#fishy's stories

[fishyvamp]

This is just a small snippet of a larger fic I'm working on and I'd thought I'd share it, it is an OC x Reader fic and yeah it might be out of season with the holidays over, but I think it's still worth sharing.

The sound of crunching snow echoed through the forest, the scent of decay heavy in the air as you trudged through the thick forest to your cabin hidden deep in the woods. The moon was high in the sky. You should've been back in your cabin hours ago, but no, you had to see those caves at sunset. Had to watch the snow glitter in orange and pink. You had to experience it at least once before you surrendered dreams of seclusion. The frost of the air seeped into your clothes shredding at your skin threatening to sink into your bone like a frozen death. You didn't know how much longer your aching legs could go on. The chill of sleep running up your spine.

You had to move on. You had to follow this trail, and yet the more time marched on the further you went the more you body began to buckle. It didn't help that the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end like you were being watched. You wanted to get home, wanted to curl up in the warm of your bed listening to the crackle of a fire as a record played. Anywhere but here where the chatter of your teeth and crunch under boot was all you could hear. That is before you noticed a faint low growl. Your body moving towards the sound you freeze in place boots melding to the ground as glowing eyes stared back at you.

You wanted to bolt and flee from this place you body tense as it stepped out from the thicket. Large cloven hooves flattening the snow beneath its feet. A glowing lantern hanging from a staff held firmly in its claws. Its body that of a man was decorated in tinsel and Holly berries and on its back was a large wicker basket. Large enough to hold a man. It's face, that of a goat with large snarling fangs and long black goat horns. The beast easily stands as tall as many of the trees towering over you.

The beast stepping ever closer, its shadow engulfing you deeper into the only blackness of the cold winter night. You could not move even as you fought to get your feet to even take a step. The claws reach ever closer gripping the scruff of your coat, easily picking you up, “mine.” Its scratchy voice rasped, placing you in the basket. The lid closes over top encasing you completely. You felt petrified physically even if you knew you should fight back and that it would be so easy to push open the basket and run.

However as he moved and the basket swayed the exhaustion came back replacing the adrenaline that raced through your body only moments before. You needed to stay awake. Needed to stay alert because if you didn't… did it even matter anymore? Weren't you about to get eaten by whatever had you? You had no fight or strength anyways. The cold sapped away every ounce of energy you had a couple miles back. Surrendering to your helplessness you let the darkness creep in.

You didn't know what to expect waking the next morning clothes stripped from your body leaving under warm heavy patchwork quilts. It was still dark outside so surely you weren't asleep that long even with all the energy you've seemingly found. Pushing off the plush fabric you fall out of the massive bed with a huff. The sound of metal clinking as you moved horror racking your body noticing the chilled metal connecting to you and the wooden leg of the bed. You needed to escape before it came back. Your mind working overtime scanning the surroundings. It looked like a normal cabin master room albeit with larger ceilings then expected. Likely to accommodate the larger Beast’s size.

A sign of sapience, perhaps? Not just a feral animal. Maybe he could be reasoned with, there was no signs of harm anywhere on his body. You didn't feel like he had violated despite waking up bare for the taking. Rising shakily to your feet you test the limits of the chains you can move just about everywhere even able to enter the large grandiose bathroom. You felt like a child in here being almost too small to use much of anything. Couldn't barely see yourself in the mirror, but what you did see had you frozen in fear, tattoos of a chain wrapping around your neck with a holly berry bunch in the center breaking the chain.

What was that? Your fingers tracing the outlines feeling something warm and pulsing underneath it felt almost magic in nature and yet you couldn't tell if that was a good or a bad thing.

“You're awake,” a deep rumbling voice gruffed. The skin up your back prickling as you came face to face to the beast once more. Not wanting to be defenseless you grab the nearest object to you… a toilet brush. No matter you planned to wield it like a mighty Excalibur and fend yourself from the brute one slash at a time. “Put that down.” He commanded the mark around your neck beginning to burn painfully as you stood firm. “Now.” He bellowed cloven hooves clanking against the ground.

