#fuck how many more tags can i do???

[siriusleee]

nowhere fast

there is a monster at the edge of the mountain that haunts the townfolk. ghost x reader | twisted fairytale au 5.7k | smut, kidnapping (sorta), dubcon, minors dni request a fic here a/n: while writing this I got an idea for another twisted fairytale. thank god I'm off work this week.

You don't believe the rest of the town folk when they whisper of the monster in the woods - a horrendous fiend that haunts the mountain's edge looms on the horizon, blocking out the sun during the winter months. The rumors had started a year ago, whispered in the local diner as hunters clutched their coffee cups. The tails of traps set to catch the men who travel too far when hunting doesn't turn you away from fantasies of roaming the mountain's edge, of pushing farther through the forest than anyone else in town has. Even your father's warnings that he wouldn't come to save you if you decided to do something reckless didn't push the thoughts out of your head. 

So when the leaves start to brown again, and the trees start showing their bare patches, you leave. In the middle of the night, you shoulder your backpack, your dad's pistol situated in the waistband of your jeans and a flashlight tucked into your back pocket. The sounds of your family sleeping, of your mother's soft snores, aren't enough to get you to turn back as you step out of your front door, locking it behind you against whatever phantoms travel the night. The air is crystalline around you; the dense forest floor muffles your footsteps as you walk. The sound of the forest fills the air, and wraps itself around you; in the distance, the mountain never grows closer as you head towards it. Behind you, the lights from town disappear between the pine boughs. 

It takes two days of walking, of sleeping in a thin blanket underneath pine trees, before you reach the first sign of someone living in the woods. You're exhausted, and there's a blister forming on the edge of your pinkie toe when you stumble across a felled tree. Hunger gnaws at you and for the first time you think about the life you left behind; you think of your mother's venison stew and thick bread served in the same bowls your grandmother saved during WWII. An axe, free of any rust, leans against a section of the log. You trace your fingers against the handle (is it a trick of your mind to feel the warmth on the wood or is it that someone just got done cutting tonight's firewood and they're only a little ways ahead of you in the forest?).

You think for a moment about shouldering the axe, about how it may come in useful later. But the press of your father's gun - the once cold metal warmed by its two days pressed against your skin - reminds you that whatever is in the forest: monster or bear, won't be stopped by the swing of an axe. And besides, how would explain to the owner that you stole their axe, stole their way of providing themselves warmth if it came down to it?

So you leave it, leaning against the fallen tree for whomever it belongs to, to find it again tomorrow. 

Dusk begins to fall when you see the smoke in the sky. It's almost romantic, the way the smoke curls, tendrils disseminating in the clouds. You imagine a quaint little cabin in the distance, the smoke curing from a squat chimney; imagine yourself stepping inside and being greeted by the warmth from the fire, cutting through the chill that's starting to take over. Distantly, thunder rolls, and the steel gray sky threatens a storm. You know that if you want a shelter for the night, you have to find the source of the wood smoke and hope that whoever is there is benevolent enough to let you sleep inside for the night. You think of the monster that haunts these woods (and what kind of monster would need a fire to keep it warm at night?) and wonder if this is it.

You press ahead, toward the smoke. Only a hundred yards have passed when the sound of a tree branch snapping makes you freeze. You've lived near the edge of the forest and hunted the animals with your father long enough to know that unless what dwells in the forest wants you to know it's there, you won't ever hear it. Whatever is behind you is bigger than you, and not scared that you know it's there. Adrenaline's sharp edge starts in your veins, and your hand twitches towards the handgun at the small of your back. You steady yourself with a deep breath and press on, trying to let whatever is behind you think that you don't know it's there - that you still believe you're all alone. That you aren't a danger to whatever it is. 

You barely make it ten feet before you're yanked to your back. The contents of your backpack and the gun dig painfully into your skin; you feel something cut through the thin flesh of your hip bones as you hit the ground. Your head is spared only by your hands that reach up instinctively, but it feels like every knuckle on your right hand is broken when it slams against the ground. Stunned, you lay there, prey with its belly exposed as your eyes water and distort everything in your vision. Something monstrously huge leans down over you, blocking out the last bit of sun that remains. You try to blink the monster into sharper vision, but can't. Fairytale visions of werewolves, blood dripping from their maws shiver through you.

A warmth presses down on your chest, keeping you pinned to the ground. Through the pain, you can feel it's a hand, large enough to cover you from sternum to throat. 

"What are you doing here?"

The monster speaks in a low growl, and you realize it's just a man pressing you into the dirt and leaves. He doesn't give you a chance to answer before he yanks you to your feet, the hand at your chest gripping your jacket enough that you can feel the strings in the collar popping underneath the pressure he's putting on the fabric. 

Your feet dangle, your toes barely touching the ground as he shakes you (you want to tell him to stop, the pain in your head is enough). You grab his wrist, pulling him away from you. To your surprise, he recoils at your grip, dropping you to the dirt again. You land, for the second time, painfully in the dirt. This time you have enough wits about you to pull the pistol from your waistband, to raise it towards him as you stand. 

And the man just stands there, hands lose at his side. He towers over you, large enough that you have to look up at him, to take him in. Your hand doesn't shake against the trigger fingers as you take him in - dark jeans and scuffed boots, black shirt, and balaclava. The faded white outline of a skull covers the mask; in normal circumstances, you might think to laugh at it, but here in these strange woods you feel a tinge of fear for the first time, for the first time thinking back on the monster stories the locals would sit around and tell each other around night fires. You can imagine the white of that skull shining through the moonlight, around the curve of a trunk, and how terrifying that might be.

"I asked you a question," he growls out; the sweat on your palms makes the gun slip, just incrementally, on your hand.

"I'm the one holding the gun." Your voice sounds unnatural and weak after not speaking for two days. 

"If you were going to shoot me you would have done it already."

You hope he doesn't register the look on your face - the one that says he's right; you don't have any intention of shooting him as long as he just stands there. You never even had the stomach to shoot deer with your father when it came time to put food on your family's table. 

"I just came for a walk in the woods; nothing illegal about that."

He still doesn't speak. Your shoulder throbs from where you hit the ground; the gun falls just an inch. You half expect him to take advantage of this, to rush you and wrap his fingers around your throat until you're nothing but a half-memory in his mind, but he stays where he is at.

"I don't see how it's any of your business anyway."

"You're on my land."

"No one owns this land."

"I do."

Your arm falls another inch. This time, he pounces. One of his hands wraps around your wrist, pulling it to the side enough that you lose your grip on the gun. The other holds your shoulder - more gently than you could have imagined a mountain of a man to hold anything. 

The gun hits the forest floor silently. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from making a noise, to keep from letting him know that he's hurting you; the taste of iron coats your tongue. Up close you can make out every blonde eyelash of his, make out all the gold flecks in his iris. His breath is warm through the balaclava; he smells like woodsmoke and vaguely vanilla. 

