as if they are your long time friends

from then on, they are no longer feyd's harpies, but yours

they accompany you around the palace and sometimes to court

the latter causes quite a stir; none of the nobles can make sense of why the na-baron's feral cannibal troupe are now dressed in fine clothing and following the na-baronness around

you enjoy their company - they brighten your day considerably, and are not afraid to make remarks a little too loudly in front of nobles

you have to hide your laughter when one of them comments on the scruffy facial hair of the duke addressing feyd, even more so when he stares at them wide eyed, a little fearful of them

in a way, they protect you and you protect them

if a noble approaches you with disrespect, they'll joke loudly among themselves about the taste of his flesh

in the same way, if someone makes a snide remark of their presence, you're quick to challenge it

the perplexed look on feyd's face amuses you to no end when he realises they prefer you now

feyd and the harpies teach you about harkonnen culture

feyd especially tells you stories about how he hunted on forests long cut down when he was a boy, and you love to listen to him, watching his face and drinking in the softer, nostalgic tone in his voice

he shows himself to you in little ways

feyd complains to you about the nobles in the court, how he hates their decorum and their entitlement

he talks to you for hours about different fighting forms, occasionally getting up to demonstrate them to you, and you marvel at the accuracy and fluidity of his movements

he takes you to his favourite parts of giedi prime, shows you the volcanoes and the less polluted parts of the capital city

he tells you the story of every scar on his body, and you find yourself captivated by the look in his eyes as he recalls a good fight

he whispers on your skin promises - promises of love, sweet on his tongue but never cloying, always true

in turn he asks you about your old life, about your home planet and your family

you answer happily, loving the way his eyes follow you, their blue tone becoming your favourite colour

you tell him about the time you visited to see him fight, how you saw the fire within him even then, and he chuckles, enthralled by the idea that even when the two of you were too young to really comprehend what your arranged marriage meant, you were still drawn to each other

he tells you how when he raised his knife, victorious, he spotted you in the crowd - a small girl, her back ram rod straight - and thought you were the sweetest thing he'd ever laid his eyes on

not that you seemed breakable to him; no, he thought you were formidable, too, not even bothering to hide your frown in an arena of cheering, happy faces

it felt right that he would marry a woman who wasn't afraid of him

feyd teaches you how to fight

he delights in the way you grow so bold with him, delivering snarky remarks if he teases you, rising to meet everything he throws at you

you're a good fighter - unpredictable in your moves - and he's immeasurably proud that he was the one who taught you

sometimes, once you're good enough to duel, you'll end up staggering to the nearest somewhat secluded area to fuck

now that you know you're not alone, you're so confident of yourself, confident in the electrifying look in your eyes and confident in the way you make him beg

feyd never thought he'd like to give up control, but with you it's addicting

he trusts you

he lets you ravage him, lets you use him until he's spent, panting, thighs shaking, knowing that you would let him do the same - knowing that you do let him do the same

there's something so raw about letting himself go in your touch

his head spins when you tie him up, your deft fingers checking the knots and tightening the bindings across his torso, making art with his skin as the canvas

feyd is addicted to you in every aspect

he can't get enough of your pussy; he'd spend hours between your legs, pulling sounds out of you that you didn't know you could make

he thinks that the closest he's ever come to heaven is when he's buried balls deep in your cunt while you beg him harder, faster

A/N: i couldn't choose between these two scenarios so have both

EITHER after almost a year, you begin to wonder why you haven't pregnant

especially with the way feyd fucks you

so you seek the help of a doctor - the test results come back a week after, accusatory, damning

you're sterile

your first reaction is to tell feyd, but once you find yourself face to face with him, his gaze concerned as he holds your waist, you can't tell him

you just fall into his arms, staying your tears, doubts crawling into your skull and gnawing at the edges of your mind

you can't give him an heir

there's no way around it

what if he takes a concubine? what if he realises you serve no purpose to him? what if he stops loving you?

feyd doesn't pry about the tests results until the next day when he finds you in the shower, hands trembling and head bowed

he tips your chin up so he can look you in the eye

'tell me what troubles you, my love.'

so you do, with his fingers curled around your waist, the shower water running over your skin

he kisses you once you finish, and it tears at his heart the way you're looking up at him, trying to hide the worry in your eyes as you wait for his reply

feyd doesn't mince his words when he tells you that he doesn't care if you cannot give him an heir, that all he asks of you is to let him love you - it's then that the tears fall, and he kisses them away, holding you close to him

you grieve for the children you can never have, but feyd remains by you, almost supernatural with the way he senses your pain

your gaze might fall upon one of the servant's children, causing an ache in your heart, and within a few seconds his fingers will twine with yours and he'll tuck you into his side, kissing your hair

OR you have twins: one girl, one boy

the girl is three minutes older than the boy

feyd is obssessed with your pregnant body; he always has his hands on you in some way

he gets more protective, if that's possible

sometimes he lies between your thighs, his palms spread over your stomach as he talks to the two of them, and the softness and wonder in his eyes brings a warmth to your chest

feyd is with you when you feel the first contraction and promptly carries you to the midwives

he lets you crush his hand in your grip as you give birth to the lives you've made together, wiping the sweat off your forehead and quietly encouraging you

the first time you hand them to him to hold, he's hesitant, hands fluttering over you as he figures out what to do, but he's a fast learner

there's a fierce protective glint in his eyes when he cradles them in his arms, one that you glimpse when he looks at you too, and within it there's a deep, pure joy

he teaches them how to fight, and yet he's still so gentle with them, laughing as they giggle and cling to him, one latched onto each leg

the girl is how you'd imagine feyd was as a boy: half feral, yet charming when she wants to be, while the boy is a little calmer, more unflappable, and happy to entertain his sister's mischievous endeavours

both love the harpies, and there have been multiple times when you walk in on the twins gaping wide eyed at the harpies as they regale them with old tales

sometimes, feyd will scoop them up, one in each arm, so they can reach up and give you a little kiss on the cheek before he pecks your lips

you think it's beautiful, the family that you've made with him

feyd loves the way you look at him, with that mischief in your eyes, as if you're sharing a secret with him

he loves your sweet laughter, the softness in your hands when you touch him and how you don't shy away from protecting him, defiant even in his uncle's presence

he knows he would kill for you, die for you - he'd do anything for you

you would do the same: it makes feyd's head fuzzy, when you get so fiercely protective over him, placing your hand on his shoulder as you glare at the baron, lacing your words with venom when you address him

you'd stop at nothing, just to protect his honour

when you're after something, nothing stands in your way, and yet you can handle him with such soft, gentle hands, banishing his nightmares with the light tracing of your fingertips on his back

feyd heals in your presence, and you grow in his

your love is eternal

[fleurvi]

Appetite | Nico Robin

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pairing: vampire!nico robin x fem!reader

genre: smut (minors dni)

wc: 2.5k

cw: vampirism, blood drinking, predator/prey dynamic (in a dream sequence), mention of cannibalism but no actual cannibalism, fingering, cunnilingus, blood play, scent kink, Robin and Reader are both freaky

a/n: happy halloween lesbians. I also cross post to ao3.

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“You can't run from me,” Robin's voice booms through the forest, bouncing off the tree trunks surrounding you as you run. You have seen the look on her face; your wife has been reduced to nothing more than a hungry animal. You can't hear how far behind you she is, whether that's because the snapping of twigs and crunching of leaves caused by your own footsteps is drowning out the noise or, the more terrifying option, she's not actually running.

You're so close to the edge of the forest, close to freedom. Hopefully, people will be on the road, and you will get help.

Unfortunately, fate is not so kind to you. The taste of safety fizzles on your tongue as your shoe gets caught on a rock, and you lose your balance completely. You hear the flapping of wings and don't even have time to think before Robin's whole body weight is on you. You open your eyes to see your wife's face, though something about her is off.

She buries her nose in the crook of your neck. Her vampiric grip holds you in place; you can't escape now. “Your blood smells divine. I need to taste it”

You know how she feels about your scent. It was one of the things that drew her to you, but she promised she would never lose control and hurt you. You wonder if you could beg to appeal to that human part of your wife or if the woman you know has been lost for good.

“Please, baby, be good to me. You promised you'd never hurt me,” you whimper. You don't get a verbal response. Instead, Robin licks from your shoulder and up your neck to your jaw.

“You never have a problem with me hurting anyone else. I promise it won't kill you. I'm just hungry, baby. Don't you want to feed me?” The voice comes from Robin's mouth, but it has a static edge like the vocal cords have been fried, and it's nothing like Robin's. The monster isn't wrong; you always turn a blind eye when Robin has to feed, and her feeding has only killed a handful of times. Most of the time, people get dizzy for a few days, endure a rough hangover, and then a week later, they're good to go. You suppose you are being a hypocrite, maybe a taste of your own medicine is worth it.

“Okay”, you whisper, and a primal growl tears through the vampire's teeth. Her hands slide from your wrists to your own, interlocking your fingers. Her teeth sink into your neck before you can even fathom what's happening. You feel the sharp sting of both top and bottom fangs then a fuzzy warmth spreads through the area until eventually it goes numb and you feel nothing at all.

As soon as your eyes close, they're open again. You look around and realise you're in your bedroom, with your wife sound asleep next to you. She shifts beside you when you wake, and you turn in time to see her open her eyes. For a second, there's a flash of something primal, then the warmth seeps in, and she looks like the woman you married years ago.

“Is everything ok, dear?” she asks, hand reaching to caress your cheek. She's cold to the touch, a side effect of vampirism, but you can feel her intentions through the pads of her fingers. You're a little shocked by how needy you're feeling, especially after such a graphic nightmare. Your panties are uncomfortably wet and you're aching to be touched.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” you say, shuffling closer to Robin. “Just had an odd dream, that's all. Nothing to worry about”

You pull her into a kiss and readjust so you're straddling her. It's desperate and frantic, so much so that one of her fangs accidentally nicks your bottom lip. The scratch makes you whine as you pull back from the kiss. You can feel your skin warming as embarrassment rises like bile in the back of your throat. Your dream wasn't as much of a nightmare as you initially thought. She slides a hand between your legs, and you groan, dropping your head to her shoulder.

“Must've been one hell of a dream” she teases. “You're fucking soaked.”

You're horny beyond words, so you nod, moaning as she works her fingers between your legs. You're so close to cumming until a harsh screeching fills your ears. Never before have you felt so victimised by an inanimate object. Robin reaches her unoccupied hand to her nightstand and turns off her alarm clock. She pulls her other hand from your pyjama bottoms and licks her fingers clean.

“I'm sorry baby, I have an important meeting today. I'll make it up to you later. Why don't you put on something pretty for me later?” she suggests, sitting up with you still in her lap. She kisses your shoulder affectionately, encouraging you to move from her lap so she can get ready for work. She can't go out in the sun, but she's gotta help you pay for rent somehow, so she put the credentials she got when she was ‘human’ to good use and became an archaeology consultant for a museum. She works mostly from home, so you get to see her work.

With a huff, you get up, allowing her to get out of bed. You go through your regular morning routine with her. Once your faces are washed and your teeth are brushed, she sits between your legs and hands you a hairbrush. You started brushing her hair as soon as you moved in. You brush in silence, enjoying the Intimacy of the act. You can tell the repetitive action calms her. Once she's dressed, she goes to her office, and you stay behind in the bedroom, examining your morning.

Your dream gnaws at your chest all morning as you get started on your half of the chores. You can't accept that you were so worked up over the idea of your wife feeding from you. You try to tell yourself it's just the visual appeal of her fangs. Fangs are inherently sexy to look at, especially on a woman that exudes the control and power that Robin does. Her fangs are probably strong enough to take a chunk out of you, and you're so deeply in love with her, you'd probably let her. It's not cannibalism because you're, technically, no longer the same species. Your own sick train of thought turns your stomach. You stop vacuuming and sit down on your sofa hiding your head in your hands.

“What do I do?” you whisper to yourself. After five minutes of muttering under your breath and glaring at your coffee table, you can still feel the echo of her teeth. It's an all-consuming thought. It's a strange mix of guilt, disgust and pure eroticism.

You did marry a vampire so there must've been some interest in her monster side from the beginning. You've always been an adrenaline junkie. Maybe you just need to get this one sick desire out of your system, and you'll go back to normal. You know Robin is running out of her blood bags, so she's going to have to feed from humans until she can order more. You try to push the image of the soulless creature out of your mind and remind yourself of your unwavering trust in your wife. Robin has done nothing but love you and care for you the entire time you've known each other. She wouldn't take enough blood to kill you. no matter how good it tastes to her.

When her lunch break comes around and she's all done with her meeting, you approach her office, clad in lingerie with your makeup and hair done, ready to flush whatever sickness you have from your system. You've researched vampire feeding; you know what tastes good to them, you know the side effects on humans and you know it's going to hurt. Strangely, the thought doesn't deter you; the closer you get to the office, the more excited you are.

You knock on the door to Robin's office, waiting for her permission to enter. You take one last deep breath, accepting your fate, and enter the room.

“Lunch delivery” you sing, as she looks up from her laptop. Her jaw drops as she sees how you look.

“What did I do to deserve all this?” she asks, putting her laptop in the desk drawer and pushing the large chair back so you can straddle her. “I guess we can pick up where we left off this morning,” she says, leaning in to kiss you.

“I wanted to ask if I can do something for you, " you say, cradling her face in your hands. She nods, listening to you. “You're almost out of blood bags. I wondered if…I could be your blood bag,” You say, tilting your head and baring your neck to her.

“You want me to drink from you?” she says, voice unsure. She's never drunk from someone she loves. “It'll hurt you”

“I know. I know it will. I want it to,” You whimper out, guiding one of her hands to your panties. She's still apprehensive, but you see her expression faltering, her vampiric side pushing forward. “That's what I dreamed about last night; that's what got me this soaked.” You say, moaning as her fingers rub your sensitive clit.

“Are you sure you want me to bite you?”

“Positive. I'm not scared of your fangs. They're fucking sexy”

“If it's too much, we're stopping”, she insists, waiting for you to agree before letting you pull her back into a kiss. She moves your panties to the side and slips two fingers inside of you. She trails her lips down your neck, stopping at the base where she presses her nose and takes a whiff, inhaling your scent. On your first date, she told you she could hear your nervous heart frantically pumping blood around your body, it had freaked you out at first but you've grown used to her vampire senses. “You smell delicious. So sweet,” she hums, returning her lips to yours and moving her fingers inside you. She fingers you with precision as she presses her thumb to your clit. She plays with your clit as her fingers skillfully pleasure you.

“I'm gonna cum” you moan, and Robin nods, pulling away from the kiss and positioning her head at the junction of your neck and shoulder. She takes a deep breath, waiting for you to be on the edge of your orgasm before finally sinking her four fangs into your soft awaiting skin. The pain throbbing in your neck sends shockwaves through your body, sending you barrelling face-first into your orgasm. You practically scream out Robin's name as you soak her hand and wrist. You gush as she suckles the wound. The throbbing eases into a numb feeling comparable to pins and needles. She doesn't take a long drink. It's not enough to sustain her until her next order arrives and you're not dizzy yet. You're not experiencing any side effects. She probably only took a few drops.

“Not enough, need a juicier spot,” Robin says, voice dazed as if she's the one who's been drunk from. She licks over the bite mark, letting her natural healing abilities seal the wounds. She pulls her fingers from your pussy, and licks them clean. She hadn't even noticed you squirting at first, so focused on the heavenly taste of your blood. The sight of your juices mixing with your blood has you whimpering on top of her. She lifts you up, planting you on her desk and laying you down. She pulls your panties completely off.

“The thigh is the second best place to drink after the neck. The blood tastes better, in my opinion, but there's more fat in the way of the vessels.” She says, more to herself than you. “I'll make you feel good first”, she promises, using her hands to pull your thighs apart.

She leans in, suckling your clit into her mouth, smiling against you as you moan for her. Your hands shoot down to grab her hair.

“Fuck, baby, it feels so fucking good” You moan and she flicks her tongue at your clit. She all but makes out with your clit. She's sloppy and more enthusiastic than usual, it's a big change from her usual demeanour in bed. She's a fiend, determined to devour every piece of you she can. She's like a venomous snake; the poison in her fangs is spreading through your veins, and you're paralysed to her and her will. Except, you know she's not venomous, there is no poison, you're just a woman who's walked willingly into a monster's grasp. Robin has completely consumed you.

Her tongue works you up absurdly quickly. Leaving you shaking, whimpering and clawing at her desk as she slurps up every drop of cum you have to offer. Your taste floods her tongue as she moans and whimpers against you. It's only now that you realise she's been touching herself.

“Let me taste you before you taste me again”, you beg. Robin obliges immediately, pressing her fingers to your lips. You accept them into your mouth Immediately, sucking them clean of all of Robin's juices. “You taste so good,” you say as she pulls her fingers free from your mouth.

“Oh sweet girl, nothing could ever compare to your taste”, and you know she's not talking about cum. She puts her hand back down her trousers, using your spit as extra lube to play with her sensitive clit while she drinks from you. This is turning her on as much as it is you. She softly moans as she grazes her fangs over your inner thigh.