Your limbs screaming as you fought for control over your own body. He did not have time for this dark fur glowing under the light of the bathroom, a smile on his twisted face, goat-like eyes glaring down at you as he folded his arms. “put that down!” The resistance fading from you as you dropped the brush, the burning around your neck painful, knees buckling beneath you as you grab your throat to soothe the burning or what you did not know. It just hurt so much. “Listen the first time pest,” he growled, scooping you off the floor into his warm hair, arms undoing the chain around your ankle.

The beast wasn't gentle as he deposited you roughly to the bed, turning his back on you to scour the closet for something warm for you. A simple t-shirt and red and green flannel pants. Nothing too fancy, but something to help you regain what little dignity you had left. Not wanting to anger him as he just stared expectantly watching you redress before finally turning his goat tail wagging as he softly praises you, “good boy.” he doesn't rechain you nor does he shut the door behind him. An opening that felt too good to be true. Logically you shouldn't bolt. It was clearly a trap, but a burning feeling in the back of your neck called to you like a siren saying this won't come again.

You have one chance as foolish as it was: you creep out quietly looking towards the kitchen seeing him bang his pots and pans preparing a meal of some sort. And while clung to you, you did not want to stay another moment trapped worried about what he was going to make you do.

Conveniently you find your coat and boots by the door and softly you do your best to put them on opening and closing the door silently before bolting. Your feet carrying you deeper and deeper into the woods, the golden rays of the sun illuminating the ground. There was no telling where you were, but something screamed at you to keep going to keep running. You turn around to make sure he wasn't following when the world suddenly stops and you're greeted by a massive man dressed in jeans and plaid with a thick full beard. That same burning feeling telling you to run was now telling you to trust. “Help me.” You whisper, concern racking his face as he helps you to your feet guiding you down the icy mountain. “My name is Nicholas,” He whispered, holding you close, “you're safe now.”

[rmbunnie]

It's most likely just Starlin trying to get to Jason dying faster because he did not like Robin, but the whole "Jason's spiraling because of his grief for his parents" thing they were trying to spin was honestly really weird, not supported by the rest of the run INCLUDING the parts Starlin wrote, and kinda reads like an unreliable narrator situation because all of the information supporting it is given through Bruce's narration, him speculating on Jason's thoughts and actions.

The plot thread of Jason's grief for his family affecting his behavior shows up like TWO issues after Jason first becomes Robin back when Collins was writing, and gets sorted out after one conversation where Jason gets to confront Bruce about hiding his father's death from him for 6 months. After that Jason is behaving normally until they encounter three predators in a row, and each time Bruce insists that they can't do anything because of The Rules and assorted red tape/diplomatic immunity plotlines. (The sister of a woman who got dismembered actually tricked the violent-misogynist killer who dismembered her sister (and then got his serial killings dismissed through a technicality) into attacking her, and ends up killing him in self-defense, and then Jason's like "seems fair" and Bruce is like "no. it's NOT. we need to follow laws and not take justice into our own hands. which like wtf Bruce! you are a vigilante who just used a custom tank to fight an evil televangelist! who then got ripped to shreds by his followers while you watched!)

Bruce kinda just decides with Alfred that it must be grief upsetting him and not the dozens of brutally killed women and their predatory killers who the law inexplicably protected, (all written by Starlin, so retconning it for DitF like five issues later would be an odd move) but the only text claiming that's why Jason was upset is from Bruce's POV and through Alfred's dialogue. Jason himself doesn't display any signs of grief in the story itself, or even act or speak in a way that alludes to Catherine and Willis beyond looking at a picture of them and smiling fondly while he sorts through their possessions. He kinda just happens upon the box with his mother's info by chance, and is like ok i guess we're doing mom searches now. He was only going for a walk through his old neighborhood, not actively searching out info on his family. When Jason is deciding whether or not to run off without telling Bruce, he considers telling him and then goes "no, all he cares about is being Batman, he wouldn't even understand why I want to see my mom." Which, I mean, "Bruce wouldn't get it" is a REALLY odd angle if the sole motivator for spiraling, then getting benched* and running away to search out his bio-mom, was because he was mourning his dead parents, a thing he notably has in common with Bruce. That statement only really makes sense if he's thinking about a different thing that was greatly upsetting to him that Bruce brushed past, like maybe a combo of hiding the murder of his dad for half a year and allowing several cases involving sexual violence to freely develop body counts in the name of the law.