"I don't think you came out here for a little walk, love."

The first raindrop falls between you two, crashing against the earth with a force that nearly knocks you over. Your skin burns you where he touches, the callouses on his hands rough against the sensitive skin of your wrist. 

Another drop falls, this time landing on his fingers. You watch it roll to his wrist, to the sliver of tattoo-covered skin that you can see as the sleeve of his shirt pulls away. The thought to reach out and trace the path of the raindrops with your tongue flashes in your mind; you feel yourself smile slightly and try to repress the feeling. The corners of his eye crinkle, you know he's frowning at you, eyebrows knitted together as he tries to figure out why you're here. 

Without speaking, the man pushes you forward; in your peripheral you see him bend down and pick your father's gun up before tucking it into his own waistband. You think about how angry your father would be at him touching your father's gun, at touching you - someone other than him, some other man, touching something of his. You're not sure if the shiver that runs down your spine is from the thought or from the biting cold air that blows through, bringing more raindrops with it. 

You walk towards the smoke in the distance, the man's hand pressed into your shoulder, forcing you to walk faster than usual.

"What's your name?"

"Why?"

"Well, I should know the name of my kidnapper and potential murderer."

He lets out a sound that lets you know he doesn't appreciate your description, but he doesn't dispute it. He doesn't speak again until you stumble over a root, and his hand is at your elbow to straighten you up and force you to keep walking. 

"It's Ghost."

The cabin is nothing like you expected it to be. It's not even really a cabin - more of an abandoned witches' house, ivy trellising up one side and wrapping around the chimney. It could have once been described as Victorian, but now you're not sure if that description would do it any justice. It's two stories, bigger than what you'd expected it to be here in the forest. A dog with thick brown and black fur is curled up beside the front door; its ears perk when it spots you and Ghost but doesn't move towards you.

When you pass by, however, the dog reaches out to sniff you, his tail wagging. Ghost reaches out with his free hand to pet the dog once before reaching around you to open the door, his back pressing against yours for just a moment.

The rain falls harder against the two of you as he pushes you inside, the door falling shut behind him heavily. You listen for the sound of a lock shutting but don't hear one. The dog shakes the water out of its fur before leaving the two of you alone in the foyer, disappearing down the hallway. 

You watch Ghost as he pulls his boots off; you follow suit, kicking yours off. Your feet throb, the pain of non-stop walking for two days finally catching up to you. You're barely able to catch your balance before Ghost's hands are at the straps of your backpack, pulling it off of your shoulders and dumping it to the ground beside your shoes. 

With one hand presses firmly into your back, he leads you down the hallway, pointing out each part of the house you might need. 

"Why are you showing me around, what if I want to leave?"

"You can leave whenever you want. But you can't go back to the town."

There's nowhere else for you to go (he must know this). The thought should chill you, but it doesn't. Ghost stops outside of a heavy oaken door, his hand pausing on the doorknob before pushing the door open.

"You can sleep down here."

You take in the room - dust-covered but clean. The bed is massive, and covered in more pillows than you think you've ever seen in your life. the air inside is stale, you know that no one has touched anything in this room for years. 

"Where do you sleep?" You've asked the question before you even mean to. The hand on your back curls just enough that you can feel the bite of Ghost's nails in your back. 

"I sleep up the stairs. You can go anywhere you want in the house, just not upstairs. Do you understand me?"

The nails in your back threaten to break through your skin; you're not afraid, but you know that Ghost hasn't shown you half of the strength he does have, and that does scare you. You nod, silently; Ghost's hand leaves your back, leaving an emptiness in its place. 

It rains for days - a torrential downfall that washes down the mountain; Ghost lingers around the house, and the two of you circle each other - planets with opposing orbits. On the third day, you find the library tucked away in the back corner of the house. It's attached to an empty solarium, the glass washed clean from the rain outside. 

That day, when Ghost comes to find you to tell you that he's finished cooking he finds you on your hands and knees, scrubbing the dirt and dust away from the mosaic tiles with cleaning supplies you'd found tucked away in an unused backroom.

"What are you doing?" He asks, leaning against the doorway. Riley, always stuck to Ghost, sits at his feet. 

You don't look up at him as you speak, sweat dripping down your forehead. You watch your hands swirl across the tile, releasing the years-old dirt from the grout.

"I figured if I'm trapped here, I might as well put myself to work."

"Who said you're trapped here?"

You can barely hear Ghost over the rain on the solarium walls. Leaning back on your heels, you wipe your forehead on your shirt, trying to think about what to say to him. You choose your words carefully, chewing on them until they feel right.

"You would really let me leave?"

It's Ghost's turn to think about his words; you can feel his eyes boring a hole in your back. 

"No."

You don't say anything else to him as you turn back towards the floor. 

"Don't you think your family will come looking for you?"

"Probably. But they won't go any farther than the forest edge. They're terrified of the monster that lives here."

"And you're not."

"Not yet."

When the rain finally stops, Ghost disappears. He leaves Riley with a stern warning to guard the house before disappearing into the woods. You watch him leave from the kitchen window. The thought that you could escape teases you. It wouldn't be hard, you just needed to run down the mountain faster than he could realize you were gone. 

You leave that thought at the window. The lights flicker above you; Ghost had briefly explained about the solar panels at the backside of the cabin and you wonder if he installed them himself. The cabinets are nearly bare, but there's evidence that he leaves sometimes: name-brand can goods and a sack of bread flour. You wonder if you had ever walked by him in town, his mask off, and you never realized. The thought thrills you, that he could have been hiding in plain sight from the same people who whispered fearfully of him.

When he comes back, it's to the smell of fresh bread. The kitchen is clean, cleaner than he'd ever seen it; he watches as you turn the bread out of a pan and wrap it in a clean town. On the stove, a pot sits, something simmering inside. 

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?"

You can tell by the set of his shoulders that he doesn't like that - doesn't like the sarcasm that rolls easily from your lips. You turn to stir the stew on the stove, waiting on Ghost to say something, anything to fill the silence in the kitchen.

"Why are you cooking?"

"Because you're keeping me here captive for free. I figured it would nice for me to do something for you."

"You don't live here."

You know what he really means is that you don't need to make yourself comfortable - don't need to pretend that this arrangement is domestic.

***

You want him to hear you when you're curled up in your bed. You left the door open intentionally - an invitation if he would take it. Your fingers dip into your own cunt, pumping at a pace that is barely enough to satisfy you.

You hear the sound of the floor outside your door creaking; you can imagine Ghost out there, cock in hand, stroking himself at the sounds of you finger fucking yourself. Your breath catches in your throat when you moan out his name, face pressed against a pillow as you bite down on it, imagining if it was him.

The floor creaks again, and for a moment you think you see the curve of his shoulder in the doorway. You pull your hands out of your panties; lick the taste of yourself off of your fingertips. The shape of him is gone from the doorway in a flash. You fall onto your back, breathless from your orgasm. 