Robin finally sinks her teeth into you, and both of you groan in pleasure. Your left leg kicks outward at the shock as your right leg stays still in your wife's grip. She takes a much longer drink from this wound, making herself cum as the taste of your blood floods her mouth. The sharp pain is more intense than the first bite but it fades into a throbbing ache much quicker. It's an oddly satisfying feeling, like pressing on a bruise or massaging a sore muscle.

You're exhausted, drained of blood and have had two orgasms. She's done with her drink, but she doesn't seal your wound right away. You want to ask what she's doing but can barely even form a sentence. You try and focus on feeling her hands. She's collecting the blood from your wound on her fingers. You're able to lift your head enough to watch her draw out her initials on your stomach. It's the last thing you see, her name marked on your skin in blood, before your eyes close. You feel her tongue finally seal the wound. You hear her reach for something from the drawer.

“I'm going to clean you up and get you bandages. You just rest for me, my perfect little treat”

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I'm on ao3 here! thank you so much for reading!!

[tujhse-raabta]

before I sleep I need to get this out of my head, perpollo aus i love you so much

"You made me your Cassandra, didn't you, Doctor Olympia?" Percy's voice trembles under the weight of his fury.

(Is it fury? Is it hurt? Is it an obsession above all others? He never can tell the difference, when it comes to Apollo.)

His therapist doesn't have the slightest decency to show shame. There's an indulgent smile on his face, an almost pride at the reference.

Percy doesn't feel anything at it. He doesn't. There isn't a warmth at the base of his gut, no smile that was lost along the way to realisation. No glint in his eyes at the obvious approval, no subconscious tilt towards the man monster god who has become his centre of gravity.

(For all of Percy's insistence that none of it exists, Apollo sees it all.)

"I have immortalized you to me, yes."

Percy howls. Everything he says, it'll always be turned against him with this man.

"I'm sand to you." He says, words vicious and cutting. "I'll bide my time. When will you lose your grip, only to never find me again?"

"Oh, Perseus," his bane responds, tone wrought with indescribable softness, "You are more than crumbling dirt. You are the sea - every action, an unparalleled, unpredictable, shift of beauty. You are the very base of the Earth - every movement destruction and creation all at once. You are the Muses - every word to escape your mouth, a life changing symphony."

Pretty words for a serial killing cannibal.

(But isn't that how he hides? Everything about Doctor Apollo Olympia is pretty. He is the pinnacle of creation - he is grace, and appeal, and an angel among men. Was Lucifer not the most beautiful?)

"I scream." Percy says bitterly. Aching to touch, to taste. Knowing that if he just reached out, he'd be allowed it all. Knowing that he would glut himself on the privilege that is Apollo - till he bursts at the seams, filled to the brim with gleeful sin. "I scream the truth, and no one listens. Not Annabeth. Not Lupa. Not one, single person. And those who do... Well. Rachel rests in pieces, doesn't she?"

Apollo tilts his head, acquiescing. "Have you considered, agapitós, that I would not let anyone else bear the pleasure of hearing you?"

(Agapitós. Beloved.

Also interpreted as pet. Is that all he is? A beloved possession who just so happens to breathe?

Percy doesn't find the idea as disconcerting as it should be. After all, there's few things he loves more than his dogs.)

"Cassandra." He repeats, defeated even if he tries not to show it. Resigned. "She who entangles men."

Percy's a good fisherman. He knows his bait, and he knows his hook. He can tell when the hook is caught so deeply, that the only escape to pain is death. He knows when the net sprawls inevitably, and he sees the exact moment where fish cross past the threshold to survival.

He wonders how he missed it, this time.

[robsterskellington]

Shin Soukoku again being the more popular vote, huh? This snippet has Vanitas being more of a side character, but he's still involved.

Context: "In six months time, I'm going to kill you." Akutagawa never breaks his promises, right?

*It's time.*

That text had frozen Atsushi's heart, and made him feel sick. After getting the date confirmed, he realised that it had been exactly six months since the end of the Cannibalism Incident, and thus it was time for Akutagawa to fight Atsushi to the death.

*Why? Why did this have to happen? I thought we were getting along, I thought we finally understood each other!* His thoughts weren't helping matters in the slightest- he felt betrayed, but how could he not? Akutagawa had been hanging out with him a lot; sometimes they sparred and fought, sometimes they simply met for tea, and sometimes Akutagawa would simply be there whenever Byakko needed to run around in that beautiful forest.

But clearly it was all for nothing. Akutagawa would never break a promise, especially not for an *enemy*. That's all Atsushi was, in the end. And it hurt, oh God it hurt. He had to excuse himself and run to the bathroom, crying his eyes out. This was always going to happen, Atsushi knew that, but... knowing that the time had come, knowing that Akutagawa was ready to kill him, it made him throw up.

Eventually he emerged, and simply texted back to ask where to meet. Maybe Atsushi would beat Akutagawa? But then would Akutagawa stop if Atsushi defeated him, or would the fight only stop when one of them died? Atsushi had to come to terms with the fact that it was likely Akutagawa had only been so kind, so good to him, to soften him until he refused to fight him, which would just give Akutagawa an easy win.

His sour mood didn't go unnoticed, but nobody spoke to him. Vanitas seemed keen on keeping everyone away from him, and Ranpo was helping. Dazai wasn't in the office, he was likely bothering Chuuya. Atsushi suddenly growled and faced them, "What's the deal with you all?!"

"Atsushi, just calm down." Vanitas spoke softly and looked at him, "Just go meet Akutagawa, and we'll talk later, okay?" Vanitas had been informed of the promise, but he didn't look nervous. If anything, there was a slight smile hidden on his face, and Atsushi noticed a twinkle in Yosano's eyes. They were up to something, obviously.

Atsushi was texted a bunch of coordinates- he still struggled to read them, so he showed Kyouka, who instructed him to go to the Port, and to an abandoned warehouse that had red paint, crumbling off on the outside. She then gave Atsushi a big hug, since she clearly wasn't in the same know-how as Ranpo, Yosano and Vanitas, and whispered softly, "Even if he begs you, don't kill him. And please don't die, I can't lose you."

He held her tightly, then kissed her forehead. She truly was the little sister he wished he had. After taking a breath, he left, his tears dry and his heart hardened.

****

After a walk that took entirely too long as a result of Atsushi dragging his feet, he arrived at the designated location. The whole area was barren, save some dilapidated buildings. The warehouse he was sent to was empty, just the main structures and some railings remained.

Akutagawa was stood leaning against a pillar, scrolling on his phone, not even dressed in his usual gear- his iconic coat was nowhere to be seen, he was wearing black jeans, black converse and a sky blue hoodie. Only a select few people, (meaning Dazai, Gin and Atsushi), knew that Akutagawa's favourite colour was actually lighter shades of blue.

The outfit was... inappropriate. Not because of the clothes having anything wrong with them, but because Rashōmon wouldn't have a good reach with them, though Akutagawa obviously didn't care. He looked completely relaxed, as if he hadn't just summoned Atsushi for a death match. That sight completely enraged him and he clenched his fists.

"*AKUTAGAWA!!*"

Atsushi jumped down, shaking with fury, but Akutagawa looked calm. In fact, after seeing Atsushi, he grew a warm smile, one that made Atsushi's heart skip a beat, "Greetings, Weretiger."

"...*greetings*?! That's all you can say right now? Fucking *greetings*?!" What was Akutagawa's play? This was insulting and ridiculous, and Akutagawa had the audacity to downplay his feelings?!

Akutagawa stood up properly, and walked calmly towards Atsushi, keeping his hands in his pockets, "You're upset, but you shouldn't be." Before the younger man could shout again, Akutagawa gently continued, "Jinko. I've spent my entire life making and keeping promises. I've never broken a promise. Only now do I realise just how idiotic that is."

That wasn't what Atsushi expected. It wasn't stupid to keep promises, was it? That was when a horrible image flashed in Atsushi's mind- Fukuchi and that cursed sword, slashing Akutagawa's throat. If Atsushi hadn't made Akutagawa promise not to kill, they might not have even gotten to that point. They could have killed the bastard before he could summon the sword. He couldn't speak, and he couldn't look at the man in front of him.

Akutagawa saw Atsushi's expression, and took that as a sign to continue, "These past six months have taught me so much. Finding ways to resolve situations without killing is certainly a good alternative, and it's less paperwork." He was only half-joking, but saw that Atsushi didn't even crack a smile. Taking another breath, he got to his point: "I can't kill you. I don't want to, so I refuse. This will be the first promise I *break*."

"...what?" This wasn't real. It couldn't be. But he hoped it was, that he wouldn't wake up and find out that this was just a dream.

Akutagawa took a step closer and smiled at Atsushi, "I... wanted to know what my actual feelings were. So during the time limit I set for us, I decided to spend time with you. I've been alive for nearly 21 years, and I swear that I've never laughed, cried, or enjoyed myself as much as I have when we're together. Being around you simply feels right. If I kill you, then that's all gone, and I cannot allow that."

He couldn't ignore his emotions anymore, and he didn't even really understand his jealousy in the first place! Sure, Atsushi got all of Dazai's attention and praise, but one, he'd earned every word of encouragement and kindness, and two, Akutagawa was dealing with a version of Dazai that was toxic and cruel. The facts of the matter was that they were a great team, the New Double Black, and knew that they could trust each other in any life or death situation. Akutagawa was done being cold to Atsushi, the man he willingly gave up his life for.

Atsushi was shaking, he felt more emotional than he'd done in a long time. Without thinking, he hugged Akutagawa tightly, sobbing into his chest. The tears fell more when he felt the other wrapping his arms securely around him, the two of them just embracing. After a little longer, Atsushi sniffed, "...Ryū? Is this really what you want?"

"I want a lot more, but that'll come later." He chuckled weakly, stroking the back of Atsushi's head, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the Weretiger's warmth, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I wanted to, but I was so scared you wouldn't believe me. I didn't want you to hate me again, we've come so far from when we first met."

"Still, I'll get you for scaring me like that, you lunatic." They both laughed a little, and Atsushi finally calmed down, pulling away and wiping his eyes. They needed to talk things through properly, but while his emotions and mind were a bit fried, Atsushi looked up at Akutagawa, "I was scared. I didn't wanna die, I didn't wanna hurt you. Seeing you die on the ship..." he frowned then tilted his head, "You never answered my question. Why did you save me that day? Was it because of Dazai's orders, or because you wanted to kill me yourself back then?"

"Actually, when he ordered me to protect you, I initially refused at the time, like a fool." Akutagawa reached out and stroked Atsushi's cheek, "I saved you, simply because I wanted you to live. I wanted you to see that even if you thought you had no right to live, other people like myself disagree. You have every right to live, and I'm so grateful every day I see you, alive and well. No more suffering or pain."

He'd never heard those words before. Atsushi had never been told that others wanted him to live. Sometimes implications weren't enough. Sure, Kyouka had asked him not to die, but it wasn't quite the same. Someone being grateful that Atsushi was alive felt so foreign to him, so alien. Coming from Akutagawa, it felt sincere. Leaning into Akutagawa's touch, he felt tears well up again, but he didn't fight to keep them, just letting them fall.

Once he regained his composure, Atsushi assumed that maybe they could go out for tea or something, but Akutagawa looked nervous suddenly, "Actually, would you mind taking me to the Agency? I believe your head detective will have figured out that I'm not keeping this particular promise, so there's no need for hostility."

"I mean, sure. I can bring you." He knew now that after six months of not killing, Akutagawa had changed. There was no way he'd flip like a switch now, especially when Akutagawa had since acknowledged that Dazai belonged at the Agency. Akutagawa was in the Port Mafia, so killing was unavoidable, but Akutagawa would *try* not to, so that gave Atsushi some peace. But still, "May I ask why, first?"

"You may, and I shall tell." Akutagawa looked uncomfortable for a moment, then looked at Atsushi with a soft expression, "As you're aware, I have a lung disease that's slowly but surely killing me. However, five months ago, Vanitas had given me a medicine to soothe the pain, and allow me to breathe properly. Because of it, I have grown physically stronger, and I feel healthier."

Atsushi knew all this, of course. Vanitas had given Akutagawa the herbal remedy he'd concocted while the Port Mafia were still Vampires, and he'd been taking it for so long that his coughing was a rare occurrence now. The problem was that lungs, once damaged, tend to remain that way. The medication helped with the breathing difficulties, and helped Akutagawa do more with his body and life, but the lung disease would kill him in the end.

He felt his heart fill with light when Akutagawa continued: "Before, I was so weak that if your Doctor Yosano tried to use her Ability on me, I would have died before Thou Shalt Not Die could activate, which is one Hell of a feat, considering it can cure death in certain circumstances." He cleared his throat, "Now... I'm not that weak anymore. I can survive. So, please take me to her... so I can get rid of this cursed illness once and for all, and live for as long as I can."

Atsushi was having a day of emotional whiplash. What started off with pure fear, was now a situation that filled him with so much joy that he couldn't see straight. Acting without thinking, Atsushi threw his arms around Akutagawa, who held him securely and swung him around using the momentum created, laughing! It was so ridiculous, but they were both happy and clearly doing things in the heat of the moment. This was completely verified by Atsushi, slamming his lips onto Akutagawa's.

The Black Caped Beast, the Rabid Dog of the Port Mafia, was stunned silent and completely red in the face as the infamous Weretiger of the Armed Detective Agency kissed him like he needed Akutagawa's lips in order to breathe. In that moment, Akutagawa felt the same way, his arms holding Atsushi close, both of them aware of Byakko and Rashōmon purring within them, also happy.

Once they pulled apart, Atsushi grabbed Akutagawa's hand and practically dragged him to the Agency; it was a good thing that Akutagawa's lungs were already on the mend, at least now he could keep up without losing breath too fast and feeling like trash! He didn't want anything to ruin the moment they just had...

****

Vanitas and Ranpo had smug looks on their faces when they saw the boys return, and Akutagawa glared, "...you both really did call it."

"Yep!" Ranpo grinned as Vanitas explained, "However, we didn't want to risk anything going wrong, so we kept it to ourselves. The only other people who figured this out was the President, and Doctor Yosano."

As if summoned, Yosano came from the infirmary, looking surprised when Akutagawa bowed to her, "Doctor Yosano, after everything I've done, I understand if you refuse, but... I'm in desperate need of healing. Even with Vanitas' medicines, I'm not going to live too long with my lungs in this state. I'm willing to pay any price-"

Yosano cut him off by raising her hand, and looked at him, "You're a patient in need of help, and I'm aware that Vanitas' medicines can only do so much, while Mr. Mori is useless when it comes to diseases. You don't need to pay me anything, I'm just proud of you for finally admitting that you need help." She looked towards Atsushi and smiled, "You can trust me with Akutagawa's health."

It wouldn't take long, but Atsushi was still nervous at seeing Yosano drag Akutagawa into the infirmary. Kyouka had to hold him back when he heard the chainsaw whirring and Akutagawa's scream- he'd never heard Akutagawa scream with utter fear before, and he silently vowed that he would never let Akutagawa scream like that ever again. Kyouka hugged Atsushi, and he leaned into her. Obviously he knew that Yosano would cure Akutagawa completely, but it was still nerve-wracking to wait.

It was only a couple of minutes before Yosano came out, with a satisfied look, "Okay, that lung disease is all gone! And *yes* Atsushi, you can-" He zipped right past her before she could finish her sentence, but she found herself still doing so, "...see him now."

Vanitas laughed and went to make Yosano some tea to help her recover, "How bad?"

"If you hadn't given him that stuff, Akutagawa's lungs would have gotten worse. That boy hasn't smoked in his life, but his lungs were in a similar state to a chain smoker." She looked tired, but it was obvious that she thought it was worth it. "He probably would have died before meeting the six month deadline he'd set for Atsushi."

That was depressing, but unfortunately that was how unlucky life could be for some people. Akutagawa was already sickly, prone to infections and illnesses of all kinds. It was good that now he had support, and was able to trust people enough to help him. After giving Yosano the tea, Vanitas and Kyouka peaked inside the infirmary to see that Akutagawa was sound asleep in the bed, with Atsushi holding his hand and resting his head on the edge of aforementioned bed.

Vanitas smiled and grabbed an extra blanket, covering Atsushi's sleeping form before taking Kyouka's hand and leading her to the café to relax for a while. He'd already taken note of the fact that Akutagawa's breathing sounded steady, and he didn't look uncomfortable anymore. His chest no longer rattled, and he didn't cough himself awake.

*****

Akutagawa woke up an hour later, and he could immediately feel that he was *better*. It didn't feel like smoke was filling his lungs, and he couldn't taste blood in the back of his throat anymore. He felt someone squeeze his hand, and turned to smile at Atsushi taking a nap close to him. His heart hammered at the memory of that kiss, and he blushed to himself.

Maybe this partnership had more similarities to Chuuya and Dazai's than he thought. Working together, capable of destruction, and at the end of the day, they completed each other. Akutagawa and Atsushi weren't a single soul in two bodies, but their Abilities in the form of Kokko Zessō absolutely was.

Akutagawa smiled to himself as he watched Atsushi slowly awaken from his nap, and he couldn't help but stroke Atsushi's face when he saw that sleepy smile, "Ryū... how you feeling?"

"Healthy." That was honestly the best way to describe how he felt at this moment. Akutagawa leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Atsushi's, the pair of them holding each other like that for a moment.