Lots of people have written about how Jason's stay in the manor might have seemed dependent on being Robin with how he was kinda just scooped up, but (if we're including Detective Comics in our characterization,) Bruce had offered to let him resign from Robin and just live with him (a little late, but still. It's worth noting Batman proper shows Jason afraid and uncomfortable at the thought of Dick taking Robin back, which lends more merit to the housing-dependent-on-Robin-misunderstanding interpretation, but canon is pick and choose anyways.) The lack of trust involved in his choice to search out his mom kinda reads like it was bred by more than that alone, and Bruce's prioritization of the law over the protection of the people it ignores is notably upsetting to him in the prior issues. tbh I really do believe the outcomes of those cases could have informed Jason's stance that Bruce's method of justice is ineffective right alongside his own murder and his experiences in Lost Days.

It would make sense for Bruce to not consider his own actions while he's thinking through things that would upset Jason, because from his point of view the things there that were bothering Jason were the criminals alone, not the way that the methods with which they were approaching their crimes continually led to the perpetrators evading actual justice. During the point in DitF where he's thinking through motivations for Jason's running away because something isn't adding up for HIM, the idea doesn't so much as cross his mind. It would also add another layer to Jason's sulkiness upon Bruce's arrival if he held the belief that Bruce is ignoring the consequences his brand of justice has on victims (and the way it's affecting him to helplessly watch it play out), starts to hope that Bruce actually can understand his thought processes/relate to him when he shows up, only to be told to his face that Bruce is prioritizing his style of justice over Jason again. With the way everything that led Jason to his bio-mom was comically circumstantial and the context of the previous issues, it's kind of the ONLY way Death in the Family makes sense to me. Tldr: I feel like the grief claimed as reasoning for Jason's actions leading up to his death is mainly speculation from Bruce and Alfred and the more textually-supported reason for his erratic behavior and lack of trust in Bruce is the lack of intervention in several sensitive cases that led them to worsen unobstructed and eventually permitted them to escalate into casualties in 2 out of 3 cases.

*Also, side note, but the idea that Jason got benched for the Filipe situation, while perfectly reasonable, is not quite spot on. The Filipe situation escalated into the fight in the junkyard where his dad is crushed by a car and Bruce is all "everything you do has consequences" which is kinda big words for a guy whose lack of action indirectly lead to a girls death earlier in the storyline, but true. Jason actally gets benched because he jumps directly into gunfire while fighting the third set of predators and Bruce starts to worry he's getting a little suicidal with it. He baits a guy into shooting at him on purpose again trying to protect mom prospect number 1 later on in DitF, so Bruce might have had a point with that one.

[specialtysacrifice]

Not that I think Mac KNEW that Dennis was Johnny, but his "Oh Dennis is making homophobic jokes" is surprisingly aware for a man who didn't know he was getting catfished by his roommate...

[cactusesartdump]

Recently decided to try drawing the main characters of metroidvanias I played. ngl I liked the process

[yanderefoeyay]

I feel like in Stanky Danky when Dale tells Dev about him “working in a factory for 7 years” he purposely phrases it so it sounds like a ‘pull yourself up by the bootstraps” type story instead of him being trapped there, trying to rework his trauma into a positive “I made it” thing

And even in the photo he showed him he’s smiling for some reason, like he’s in denial about it, maybe even trauma blocked some stuff out and remade the memory in his mind that it was better than it actually was

I’m also fully convinced he’s probably lied to Dev about why he hates lemonade by saying it’s an allergy or something

[sarcasticratsims]

seriously, what was in that kelp? Apparently, this day could get worse.

|Seasick | Previous : Next |

+++ | Beginning : Latest |

[kenshikisser]

“i am not one who easily forgets.”

the parallel between rafayels myth and his new promise card…

[yuesya]

What excuse did the Gojo clan give in twinsverse for 90% of their elder population disappearing overnight?

"They went on vacation."