Heavy footfall on the stairs is heard from the hallway, followed quickly by the sound of a door shutting.

The weather turns for the worse as the weeks pass. The morning you awake to the first layer of snow on the ground, a letter is left on the counter beside the coffee pot. 

Gone to get winter supplies.

You're alone. Again. Riley pads into the kitchen lost without Ghost. He follows you across the house, nearly tripping you pressing himself so close to your feet. You intend to work on the solarium again - the weeks had seen you turning it into some recognition of its former glory- but you pause at the bottom of the stairs. An intense curiosity overtakes you - you want to go upstairs, to see what Ghost is hiding there from you. Your foot lands on the bottom of the staircase, when the sound of a car door slamming shut pulls you out of your thoughts. 

Your heart crashes in your chest, thinking of all the people who could have stumbled across the house, who could be forcing you back home. You press yourself into the banister, one hand outreach to bury itself in Riley's fur when Ghost steps through the door. 

Instant relief washes over you as his figure blocks the doorway. For a moment, you think about rushing towards him. He leans forward to place the grocery bags in his hands on the ground; you can see his eyebrows knitted together even through the balaclava. 

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

You worry that you speak too quickly, too suspiciously. You worry that he can read your thoughts, read how you almost betrayed him. So you press towards him, coffee cup landing on a small table right inside the doorway, trying to move the conversation away from your almost betrayal.

"Do you need help carrying everything in?"

"No."

But you want to help, want to get your mind off the thought of upstairs. You ignore him, and step outside, shivering in the cold air. An old truck you've never seen before is backed nearly up to the door, the back loaded down with supplies. 

"Is this all for the winter?"

"Once the snow starts falling we won't be able to get down until it thaws again."

It's all the explanation you need, but a new question erupts from you before you can stop it.

"How many winters have you had up here?"

"Enough."

The snow is thick when you've finally finished the solarium. Without you asking him to, Ghost dragged your bed to the room, followed by the dresser full of someone else's clothing that you've been wearing. It's where he finds you when he comes looking, curled up on a loveseat you'd found in an empty room in front of the fireplace. 

"Yes?"

You speak without your eyes ever leaving the book in your hands. You hear Ghost shuffle in the doorway. 

"Can I come sit with you?"

Without speaking you pull yourself in tighter, making room for him on the other side of the loveseat. He shuffles into the room, sitting down gently near your feet. He doesn't speak to you as you flip the pages. 

"What are you reading?"

"Bulfinch's Mythology."

"What is that?"

The question makes you smile, and for the first time since he'd walked in, you pull your eyes away from the book. Ghost isn't looking at you - he's focused intently on the flames dancing in the fireplace. He's tense, wound tightly enough you can almost see his muscles tense underneath his shirt.

"It's a translation of Greek mythology. It's your book, you don't know it?"

"I bought the house with everything in it."

"So none of this is really yours?"

Ghost doesn't answer, his hands are fisted tightly on his thighs. You know you're pushing it, asking him too much about his past. You shift, pressing your toes into the seam on his thighs, feeling his warmth through the denim. 

"How about I just read to you? Do you know the story of Cupid and Psyche?"

Ghost's only answer is a shake of his head. You flip through the pages, looking for the page you want. When you read, Ghost doesn't speak. His hands loosen, the one closest to you dropping onto your ankle. When you feel his touch against your skin, you stumble over your words. 

His touch makes you bold; you shift, never pausing your reading, to sit up and slide one foot onto his lap. His hand follows your ankle; when you've moved too close, his grip on your ankle tightens you, telling you that you've gone too far, too fast. 

You read over the soft sounds of snow falling on the glass, of the crackle of the logs in the fireplace. Softly, Ghost begins to draw patterns on the top of your foot. The feeling of his touch is starting to wind something inside of you. When you finish, you let the book fall closed in your lap and turn your attention to Ghost. He speaks quietly, barely louder than the ambient noise around the two of you.

"So she still loved him? After all of that?"

"Yes, after all of that."

Ghost's nails dig gently suddenly into the soft skin on the underside of your ankle. You can tell he's struggling to say what he wants, his mouth opening and closing beneath the balaclava before he finally speaks, his words desperate. 

"Would you still love him after everything?"

His voice is tight, his nails dig harder into your skin. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat, can feel the tension in the air. 

"What if I said no?"

Ghost's hand twitches against your skin, his grip suddenly painful. But still, he keeps his eyes trained on the fireplace, never looking towards you. 

"I suppose you would have to find your way home."

You let the book slide off of your lap and drop heavily to the floor. The fluttering in your stomach quickens at the heaviness that hangs over the two of you. When you speak again, your voice cracks - Ghost finally looks at you, eyes dark and burning.

"Of course, I would still love him after all of that."

Ghost nails disappear from your ankle; his hand slides up to your thigh before pulling you closer. You lose your balance, you fall back and before you can pull yourself back into a sitting position, Ghost is pressing his hand onto your abdomen, pressing you into the soft cushions. He slides one of his knees in between your thighs and presses it against the seam of your shorts. Your cunt throbs at the feeling; you whine, but keep your hands down at your side, worried that if you touch him, he'll run. 

"Do you want to stay here? With me?" He whispers, not lowering himself down onto you like you want him to. 

His warmth feels like it's drowning you; you squirm trying to rub yourself against his thigh- Ghost pulls away just enough that you can't reach him. He doesn't have to say what he wants, you already know it without him saying anything. 

"Of course, I want to stay here. With you."

You know it's not a lie when you say it; you hadn't thought of going home since you'd first stepped foot into the forest. And now, with Ghost pressing himself against you, you can't imagine leaving this place, leaving Ghost behind to go back to your family, back to everything you once knew. 

His knee presses harder onto your cunt and you grind down, trying to find some release. His hands' hook on the edge of your shorts, pulling them down, past your knees until you can kick them off. Your hands search for skin, dipping underneath his shirt. You dig your nails into his back as he trails his nails up your thigh, the feeling sending a shiver through you. He wraps one hand around your knee, hitching it around his waist until he's pressed against you. You can feel his erection through his jeans. He grinds into you, the rough denim rubbing against the soft fabric of your panties.

"Please." You don't know what you're begging for, just some sort of release from the tension inside of you. Maybe for him to touch you more, maybe for him to grind into you again.

Ghost presses his lips to your neck, the fabric of the balaclava warm against your skin. His hand sneaks between the two of you, fingers teasing your clit through your panties. You pull him closer, trying to press yourself into him, press his fingers into you. He keeps himself pulled back away from you, not letting himself sink into you.

"Why did you come here?"

He whispers in your ear, fingers pulling away from your clit when you don't answer. You try to find his hand and put it back, but he pushes you back down, a promise he won't do anything until you speak.

"I wanted to- to see if the rumors were true. I wanted to see if you were the monster everyone said you were."

You can feel the hint of a smile against your neck before he speaks again.

"Is that it?"