It felt like now or never, so Atsushi spoke softly, "I... Ryū, I think I've made my thoughts clear, but I'm still gonna say it. I don't want us to be enemies anymore, or rivals. You may be in the Port Mafia, but that doesn't matter to me. I just... I just want to spend my life with you..."

That was something exceedingly dangerous to ask of a Mafia member, however Akutagawa completely returned that sentiment. He'd known Atsushi for months now, and they'd been through so much together. All Akutagawa wanted was to watch Atsushi live his life, while standing beside him the entire time. He'd never attack Atsushi, and he didn't particularly have any beef with the Agency, so a feud was pointless in his opinion.

All Akutagawa could do in response was pull Atsushi onto the bed with him, hold him close, and kiss him again. Atsushi squeaked, but wrapped his arms around Akutagawa and let them both sink into the bed, staying there for what felt like hours.

This was trust. This was loyalty. This was *love*.

[kame-writes]

Cannibals Curse Part 5

- Questions and Answers

Alastor watched Rosie being the perfect host, pouring them both tea from an intricately designed teapot. There was a small display of finger foods on a tiered display nearby, mostly sweets, which he wasn't a fan of, but also a curious assortment of actual fingers in paper casing. 

It was so odd, to physically see cannibalism accepted and accommodated for, but he supposed since they were in Cannibal Town, it stood to reason. He vaguely remembered her chewing on a hand, but his memory of their meeting was hazy at best.

“Forgive me if this is an odd question. But I don't seem to recall much of what happened before you offered to bring me here.” He admitted, taking the offered cup and drinking some while he tried to think of how to word his questions.

“Was that just another quirk of death? Because I felt like a man possessed. I've killed people before, as I've mentioned. Same for cannibalism. But never… anything close to that.” Not that blacking out and killing hadn't happened before. But only with his first ever kill. He saw red and woke up covered in blood then too, but this was different, he wasn't himself in the most literal way. 

Rosie sighed, reaching up to remove her hat Pin and hat, placing it on the seat beside her, getting more comfortable for the potentially uncomfortable conversation. “I'm afraid it's a curse for cannibals like us. Apparently gluttony is a sin that warrants extra punishment.” She huffed, clearly not happy with the situation herself. “You'll never feel fully satisfied, I'm afraid. The hunger doesn't go away, but trust me, you'll get used to it in time. I barely even notice it anymore.”

“I'd hardly call myself gluttonous.” He scoffed, but took in the fact that this was something shared between the two of them, and probably most of the town he now found himself in. He wasn't sure if he was happy to not be alone in this, or annoyed that he was just part of a statistic down here. “So I take it, that it is something that happens to everyone? The animalistic urge. The body distortion?”

“Not everyone can distort themselves like you did. I was surprised to say the least when I saw it.” Rosie really had expected the poor sod ripped apart to the freshly fallen soul at first, before she realised what she was looking at. “Usually that's something only certain Overlords can do, or very powerful sinners at least. You already having that kind of strength isn't common.” 

“Overlords?” Alastor asked curiously. He very much needed to understand the hierarchy of this place if he was going to make a name for himself. Because he already knew that he wasn't going to just fade into the crowds and keep his head down. No, this was mearly a new hunting ground for him, a new and exciting dance. And he intended to learn all the steps before he went freestyle with it.

“Hmm? Oh! Hah, you seem so unphased by this, I keep forgetting ya only fell today.” Rosie laughed. “Overlords are people who own territory in the city. Usually you gain power by acquiring soul contracts, and defending ya territory.”

“So. You are the overlord of Cannibals, I take it?” He had an inkling that she might be some form of elected offical already, but now it was clear that she was actually some form of powerful entity aswell. Interesting. He did indeed have a talent for accidently stumbling across the right people. “I hope you aren't expecting my soul.” He added teasingly, to gauge her reaction.

“I already told you, I don't expect anything from you.” It would be wrong. Rosie didn't like to feel she manipulated people into a deal, he was too new, and still figuring things out. “Most of the souls in my possession are given willingly though. I can promise that yours is perfectly safe unless you wish to give it away.” She assured, not missing the way he was trying to see if she had ulterior motives.

“Good to know.” He put down his cup and eyed the severed fingers on display. “So, what triggers this curse? Because I doubt you'd be offering me severed body parts if eating it would cause me to become a beast.”

“It's usually the smell of blood. Which is why a lot of my people don't leave our little town unless they can control it. All our butchers drain the blood, so it's quite harmless for you to eat.” She demonstrated this by popping one for the fingers in her mouth, chewing it like it was nothing more than a normal morsal. 

“So, you keep your people close and loyal by providing them something they wouldn't get outside of your walls… That's rather clever actually.” He had to admire the system, everybody wins. Rosie got power and control, and in return, her subjects feel safe and understood in a way they wouldn't anywhere else. A perfect symbiotic community.

“Day one and you're already analyzing things. Planning how to rise in the ranks so soon? My, you don't start small, do ya handsome?” Rosie was amused watching this fresh-faced sinner already scheming. She'd have to keep a close eye on this one, he was going to cause a stir, she could already tell. “Hope you're not planning on overthrowing me as the new Cannibal Overlord?”

“Bold of you to assume we couldn't rule side by side.” Alastor said easily. He didn't flirt, he wasn't interested in that kind if thing, but he knew what people liked to hear, and he could see a potential friendship with Rosie.

Alastor pushed his hair away from his face, annoyed by the way it hung down when he leaned forwards to retrieve his cup. 

He stole a length of ribbon from his flouncy jacket, gathering his hair up behind him, before sighing and letting it fall back down. Of course it would be barely half an inch too short to prevent him from tying it back as he usually would. He guessed he was stuck with it long and loose. Lovely. Hell truly did make every little thing an inconvenience, didn't it?

“Now, I think there's a place downtown you can stay at for now, while you're finding your feet. But then we're going to have to discuss if you're staying here, and what’s going to happen.” Rosie said, in a kind, but matter of fact manner. “I like your moxie, but I won't let people take advantage of my generosity. No matter how charming they are.”

“Naturally.” Alastor supposed that was a very fair offer, he wasn't expecting a free ride of it after all. He wouldn't accept one even if it was offered, he was raised better than that. 

“Well then. To new friends?” Rosie raised her cup in a mock toast, tilted in invitation for Alastor to join in.

“To a new start in Hell.” Alastor added, bringing his own glass to hers with a clinck. Needless to say, this was not how he expected his life to turn out, but he would persevere, same as he always had; With a smile on his face, and blood in his teeth. 

Hell isn't going to know what hit it when he's through with them.

Prev -

[jesuis-melodrama]

TV Show Proposals

Just in case a TV show executive is scrolling through Tumblr searching for their next big hit, here are some proposals from a humble yet rabid media consumer.

More Than Meets the Eye

What do you know about Transformers? That this 1980s cartoon TV series started off as a ploy to sell toys, but impacted their audience so much children were walking out of movie theatres crying when Hasbro literally executed their first line of products in order to introduce the second?

The beginning of Transformers were conceived in the same faith multiple other 1980s cartoon were made – as product advertisement to sell children toys. My Little Pony, Carebears, He-Man, G.I. Joe – they appealed to the violent and action-oriented or cutesy and fashion-oriented subnature of young children, so they could in turn badger their parent to splurge money on figures of their favourite character and any future accessories at the local toy mart.

The fan reception to the Transformers film (1986) allowed studio executives to realise Transformers had something more to it than advertising potential. And fastforward thirty years later when Micheal Bay took the reins to produce the multimillion live-action series, firmly cemented Transformers in its place in American pop-culture.

Although Transformers was always political – the entire Autobot vs Deception concept was based off the Cold War tension at the time of writing the original series – over the years this mostly negligible baseline has been heightened, especially in IDW comic's publishing. From apartheid society, right to self-autonomy, and state-mandated divide of class based on function, certain part of Transformers lore has become 'realistic' enough to be uncomfortable. Even when the characters are giant mecha-alien robots, there is an undeniable human element beneath all the armour.

I am not proposing a TV show of all of IDW's comics, just the More Than Meets the Eye and Lost Light series.

I acknowledge, foremost, that there are already serious issues with only animating this singular storyline alone. IDW, after all, has a near two-decade long history, and animating a stand-alone chapter that happens in the middle of the series is not going to help any new fans or consumers. Additionally, many beloved Transformers legacy characters are not going to appear in the narrative at all, bringing up the question of More Than Meets the Eye's marketability. Inspiring-Prime Rodimus will be leading a 200-bot ship of famously C and D-list characters (many who has since reached fandom fame for the roles they played in MTMTE and Lost Light); and when Bumblebee, Starscream, and Shockwave does come into play, finally, their position in the plot will be extraordinarily confusing unless the reader already knows the comics backstory.

Either way, I think that if some studio executive want to take a risk, they should do so anyway. More Than Meets the Eye was the first Transformers comic I actually read, when I knew absolutely nothing about the IDW lore and was only basing all my knowledge on the Bayverse films, and even though I didn't know who most of the characters are, it took barely five issues to get attached. I found myself intrigued by the witty writing, clever characters, gorgeous art, and the ever-desirable camaraderie that formed between this unlikely found-family group of bots.

More Than Meets The Eye was honestly magical to read, I genuinely believe my life and life philosophy had become better after consuming those 54 issues.

Other issues in producing a More Than Meets the Eye TV show relates to the lack of human characters, as human characters has become a prime template for the human audience to project themselves upon, and More Than Meets the Eye is also notoriously un-child-friendly. From characters such as Overlord to Tarn, or Megatron himself. Torture, murder, concentration camps, cannibalism – the comics illustrate the worst of what a galaxy-wide war between a hard-scrabbling general and a genocidal warlord could produce, and it does not shy away from the details.

More Than Meets the Eye is also a story of redemption. Multiple characters throughout the series – literal war criminals, self-deprecating, suicidal, cruel in the way that those who have given up are cruel – learn to give a damn, to realise how to live for a better tomorrow.

And the two defining titans of the entire franchise meet some of the best writing that has ever been given to them. They don't appear until the second half of the story or they don't appear much at all, but don't let their scarcity convince you of the quality of their characterisation. The writers of More Than Meets The Eye love every character, those who were destined to fade into obscurity and those who were never meant to be in the limelight, and it shows. IDW's Megatron isn't a true villain in the way that Optimus Prime couldn't live up to his untouchable hero image, but this does not mean that Megatron hasn't willingly and gleefully committed evil and Optimus hasn't done the best and the most righteous a leader in his position in the middle of a robot holocaust could've.

Making a More Than Meets The Eye TV show is risky. One hundred percent. It's in the middle of a series that a reader need background knowledge for, it has no human characters, its robot characters aren't exactly winning any popularity contests, and it cannot be marketed towards a general audience.

But More Than Meets the Eye has won two Comics Alliance award for good reason, and it has certainly convinced this Transformers-curious reader with no prior knowledge to become a lifelong fan of the entire franchise.

And I am not the one who sees the potential in a TV series. To any executive who has somehow read till the end of this post, check out these fantastic animations by passionate fans and artists:

魏威安's animated summary of the entire IDW comic history, just to give you an idea of the scope you're dealing with here.

Spooky Unicornus's heartwarming Christmas-themed short, with some fantastic lighting and movement.

The Alexicon's mock trailer.

This disconcerting comics-accurate short by OMUSUNDA featuring some brilliant voice-acting by a Scottish Skids –

– and a compilation of Ultra Magnus featuring his Animated voice from the same artist.

The Arcane-fication of Overwatch

I am not a gamer. I don't own any console systems, my iMac is pretty but cannot run computer games, and my favourite game is actually this mobile app called Bullet Echo, which I will proudly announce I am quite good at. Shout out to my main hero, Mirage.

But I have watched literally every single one of Overwatch's animated cinematic shots. And I am fascinated. The storytelling, the animation, the characters and their designs. I love all their accents, the little nods to their culture, and overall, the camaraderie between Overwatch members, although their interactions are brief.

I'm getting the slowly coagulating imagery of a truly fascination techno-dystopian world, a classic tale of a future gone wrong and heroes that rose up to the challenge.

I have heard and read some criticism about Overwatch's lore, that it's simplistic and is weak, lacking in any kind of depth. If this is true, I will claim ignorance to the fact that I have not played a single game. As an animation-enthuasist, I have simply watched the cinematic shorts over and over again, and is enchanted by the short bursts of story I've seen there.

I've never played League of Legends either, and I can bet most of those who watched Arcane never did as well. But Arcane was enjoyable for both hardcore gamers and first-time fans anyway. It had something for the general unfamiliar audience while throwing out some service to those that followed the franchise for a long time. And the trick to maintaining this balance is simple: good writing, writers that care.

So – Arcane-ficiation of Overwatch. Am I going to play Overwatch one day? Unlikely. But would I sit down and watch a TV series about it? Definitely. Comments on Overwatch's cinematic shorts always snarkly points out that the movies are better than the game and the producers should realise where to throw in their funds. I won't cast my own judgement upon these opinions as I, once again, have not played a single game. But I hope some Blizzard executives are warming up to the idea. After all, video game-based TV series has been gaining traction over the past few years. Just look at Arcane, or The Witcher, or The Last of Us. Dungeons and Dragons even managed a big feature blockbuster, with a pretty star-studded cast.

A brief list of my favourite Overwatch shorts, judged by not ranked on story, animation, and voice-acting.

Percy Jackson

An animated Percy Jackson series.

I know there's a live-action series of Percy Jackson coming out next year, and so far, it seems pretty hopeful. The actors are age accurate, the set design looks amazing, and Rick Riordian himself approves of the series.

Thing is, I grew up reading Percy Jackson and was violently passionate about the series once, back when the live-action movies were the ire of the fandom and the fanart, especially those of Viria's, were so popular they were considered canon. Canon enough that the official Percy Jackson wiki page actually eventually hired Viria to make their official character art.

There was even this petition to make an animated series with Viria's art that I remember signing a couple years ago.

Nowadays, artists likes velinxi has also become fandom staples in defining the stylised appearances of the characters, especially regarding the likeness of the Big Three.

This is one TV show that I'm not too invested about – as animated series with Overwatch and More Than Meets the Eye could be considered inevitable to the franchise at this point while Percy Jackson is significantly more popular and enjoy more medias, blockbusters alongside comics books, a musical, and the upcoming DisneyPlus+ TV series.

Just saying, fans manifested Viris's art being canon enough that the prophecy has been fulfilled. And if 50 000 fans signed a petition to make Viria's art an animated TV show – who knows?

Hamiltion

This is the long shot, I know. Hamilton is probably the most successful musical of this generation, and for good reason. I personally has never seen so much passion, clever lyricism, historical significance, and art stuffed within two hours.

My knowledge of musicals is that usually maybe about 40-70% of the show is sung while the rest is acted. Not for Hamilton, the actors truly push their physicality and vocal cords to the limit by turning it up to 200 percent for the entire performance. Renée Elise Goldsberry sang and rapped and delivered a masterful rendition of emotion during Satisfied (one of my favourite songs, ever) alone. No other musical has come close to Hamilton's set design and sophisication in my humble opinion, and I bet it will be a very long time before another musical that is released will come close.

Here, I am not only proposing the possibility of a TV show, but also a movie. There are many loose-ends in Hamilton that Lin-Manuel Miranda mentioned could not be covered in the play due to time constraints, such as the question as to what happened to Peggy.

A TV show could give the producers plenty of time to expand on fan-favourite moments, such as the Winter Ball or the battlefield scenes along with typing up loose ends. More time could also introduce more songs, and embellish the visual design further with on-site landscape, although the question of whether or not this will elevate the musical's appeal is debatable as Hamilton's single room, rotating dais set has become synonymous with the show and an archetypal of ingenious on-stage set design. Again, like with Percy Jackson, not too fussed about the possibility of Hamilton making it onto the big screen. But just throwing the idea there.

[makemebsld]

@reneethegreatandpowerful here’s your very late fanfic, I am so tired and should not be up writing but whatever

I’m currently running on my data and docs delete itself of my phone so I got the first bit of google classroom and finished it in notes

I’m sory in advance

——————————

1:34 pm, Tuesday

I pause my mcr as the door of my castle bedroom breaks off its hinges and slams to the floor. I roll my eyes, knowing damn well what's about to happen. My husband, bowser, swoops me up and kisses the top of my head before skipping and giggling, swinging me over his shoulder. For me, it's purely political but he truly loves me. It's okay, I've never been big into romance.. Well other than him. I think I've been madly in love with him since I was five. He is stunning. He is a gentleman. He, he is Ludw-. no , can't say that even just to myself, i will suppress my love for him forevermore.

My husband brings me through the town on his shoulder, only putting me down when we finally reach the bakery

“SHALL WE GO IN MY LOVE?” he says, stroking my dishevelled hair

“Sure” i say fed up

We entire and go up to the counter to order when...

I see him b behind the counter

My husband orders for himself( two full bagger’s and a cup of tears, ofc), when it's my turn i struggle to get the words out

“Can i- may i please get a- a ice tea if you have it please”

“Honey or peach” his voice, like a melody within my bones

“Umm- honey please. I'm no cannibal” i say, trying to joke

He nods, clearly trying not to laugh at me, knowing bowser will literally pound him to death if he dares even to even acknowledge his ‘prefect delicate little wife’

My husband pays and we sit. He rambles on until my ex boyfriend, Mario walks in. Bowser stands up and charges up to him, screaming ensues and everyone is trying to ignore it. I realise, this is my moment to talk to him. That I don’t deserve to be with that angry annoying beast.