[astracora]

A Mandated Holiday Break - Chapter 3

Characters: Sylus x gn!mc (poly lads)

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1094

Written: 21st December 2024

Notes: Post-relationship Sylus/MC-centric but poly LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

Masterlist AO3

His arms feel lighter, colder... sluggishly opening worn eyes. The bed is empty, his hand reaches out but there's no ghost of warmth.

This has happened before. You hate to wake him up when you get up, alarm not needed because your hours as a hunter have permanently ruined your sleep patterns.

The first time, he'd felt fear grip his heart in an icy hand. Tightening, twisting and tearing. Now he just sighs into the air, turning over in his bed to look for phone. Checking there's nothing imperative that requires him, shooting off a message to the prince that you need some clothes brought over.

Your hunter uniform was beginning to resemble scrap, and he'd laid one of his shirts out for you to use until the prince could deliver more options.

Or he could buy you more... still you frowned at him when he suggested such a thing, telling him with a little laugh that you had plenty of clothes.

He hadn't yet worked out how to explain that dressing you was a satisfaction for him. Seeing you wearing things he chose, he paid for? He was still a dragon through and through. Decorating his lair and his greatest treasure.

He understood, however, that certain things you owned were picked because you liked them, found comfort in them. Safe things. So if it meant dragging the prince out here with a bag in tow, he didn't think either of them were too put out by it.

Reluctant to leave his bed, but yearning to have you close by again, Sylus pulls himself out of his nest. Flick of the hand righting his covers, and padding out in slippers and sweats.

As soon as he leaves the room, music drifts towards him, accompanied by very familiar voices, and he follows its call like you're a siren.

Even if you were, he knows he'd drown blissfully for and with you.

His kitchen is filled with the scent of sugar and bread, hitting his nose as soon as he swings open the door. The twins are sat on the kitchen counters, bobbing their heads to a song he doesn't know, and he's pretty sure they don't know either, judging by the 'do do do's' they're singing along with it.

He almost wants to complain, because they're loud enough to cover some of the notes you're singing, but you're laughing and smiling amidst the words. Cheeks dimpled...

Your shoulder is bared because his sweater is too big, slipping down, and covering the tops of your thighs. Shorts underneath, long fluffy socks up to your knees. Foot tapping the floor as you mix dough in a bowl.

You're like an angels song.

Head bobbing, tilting as you sing out to words he doesn't recognise. Not that he needs to.

I'm on my knees waiting for the sound.

It's a strange feeling, he's tried to replicate how your voice makes him feel with his own. He's learned how to sing to music that he doesn't really understand. Tunes that he can't quite replicate. Sylus listens to everything he can find because he wants to understand. It's a strange dim sensation on his own, with his records playing. Though they remind him enough of you that he is comforted anyway.

Stuck in a world gone wrong.

It is like he's chasing your shadow, and he never can seem to catch up.

So lift me up, I'll never let you down.

A feeling that blooms like fresh flowers, brings him to ease, reminding him of days where he learned what love was.

Calmed and riled and fragile but so warm and safe. The feeling is chaotic and terrifying but if he could spend his life feeling it, his very very long life. That only you can end, and when you choose to, he hopes it's alongside yours.

So he can never feel it without you, though he feels it's shade when he remembers you.

Searching for the words that I can say.

Instead it licks flames up his skin when you sing in front of him, when your voice fills the air and wraps around him and he understands. He always understands with you.

How it feels when you're with me.

The twins look up at him, pointing at him as they sing non-existent words and his kitten doesn't notice until he pulls up behind you, arms wrapping around your waist, chin on your shoulder, hunching over to look down at what you're doing.

Mostly just so he can feel the rumble of your song through his chest.

The music falters for a second, as your hand reaches up to touch his cheek. He thinks he might purr in response but wouldn't admit it outloud if asked.

"Sugar cookies." You answer his unspoken question. "They're easy, but I'm testing the recipe with less sugar."

"The doctor will be happy." He murmurs against the skin of your neck. Biting absently, in protest as you stop singing for him. Not too harshly though, after all your voice is beautiful when you speak too. Always a song for him. Always lighting that unusual sensation in his chest.

"We've been taste testing!" Luke calls out, and he tilts his head just enough to watch the twins sticking raw dough in their mouths.