"I wanted," you swallow around the words, trying to pick which ones to use, "I wanted to get away from home."

His fingers dip under the waistband of your panties, teasing you. 

"Am I the monster you were expecting to find?"

You shake your head, burying your face in his chest and bite down on the moan that escapes you.

"Are you going to leave me when the snow thaws? You can if you want. I won't stop you." His voice is rough, almost tired. You hear a hint of sadness as if he already knows you're going to say yes, that you're already planning your escape.

You shake your head; his fingers start to pull away from you when you realize what he wants from you.

"No; never."

That's enough for him. He buries two fingers inside of you; you hiss at the sting, but it quickly turns into a moan when he pumps his fingers inside of you. You're not wet enough to take him, but you know that you will be in just a moment.

"Close your eyes."

You do as you're told, and you feel his lips press against your collarbone through your shirt. You turn, seeking his lips, eyes still pressed tightly closed. Ghost knows what you want, you can feel his nose trailing up your neck, the feeling of the balaclava pushed up around his nose. 

"You won't look?" He whispers against your lips, and you nod.

"I promise."

When he kisses you, you taste the coffee from earlier; his canines snag against your bottom lip as he pulls away to breathe. His fingers inside of you are working you into a release, faster than you've ever reached on your own. When it crashes into you, you cry out; Ghost whispers soft soothings to you, his free hand pushing your hair out of your face gently before fisting it to pull your head back and expose your neck just quick enough for him to press a kiss to your jugular. 

He disappears for a moment; you want to look at him, to watch him as the sound of his belt coming undone and falling against the floor reaches you, but you don't want to betray his trust, don't want to do anything until he tells you to. His hands are gentle on you as he rolls you over onto your stomach, pressing your face gently into the cushions so you can't see him. His hands trace the valleys of your body before he pulls your panties down to your knees, forcing them together. 

His fingers dip into your cunt before pulling away quickly; you hear the sound of him licking the taste of you off before his wet fingers fall on your ass, tracing patterns into your skin.

His hands grip your hips, pulling them up so he can place his cock between your folds. He doesn't push into you until you push backward, your hand between your thighs trying to guide him in. 

You moan when he presses his cock into you, the sound muffled by the cushion. He's larger - larger than anything - anyone - you've ever taken before. The feeling of being so full of him, so stretched out by him twists you and pushes you towards an ecstasy that you've never felt before. You mewl for him, pressing back into him as much as you can.

He's quiet, the only sign he's enjoying this is his bruising grip on you. He's soft at first, and you beg him for more with each stroke, but he ignores you. You can feel him holding back, feel that there are inches of cock still waiting for you to take it. You beg for more, beg for him to fuck you properly.

"Look at you, begging for the monster in the woods to fuck you harder."

On his last word, he slams into you; the pain of it makes you instinctually try to scramble away from him. He holds you, one hand at your hip and one at your shoulder, keeping you pinned to the couch. 

"You were just begging for this, remember? Don't run away now."

He fucks you with a brutal pace, hands not leaving you until he folds himself over you. One of his fingers traces a small circle around your clit as he bites into your shoulder. You cry out, hands gripping the cushions. 

"Ghost, I can't - I'm going to - fuck."

"That's it, baby - come on my cock like a good girl."

His words push you towards your orgasm, and when you crash again, he fucks you harder. You squirm underneath him, trying to get away, to get a break from his relentless pace - from this brutal fucking that you want more desperately than anything else in the world.

"Stop running."

His hand snakes under you, to grip your throat loosely. His chest presses against your back, his breath warm on your neck. You can feel another orgasm building up inside of you; you keen, pressing yourself into Ghost. You can't remember a time when anyone has ever fucked you this good - a time you've ever wanted someone the same way you want Ghost.

"I'm going to finish inside of you," he growls in your ear, movements bordering on erratic. "I'm going to make you mine."

You can't do anything but pant out a 'yes'. You feel it - the warmth when he finishes inside of you, but he doesn't stop pushing himself inside of you - he keeps fucking you, pushing his cum deeper into you until he finally stills. 

He stays on you for a breath before pushing himself up. You can't move, can't do anything but lay there and try to catch your breath. You feel him hook your fingers in the waistband of your panties once again, but this time he pulls them up, hand smoothing across your back. 

His hand traces the pattern of your spine before burying itself in the hair at the nape of your neck. You try to catch your breath under his touch.

"I meant it earlier when I said you can leave."

"I know," your say as you turn your face towards him, catching just a hint of the chin as he pulls his balaclava down. 

"I want to stay."

[mercurymacaroons]

arrives 15 min late with a latte

......sup

[starry-bi-sky]

how do you clone a fey? that's trick question; and fey love those!

@the-navistar-carol (<333) brought up a good point while I was talking about my changeling danny au with her -- Dani! How would she exist in this au? Danny's a changeling - a fae. How would Dani, a clone of him, be created? How do you make a fey? Not through any means that Vlad is doing; you can't make a fey through unnatural means, considering the Fair Folk are nature. And Vlad's not a fey himself -- he's a halfa, even if he could make a fey, it's not in his best interest too. He's a powerful ghost, but even the weakest fae can overpower the strongest ghost. He won't want a clone of Daniel to be more powerful than him.

(In a three tier hierarchy it goes Ancients -> Fae/Mythos -> Ghosts. They all live in the Infinite Realms, but on different Planes. The fae live above the Ghost Zone in the Fey Wild, while the Mythos live beside the Wilds or down in the ghost zone depending on where they are. Places like the Frozone, the Athens Acropolis, and other such large islands climb throughout all three Planes.)

(While Ghosts can travel into the Fey Wild, its generally advised against as the ectoplasm tends to manifest differently there due to close contact magic. It can make it rather disorientating for a ghost, and as human spirits, the Fae living there would jump them faster than they could blink. So unless you're willing to play mind games with 'steal thy name eat thy face' fae, most ghosts keep out of the way of the Wilds. Fey can travel down into the Ghost Zone, they just don't bother.)

That's of course, not taking into account if Vlad even knows Danny's a fae himself. Vlad doesn't ring me as someone who really cares much about ghost culture or the going ons of the GZ. He might be aware that fae exist, but the moment he realizes he can't use them for personal gain he just doesn't bother with them. The risk is greater than the reward, and he'd rather not get eaten. But lets assume he's aware by now that Danny is fey, and has to take that into account while cloning him.

So, how does Dani exist? Good question! Honestly; i'm not sure. She might not exist at all, or if she does, she's more halfa than fey. Vlad would need a lot of human dna and ectoplasm to balance out all that fae magic. He manages to steal DNA from Jack and Maddie to do it, and since Jack's fey ancestry is very dormant its much easier to use alongside Danny's DNA.

In turn, it results in a little girl whose more human-ghost hybrid than clone. With that little extra boost in fey magic making her not a fey, but still relatively powerful. Dani is less of a clone and more of a lab-grown little sister. It's a rather tedious, complex process that has Vlad tearing his hair out trying to figure out. But he does eventually figure it out.