I rush up to the shoptender

“Meet me out back Denny’s at 11 pm tonight” I say desperately

Then I leave with my husband.

——————<>—————

7.45 pm Tuesday

I wait for bowser to fall asleep beside me so I can sneak out of bed to get ready. It takes him about half an hour to be fully asleep after his bedtime (7.30)

I then get up and get ready, I put on a classic red silk evening gown with blaxk corssat stuf on the bacj. I slip on some inspirational shoes and leave.

10.30 pm, Tuesday

I’m just coming up to Denny’s when I get a tap on the shoulder, I jump.

“Omg sory (please note i cant write the word with 2 r’s cos my phone changes it to sleeping with yo mum) peach. Can we talk?” It was Mario

“ what do you want?” I snap.

I was utterly inlove him until he told bowser I would marry him for a political allience.

“ peach, are you okay?? I don’t remember the last time you looked happy and honestly bowser seems so horrible”

As angry as I was, it was nice to feel cared for

“ before you yell at me, I’m sory for what I did. You have to understand, it was your safety or you happiness, I wish we had found a way to ensure both.”

As much as a hated him, I don’t think I ever stopped loving him.

I wondered if I should kiss him.

I shouldn’t.

That’s cheating.

Even if I am out cheating anyways.

But it’s different.

Is it tho?

It’s still not bowser.

It’s still a risk.

Should I be here?

No.

But I am.

If I’m going to cheat, I should double down on it.

Literally.

“Hello?” Mario says, snapping out of it

I grab his face and kiss him

He tasted warm and like Italy

“ talk later” I said, running off as it ended, leaving him stunned.

11.27

I arrive at Denny’s

I see him

His blue hair

His beautiful tooth

Him.

Ludwig

Von

Koopa

“Your late” he says bluntly

“Im sory” I say sincerely

“It’s okay, atleast your here”

“So, we going to do this?” I Say just before he grasps my face and starts making out with me, I kissed him back and as we continued to progress and make our way down the body, I questioned my I was here. Yes this feels good, but could life with bowser not be the same? I never gave him a proper chance.

Whatever.

I’ll just ride Ludwig till I forget.

11.24 Wednesday

“ peach?” an Italy voice says

“PEACH!!” An aggressive voice says

“Peach?!” A panicked voice says

Shit.

I fell asleep behind Denny’s with Ludwig.

“DOES ARE MARIGDE MEAN NOTHING TO YOU????”

Why is bowser and Mario here?

“Why are you with him after last night?” Mario asks

What am I going to do?

All of them start arguing and then come to an agreement.

Mario turns to me and says firmly “peach, you have to pick one of us”

They all nod in agreement

Well

Shit.

[slasherhaven]

Can I get some angst with Thomas where in the beginning of their time together when reader is still pretty unsure about Hewitts and their situation with them, Hoyt sees reader and Thomas start to become friendly and he starts telling the reader that Thomas is like the other Hewitt men and is only being nice to the reader to lower their guard and assault them. While reader doesn’t fully believe it, they do start to not spend as much alone time with Thomas just to be safe. Then one day Thomas catches Hoyt in the act and confronts him.

Warnings: illusions to rape and sexual assault (no assault actually happens or has happened to the reader), Hoyt being a creep, illusions to cannibalism

Hoyt trying to convince you that Thomas Hewitt is only planning on taking advantage of you:

Ever since 'joining' the Hewitt family and becoming somewhat trusted within the walls of their home, you had been given your fair share of chores. As they had put it, everyone had to pull their weight. You never understood why they didn't just kill you, why they let you live, but you never felt thankful for it. What were you other than a hostage and a maid?

You were working through your list of chores, being halfway through cleaning the kitchen, when Hoyt walked in. You did your best to ignore his presence, as you usually did, but he never made it easy. No Hewitt made you feel as uncomfortable and on edge as Hoyt did.

"Tommy's took a shine to ya" Hoyt commented, not being deterred when you ignored him, "get real friendly, you two."

You just shrugged, not wanting to properly engage with the man. He wasn't wrong about you having been spending some time with Thomas.

The adjustment to your new life wasn't easy, it still isn't, but you had accepted it and accepted that you weren't leaving any time soon. After accepting that fact, you tried to make it as bearable as possible. You tried to get along with people, to become a valuable member to the household.

Luda May became kinder as you accepted your fate and started putting effort into being a part of the family, into making yourself useful and polite. Monty was as unwelcoming as ever, only growing more bossy with you about your chores. And Hoyt, well Hoyt was just as threatening towards you as he had always been.

Thomas had been an intimidating member of the family, and you had admittedly been afraid of him, but as you spent more time in the household you realised that he was different to the other men. He was quiet, kept to himself, always gave you space as if he was worried about making you uncomfortable, while nobody else seemed to care about that stuff. He was easier to grow close too since he gave you the space to do so, even if that hadn't been his intention, and now you found yourself spending more time with Thomas than any other member of the family.

Still, that didn't mean that you had completely become use to your new life.

"Can't believe you're fallin' for it" Hoyt chuckled to himself.

You sighed, closing your eyes for a moment before turning to him. He wanted attention, a reaction. "What do you mean?" you hoped that if you have him what he wanted, you would leave you alone sooner.

"Tommy's little shy act. You can't tell me you're buying it" Hoyt continued, a spark igniting in his eyes now that he had you listening to him. "He might act all nice and timid around ya but he's still a Hewitt man, he ain't all that different to us" he informed you.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, growing impatient and more uncomfortable by the second. Especially when he walked up to you.

"He isn't immune to some pretty little thing that comes around here" he told you, reaching out to caress your cheek. You instantly cringed away from his touch and stepped back, away from him. "He only wants the same thing from you that I do. That any man would" he followed you, stepping towards you with every step you took away from him.

"You're lying" you shook your head, not believing that Thomas was anything like his relative.

"You think you're the first?" Hoyt scoffed, making you frown as your back made contact with the kitchen counter. Blocking any escape from Hoyt. "You ain't the first nice piece of ass to come around here, you ain't the first thing to catch Thomas' eye. He ain't no better than me, he's just convinced you he is. He's just getting ya to trust him, to let your guard down, to willing be alone with him and unsuspecting. He's waiting for ya to make yourself an easy target, probably take ya down in that basement, the screaming gets muffled down there...you're just too naïve to see it" by the time Hoyt was finished with his warning, he was looming over you, his face far too close to yours. You could smell the alcohol and smoke on his breath, causing you to turn your face away from him.

"You'll see soon enough, Sweetheart" he assured you with a sadistic smirk, squeezing your shoulder in a mock-friendly manner before turning and leaving.

Once you were alone in the room again, you let out a breath and dragged your hands through your hair before trying to focus your attention on your chores again. If you could finish cleaning you could hide away in your room for a while.

Could Hoyt be telling the truth, could Thomas have the same intentions as him? You couldn't believe it, you didn't want to believe it. Of course Thomas had done terrible things, unforgivable things, but ever since it was decided that you would be staying with them he hadn't so much as threatened you. He just...didn't seem like the type. Though you supposed people said that about plenty of disgusting people...were you just being naïve? Did Thomas just want to hurt you for his own gratification?

A few days passed and Hoyt's words hadn't been forgotten. You didn't fully believe them, you couldn't, but you had become more cautious around Thomas. Putting more distance between you both than you usually would, tensing slightly when he got a little too close, noticing his glances, catching him staring. You used to think he was just socially awkward and trying to figure out the best way to approach things, not used to having other people around, but now you wondered if something more sinister was going on in his mind.

Now when you were left alone in a room with him, you became uncomfortable. Luda May had asked you to fetch him from the basement and you froze at the top of the steps, remembering Hoyt's words.

The screaming gets muffled down there.

So, you had shouted down, hearing the panic in your own voice, before scurrying back to the kitchen.

Of course Thomas had noticed your behaviour and it confused him. If this was how you acted from the beginning, he would understand, you had every right to be terrified of him. However you had apparently become somewhat comfortable around him, even being friendly towards him, and now you were so clearly avoiding him and seeming uncomfortable in his presence.

He spent too much time trying to think of a reason for your change in behaviour. Had he done something to upset or offend you, had he done something to scare you? Thomas couldn't recall anything out of the usual. Just that one minute you were as comfortable as you could be, considering your situation, around him and the next you seemed afraid of him again.

It hurt. Thomas knew he had no right to be hurt by you, you should be afraid of him, you should hate him after everything you had experienced at the hands of his family but it hurt him.

Thomas was making his usual journey down to the basement, passing by the lounge door. From that door, he heard Hoyt's voice and something about his words made him pause. Normally he wouldn't care for what he was discussing, most likely with Monty, but what he heard just seemed...strange.

"He might be quiet but his mind is loud, just like mine, just like Monty's" Hoyt's voice taunted, making Thomas frown, confused as to what he was talking about and who he was talking too.

"Do ya think he's having innocent thoughts when he's watching ya? Do ya think he's sweet on ya or something? He only wants one thing and he's gonna get it. Ain't seen many people able to fight him off" Hoyt continued as Thomas inched closer to the lounge door, peering into the room to not be seen.

"Stop it" you begged, wrapping your arms around yourself and shaking your head at Hoyt's words.

"Stop what?...Telling you the truth? It's hard to hear, isn't it?" Hoyt laughed, mocking you. "I've told ya, he just wants to use ya and once you're all used up, he''ll get rid of ya" Thomas was disgusted by Hoyts words but even more disgusted by the implications. Was he really telling you that Thomas meant you harm, that he was going to...use you?

"You meant it...there were...others?" you asked, seeming to finally give in to Hoyt's taunting. Thomas felt like he had just received a punch to the gut, were you believing Hoyt's threats, his lies? He couldn't even blame you for it...

"Oh, plenty" Hoyt nodded. "We don't put them in the stews though, they're dirty. Ain't in no state to go in once Tommy is done with them" he explained, a smirk tugging at his lips when he saw the tears welling in your eyes.

You could only watch the man through watery eyes, horrified by what he was telling you. Was this the truth? Was that your fate? All you knew was that you would try to avoid such a fate for as long as you could, maybe Thomas wasn't the friend you had needed in this place.

By that point, Thomas had heard more than enough. The door slammed against the wall, making you flinch, as he entered the room.

"Thomas, there you are, boy. I was-" Hoyt didn't have time to finish his sentence, he fell silent as Thomas was already standing inches away from him, looming over the older man with a hard glare. His silent warning more than clear.

"What's got you all worked up?" Hoyt huffed, but even you noticed the way he backed down.

Thomas pointed at Hoyt and then at you, telling him exactly what had angered him.

"They're a nuisance, I keep telling you that" Hoyt rolled his eyes, apparently he didn't know why they had decided to keep you around either.

Not wanting to hear another word from Hoyt, Thomas turned to you. Instinctively, you took a step back. If he wasn't so furious, Thomas would have been more sensitive towards your obvious fear but he wasn't thinking straight.

A large hand clasped your shoulder, the grasp firm, as he escorted you out of the room.

"Looks like your time is up, Sweetheart" Hoyt chuckled to himself, warning you of your apparent impending doom. The way Thomas' fingers flexed and dug into your shoulder wasn't easing your mind at all.

As Thomas opened the basement door, you forgot how you breath. No, you forgot how to breath when he locked the door, the clicking sound ringing in your ears.

Without removing his grip, Thomas guided you down the stairs, making sure to keep you on your feet when you stumbled over the steps and your own feet.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he led you over to a table and finally released you. Though, breathing didn't become any easier.

"Please, Thomas. You don't have to do this" you pleaded, tears wetting your cheeks and blurring your vision.

You were barely even conscious of him scribbling something down in a notepad and holding it out to you. As he pushed the notepad towards you, you slowly came to your senses. He was trying to tell you something.

After wiping the tears from your eyes, though it didn't stop them from falling, you took the notepad. As your vision came into focus, you could read the words on the page.

'I have never. I would never' the handwriting was messy and the spelling imperfect but you could read it.

"Would never what?" you asked with a sniffle.

Cautiously, Thomas took back the notepad. You slowly began to calm down as you watched him write something else down. This time he left the notebook flat on the table, moving to the side so you could see it.

'I would never hurt you. I am not like him'

"He said...he said you've...that you've raped people...down here" you could barely even form the words, not wanting to voice them, to make them a reality. You could see that Thomas looked genuinely disgusted by the claim.

Turning his attention back to the notepad, he wrote, 'I would never do that'. He looked back at you and looked almost embarrassed for a moment before continuing to write, 'I haven't been with anyone'.

His response seemed honest, either that or he was a master manipulator. 'Hoyt wants you to be scared. I'm sorry he did that' you watched as he messily wrote across the page before taking a moment to think.

Of course Hoyt was lying. He was threatening you, trying to make you scared, to turn you against Thomas because you were practically under his protection these days. Hoyt wanted you to feel afraid and isolated...god, you were so stupid to believe him.

Thomas didn't think you were foolish in the slightest, however. Of course you were afraid, of course you would believe everything anyone said in order to protect yourself.

Feeling overwhelmed by the previous horror and sudden relief, fresh tears rolled down your cheeks. Thomas wanted nothing more than to comfort you but he didn't want to scare you further.

"I knew he was lying" you muttered as you uselessly wiped away the new tears. You had known it the first time he mentioned it but you let him get in your head.

"I'm sorry" you couldn't help but feel bad for believing he could do those vile things, especially after befriending him to an extent.

Feeling the need to comfort you, Thomas tentatively reached out and gently pet your hair. He knew it wasn't the best way to comfort you but he didn't want to push too many limits. He wanted you to knew that you didn't have to apologise to him, he understood why you believe Hoyt's lies, you were just trying to protect yourself. He hoped he could earn your trust.

Instantly, with the thoughts of Thomas being a monster expelled from your mind, you moved towards him and wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your face in his chest. He was a little startled by your actions but still wrapped his arms around you, letting you cry into his shirt as he stroked your hair.

"I'm scared, Tommy" you confessed quietly, feeling like he was the only person you could be honest with around here. If you had said that to one of the older men, they would use it against you, scare you more. If you had confessed it to Luda May, she would turn on you, treat you with more suspicion again. But Thomas understood.

And Thomas' heart did ache for you. He knew how afraid you must be, how confused and lost you must have felt.

He reached behind you with one hand, grabbing the pen and quickly writing something down. You didn't budge as he grabbed the notebook and brought it between you both, getting your attention.

With a small sniffle, you pulled away and looked down at the cluttered page. 'I'll keep you safe' was written with a heavy hand, deep lines making the words stand out to you.

"Thank you, Tommy" you whispered before practically melting back against his chest.

Thomas tossed the notebook away and returned to just holding you, focused on just comforting you. You hadn't realised how much you needed something as simple as a hug, some comfort, a feeling of security. Now, Thomas was giving it to you and you felt like you never wanted to let go.

There was a reason you could never believe Hoyt's claims, Thomas had been your only feeling of safety since you started staying in this place. He still was.

[headcanonsandhijinx]

Little Nightmares II Fix-It!

(Spoilers for the game ahead)

I just wanna talk about the game for a moment. It was so good, but that fucking ending. God, it punched me in the gut. I don’t actually know if I’ve processed it yet? Like I just feel weird about it, like I can’t believe it?

So I’m fixing it and ignoring the canon ending.

I wanted them both to escape so bad and why did it have to end that way? I think Six must of had a reason for dropping Mono, but I still hate that she did it. Personally, I’m thinking of the theory of Six’s hunger state coming back and Six was scared that if she pulled him up, that she’d attack and eat Mono, so that’s what I’m gonna do for this fix-it.

I’ve never written for Little Nightmares before but I’ll do my best! I also apologise for any grammatical errors or anything but I hope you enjoy it. Also warnings for minor references to cannibalism, thoughts of cannibalism and mentions of rotten food. I don’t think that I go to in depth but I wanted to put warnings, just in case.

***

His hand was clasped in hers when it happened.

It came back. The gaping void of hunger in her stomach returned and she would have dropped Mono if she wasn’t used to the pain of it. She could feel it like a leech, crawling and gnawing at her empty stomach, demanding to be fed.

However, there was no food around.

Nothing to quell the hunger.

Nothing, apart from the boy hanging in her hand.

She knew it would be wrong, to hurt her friend and she didn’t want to. But sometimes she couldn’t help it. The hnuger gets so extreme that she’ll eat anything. And god knows, she has. She remembers the hunger on The Maw, the rotting meat, the bread thrown to her, the rat, the- the poor gnome, and The Lady. All consumed because she couldn’t control it. Couldn’t control herself.

Would that happen to Mono as well. Would he end up as just another meal that she’d regret once he was gone.

Would it be kinder to let him go? There was just enough light streaming through the cracking ceiling that she could see where he would land. It looked squishy, so he’d be okay? He’d be able to find his way out.

But there may not be another way out.

“Hey.” It was him, still hanging in her grasp. His eyes wide, full of confusion and something else that shocked Six.

There was trust.

He trusted her to save him.

Because he had saved her so many times. From The Hunter, The Bullies, and The Thin Man.

She couldn’t abandon him now.

No! She wouldn’t abandon him now, how could she?