"Hey! Don't eat too much you'll make yourself sick!"

"S'fine." Kieran speaks with a full mouth, spraying some dough over his brother, who wipes it off and glares. "You missed a spot." And he flicks him in the forehead.

The two begin to scuffle, leaping off the counters and chasing each other out of the room, the sound of their yelling is head down the hall.

You begin to laugh in his arms, eyes twinkling with affection, and lean back against him with a contented smile.

He wishes the fish were here to paint you. He debates going to grab his phone that he's left on the side, just to take a photo for him later. It would mean releasing you though... he supposes there's more chances to see you like this.

His whole life, he hopes.

"Thank you." You speak, tilting your head to press a kiss to his head, and he turns you quickly, one hand moving to your neck to keep you there while he kisses as much of your skin as he can reach.

Cheeks, lips, forehead, neck. Quick pecks with no heat.

His chest, his heart. He's molten, melting, burning. It would hurt, he thinks, if it didn't feel so delightful. His heart, his soul, his home.

[abyssruler]

this was so unexpected ksjsk hoyo needs to give traveler more lines!!

[papple]

"Will you ever tell me a story?"

He scoffs, a wisp of a shadow flicking across his form. "Why should I?"

The boy grins while tucking himself deeper into the roots, the gap in his teeth on full display. "Well! You must have something to tell!"

"I do not."

"Oh. Are you sure?"

The shadow turns to face Dream with a disapproving look, which does nothing to dampen the younger's smile. Though, he stops pushing and closes his eyes, his thoughts quieting.

When the boy has almost lulled himself to sleep, a hushed voice speaks to the night. "...Once, there was a sacred tree. And for the tree, a guardian to protect and care for it. This guardian was named Nightshade..."

---

Seven Apple Seeds by @calcium-cat

[drdtshipping]

Teruko/Arei please please please

Hi, yes! I love love love LOVE TERUREI!!

I'm struggling with headcanons, so I wrote a short story, I hope that's okay. If you do want headcanons specifically, don't be afraid to reask, just specify!

Surprisingly, Teruko wasn't the rough sleeper of the two. That dishonor had to be Arei's. She was a deep sleeper, but she moves around in her sleep constantly. Teruko always complains the next morning about how Arei rolled on top of her or stole all of the covers.

"Well, I'm sor-ry I'm not used to sleeping with other people," the bowler would pout, crossing her arms and tilting her chin up and away all mighty-like.

Teruko wasn't either.

Tonight wasn't any different. Arei slapped an arm over Teruko's face, violently pulling her from a dream. Teruko sighed (a bit too dramatically) and rolled over. She adjusted Arei so that she was laying on her back, arm naturally slung over her chest and tucking the other beside her.

Teruko tucked the blanket around her next, like her brother used to do. In her sleep, Arei sighs happily, the corners of her lips twitching up. The taller held her breath. Luckily, Arei didn't stir any more.

Reassured Arei was asleep, Teruko bent to kiss her forehead. She tossed herself on her other side, flinging the rest of the blanket around her shoulders.

"Knew you loved me," Arei snarks sleepily.

"Shut up."

-Mod Fishy!!

Bowel lmao- grammarly is not on my side

[cubtales]

｡°(°¯᷄◠¯᷅°)°｡ ..

[petr1kov]

man, can anyone honestly tell me if attack on titan is pro-fascism/pro-genocide? i've been hearing this for a long time (as well as the author having pro-imperial japan leanings), but these claims are also equally disputed, especially when it comes to the ending. i see a lot of people saying that the series depicts genocide and fascism in order to condemn it, while others say it does the opposite and excuses it (either intentionally or just by fumbling the execution of the plot really hard)

[incognito-lionbeast]

I think in my AU Tianlang-Jun/heavenly demons in general are a (demon world variant of) Mew. So.. essentially. Big, bad gyarados Su Xiyan saw this funny little foetus cat & was like "I can't NOT have an egg with that"

Thankfully Mew knows Transform. It's fine.

[roseillith]

MAGGIE CHEUNG in A FISHY STORY (1989) dir. ANTHONY CHAN YAU