[god-of-this-new-blog]

“Sorry that it all went down like it did”

[pepperpixel]

Some inside job art! Mostly just trying to figure out how to draw these two

[luck-of-the-drawings]

POOR GABRIEL MONTEZ! YOU NEVER SAW THIS COMING DID YOU? ALL YOU WANTED WAS POWER. SECURITY. SAFETY. & THATS EXACTLY WHAT YOU GOT! JUST IN EXCHANGE FOR YOUR BODY. LETS JUST HOPE NO ONE FUCKS THIS UP. LETS JUST HOPE YOU WONT HAVE TO CLEAN UP THE MESS.

[fairyofshampgyu]

he’s literally so beautiful and handsome

[littencloud9]

bsd fandom has always mischaracterised kunikida to hell and back but the fact that i am seeing SO MUCH hate for his character right after his 'death' is insane

[sluckythewizard]

'I wont cry for you, I wont crucify the things you do. I wont cry for you, see, when you're gone, I'll still be BLOODY MARY'

[sparklecarehospital]

Sometimes I wonder how I'm ever gonna be able to work on the other Spinch stories I have, I have so many ideas for things but only so much fixation power

[xiewho]

i am not immune to the temptation of making a fhsona. template made by @cloudmancy n can be found here !!

[rolandkaros]

forever hilarious to me that tennis is promoted as this prestigious highbrow big-brain sport when most tennis fans these days are like. yeah this is my favorite player. yeah i don't know why they're like that. yes they are stupid. no i will not choose somebody else.

[khaohomies]

Man, I loveee these boats!

[livelaughlovesubs]

I read this from yours https://www.tumblr.com/livelaughlovesubs/743492538930954240/pitiful-thing?source=share

And i couldn't help reading it due to your amazing writing even if im not really into sadism-, anyway can we have more raphael?a part 2 but can you make it fluffy/sweet if its okay? Thank you!

Hey hey! Thank you for reading it :D and like always, I’m sorry it took so long… anyway, here it is :>

How pitiful

Part one!

Raphael x reader

Word count: 5.9k

This includes: triggering content, angst (aftermath from the first part), mental breakdown? Very toxic, at the end there’s fluff (happy end?), reader is still the same (very selfish)

Okay so, I wanted to make this like fluffy and sweet, and I didn’t manage to do that. I’M SORRY. Cuz I had too many ideas and so the fluff part would only be at the end. Sometimes there are small pieces of it throughout the story, but yea. I didn’t want to stop in the middle of it and make a third part cuz then you wouldn’t get the fluff you wanted, so I’m sorry that you had to wait this long, even then it’s more angst than fluff I’m sorry.

After a while, the corrosive smell started to bother you. Your hands were dyed completely red now. They were sticky and had feathers stuck to them, the blood of the male dried too. For a moment, it felt like you had a hangover. The things you did in the last few hours and the emotions you felt were slowly fading away, leaving nothing but desire behind. All you remembered was a vivid dream akin experience, one where you got to finally feel alive after falling down this deep abyss. The sudden change in environment seems to have influenced you more than you imagined. How you yearned for the screams and cries of him. It has only been a few minutes, yet that feeling, the rush of adrenaline started to disappear like a childhood memory. You didn’t want to forget it, you wanted to keep it sealed within you forever.

Time was passing by like usual, yet for some reason you didn’t seem responsive, as if you weren’t really there. As if you were floating in space, every nerve in your body turned off and your senses dulled. You couldn’t really acknowledge your surroundings, simply at the wall, contemplating and thinking about whatever you did remember. Everything that happened was being replayed in your head like a show, sadly the graphic setting was low and everything was a blur. Except for those crimson eyes of him.

The different expressions his eyes bore were mesmerising, enough to leave its imprint on you. How the once fierce look he owned turned into one of uncertainties, of doubt and fear. Your room looked like the aftermath of a battle. Luckily for you it was at a hotel, so you wouldn’t need to clean it. This wasn’t earth, it wouldn’t matter if the owner sees all of this, the evident of your action, the proof of your true desires. You felt empty again, like the fulfilment you felt before was ran out. The hand on the back of his head moved to his cheeks, moving his face backwards. He has been resting his chin in the crook of your neck the entire time without making a single sound, slowly it got suspicious.

Raphael was breathing very weakly and shallow, apparently he also got a nosebleed. “Hey, wake up.” You muttered, rubbing his cheeks gently. His pale face had blood stains, but his eyes were still closed. Right now he looked very vulnerable, so helpless as if he was someone that needed protection. At the same time he also appeared like an innocent child in your eyes, one that’s been depraved of love. How pitiful he is, being cast aside by his creator and now stuck in the claws of a monster. Since you wore him out a lot, you let him sleep. It didn’t matter if you knew nothing about the anatomy of an angel, if one is exhausted they need to take a break. You laid him down onto the humid mattress before you got up to go to the bathroom.

Now that you cleaned yourself up and got a towel, you started to clean the still asleep male too, wiping the excessive body fluids of him away. It was a little disturbing considering you were the cause of all of this, but you could manage. When you saw the two holes on his belly, where his piercings have been, you gaged a little. The scene turned out to be a bit more grotesque than you remembered. Speaking of memories, it was strange how you couldn’t recall what happened very clearly. After all, it was just happened, as if you weren’t thinking clearly when you did all that. You didn’t regret it though, because if there’s one thing you remembered, then it’s that you loved every second of it. Every action to the words you spoke, you knew you enjoyed yourself a lot. Enough to make you want to go for a second round.

Eventually you finished wiping him, sitting down next to Raphael again. Still so quiet, this wasn’t normal. Your first thought was that he fell asleep, though upon further inspection his face was starting to get pale. Soon you realised that he passed out and sighed, “…not good.” It looked like he lost his consciousness, probably due to the excessive amount of blood he lost. One glance was all you needed to know your hypothesis was right. In the end, you did rip his wings off, not to mention how the bed was now akin to the red carpet. A stressed out groan left you, why were thing always so difficult. Aftercare is great and all, but what should you do if he needs immediate treatment? It’s not like you can carry him all the way to paradise lost. Will today be the day you kill someone for the first time?

Suddenly the door to your hotel room crashed down, and a group of devils barged in. These devils, they really know no manners. Though you were also glad to some degree, because you saw Satan, sitri, and Marbas. “Y/n!” The devil with the white hair ran towards you, but he stopped after taking three steps. Sitri, who was pushing Marbas, followed his king and stopped right next to him. “Solomon, what happened?” That devil asked, his voice was filled with confusion. They must be shocked to see the state the room is in, not to mention Raphael. “I’ll tell you later. Marbas, can you help this guy here? He’s lost a lot of blood.” You looked calm, terrifyingly so, no panic could be spotted in your voice nor did you have a fast heartbeat. “I’ll see what I can do.” Marbas answered after a bit and got out of his binds. When he got close enough to recognise who that was, he hesitated. He still started treating him afterwards, despite the identity of the patient.