Because for the first time, in a long long time, here was someone who trusted her.

And she wouldn’t let him down now.

She looked down at him, pushed the hunger away, tightened her grip on his hand and began to heave him up. Like she had done so many times before, during this adventure. He reached the top and used his other hand to pull himself up onto the stone.

Still holding her hand, he clasped it tightly in his and pulled her through the door behind him.

***

There was a moment of bright static light before Six felt herself fall out of the tv. Pushing her hands underneath herself, she sat up and looked across the floor.

Mono was there, sitting in the same position as she was and looking at her.

Then the lights flickered as the hunger returned with a vengence, causing her to hunch over and wrap her small thin arms around her middle.

Mono made a noise of alarm as he stood to move towards her, stopping when he saw her frantically shove herself backwards and away from him.

She wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t hurt him.

He stepped forwards again and Six pushed herself further away, towards the wall behind her.

Mono made a small noise of distress. “Hey.” He said and frowned when he recieved no reply. Six had pushed herself into a corner and was curled into a tiny ball, hiding as much as she could. Growls coming from her and the lights flickered again.

Mono thought he had seen a shadow from the corner of his eye as he turned, only to see nothing there.

It was then Mono left.

He left and walked out the door of the small battered room, leaving Six on her own. The hunger surged again and Six didn’t know what would happen.

Had he left her? Had he run away after seeing the hesitation in her eyes as she thought of dropping him? She didn’t know.

Her stomach growled again, another huge wave of pain rolled over Six and her eyes slipped shut as she slumped unconscious in the corner.

***

As she awoke, she realised that she could smell something and her mouth watered as she opened her eyes.

There, in front of her, was some bread. It was old and stale but she didn’t care. She launched herself out of the corner and shoved as much of it as she could into her mouth, barely even swallowing before she stuffed more in. The void in her stomach disappeared and then Six saw him.

“Hey.” Mono.

He was back.

He had come back... with food.

He had gone to get her food, to help her.

For the first time, in a long time, Six’s eyes watered and a tear slid down her pale sunken cheek.

He had helped her.

She stood on shaking legs and walked towards him.

She lifted her hands and hesitated for a moment before she reached up and pulled her hood down.

She looked at Mono.

“Hi.” Her voice was hoarse and cracked as she spoke to him for the first time.

“Hey.” He replied with a tiny smile.

Before she knew it, Six had rushed forwards and was wrapping her arms around him.

The first hug she had ever given.

And Mono took a moment to realise what was happening, before he wrapped his arms around her.

Returning the first hug he had ever recieved.

And as they hugged each other for the first time, they each felt something they had never felt before.

They knew the world was dark and cruel and monstrous, but as long as they had each other, the world seemed a little bit brighter than before. They didn’t know if this feeling would last forever, but they didn’t care as long as it lasted for a moment.

They had never known the name of that feeling, but it was called safety.

So they parted from the hug and ventured out into the rainy city.

Once again, hand in hand.

***

So that was my fix-it. I hope you enjoyed my take on the canon ending of the game. I loved that they stayed together and were most definitely going to be okay as they went into the city together.

I’d love to hear what you thought of this, but as I’m a secondary blog, I can only reply via reblog so if you leave a note, it will still be very very appreciated but I won’t be able to reply to it.

I hope you all stay safe and have a lovely day!

[joshuas]

facts

♫ pairing: hwang hyunjin x female reader

♫ genre: fluff, crack (seriously, do not question how i came up with this), domestic au, established relationship au

♫ warnings: mentions spiders, and mentions use of alcohol?

♫ word count: 1.5k

♫ prompt: “are you drunk?” “not nearly enough” from this prompt list !

♫ a/n: this was actually a request from @starteez and dedicated to her as a very very belated birthday present <33 hope you like it :)))

♫ summary: hyunjin gets super drunk and has a Crisis, meanwhile you just wanted to watch the latest episode of your favourite drama.

♫ tagging: @jadezircon @mostlikelynotmelissa and @potato2earth - let me know if you would like to be part of the tag list !

You sighed, settling into the couch, tub of ice cream, and tv remote in hand.

It was Friday night. Otherwise known as you and Hyunjin’s drama night, in which you’d watch the latest episode of the most recent drama the two of you were hooked on. However, today, Hyunjin had decided to go out for drinks with Felix, ditching you and your drama night. Initially, you were annoyed (not that he was hanging out with his friends but more so that he messed with your tradition), but you realised that you could just watch it without him. I mean... he was going out and having fun, who’s to say that you can’t do the same by chilling with your favourite characters and finding out about whatever dark secrets they had been just about to reveal in the previous episode. Okay... the latter of that was your main motivation for it. You’re not that lonely or sad.

Nodding resolutely, you scooped your ice cream, settling into the couch as the drama played, your attention fixated on the screen.

The sharp buzz of your phone startled you out of your immense concentration, the caller ID flashing to reveal your boyfriend, Hyunjin.

Your eyes widened in panic, your hands knocking the ice cream off of your lap as you reached around for the TV remote. The phone buzzed continuously, ringing as you fumbled around for the off button, leaving you breathless as you picked up the phone on the final ring,

“He—“

“Y/NNNN~” Hyunjin whined into the phone, his breathing heavy.

“Hyunjin? What’s wrong? Are you crying? ...Are you drunk?” You closed your eyes, only to open them again in confusion as you heard sniffling on the other end of the phone.

“Not nearly e-enough! I-I don’t w-want to be e-eaten.” He sobbed into the phone.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion,

“What?” Your tone coming out sharper than expected, eliciting more sobs from Hyunjin.

“F-felix w-was telling me about how f-female s-spiders e-eat their m-mates, and now I’m scared and I’m n-never coming h-home because y-you’re going to e-eat me.” Hyunjin breathed, between sobs.

...What?

“Excuse me? Why would I eat you. Felix was talking about spiders.” You said, slightly offended by his drunk comparisons.

He breathed deeply,

“Y-you know how the other day we were watching a Marvel movie and y-you k-know what you s-said? You said that the c-character you r-relate with t-the m-most with is Black Widow!” He exclaimed, almost hysterical.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, as he spoke incoherently at the phone, sobs heaving out of him as if he had just witnessed something deeply distressing. Well... what his drunk mind was picturing was slightly distressing, so it made sense.

“Well yes, because she’s a strong, independent female lead. Anyway, you’re too drunk to understand any of that. Hyunjin. Where are you?”

“I’m not telling you! Y-you can’t come to Felix’s house!” Hyunjin attempted to ward you off before realising his mistake a second later. “FELIX! Y/N’s COMING! She’s going to eat us—“

You hung up on him, grabbing your keys and heading out the door... ignoring the melting ice cream on the floor.

As soon as you reached Felix’s apartment you flung the door wide open, apologising profusely as a wincing Felix came out from behind, guiding you to your extremely drunk boyfriend.

Not noticing your entrance, Hyunjin had positioned himself quite... oddly, so that his head was on the rug on the floor but his legs were on the couch, a hand flung dramatically on his forehead, and another hand on the floor, not too dissimilar to someone doing a one-handed snow angel.

He looks like a four-year-old...

You cleared your throat behind him, approaching him tentatively. Whipping around, his eyes widened when they landed on you, panic flashing through them as he scrambled to sit upright.

“What are you doing here?” His words, although slightly slurred, still portrayed fear that was not well-founded at all. How his drunken state got to thinking you were a spider was beyond you, but then again, he was drinking with Felix, so who knows what went down there.

“I came to pick you up since you’re um. Drunk.” You raised your eyebrows, stating the obvious.

“No! You’re not allowed to take me back to your web.” He stumbled forward, couch cushion in hand in an attempt to ward you off.

Web? Oh my god...

“Can you— ugh. I’m not a spider! I’m not going to eat you! You’re my boyfriend, for God’s sake, and I love you, and I’m not a cannibal. Besides, you wouldn’t be very delicious, you’re mostly just muscle.” You sighed, raising your arms in frustration and defeat.

Hyunjin’s eyes widened in offence, placing a hand on his chest and stepping back, tears started to well in his eyes.

“I— oh no. What? Why are you crying again?” You panicked, settling him on the couch, rubbing his back soothingly as you mentally cursed his current over sensitive state.

“Y-you really t-think I w-wouldn’t be d-delicious?” He sobbed louder into your shoulder, as you rubbed soothing patterns on his back.

You rolled your eyes,

He’s so drunk.

“This conversation is so concerning, and one that I want to discontinue at all costs. I'm not a spider, and I'm not going to eat you. I don't want to comment on... that.” You deadpanned.

“How did you guys even get this drunk?” You glanced between Hyunjin and Felix who had emerged from the kitchen, ice pack on his slightly bruised face.

“It was all him. I asked him if he wanted to come over and watch the latest episode of this drama we’re both really into. He started drinking as soon as we started watching because he didn’t want to remember any of it so that when he watches it with you his reactions are genuine. Eventually, he got too drunk to even sit still, so we turned it off and started talking about stuff.” Felix shrugged.

“...and you somehow got to talking about spiders?” You asked, unimpressed.

“We were baking because he wanted to make you cookies, since he felt guilty...for basically watching nothing. I guess he still felt guilty for the action. Anyway, he freaked out after seeing a spider. Hyunjin, plus being drunk and his usual dramatic self is not fun. Especially when spiders are involved. I told him that fact because it was at the top of my head and he gave up on the cookies and started freaking out about you. Speaking of the cookies, I should probably check on them. You need to take this home before the rest of the guys come here if you want to have any of it.” He headed to the kitchen, leaving you and Hyunjin alone in the living room.

“Hyunjin, why didn’t you just stay home if you were just going to watch the drama? You know that today is drama night.” You crossed your arms, directing your attention once again to your sniffling boyfriend.

“I didn’t want to cry in front of youuu,” he sobbed. “I didn’t know what was going to happen next and I thought they might break up and I just...” he trailed off.

“You know that makes no sense right? You’re literally sobbing in front of me now. Also, you’re my boyfriend, I’m supposed to be there for you, tears and all. Besides, we’ll probably both be sobbing if the main characters broke up. We’ve shipped them too much for that to not be devastating.“ You said resolutely, your gaze softening as you looked at him, snuggling closer to you.

“I knowww.”

“Come on, let’s go home. There’s a tub of ice cream waiting for the both of us.”

Your drama night was postponed to Saturday seeing as soon as the two of you arrived at your apartment, Hyunjin collapsed and fell into a deep sleep on the couch... and your ice cream was on the floor, melted and no longer edible.

Leading you to Saturday night, where you and Hyunjin were snuggled together on the couch, wrapped in a blanket burrito, eating the cookies he baked yesterday, alongside a new tub of ice cream, whilst bawling your eyes out.

“I told you,” he sniffed “I knew this would happen.”

Your tear-filled eyes blurred your vision as you tried to focus on the crying characters on the screen, reaching for another tissue,

“I know, but it’s not as bad when we’re watching it together, and besides, these cookies are incredible with ice cream.” You snuggled into him and gave him a watery smile.

“Hey, as long as you’re not a spider and about to eat me, I’m all for our drama nights and cuddles,” Hyunjin smirked.

You pushed him lightly,

“Oh my god... how do you even remember any of the stuff you said? You were ridiculous.”

“I don’t know but the fact still holds.”

“It’s not even a fact! I'm human!”

💫 masterlist !

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Night shifts.

Daryl Dixon x Reader Werewolf AU

You are new to the prison and Rick takes you on your first night watch shift. When something catches your eye he sends you after it. When you wake up the next morning you discover things you would have never guessed were real.

Running from walkers was not how you wanted to spend your first week alone after months of being with a group and to be fair, you were done. You were close to passing out from dehydration  when you made it out of the forest lines and onto a highway, spotting a gas station to hole up in only a minute away. running in and barricading the door with your last bit of energy, you passed out almost immediately after.

"Hey, we're here!" Glenn called out to Maggie when they passed the treelines and went onto the highway where Rick had sent them. "That old place? Are you sure there's stuff left in there?" Maggie wasn't sure about it all but at least there weren't any walkers around it it'd be easy to check out and be gone without wasting too much time. They tried the main doors but they wouldn't budge, like they were locked down from the inside so they went around to check for another entrance. With a little effort they managed to take down the door in the back and went in to scope out the place and listening in for any walkers and finding none. They felt relieved when there wasn't a fight to prepare for and started digging through what was left of the supplies in the back room, making their way to the front, towards the blocked front exit. As they expected they found nothing useful in the small gas station, but when they rounded past the last supply rack they found something they weren't expecting.

"You think she's alive?" Glenn wondered, slowly stepping forward to check for any injuries but found none. "I don't know, doesn't look like she's turning so I guess not." Maggie replied as Glenn was already close enough to shake her. As he did so, she jolted awake and unsure of anything that was going on. Maggie had her gun readied at her side and Glenn moved back to a safe distance. "What the hell?" Was all you could groggily manage to speak. The two of them asked you a few questions that you barely managed to answer and were given some water when you regained enough consciousness to move at least somewhat well again. Thanking them you asked why they were here and they explained they were just looking for supplies and the place seemed to be abandoned. "We could ask you the same, though." Glenn chimed in. You told them your story of being alone and running from walkers for a while before eventually ending up here and passing out, how you hadn't eaten anything all day and drank your last bit of water this morning.

When they finished clearing the place, Glenn and Maggie agreed to take you with them to the prison where their group lived. On the way there, which took longer than their way to the gas station, seeing what state you were in, they mostly kept quiet about their current living environment even with you asking questions every now and then. It was close to nightfall when you all arrived at the prison and you were stopped by a man in a sheriff's hat. Immediately on you and not letting you take another step onto the property after answering his questions. He sat you down and talked to Maggie and see what info she had on you ans so she repeated everything you had told her, getting approving nods from Glenn who was keeping an eye on you  while also reassuring you Rick was less scary than he currently came off as.

After all the talking you were allowed to stay under constant surveillance. This only lasted a week, after which you were allowed to roam around on your own and were set on shared watch with Rick so he could teach you all their ways in case walkers would breach the fence. During the early hours of the night nothing much happened and you had to admit the view of the forest edge looked nice under the moonlight. From time to time you heard a walker rustling through nearby bushes but Rick reassured you to was nothing to worry about until they would start to pile up on the fence. After a long stretch of silence you saw something run across the field and you shoved Rick's shoulder to make sure he'd see it as well. The moment he looked it ran out of sight towards the other side of the building before emerging on the other end again after a short moment. This time Rick saw it as well and sent you towards the fences to go check it out. You ran from the watch tower towards the edge to check out whatever it was that you saw but you couldn't get a clear look at it so after a minute of walking back and forth across fence you decided to go through them, you were armed after all.

The thing was near the treeline and wandering around, seemingly not noticing you watching it. When it ran off you were so intrigued that you followed it out into the woods, not giving a single thought to what you were even following or all the other dangers out there. you followed the thing for a while, getting a better look at it and seeing it resembled a large dog of some sort. Honestly it only reminded you of your favorite monster movies you always watched back in the day, but that was all just suits and CGI. You loved those movies, zombie movies were cool as well until you suddenly all started living in one of course. But that was different, right?? No way other monsters were real as well. you weren't gonna run into a group of murderous vampires living as cannibals, but this creature in front of you did look an awful lot like a werewolf, and not even a small one. while it was hunched over and on all-fours it still reached almost to your shoulders.

You were so deep in thought that you didn't watch your step and tripped over a branch, causing the creature to jump up and tread towards you. As you got up you couldn't take your eyes off it, afraid it would jump you so you backed up until you hit a tree. You were stuck between a large tree with no branches to climb onto, and a huge, murderous, and now that you saw it up close, clearly werewolf.It snarled at you, getting closer to sniff the air and snapping its teeth at you only an inch away from your face.This was gonna end bad.

Back at the prison, Rick was slapped across the shoulder by Maggie. "Did you really just sent the new girl after him? Are you insane?" She whisper-yelled at him. She had been awake and saw you run  into the woods after he had snuck out. "Trust me, if you saw how he's always starin' at her, you'd do the same thing. He's not gonna hurt her." The two of them discussed their views for a while with Maggie being totally against the whole idea and Rick feeling like he did a great job. "Come on, Maggie. There's no way he's gonna do anything to her. He's been staring at her like a lovesick puppy ever since they first talked." Rick tried to convince her again. "And you have to admit that she tries her hardest to be around him and actually gets along with him pretty well." He was right, Maggie had talked with her from time to time and it was clear that she liked being around him. Whenever she didn't have any tasks for the day she'd always tag along on hunts with him and she'd be the first one at the gate when he would return from an early morning run to see if he needed to be stitched up. "Fine, I'll give ya this round. But if she gets hurt, you are the one who tells everyone what happened." She jabbed her finger at Rick's chest to make her point that much more clear and returned to watch the horizon for any movement.

Both stared into the distance in peace until they caught movement  out in the field. "See? Told you I was right!" Rick called out while Maggie grabbed a pair of binoculars to get a closer look. "That's not a deer in his mouth, Rick." She spoke softly as she shoved the binoculars into his chest, urging him to take a look. It was indeed him who was walking back onto the property, probably on his way to his usual hideout. He followed his steps and tried to focus on what he was carrying that according to Maggie wasn't a deer. "Oh shit." He let out as he lowered the item and rushed off the stairs towards the abandoned back of the building. When he rounded the last corner he had almost caught un with them and saw him now carefully placing you down in the emptied shed, on top of the cloths they had put there for when he'd turn back. The pile of clothes neatly folded next to the door. He deemed the situation as safe and left back to the guard tower to finish his shift.