“Satan, why are you here?” In all honesty, you didn’t care, and you had a vague idea how they knew your location, but you didn’t want to answer their questions. You weren’t in the mood to right now. “When you disappeared so suddenly, everyone got worried. Then sitri found you.” Nothing you couldn’t guess yourself. “And? Why’s Marbas here?” This time, the devil with the blue hair spoke up, “I heard two heartbeats, and I recognised that the other one was an angel. That’s why.” So they thought you got beaten up or injured, huh, if that’s the case they are pretty late for a rescue operation. “What about you tell us your side of the story now?” It seems like you won’t be able to get out of this one. You noticed that he gritted his teeth again, one look was enough to tell he wasn’t happy. “Well, you see…��� “y/n, your majesty Satan and sitri. I’m done, I stopped the bleeding and treated his injuries. Though this won’t be enough, we’ll need to bring him to paradise lost.” In the nick of time Marbas reported his observations and actions, in contrary to what you predicted, you were able to dodge the questions again.

“Why do we need to go all the way there, won’t the hospital in Gehenna suffice?” Satan scoffed, he was getting more furious by the second. First your disappearance, now all the hassle for an enemy. “Because… I believe only his majesty lucifer and gamigin knows how to properly treat him.” Just as Satan was about to inquire about the former seraphim’s injuries, you barged in, “All right, we don’t have much time, no? Shouldn’t we be on the way?” Everything was taking too long, so you interrupted their little small talk and rushed them. In addition, you also walked over to the bed, picking up the white jacket that belonged to his outfit and wrapped him in it. Sitri seems to have finally caught on and helped you carrying him. This was going to be a long night. It was so much hassle just to keep someone alive, maybe you should let him die instead? Was it because of your hardened personality that you weren’t sorry for him, that you didn’t feel any remorse?

It’s been three weeks since Raphael got taken in at the hospital of paradise lost. Your life hasn’t changed much, in fact it reversed back to how it was before your second meeting with him. Today, while you were visiting him, the sleeping beauty finally opened his eyes. It did caught you off guard, so you started to call for the doctor. “You’re [—]. Ah, lucifer, where’s [——]?” His view was blurry, it was like watching black paint spread on a clean paper. Furthermore his head was hurting a lot, as if he had been on a carousel for too long. It was to the point he couldn’t even register your voice properly. “…where…?” The man uttered, it was more like a groan of pain than words. He tried to cover his eyes with his hand due to how bright it was, that’s when he noticed an IV stuck to his arm. “You [—] hospital, if you [——] noticed.” It was still difficult to understand you, but it got better the more he tried. “…is that you, y/n?” Raphael asked and his hand reached out to you, his body acted before he could think about it. You held his hand and intertwined your fingers, then you squeezed his hand. “Yes.” He flinched at that, a little surprised at this sudden gentleness coming from you. This wasn’t how you were like last time, but he didn’t hate it.

A few minutes later lucifer also came into the room, the patient froze upon seeing his former colleague, he also hold your hand more firmly. You didn’t need two brain cells to know they had something to say to each other, so you got up to leave the room. When you stopped holding his hand, he tensed up again, in the end he eventually let go. Were you overthinking it or was he acting differently than before? Nonetheless, you went out to get some food for him. With a bit of discussing and arguing, you got Satan to give you permission to keep him. He did almost die because of you, with that being said you also thought he’d be more wary of you. In the end, you were proven wrong. For the time being you were going to be nice to him, so that he will want to stay, it’d be no good if he runs away. It’s been three weeks now, three weeks of pure boredom. After all that torturous wait, you finally felt an ounce of excitement.

When you got back to his resting place with a bag of to go food, you met lucifer who was just coming out of the room. They must have had a very long talk, was what you thought. You weren’t really curious about what they talked about though, which is why you asked him instead, “can he get out today? He looks healthy enough.” To your surprise the male disagreed, explaining, “he lost his wings, he’ll need physiotherapy.” The confusion was written all over your face like the front cover of a magazine, you said with an irritated tone, “you mean he can’t walk?” “Not good at best.” You should trust the words of a doctor, especially him who has more experience than you, yet you still couldn’t wrap your head around it. “But, it’s his wings he lost. He always walked without showing them.” Lucifer was kingly enough to explain it to you, how much patience he must have, “not showing them and not having them are two different things. He’s been used to having wings it for as long as he lived, this sudden change will cause his body to lose balance, because…” he has too much patience for sure, normally you though he was a quiet guy, though it looks like he can talk a lot if it’s his field. Great, now you had to listen to him lecture you about angel anatomy.

A while later buer called for lucifer, he had something to take care of and left you alone. You on the other hand was standing in front of the patient room now, still holding the now cold bag. So he has to stay here for a month, and then continuously visit it to get better. Is this was you want? Slowly your thoughts were getting too complicated, which is why you stepped inside. “You are back.” You saw raphael turn his head towards you. How pitiful he looked, all bedridden like this. “Yea, are you hungry?” That was a very unnecessary question, really, you didn’t know why you just wasted your breath with that one. Nevertheless you got closer and sat down on the chair next to him, then opened the bag and let him look inside. Maybe you should have used the microwave first, if there was one that is. “It’s all for you.” You added, in case he misunderstands anything. His hand reached out to your direction, though instead of the food he grabbed your hand. “…” “…?” This was bizarre to say the least, he didn’t make any sense. Both of you stayed silent, a few minutes felt like days. Why did he do that? You wondered, but before you could ask he let go of your hand again and reached inside the bag. “Thanks.” The male whispered, then bit into his food.

It was awkward, none of you dared to say something about the new promises between you two. The situation already escalated to the point where you couldn’t go back, guess you had to keep your word then. At some point, after he finished his meal, he just stared at his hands clenching the blankets. It looked like he was deep in thoughts, maybe even regretting ever meeting you. Was what happened only a mistake done in the heat of the moment? Were you going to tell him, ‘sorry, I didn’t mean to’ and then leave? After taking everything from him? That’s what he was contemplating. He can’t return to heaven without his wings, not that he exactly wants to go back, but if hell doesn’t have a place for him where can he go to? Your expression was neutral, too calm even, he couldn’t read you.

It was frustrating, you didn’t get any backlash from it, yet his life had turned upside down. Out of nowhere he reached out to you again and grabbed you by your collar, “You have to take responsibility, you can’t leave me now.” The male threatened you, getting really close to your face. Despite his deep voice, you saw the fear in his eyes, like a stormy night filled with thunder. He moved up too fast, as well as using too much strength, causing him to lose balance and fall over, crashing into your arms with his upper body. This wasn’t anything too dangerous, since you managed to catch him and prevent the fall of you two. It still hurt a little, because his fingers were gripping your shoulders really tight.

“Be careful now.” You said, pulling him in to hug him tightly, watching him tremble a little. This is weird, it wasn’t a natural reaction, so you questioned, “What’s wrong?” “I can’t…” “What?” He was acting strange, this was starting to make you feel uneasy too. Suddenly you hugged you back, holding onto you while saying, “You can’t leave me, don’t leave, never again. You made me like this, you have to take responsibility. Please, please, don’t abandon me too.” His eyes were unfocused, hieratic and wild, he panted while uttering those words like a prayer. The aspect that confused you the most was his expression, an unsettling, forced smile as he clung to you, repeating those phrases like a madman, “don’t leave, I can’t afford it now, don’t leave me.”

You stroked his hair and tried to reassure him, his voice was shaking the entire time. Has he finally gone crazy now? “as long as you behave good, I won’t leave. I’d never leave. I’m right here, Raphael, I’m right here.” It doesn’t matter if he is delusional or not, it’s easier this way. What a twisted path fate has planned out for him, it seems like no matter which turn he takes, he’ll always end up miserable. Even so he just adores when you hold him, when you make his life worth living by planting the seed of love within him. Just a few words that doesn’t even need to be true are enough to wrap him around your finger. You were no good for him, this much was clear from the beginning. Like the deadliest drug, giving him the illusion of temporal happiness, all while slowly rotting him from the inside. He can’t get out of this, he doesn’t want to get out, as long as you are alive he’ll keep using this drug, begging you for more. You can’t leave now, and he’ll make sure it stays like this forever.

Soon your visiting time was over, it was the break of dawn and you had to go home. You wanted to leave and already got up from your seat, he then asked, “where are you going?” “I’m going home, you have to stay here for a while.” Something was amiss again, the atmosphere got heavier. His eyes widened and you saw him getting uncomfortable, the change was so drastically like a light switch. “Take me with you,” Raphael demanded. “What?” This surprised you now. “I want to go with you.” He repeated his words once again, after hearing it for the second time you were still bewildered.

You’d like to say you saw determination in his eyes, but you only saw suspicion and anxiety. “If you want to, but lucifer said…” You abruptly stopped mid sentence, before adding, “you know what, let’s just leave together.” Then you gave him a hand. He tried to stand up, one step after another and hold your hand firmly. Out of nowhere he fell forwards, crashing into you again. Just like last time you managed to grab him and prevent the fall. “Ugh.” The boy yelped a little, and with your help, he managed to get back on his feet. Why was his balance so off, you thought, before you remembered the words of lucifer. To think losing his wing would have such an impact on him, you didn’t imagine it’d be this bad.

But standing alone wasn’t enough. You took a few steps back, and waited for him to follow you. When he did, he instantly fell over again. This time you weren’t there to catch him, and he crashed onto the floor. “Ah..” it wasn’t really painful, considering what he went through, but it scared him. He couldn’t walk like before anymore and flying was definitely out of the question. Even if he knew it will get better, this shock still had a physiological effect on him. Was this truly his fate, the path his lord has chosen for him? Will he find the affection he never got once he reached the end of this? He stared back to his legs, cursing his pathetic state under his breath, why was everything so hard?

You on the other hand was mesmerised, those vulnerable and desperate actions of his were making forgotten emotions float up to the surface again. These were the feelings you missed for three weeks, life’s been so boring without him like the main component was missing. The way he looked so crude was making your heart pound. You wanted him, so bad it hurt. When he looked up to you, he met your gaze, the face you made was indescribable. Was it joy, want, or anger? It made him anxious. An unfamiliar place without anyone he can trust. He killed may devils, who knows when one of them would attack him? His helplessness was causing him to depend on you more and more. “Get up, here.” Once again you reached your hand out to him, and pulled him up. With you here to help him keep balance, he was able to move more precisely.

The two of you didn’t do anything dramatic, simply walking out of the hospital hand in hand. Even if you walked pass other devils, they didn’t dare to say anything. You were the descendant of Solomon, and he was the infamous red angel. Was. Sometimes he would trip a little and lean forward, but you always managed to keep him on his feet. It felt like escorting someone who was drunk. Soon you two got out of the hospital and you called for a taxi, then you opened the door and pushed him inside. Raphael held your hand the entire time, unwilling to let go even for a moment. And with that, you two were making your way back to Gehenna.

Now you’ve done it, you really broke out of the hospital. It was way less dramatic than you thought, even so it left a bad taste in your mouth. You could still turn back and act like all of this never happened, should you? Then you looked over to the man sitting next to you in the car, he was looking out of the window, observing hell. “How do you feel, Raphael? You only woke up today after all.” He flinched at your words, then turned around. “I’m fine, I don’t need to go back.” Silence, a pretty awkward one at that. You still haven’t figured out how you should treat him, just the thought that he didn’t feel any resentment towards you was weird. On one hand you wanted to talk about it, on the other hand you didn’t know if it was the right time to do so. Suddenly Raphael spoke up again, “can I hold your hand?” He’s been like that all day, wanting to do such an innocent act with you, as if you didn’t turn his life upside down. It wouldn’t hurt to agree, so you held your hand out. The male was still looking out the window, in addition to that he was also holding your hand now. The rest of the ride went by like this, quietly and peacefully.

Once you two arrived in Gehenna, you helped him get out of the car. He stumbled a little but he was able to walk, though sometimes he would lose his footing and stray off. With heavy steps you two managed to get to your room. The devils who saw you two didn’t stop you, in such instances it was better to stay curious than knowing somehting they shouldn’t. You two had to go up the stairs to reach your destination, that was fun. Really fun. After he arrived in your room, you immediately made him sit down on your bed. He panted a little, already tired, probably because he didn’t move for the past few weeks. Satan did allow him to stay here, but you weren’t sure if he had an own room yet, so you suggested, “You can stay here for the time being, until I get you a separate room.” “…can it be the one next to yours then?” He asked, it was more like a condition though. “I’ll see what I can do.” “Then i don’t mind staying here.” That wasn’t something he gets to decide. You didn’t know what to think about sharing your privacy like this, since you didn’t have an answer yet, you changed the topic.

“Raphael, how do you feel?” “I answered you already, I’m fine,” he sounded mildly annoyed. “Yea, alright. Then what you are thinking?” “What I am thinking? Let’s see.” Raphael stretched himself on your bed, while you stood in front of him. “I can still remember the pain very well. Don get me wrong, I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. I don’t need it.” The male started explaining, his expression was serious and nonchalant. Then he trailed off, “huh, my chest feels tight whenever you aren’t here, if I can’t make sure you are with me my air gets snapped off. Like someone is ripping my heart out of my chest by force.” You weren’t sure what to do with these information, based on what you understood it seems like he has a few screws loose. “And?” “And it aches, it hurts. I can’t stand the idea of being separated from you.” He fumbled with his sleeves, but he wasn’t uncomfortable with sharing his thoughts.