You woke up before the sun started coming up and were shocked to find out you weren't in the woods anymore. Truth be told you couldn't remember what happened. The creature snapped at you, looking like it was ready to chow down on you and then everything went black. Taking in your surroundings you learned you were in some kind of shed, you were on a pile of fabric and there was a pile of clothes, illuminated by the moonlight near the open entrance. Trying to get up you learned that it wasn't a heavy blanket that was on you, but an extended arm draped over your waist coming from behind you. You quietly wiggled out from underneath the arm and went to investigate. Your first move was to go outside and look where you were. You were at the prison, but on a side of the building you had never been before. After being sure you were at least somewhat safer than you expected you went back inside, passing the pile of clothes again and decided to take a look. There was a pair of boots, a larger size so you assumed they were a guy's, together with some torn and patched up jeans and a shirt with sleeves torn at different lengths. Taking away at the pile one piece at a time, you found something that you immediately recognised. "Daryl?" You said out loud upon seeing his winged leather vest. A low growl came from behind you. You had been so focused on the clothes that you hadn't realised you might had woken up the slumbering beast.

You got up and ran without thinking of it and ended up cornered within seconds, Daryl's vest still clasped tightly to your chest. Eyes wide, you couldn't cast your gaze away from the creature in front of you. Now, on its hindlegs you were able to fully take in it's size. You were even more terrified than before in the forest, this time there was really no way out. You dropped to your knees, hugging the vest of your dear friend closely and cried, begging for someone to hear you and come save you but no sound other than sobs left you. You saw the light shift in your vision and carefully looked up, seeing that your cabin partner had now sat down and was staring at you. Blue eyes staring right into yours before getting back up and crawling underneath the pile of blankets in the corner, completely covering itself except for its tail poking from underneath it all. Every time you tried to take a step closer you were growled at, louder each time until you gave up and sat back down in the furthest corner. Eyes trained on the pile, you saw every small movement that happened and every breath the beast took. Its breathing became heavier and now started to get louder and snarls and growls would come out more and more until another sound broke your concentration and had you jump up a little. It sounded like a bone snapping in half, joined with other nasty snapping and tearing sounds. The pile moved but you couldn't make out what was going on as you covered your ears, trying to block out the gruesome noises until everything stopped moving and the shape beneath the piles had shrunk to half its size. All you heard now was breathing like someone had just ran from a herd of walkers. While everything seemed safe, you were too afraid to move from your spot so you stayed. Sitting there with Daryl's vest still in your hands you waited for the sun to come up and go find your group again. You companion's breathing had evened out and you assumed they'd fallen asleep again. Gathering all your courage you creeped closer to the pile and took in its shape, making out the shape of a person and carefully taking the first blanket away, sadly not revealing anything. The next one only uncovered an arm, lazily thrown over what you assumed was a head still covered in blankets. You sat there contemplating your next move. Were you going to take away another layer or were you gonna leave this one alone and let them wake up in peace?

Yeah, you were seeing who it was that terrorised you throughout the entire night. Taking a deep breath you took the edge of the next fabric and carefully lifted it, but before you could get a look your wrist was grabbed tightly and you were thrown on your back with whoever it was over you, snarling and ready to attack. You let out a surprised yelp as you were thrown down. At least now you could get a good look at who it was, and it wasn't who you expected to see. "Daryl?" You sighed, on one hand relieved he wasn't killed like you thought before when you found his vest. On the other hand completely out of it now that you figured out his probably biggest secret. Did others know about this place? Did they know about him and weren't they afraid?

Keeping your eyes on his you had to try your hardest not to let them wander off when you remembered he was in fact still very naked. "Please," You quietly pleaded. "get dressed.." You mumbled as you covered your eyes with your free arm, making sure you wouldn't see anything and trying to make him feel maybe less uncomfortable.He grumbled something you couldn't make out before you felt him move off you and heard rustling of clothes. "Where's mah vest?" You heard him ask and moved a bit only to feel it underneath you. Sitting up you slowly moved your arm away from your face and relaxed when you saw Daryl was dressed enough to be less distracting at least. When you were about to get up to hand him his vest, he'd walked across the shed and sat down in front of you like he did earlier tonight before he has changed back. "M'sorry." It wasn't much but it was enough for now.

You handed him his vest and stayed quiet for the most part. Not knowing what to say and what could set him off like when you woke him up scared you enough to not talk to him at all except for answering his questions or comments. It took a while for the two of you to get comfortable around each other enough to go out on a morning hunt but after words could be exchanged well enough to make a plan you were good to go. You left through Daryl's secret way out and started tracking a deer that had walked close to the forest's edge. Closing in on it you came across the spot where he had you cornered and almost attacked you, causing you to stop in your tracks and freeze up all of a sudden. The area was nothing special, just a small spot with no low bushes and some large trees. The thing that set you off were the claw marks that were now as clear as day on a lot of the surrounding trees, showing just how much strength was behind those claws. You didn't hear Daryl call for you and you didn't realise he had taken down the deer by now without much of your help in the end. "Hey," He called again, not getting a reply and put a hand on your shoulder causing you to jump. "Ya alright there?" He looked concerned at first, but there was something else underneath. You shook your head to get out of your daze. "Yeah I'm good. Sorry." You apologised without really knowing what there was to apologise for. You didn't even realise you had frozen that bad. Daryl looked around him and only now really connected the dots. He let out a sigh as he walked over to you, showing you his hand. "S'normal again now. See?" He held his hand up, turning it so you could get a good look. "I aint hurtin' ya." It was more than just a statement to him. This was a promise he was going to keep no matter what would happen from now on. You accepted his words and agreed to move back to the prison with your freshly hunted deer.

After you both finished your morning routines, Daryl walked over to your cell, asking you to follow him outside. The two of you walked back to the shed behind the building and sat down to talk properly this time. It wasn't that you were scared anyone, it was more of an anxious 'what if' feeling that kept gnawing at your thoughts. How were you gonna be sure he wouldn't get angry at a wrong question or what if you couldn't agree with something he insisted was right? "Hey," was all he said to get you out of your thoughts again. "Yer almost panicking here. Ya still scared of me." It wasn't a question but more of a statement and truth be told, he was right after all. You were scared of your friend and you had no idea how to change that. You didn't want to be but the feeling was still there, it kept eating at you that there was a chance that you'd do something wrong enough for him to snap. Being unable to stop those thoughts, the tears joined rapidly after. You didn't know what t say or how to even stop crying but you knew that letting out the emotions was a good way to show that you had no clue how to handle all of this and needed the help.  Daryl wasn't sure what exactly to do but he knew that touching you wasn't going to help. He had brought his pack and dug around for some leftovers that he didn't finish before turning last night and offered what he found. You accepted the food and kept in in your lap, being unable to eat anything while you were still crying. You mumbled a thankyou and moved over to Daryl, dropping yourself onto him and letting him know you were okay with him getting closer and you weren't afraid of him touching you when he wasn't angry. Daryl was surprised with this turn of events, it was a turn for the better at least. "Can ya tell me what's up? Cus' this shows ya ain't scared of this me at least." He didn't want to pry but he had to get at least something out of you now that you had some privacy. You were still softly sobbing but it had gotten less already. Taking deep breaths helped to calm down, and having Daryl's arms around you now in a protective manner was really getting rid of most of your fear. "You scared me last night." This was the first time Daryl had to go through something like this. Yes, he had to tell others in the group about his issue and it ended in Rick almost shooting him during a full moon before Daryl saved his life, and Carol hadn't spoken to him for days after she saw him turned but she came to his cell on her own to apologise and accept him for what he was. He also hadn't attacked either of them. Not that he really touched you, but he scared you enough for you to pass out, and again afterwards in the shed enough to make you cry almost twice.

"I ain't hurtin' ya, ever." He said again, hoping to convince both you and himself because truthfully he had no idea if he was ever going to hurt her if he wasn't in control."I like you. This is all new." Small sentences were your way to go for now and Daryl accepted that immediately. He nodded and hummed in approval of your confession, hugging you a bit closer and moving to sit more comfortable. "I like ya too. Tha's why ya ended up in that shed." You let out a huff of laughter at that, making it sound like he had some other plans if you hadn't passed out. "Ya I was gonna tell ya all this, but now ya saw everythin' already.." He wanted to talk, but he had no clue where to go at all, nothing that he wanted to say felt like the right words so he opted for a question. "Wha'cha think of all this?" He motioned at the shed and the cleared off area and himself as well, hoping that your answer would spark some more conversation and solutions.

Sighing, you thought hard about your words. Some things popped into your head and before you could lose your thought again you spoke. "I'm good with it. You're good and you're you and you kept me safe, you know." He did know. He knew he kept you safe last night, but the words that hit him the hardest were the ones no one had told him before. He was still him, even if he looked different or had a second nature that could be dangerous, he was still him. "Thanks for tha', girlie." You were regaining your smile and laughed. "Yeah, my friend's a dog. what's your story huh." You joked laughing out loud. It was a sound Daryl had heard before when you and Carol were on tasks together and laugher would fill the prison hall. He couldn't get enough of it.

"So, yer okay with bein' here with me? Gotta admit ya kept me calm last night." He now wasn't looking at you but at the ground and you were sure you could see a small blush creep up on his face. "Daryl," You turned in his lap so you could look at his face properly. You took his face in your hands to make sure he wasn't going to look away. "I'll stay with you for as long as you need." You made your statement as clear as you could possibly make it, hoping he'd understand everything behind those words. "Hell, I'm just gonna say this now before I lose the courage.." You took a last deep breath and just went for it. "I've kinda wanted to ask you if you'd want me as your girlfriend, but all of this happened before I got a chance to but you have to know I still want that, even after learning all of this."

Now it was Daryl's turn to laugh happily and pull you close to him, nuzzling your cheek and accepting your request with more glee than you had ever seen on him. "I love ya." He admitted finally, kissing your cheek to not overstep his boundaries in true Daryl fashion.

[jodfics]

Redwing

Female Reader x Sam Wilson

Timeline: After TFATWS

Rating: SFW

Prompt: Sam gets an emergency text from his girlfriend.

A/N: Okay but Sam would be so good at looking after a suffering S/O!

"Y/N?!" Sam didn't waste time in knocking on his girlfriend's door; he shoved his spare key into the lock and let himself in. "I came as fast as I could - where are you?!" He had received a text message, one word in capitals, 'HELP!!!'. The man had sent redwing ahead to scout her home, looking out for a threat but only finding Y/N's heat signature. He had thought maybe she'd fallen down the stairs or burnt herself cooking, or perhaps someone had tried to break in? All those thoughts had been looping in his mind as he broke the speed limit getting there.

No immediate danger was a relief as he had just finished dropping AJ and Cas off at school and had no gear with him. Except for his drone, he liked to keep the little guy around to annoy Bucky specifically.

Sam heard what sounded like someone screaming into a pillow and ran toward it, "I'm here! I'm…" Pausing in the doorway he had just kicked open, Sam went on the defensive.

His sudden appearance had scared his girlfriend into rolling out of whatever position she had been in and grabbing a slipper for protection. Sam felt the panic leave his body, and he sighed in relief. "I'm going home because my girlfriend gave me a heart attack, and now I need to go lay down!"

The slipper fell back onto the floor, and Y/N sank face-first into her pillow, muffling another long, loud whine.

"Alright, alright." He made his way to the edge of the bed and stroked his warm hand along her back, "You're not being murdered or kidnapped - that's good. That's what I thought was happening when you sent me a vague ass text with three exclamation marks." She was suffering from her period cramps again. Sam knew she would probably prefer the kidnapping to stabbing pains in her lower abdomen. "We need a new word for when you want chocolate and cuddles and pads that reach bellybutton to the tailbone."

Unamused, the woman turned her head enough to glare at him, "You want a safe word for my period calls?" She rolled onto her side and tried to stretch out her aching back - contorting awkwardly and 'accidentally' kicking Sam at the same time. "Fine, I'll text 'Redwing' next time."

Sam grabbed her foot and pushed his thumb into the arch, massaging ever so slightly, a smile on his handsome face even as she tried to stare him down, "Please don't make 'Redwing' your period text. He can be the word for a booty call or a movie night. Something good!"

"Nope."

One dark eyebrow quirked up, warm brown eyes full of teasing, "It's gonna be like that?"

Y/N nodded, "It's gonna be like that." Not willing to fight her, Sam nodded, pat her thigh and got up. He felt her grab his belt and try to drag him down but didn't budge; instead, he turned and lifted her out of bed, blankets included. "Don't! Sam, I'm heavy!"

"Shut the hell up." He snorted, "Heavy, my ass. I'm Captain America. If I can hold and carry Bucky's two hundred sixty pounds, plus his emotional baggage across the sky. Then I can hold and carry you across to the sofa." He felt her arms wrap around his neck and her nose pushed into his throat, she hummed a little when she realised he was wearing the cologne he knew she liked, and he almost didn't want to put her down.

That was until she tensed in his arms and bit his shoulder.

Placing her down, Sam headed for the kitchen and flipped on the kettle. "Why does your time of the month turn you into a cannibal? Gotta feed your dramatic self before you turn into Hannibal Lecter and eat me up with some beans."

"Saaaam!" Y/N wailed, "Make it stop!"

He came back to her and pulled her into his arms, murmuring that she was okay, that it would be gone soon and he'd look after her. "I can't make it stop, Baby. I'm not a wizard, and I can't physically fight your uterus for you." What he could do was make her food, bring her drinks, provide her with a hot water bottle and hold her. If she promised not to bite him, Sam figured he could throw in a few kisses to make his girl feel better.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Growing Pains | TFW

Request:  Hey! Can I please request a platonic x reader with team free will 2.0? The reader gets turned back to a toddler by a witch and they try to ask Rowena for help but, the spell lasts for a week and it's just plain chaotic. The reader is extremely clumsy and hungry but knows a few words like "Hungry" and "Thirsty". The rest is up to you 😊. Thanks in advance!

A/N: It is a little different from the request, so I hope you don’t mind, also it’s not great. And I’m terribly sorry for the wait, I hope you can understand why xxx

Walking around the lab, you screwed your face up at the mess. It was like toddler’s had been let loose in the room, there was glass broken upon the floor, paper thrown out of the shredder, and worst of all, no one to condemn for the death of the scientist.

Sighing, you shut your eyes, leaning back into one of the counters. “So, the guy that was killed had like a dozen or so kids and we can’t find a single one of them, or the mother?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose as Cas circled the room once more, seeing if he could find anything that your human eyes had missed. But alas, there was no ultimatum, nothing that could direct the pair of you to answers.

“That sounds about right.” Dean’s gruff voice came from the doorway, stepping on shards of glass as he came closer to the two of you. “Although at this time, I am calling shots on the mom being the killer.”

“We don’t even know if this is up our alley Dean.” You sighed, opening your eyes and looking at the older hunter. “Did you get anything from the co-workers?” 

“Not a peep.” His tone was almost too cheerful, especially considering the circumstances. The group of you were nowhere near completing this case, and all he could think about was the burger joint around the corner. You were close enough to it, that you would give in and accompany him. “Who’s hungry?”

“After the sight of the guts strung in the ceiling fan,” you looked up to emphasise your point, “I think I may have lost what appetite that I had left.”

“Bad luck. You snooze, you lose.” With that he left the room, presumably heading off to stuff his face. It was impossible not to roll your eyes at his childish behaviour, although in all fairness, you should have been used to it by now. However your dear angel friend remained with you. 

“We should meet with Sam and Jack, and see if they have found anything in the house.” Castiel spoke, confused by the lack of evidence in this death. There was nothing that could have helped, even the majority of the man’s body was gone.

“Why would someone have that many children?” It was a rhetorical question, but just the thought of your body going through it’s natural process that many times made you shiver.

“To repopulate.” Cas put simply, although that was a straightforward fact. But that was not what you had meant, admittedly you had a soft spot for kids, even missed being one sometimes.

“I know, but doesn’t that seem sort of strange to you?” Your mind was spinning with all sorts of possibilities, of what could and couldn’t be going on. Unless, well... “It could be like some sort of supernatural litter, or they’re breeding test subjects. Is there even any record of them having that many children?”

Your conclusions made your friend frown, and he pointed his finger up, unintentionally pointing to the tendril of flesh that was hanging from the fan above.

“We should check the records.” And with that he grabbed your bag from just outside of the room, pulling your laptop from out of it. Just then, your phone began ringing. It was Sam, and so you answered.

“Hey, you find anything?” There was silence on the other end, until you heard the shrill sound of what you supposed to be a child.

“Was that Jack or -” 

“Hey!” The nephilim retorted. You could already picture the child like frown on his face, but before either of you could bicker about your comparison, the Winchester on call spoke first.

“She left one of her kids, and we found hex bags.” He breathed, relieved that this did in fact involve what you all were guessing to be a witch, yet also frustrated about how messy this all was. “But the thing is, this son of hers was closed in the basement, and the only thing down there for him to eat down there was a man’s leg...”

“We should get that tested, it could be the father.” You said, trying to think about this case adjoined with all of its new revelations. “So, what is her goal here, she’s trying to turn her own children into cannibals?”

“That’s how the ‘myth’ of the wendigo started in human folklore.” Jack commented, before he frowned. Him and Sam both let out shouts, making you fear for the pair. 

“Sam?”

“She doesn’t have any children, nor did he.” Cas spoke, the content on the screen disarranging this entire predicament further. “What just happened Sam?”

His breathing could still be heard from the other end of the line. It seemed like he was in shock of some sort.

“You’ve got that right, Cas.” He breathed, referring to the fact that she had no spawn. “And I suspect the others are like him. He’s just turned into a grown man, we’re going to attempt to get an answer to who he is. Be careful if you encounter Mrs Fletcher, both of you.”

So, now you had a presumed answer on how Mr Fletcher had died, you had to tell Dean. Quickly, you and Cas left the scene, looking for the elder Winchester, remembering to take any of your items with you.

“Thankyou.” You nodded, doing all of the talking to any police whilst Cas held your phone at an arm’s length. “Got any clues on where our witch works?” You asked him.

Sam replied soon, making the matter of reaching Dean that more prominant. “West Street, not far from where you are. At the burger joint, Paula’s.”

“Shit!”

-

When you and Castiel arrived, Dean Winchester was nowhere to be found. That fact had you deeply concerned, more so than you would usually be on a hunt. This presumed witch was targeting adults, and not only did he and the majority of you fit the agenda, but you didn’t want to know what would happen if you ended up disturbing her crosshairs.

There was no one inside, excluding yourself and the angel. It was eerie, almost too quiet to be owned by a witch. Scratch that, definitely too quiet.

“Behind the counter.” You nodded towards the door, taking the lead first, lightly pushing it. The bell atop of it jingled, making you blink hazily, before all turned to a deep gaze of pixels.

Castiel walked closer to you, tapping your forehead, but to no avail was your state resolved. Instead, you felt the need to collapse and keep your eyes contained behind their lids. And so you gave into that feeling, only hearing the voices of Sam and Jack before it was over.

-

When you awoke, you were in your bed in the bunker, but it felt much larger than it ever had before. There was so much room to move upon the mattress, the duvet even felt bigger.

As you looked down at your hands, you realised they had shrunk significantly. For all you were aware, this could all have been a very lucid dream, but you doubted that. As a hunter, the strange things were never false, they were real.

Attempting to leave your bed, you dropped your legs over the side, although they were now incapable of touching the floor. Instead of landing upright, you fell, causing a thud against the floor.

The sound had obviously rendered, and it removed all thoughts that were rattling around in your mind. Memories flashed before your eyes, sending a haze of dizziness to your shrunken body, until they all left, making you aloof in your own adult room.

Dean rushed out of his own reside as he heard the thud. He had followed the witch around the back and shanked her, but there had been a second plan up her long black sleeves. And he should have known, as he walked into your room, only to find a little girl with a strong resemblance to you.

This was her charade when alive, and the issue still stuck even now even when she was dead. Dean rubbed his face, feeling the muscles that were tensing beneath the skin. And now they were left with the outcome that they and you had tried to resolve.

Looking down at your youthful silhouette reminded Dean as to exactly why he hated witches so much. They were deceitful and cruel, and unfortunately so much more. “Sam!” He called out in a hurry, cradling your small, whining body in his arms.

You tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but your once fellow hunter would not allow you to do so. There was no logic turning in the cogs of your mind, instead, you were much rather shy to someone that you were viewing as a stranger.

In a flash, Sam was at the threshold of your door, looking in as it was ajar. He saw Dean with a kid, and there was only one explanation for it. They had been hustled whilst the witch turned in her grave...

-

Cas examined a book in the war room, whilst Jack followed his actions. Sam was on the phone with Rowena, asking, some would see it as begging, the witch to come and fix you up. And thus, Dean was left with you, whilst he nursed a beer in his opposite hand.

You tried to reach the glass bottle, but Dean jerked it away from your grasp. “No.” He warned you, having continuously done so before when you were too lazy to fetch your own from the fridge. But that didn’t stop you, instead it humoured you, making you laugh at the perceived game.

“Stop it.” He spoke again, making Jack laugh at your stubbornness which clearly hadn’t changed. For once, it was nice for him not to be the youngest in the room, even though technically he still wasn’t. But all got distracted when Sam huffed a sigh of relief over the phone.

“Okay, great. Me and Dean will meet you there.” And then he hung up.

-

Rather than being in Dean’s arms once again, you had been traded to Sam’s as the eldest drove Baby to the destination that Rowena had proposed. “Thirsty.” You mumbled, a gurgle following your very short sentence.

Sam looked at Dean, who only shrugged. He was unsure of what to do, they couldn’t stop at a gas station, otherwise they would miss their meeting with Rowena, and as they knew far too well, she was a tricky one to get a hold of.

“No you’re not.” Dean told you, trying to convince your mind otherwise to its actual thoughts. For the moment of which you were silent, he thought it may have worked, however the peace was not eternal, for you spoke again.

“Hungry.” You managed to speak next, making Dean huff from exhaustion. He thought of your need for a drink, and then it clicked, he tipped his head back at Sam.

“There’s a beer in the back.” It possibly could have rolled under his seat, these roads to the witch were bumpy. Sam gasped at the statement, placing his hand on your back as he bounced you and kept you distracted from your desires.

“Please tell me that you’re not serious.” At this point, Sam would not be surprised with his brother. Quite clearly, as much as the man adored kids, he was getting quite fed up with you in this state. It was day in, day out and yet the effects still hadn’t worn themselves out.

“She’s technically of legal drinking age.” He shrugged, remembering all of the times that you would steal his beer from the fridge, or even sometimes his hands.

“Technically,” the younger of the two pried, glaring at his brother, “currently she isn’t,”

“We’re here anyway.” Dean cut the conversation short, putting the car in park. For the first time in his life, the hunter and legacy was eager to see Rowena. Never did he think that day would ever come, but somehow your obliviousness had landed you all here, and he hated it.

Sam got out of the car, carrying you to a bench that Dean had decided to park his own rear on. There was a nice breeze whipping his hair before his face, and this younger you mirrored the reaction the elder one would have had.

You laughed, watching the swarm of locks cover his face, and move to the other side, with the swiftest and slightest motions as the direction switched itself up. 

Footsteps, clearly heels, could be heard clicking their way over. It was isolated in this park, presumably the redhead’s doing as she came into view with an amused grin stretching her chin.

“Well, if I was not already quite acquainted with the pair of you, I would presume the two of you were fathers to dear little (Y/N).” Rowena bent forward, ignoring the glares she received from the men, ogling at your youthful expressions. “Are you sure that you don’t want to keep her like this? She is quite adorable when she hasn’t got the brains to work with my son when the two of you dimwits think it fits into your narrative. Or hold a gun to the back of my neck and blackmail me with my own security.”

“Definitely.” Was Dean’s instant response. He could not do another day with baby you, he’d start going grey, or his eyes would turn black all of a sudden from pent up rage.

“Yes, Rowena.” Sam answered, bowing his head, as your fingers decided to thread themselves through his hair.

“Shame.” She pouted briefly, before waving her hand, and then you were, dazed, but sat in Sam’s lap, full size. As soon as you came to, your eyes widened at the position you were in, and you were quick to launch yourself out of it. He however sat there stunned. “Told you we should have called her earlier.” Sam said, still feeling awkward from your exchange, and Dean only grunted in a reply.

Dean knew for sure though, you had been a pain in the ass. If it ever happened again, he would just leave you with Jack and Cas.

[midweekblues]

The Terror, Géricault and a bit of Julian Barnes: a rant

Part 2 /?

Hello, it's me again! With more random data about a certain 19th century nautical tragedy! Come for the trivia, stay for the cannibalism!

I dunno, man, I just dig these stories. Which is weird, having worked and lived at sea, but whatever. The Terror connects to a very primal part of my brain, the same part that buzzes when I read about the wreck of the Essex, the Donner Party, Scott's final expedition or the Edmund Fitzgerald. There's a theme going on here. So back to the wreck it is!

On the first part of Chapter 5 of A History of the world in 10 1/2 chapters, Julian Barnes gives us a summary of the ordeal on board the Medusa. To summarize even more:

- French frigate Medusa struck a reef off the coast of Senegal in 1816.

- Not everyone could fit into the boats, so a raft was built. 17 people decided to stay on board the half-sunk frigate, rather than brave the ocean on that construction.

- The raft was so overcrowded that it was actually underwater in the beginning. To lighten the load so it wouldn't sink completely, they had to discard most of the food brought on board, and all of their water, leaving only wine to drink. Most of their food (mainly flour and biscuits) was at some point submerged and thus ruined by the saltwater. .

So all our supplies are either spoiled or will make us prone to delirium?  

- The raft was expected to be towed by the boats, but during the first day, "one by one, whether for reason or self-interest, incompetence, misfortune or seeming necessitty, all the tow-lines were cast aside", and so the raft was left adrift.

- On the second day, three men gave up and, "convinced that there was no escape from death, bade farewell to their companions and willingly embraced the sea".

- On the second night, there was not one but two mutinies on the raft. After the struggle, 60 remained on board.

- On the third day, they started eating some of the dead.

- After the third night, 12 more people had died. 11 of them were cast into the sea, but one body was kept on board, "reserved against their hunger".

- On the fourth night, yet another mutiny. After all the violence, a total of 30 survivors remained on the raft.

- On the seventh day, two soldiers were caught stealing wine from one of the remaining caskets. They were executed by throwing them to the sea. 

-That left 27 survivors, only 15 of them healthy enough to survive more than a few days. Their resources were extremely limited, with less than a cask of wine for drinking, and only human flesh for food. "To put the sick on half allowance was but to kill them by degrees. And thus, after a debate in which the most dreadful despair presided, it was agreed among the fifteen healthy persons that their sick comrades must, for the common good of those who might yet survive, be cast into the sea", Barnes tells us. "The healthy were separated from the unhealthy like the clean from the unclean".

There’s been a vote, Edward

- After that, the survivors decided to cast all their arms into the sea, except one sabre, "lest some rope or wood might need cutting".   Fun fact: the equipment of modern lifeboats includes not only food, water and a first aid kit, but also 1 (one) boat axe. And the reason for this is exactly the same: just in case some rope or plastic/fiberglass might need cutting . 

(My face during that particular safety training)

- And then

wait for it

a white butterfly showed up.

Now of course, that would be a good sign, right? Not because it works great as a symbol on an artistic level (looking at you, Peter Jackson), but in this case it does work on a logical level: How far away can a freaking butterfly fly? It must mean that land is near, right? Just like, dunno, same way that an arctic bird, preying mainly on fish, wouldn't stray too far away from open water, so it must mean there are leads relatively nearby, right?

Right? :____(

The survivors of the Medusa did not spot land anywhere. And our Cold Boys didn't find any leads. Life is a bitch like that sometimes. Géricault could have chosen to depict this moment in his painting, but he didn't. "First, it wouldn't look like a true event, even though it was," says Barnes. As viewers, we know this. We are ready to accept a white butterfly showing up somewhere in the Misty Mountains over Khazad-dûm to save our favorite wizard, but on a real story, a real tragedy, it wouldn't work, it would be too on-the-nose. And so the butterfly and the bird both fly away, and nothing changes, and the tragedy goes on.

- On day 10, eight of the survivors of the Medusa, convinced that land must be within reach, built another, smaller raft, from pieces of the first one, upon which to escape. But as soon as they tried it, they realised it was too frail, and gave up on the plan.

- On day 13, they sighted the Argus. This is the moment that Géricault depicts, when they first spot a ship on the horizon.

See it there? Just look where all the guys are looking (well, not all of them, but more on that later)

Yep, that's a ship, that tiny little thing on the horizon, against the rosy sky (is it dawn, or dusk, by the way? What do you guys think?), not bigger than a butterfly. Pretty impressive to have the whole composition of this massive painting, and the attention of everyone depicted, gravitate away from the viewer. Literally no one in this painting gives a flying fuck about the viewer because their eyes are fixated on their only hope, a ship that looks like it might just disappear at any moment...

Which is exactly what it did.

My dudes, this painting, and the story behind it, is peak Romanticism. The drama.

The Argus was visible for about a half hour. It gave no sign of having spotted the raft. And then it disappeared.

Ok but wait a minute, so didn't they get rescued? Well yes they did. That's how we know what happened.

The survivors watched the ship disappear, fell into despair and decided, like many of us do on one of those days, that a nap might help. So they "rigged a piece of cloth as a shelter from the sun, and lay down beneath it"

And then a couple hour later, one of them went to the front of the raft, out of the canvas, and saw the Argus half a league away (that's less than 3 km), "carrying a full press of sail, and bearing down upon them".

If this wasn’t real, we’d call it lazy writing. I mean, typical cliffhanger, our hero is gonna die, all hope is lost, finish episode there. And then next week, boom, of course the hero is saved within the first five minutes. Ugh. But life is badly written like that sometimes.

And so they were saved. Well, five of them died in the days after their rescue. Which leaves us with a total of 10 survivors from the Raft. 

Géricault read the account from Savigny and Corréard sometime in the winter 1817-1818. The painting was finished in July 1819. And sometime in 1820, Captain Crozier saw it in London, while he was on leave before joining Parry on an Arctic expedition in 1821.

And this is getting long, so I'm gonna leave it here for now. Next part will be about the parallels I see between the actual painting and the show.  If you made it all the way here: Thanks for reading! 

(here’s part 1 and part 3 )

[overthegravityfalls]

Bodies and Beasts

Hey, so, this fic I mentioned off-hand 5 years ago?

I finished it!

...Better late than never?

(please heed the warnings)

Rating: E Word count: 4,300 Pairing(s): Bipper/Beast!Wirt, Bill Cipher/The Beast Summary: "Those that enter shall become part of my forest. No matter how long it takes,” the Beast says, his eyes glowing with colour. “Oh, don’t worry, pal, this flesh-sack can spend an eternity here. You can have him. All I’m asking is to have a little fun with it first.” “Oh?” The Beast tilts his head, feeling the weight of his antlers as he does. Warnings: Main Character Death, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Gore, Cannibalism, Coerced Suicide, Child Death, Torture, Unhappy Ending, Self-Mutilation Read on AO3 here

There is a body in the woods. He discovers it on a day when the air is cold, despite the brightness of the sun. In another time, he would have receded into the deepest, darkest parts of his domain in such conditions, but he no longer needs to be so closely tied to the night and shadow; now, the plainness of day could serve him just as well.

The body reminds him of his own still-new form: made of flesh, bones, skin. Teenaged, brown-haired, slim. It is more similar to him than he realises at first.

It lies there motionless until he approaches it. When he leans down, its eyes open wide, and he can see through them that the being inside it is not one who belongs. The amalgam grins, and it continues to grin even as he wraps his hands around its neck and clenches hard. Such a body can usually be coerced into becoming a part of his forest, with muscle and intent being just as effective as the deceit and patience he was once limited to, but this one seems to warrant a different approach. It seems to enjoy the ministrations he is putting it through. Unconcerned, his fingers twitch and their grip loosens; he comes to a stand. After all, his lantern is still burning strong from that younger brother's oil, as little as his Edelwood tree had been; and he has, too, a heart within him which beats black around his body.

"Don't they teach you manners in this plane of existence?"

He stares at the being with white, narrowed orbs.

"As it happens, you're actually not that far off from what I want from you. But an introduction wouldn't hurt, pal! Here, look. Name: Bill Cipher, occupation: this kid's flesh sack. See how easy that was? Haven't even tried to strangle you yet!" It—he—rubs a hand across his neck and bares his teeth again in a facsimile of a smile.

"How did you come by that vessel and to my woods?"

'Bill Cipher,' as he calls himself, sits up, putting his weight on his forearms. He watches closely in case Cipher tries to do anything as unpredictable as his nature seems to be. "Oh, me and Pine Tree go way back. Introduced him to an awesome apocalypse before he and his family had to go and ruin everything." His voice lowers, and his face contorts into a scowl at those words, but, like lightening, it passes in an instant. He brings himself to his feet and dusts himself off, then meets his eyes. "Take it from me, do not wish on Shooting Stars, no matter what people tell you.

"Buuuut I'm getting sidetracked here. Point is, he was mine to control a few years ago, and after all those difficulties he and his family caused, I thought a little payback was in order. That annoying little pest took his time in dropping his guard--honestly, had more forms of protection than a Trojan factory! —but my waiting paid off. Eventually, he awakened my statue. Curiosity killed the cat, am I right? And so, here I am!" Cipher does a little flourish with his hands, and he notices that his white sleeves are stained heavily with red. “Now, you wanna introduce yourself, Beast boy?”

“…You know me. Therefore, you know that the Unknown is my domain. Those that enter shall become part of my forest. No matter how long it takes,” the Beast says, his eyes glowing with colour as he remembers the thrill of finding the brothers in his woods again. They had carried freezing water in their lungs ever since their fateful journey, and it had dragged them back to the forest from a pair of white-sheet beds. One to bear his weakened being, one to fuel his flickering soul. He blinks, his eyes white again.

“You got a bit of personality in there, huh? Yeah, yeah, I know you—got my mitts in all sorts of dimensions. The Unknown is a funny name for Purgatory, but, whatever. Just thought you could be polite about it, you know?”

He cares not for how much this being talks. Underneath all of the blabber, he wonders what he means to gain by coming here. If he thinks he can saunter out, he is mistaken. “You are… intriguing, but your vessel is still young enough; here, it will remain,” the Beast says, his voice soft.

“Oh, don’t worry, pal, this flesh-sack can spend an eternity here. He’s already suffered a punishing fate in his physical reality, but I am not satisfied with just making him kill himself and leaving all of those Pines heartbroken. You can have him. All I’m asking is to have a little fun with it first.”

“Oh?” the Beast says, tilting his head, feeling the weight of his antlers as he does.

“He’s in here. With me. Pine Tree. First time around, I kicked him out, but now, we’re roomies in this here head of teen angst. And hoo boy, he is not happy about it. See, I love pain, and I love how much squishy and breakable stuff is inside these gross human bodies. It’s hilarious! I had to rush through everything in the physical realm, but now…” Cipher grins so wide it looks like it could split his face in two. “I can take my time in torturing him. Care to explore with me, Beast?”

He follows along well enough with the story this demon tells, as strangely as he tells it, and his ideas stir something sadistic in him. He wonders, though, “Why would you simply dispose of the body when you could utilise it, Bill Cipher?” He himself enjoyed that shadow of consciousness within him and the empty, hollow sadness and regret it emitted. Wirt’s emotions had burned through his being initially, as heated as the fire of the lantern, but once the Edelwood branches were all ash, the boy gave himself fully to the Beast. There was nothing else he could do.

“Eugh, when I take over the world, it will be with my equilateral perfection. No, no, the slow torture and crash course in forestry will do just fine for Pine Tree—or should I say Pine-Edelwood Tree?”

“You should not.”

“You’re right, let’s just get on with it. Here, I have something that’ll help,” he says, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a knife coated with red.

The Beast plucks it from his hand, running his slim fingers along the flat steel. He taps on the point and a pinprick of black blood swells from his digit. “Yes, this will do nicely.”

“Why don’t I just lie back and think of England?” the demon says with a wink. He spreads his arms out like a cross and falls back, hitting the ground with an “oomph.” The Beast straddles him, taking his time to get comfortable, but Bill Cipher is impatient. He squirms and pulls at his shirt collar, making the button strain until the Beast carefully nicks the thread with the blade and sends the button flying.

First, he can cut his shirt open, then, he can cut his chest open.

Settled in place, the Beast works on revealing this Pine Tree’s milky skin. It is dotted with bruises and old scars here and there and looks unnaturally pale. His ribs are just about visible, his body skinny. Delicate.

“Get on with it, I’m vibrating in place here!” Bill Cipher urges.

He rests the blade on the centre of his chest, making Cipher still, and applies a bit of pressure to it. Blood oozes out and continues to do so as he pulls the knife down, past his ribs and across his stomach. It is only a shallow cut, surface-level damage. Enough to sting.

Cipher lets out a breath, sounding satisfied. The Beast repeats the motion horizontally, vertically, diagonally, until there are lacerations all over his chest.

“Mmm, this would pair perfectly with some lemon juice.”

The scarlet rivulets look too inviting to resist, and he leans down and licks his tongue up the red stripe. The bright, coppery taste delights his senses, and he collects more blood with his fingers and sucks them clean.

“Hey, think you missed a spot there,” Cipher says, his voice taking on a raspy tone. He props himself up and grabs the Beast’s face, swiping his tongue across a smudge of blood on his cheek. Cipher surprises him by twisting his face forward and invading his mouth, wrapping around his teeth and gums and all the inner spots he has missed. It is less of a kiss and more a cannibalistic instinct he cannot seem to help. The Beast allows it, closing his eyes and waiting for him to finish his exploration.

“Yum,” the amalgam simply states, then leans back without any further comment.

He notices he has spots on his cloak, though that is nothing compared to how many stains are on Cipher’s shirt, the contrast of red on white stark and harsh. Cipher decides to do away with it, taking the clothing off completely and discarding it besides him. The Beast can clearly see, now, the ugly gashes that had stained his sleeves, following his veins from his wrists down his forearms.

He wants to excavate this body.

The Beast takes a hold of Cipher’s hand, resting the knife where it had carved a path through skin in the physical realm. This time, though, he will take it deeper. He lets the knife feel its way down the path, then pushes, pushes, pushes, until bone scrapes against the blade. Cipher laughs dementedly, then screeches, then his voice takes on a different tone; it is agonised, raw and rough.

“Stop, stop, stop, PLEASE, I—AAAAAAAAH,” he yells. Cipher has lost control, and Pine Tree thrashes and fights against the Beast as he sobs and wails. He drops the knife, protecting himself against flailing attacks. Spittle and blood flies between them. Pine Tree finds his face and tries to dig his thumbs into the Beast’s eye sockets, but his hands tremble. His pain makes him uncoordinated. Cipher takes advantage of the unclarity; with a spasm, Pine Tree’s eyes roll into the back of his head and when his pupils appear again, they are elongated and unquestionably demonic.

“Woo! Did not anticipate how much he would push back from a little bit of torture like that. We are just getting started, pal,” Bill Cipher says casually.

The Beast has to pause for a moment, because he can feel his own storm inside him. Emotions that are not his own are flaring and twisting in his chest. He can tell Wirt yearns to save this poor creature, to bring himself a moment of redemption—but there is no redemption for him. Not after he failed to save his own brother. With this in his mind, the Beast lures him back to despair and resignation; he was so much easier to coax than that blasted brother of his, a boy good for nothing but firewood. It does not take long for his emotions to wither and dull. It is so comforting to feel nothing at all, is it not, Wirt?

There is no answer.

“Perhaps I should utilise the idea your host so kindly gave me,” the Beast murmurs, hovering his thumbs over Cipher’s pale, yellow eyes.

“Woah, woah, woah, I wanna see these innards, thank you very much. Shoo,” he says with the accompanying motion.

“Very well.”

“Why not reveal this Bleeding Heart’s bleeding heart instead?”

“Hmm…” the Beast considers, gazing at his chest. “Yes, that would do.”

He chooses not to pick up the knife again. He wants to do this himself.

With supernatural ability, the Beast buries his fingers into Pine Tree’s chest, buries into flesh and feeling around bone. He yanks back and rips him open. Skin and matter tear off in large sheets, Cipher’s cry piercing his eardrums, until there is revealed his ribcage and lungs holding a frantically beating heart hostage.

It is beautiful.

Even Bill Cipher needs time to adjust to this onslaught—he pants and lies there, presumably also keeping Pine Tree at bay more carefully this time around. With drool pooling from one side of his mouth, he says between gasps, “See, Pine Tree? Told you we were just getting started.”

The Beast drops his skin, leaving the amalgam spread open, a creature in the middle of a vivisection. Fluid coats his hands. The temptation makes him hunger. He cradles Cipher’s face with both palms flush against his cheeks, then drags them down over his neck, his grip tightening and then releasing. He wants to crush this human, but he has to remind himself to take it slowly. Cipher, now painted with shades of maroon and scarlet, licks his lips.

“So nice to find a kindred spirit. Just bros being bros, bonding over some good old-fashioned gore. Maybe I should come back here with Shooting Star sometime,” he contemplates.

“Let us not get ahead of ourselves. I want to appreciate what I have right here.” If he felt he could have another plaything, he really would crush this human all too soon.

“Oh, you’re so romantic, Beast,” Cipher says with a grin.

He traces each of his ribs, squeezes around the heart to feel the atriums and ventricles straining to keep this body alive. In the Unknown, it can work all it wants, beat until all the blood is drained and the skull is caved in and the body is in dozens of pieces that will never be reassembled. If it believes it needs to keep beating, it will.

Bill Cipher bites on his fist, like he needs to keep his thrill toned down to savour the intensity of the situation. Then, with a lightbulb moment, he remarks, “Apparently, the force needed to bite through a finger is the same as biting through a carrot.” Without waiting for a response, he sticks his little finger in his mouth and snaps his teeth around it. “Ow. Okay, that’s not true.”

The Beast picks up his knife again with his musical fingers, twirling it the same way Wirt would do in marching band. His body still has the instincts his mind has failed to overrun. “Allow me.”

“With pleasure!” Cipher agrees, stretching out to him like he is asking him to dance.

He takes his hand, caressing delicate skin, then lays it flat on the leafy ground, pushing down hard on his wrist. With his other hand, the Beast holds his knife with the tip squarely aimed at Cipher’s pinkie finger. In one swift movement, he drives it through air, body and into the soil, and holds fast against Cipher’s flailing to keep his hand in place. When he raises the weapon again, there is a neat severing right at the knuckle, the finger laying meekly as blood collects underneath it.

Bill Cipher tugs his arm back, and the Beast relinquishes his hold in order to allow the demon to appreciate his handiwork. It is strange how one small removal can so change the appearance of the extremity, the wrongness of the missing part highlighted by the bloody stump.

“Again! Again!” he cries, waving his other hand around.

The Beast grabs it with annoyance, and instead of placing it on the ground, digs his knife in between ring and pinkie and scores right in the middle. The gash in the connective flesh hangs open obscenely.

“Yeowch—not like that,” Cipher admonishes.

“Well, if you demonstrated some patience, maybe I would have a clearer understanding of your wishes,” the Beast replies tersely with a shake of his head.

“Oh, fine, fine, yes, take your time, just get the damn fingers off,” he says.

This time, the Beast acquiesces, repeating his earlier action, and Cipher yelps at the removal. He brings the cut-apart hand up to his mouth, placing his lips over the wound and sucking. Cipher moans weakly as the Beast looks at him from under half-hooded eyes.

The demon bites his lip. “Sexy.”

“Shall I continue to work?” he says once he pulls away, saliva and blood mixed on the abused hand.

“Yes, yes, yes, but just the ring fingers, alright? I still wanna be able to do some shit while we play. Just don’t ask for a pinkie promise or for my hand in marriage.”

“Duly noted.”

The Beast hacks away the two fingers with ease, then collects the four severed digits and contemplates them as he holds them.

“Feelin’ peckish?”

“I desire something…more substantial,” the Beast finally says, placing the digits back besides their tortured body.

“I hear thigh of Pine Tree is especially succulent,” he suggests with a leer.

White eyes meet pale yellow as he considers this, and then the Beast decides to cut up the trouser leg to reveal more flesh, from calves to thighs. The smell of viscera is heavy in the air, emanating from such an array of exposed organs, but when he presses his face against the amalgam’s leg, there is a faint scent of mechanical oil. He knows just a little more about Pine Tree’s life outside of the Unknown now, he supposes. Not that it matters anymore.

He bites down hard enough to pierce the skin with his canines, and then, wretchedly, demonically tears off flesh. His heart squirms with Wirt’s revulsion as he feasts, a visceral reaction from the usually placid boy to his monstrousness. It is pleasing to the Beast to use this human’s body to eat another. Even more so since he would not yearn to cannibalise if it were not for humans in the first place. Every time they told their stories, every time they believed him to be more and more malevolent, they transformed him; their beliefs became his truth. And, sometimes, the people of the Unknown called him another name—wendigo.

And a wendigo he would be.

With the heightened pleasure from the textured, delectable meat in his maw, he almost forgets to notice Cipher’s reaction at all. His eyes flicker open. He pulls away and swallows. Cipher has his hands—what is left of them—inside himself, squeezing his own intestines to deal with the pain as he gasps. The ropes of gore squirm around his fingers, coiled snakes twining around and around each other in the cavity.

“It hurts…real good…” he says weakly, the nasal quality of his voice reduced to a quiet whine. All of their machinations are starting to add up—or, rather, take away from him; with chunks taken out of his leg, body parts missing and a red pool underneath him, Bill Cipher is fading. In a broken voice, he whispers, “Please…let me go… I just…want to go back to my family…” before he passes out. He hopes Pine Tree will not be the one to wake up.

The Beast places his slack leg down and dabs his mouth and chin clean with his shirt sleeve. As he straightens up, he can see that there are Edelwood branches starting to grow around the amalgam, reaching up from the ground and tipped with autumnal leaves. As much as Bill Cipher wants to enjoy this, his body is beginning to give up. It is inevitable. There is only the forest, and there is only surrender.

The Beast lets him rest. He trails a finger down one of the branches by his hip, a drop of oil leaking out. Then, he picks up his lantern from the nearby spot he had placed it. As he stares into the flickering firelight, what had once been rendered an ember by the Woodsman, he feels a strange sense of gratitude to the brothers who had changed everything for him. Were it not for them, the Woodsman would have never disposed of the lantern, would have never allowed the Beast to reform and take control of his own soul again. When he decided to fuse himself with Wirt, and become Beast and Lantern-Bearer, he gained entirely new ways of growing his forest. He still remembers how it felt to wrap his arms around Gregory’s neck until the twitching stopped and the wood grew. Though some aspects of his human form were tiresome, he knows he would not go back to his old trypophobic self.

Bill Cipher stirs, groaning and lifting his head up. He blinks one eye, and then the other, and shakes himself awake. “Whew. Did I miss anything?”

He puts his lantern down and gestures to the Edelwood.

“Oh, man. Guess we’d better wrap up, huh?” He lifts his leg to inspect the damage. “Had your fill?”

The Beast puts his hand in his hair, rubbing the base of his antler as he considers. “For now. I will have your heart after we are through.”

“Good choice. So, what next?” he says, feeling up his stomach and ribcage like it is a salacious act.

After a moment, the Beast’s hands join his, appreciating the slippery, warm texture of his organs. The colour in his vision intensifies as he realises he can now anything to this body; he no longer needs to hold back. His hands ball up into fists so tight they shake as he says, “I want to break you.”

Cipher’s eyes widen. “Then break me, Beast.”

He spreads his fingers wide over Cipher’s ribs and locks his arms straight. Pushing down from his shoulders, he applies enough pressure to make the bones fracture, only showing small amounts of damage at first, but as he pushes harder, they crack and break apart completely. The splintered bones pierce Cipher’s lungs as the Beast’s breathing becomes heavy and feral.

“I c—I can feel—,” Cipher attempts to say before he starts to hack up blood, decorating his already-painted face even more. The hacking coughs become laughs, as much as he is able to laugh. With his lungs filling with fluid, even this chatterbox has to admit defeat. The Edelwood branches are growing before their eyes, working their way around his limbs and intruding into his body bit by bit.

The Beast looks at Cipher’s smile and, wanting to give him one last thrill, takes his drenched hand back and picks up the knife again.

Cipher gurgles as the Beast positions the tip of the blade at the corner of his lips, a rough hand grabbing his chin and forcing his face to the left. His eyes squint with delight, elongated pupils staring straight at the pink, yellow and blue glow in the Beast’s. The Beast curves the knife up as he slashes across his cheek, making Cipher’s face-splitting smile literal. Warm blood gushes over his fingers as he turns Cipher’s face to the right and finishes the look.

The gashes pull apart and squeeze together as the amalgam works his jaw. He attempts to say, “Why so—,” before he’s coughing up blood again.

The Beast gives him a rare smile. “Why, this is the first time I have been able to hear my own thoughts since you arrived here, Bill Cipher.”

Cipher’s eyebrows lower, and the Beast chuckles darkly as he moves his hand down to his neck and his knife over his heart. “Now, it is time for your host to become a part of my forest.”

At the instant he drives the weapon into that frenetically-beating heart, a golden spirit somersaults out of the broken body. Triangular, with one eye and a black top hat. Bill Cipher’s true form.

The Beast flickers his attention back to his task, and he twists and rips the heart free of the veins and arteries holding it in place, takes it off of the blade and holds it in his palm. It beats once, twice, before giving up the ghost and stilling.

“Oh, Pine Tree, it sure did take some time but boy, was it worth it!”

Pine Tree’s body looks so bereft, so utterly fragile. His skin is starkly pale now, and his head is tipped onto the ground, his eyes closed and his mouth ajar. His arms, encased in branches, lay with his cut wrists facing the sky. All of the movement in his chest—the writhing intestines, the inflating and deflating lungs, the beating heart—have come to a stop. White, fragmented ribs are threaded with earthy Edelwood. His shredded clothes lay soaked in his own blood around him, flicked with bits of flesh and cut-up parts. He looks… small, in death.

“Yes. The destination is all the more sweeter when the road is long, is it not?” the Beast says, touching his own skin with his fingertips.

Cipher floats over to put an arm around his shoulders. “Ab-so-lutely. And hey, you’ve been swell, such a great guy. Thanks for hooking me up with this awesome venue for torture! Love what you’re doing with all the trees and whatever. But I’d best be going, things to do, chaos to enact, you know the deal. And we’re both great with deals, aren’t we?”

The Beast inwardly sighs, then admits, “I would not object to having more dealings with you. I have not felt that kind of pleasure in many moons. Thank you. For now, I shall bid you farewell.”

Bill Cipher blinks—or winks—and spins out of his hold. “Have fun burning up this sad-sack and chomping on that ol’ ticker. See you on the flip side. The universe is a lie, buy gold, bye!” he shouts before flashing out of this existence.

The Beast pauses, raises the heart, murmurs to himself, “The loveliest lie of all,” and bites into it.

Wirt is just as drained and deadened as this boy lying in front of him; he cannot even feel disgust anymore. He cannot feel anything at all.