Suddenly, out of nowhere he raised his voice, those red eyes of his showed an insatiable hunger in them, a need that can’t be satisfied. He grabbed your leg and pleaded, “don’t hurt me, you can hurt my body but don’t hurt me. Don’t leave me on my own, okay?” It’d be an understatement to say you were caught off guard by his sudden touch. Instead of replying him, you tried to take a few steps backwards, but he held onto you tightly. “Please.” His voice echoed through the room, it kind of freaked you out. In the end you got closer to him, now only inches away from the boy. This seems to satisfy him to some amount and he continued, “my neck, hah…it feels like a hand is choking me. It’s snapping my air off. Choke me please, take this feeling away.” “What are you talking about?” You couldn’t keep your bewilderedness hidden anymore, trying hard to understand the current situation.

“You are the only thing I have left. It’s only fair if I’m the only one in yours too. I’ll be good, I’ll be obedient, please tell me you need me like how I need you.” His hands grabbed your hips, fingers digging into your waist. “Ugh! Wait a second…” “I gave you what you wanted, because of you I ended up like this, don’t you see how good I’ve been to you?” This was getting uncomfortable, you weren’t exacltly scared for your life, rather you were concerned about the situation. Was this the consequences of your actions? “Raphael, calm the fuck down!” You grabbed his arms, trying to yank them away. It was starting to hurt, his nails were scratching you. Even admits all of this you noticed the flickering of his eyes, how his hands trembled and how he was shaking.

“Don’t you love me? Don’t you adore me? Isn’t that why you did all of this? Please tell me it’s true, don’t tell me otherwise. I don’t care if you have to lie. I didn’t do all of that for you to abandon me. Aren’t I the only one who would go this far for you? Tell me, tell me…! Please. I can’t, I can’t breathe. Y/n. Tell me you love me, please, give me everything you have. This agonising pain is too much to bear. Numb those feelings down until i am a shell of what I used to be. You can take anything from me, even if it’s my eyes. It hurts, it pains, help me, please, I’m begging. I think I’m going mad, y/n, have I made the wrong choice? All of this ache is driving me insane, you are my only escape now. Take it all away, make it go away. Is there no end to my suffering?”

His emotions just exploded, everything was all over the place. He also started crying at the same time as well as shaking you back and forth. Anger, doubt and fear filled him up to the rim. There was only so much he could take, and today was his snapping point. Your hand moved first, slapping him across the face, soon it turned red. His little breakdown was going too far and you weren’t nice enough to deal with it. “Fuck I told you to calm down, what are you doing, spouting one nonsense after another?” It’s rare for you to get this angry. You’ve learned to have a lot of patience after coming to hell but this man was pushing you out of your comfort zone. “I’m not good enough. I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. I can do better.” For some reason you highly doubted it, I mean just listen to what bullshit he was spouting. “Keep your hand on me, hurt me all you want. I’ll keep you entertained, I can be perfection for you.” The stare he gave you was serious, his tears rolled down his cheek with no purpose. Once again he started yapping about some hallucinations and fantasies he had in his brain.

He felt awful. There was no other way to describe it. Everything hurt, there wasn’t anything worth living for but you. If you left now who knows what he’ll do. Being casted aside all this time made him more insecure than he expected. Like a small bunny that got separated from its mother, walking into the wolfs den without a single clue. All that’s left for him was to clench onto any trace of love he could get. With god gone now, he truly had nothing left to lose, he needed nothing but your affection. This wasn’t about you, this wasn’t about him neither. It was about his obsession with finally feeling loved by his creator. For once he wants to be important to someone, to be useful and seen.

This need of his has been building up for centuries, and now he finally gave in to it. God was it pathetic. The title angel should have never been given to the likes of him, he truly was the one mistake of god. Despite all that you couldn’t deny it, the way he panicked was a little cute. It made your stomach feel butterflies, or was it something? The knowledge that all of this was your work made you feel proud. What a wise decision it was to leave with him today, when he’s still the most unstable. Getting thrown into an unfamiliar environment, meeting all kinds of people that can kill you. Maybe you two were pretty similar after all.

You were planning on being nice to him, you really were, but not anymore after all this drama he caused. “Raphael what are you talking about? You don’t get to decide who I’m seeing!” The words that felt from your lips were like blades stabbing his chest, the filter you had was turned off now. “Be grateful, that someone like me is taking care of something so filthy like you! You know it yourself, you are miserable and vulgar, it’s so selfish of you to want to keep me to yourself.” If he was going to let himself run wild like that, he also had to expect some consequences. The face he pulled was priceless, truly youthful greatest joy now. Tears dropped down his cheeks, you were enjoying yourself again, just like three weeks ago. Yes, this was the feeling you desperately missed.

“Such a pathetic being like you is destined to end up like this. Giving yourself up for me, isn’t it only natural? God favours me and not you.” That was a statement you highly doubted, since you weren’t exactly happy about being down here. Nonetheless, you said it just to make your little dove more miserable. Then you cupped his red and warm face, it was completely drenched in his tears now. His eyes looked tired, he seems to be so done with everything, so you cooed at him, “how pitiful you look…If I own you, you will finally find a purpose in that worthless life of yours again. If you give me your everything, naturally I’ll give you something worthy of it too. You can have an ounce of my affection, isn’t it great? Such a high reward for something like you!”

This was inexplainable, whenever it came to him you were like a different person. Ruining him, breaking him, hurting him, all of this became your favourite hobby. You aren’t a sadist, you are only like this with him! You are a good person, you are saving everyone in hell! It seems even you has lost your mind now. How are you going to return to earth with this mindset? The two of you were a match made from the depths of hell, a place not even god dared to enter. A truly beautiful and twisted bridge full of thorns. Instead of fighting together you made him clear the way for you, only to push him into the deadly river afterwards. Why you’d go this far? Honestly you didn’t have a good reason, it was all done for the sake of your enjoyment. “You aren’t enough Raphael, you are never enough.” A soft smile appeared on your face as you chuckled. This was fulfilling, but that blackhole inside you ached for more. “I’m so sorry Raphael, that you were born, and that you have to keep living. I’m begging you, please be lonely forever. Do it for me?”

Raphael was sobbing quietly, yet his features didn’t tell he was sad, instead relief was written all over his face. He didn’t know why, but you were dazzling right now. When you touched him it felt like the hand of god, you were his replacement for his lord. “I know it hurts, it will only get worse from here on, but soon you’ll be craving the pain.” You whispered, wiping his tears away with tender movements. “Please endure all of this and live miserable with me for a long time.” Stay with you, forever, that was all he heard. He filtered the words out he didn’t want to hear, then he gave you a meek smile. How adorable, so damn cute you won’t ever let go of him. You caressed his cheeks from above, smiling back at him. No one could understand the relationship of you two, it was something truly unique and wonderful. Who would have thought that the bunny and the wolf ended up together?

“y/n, do you love me?” Raphael asked, it looks like he finally calmed down. How strange that such words were able to help him. Or it broke him more, who knows. You had to think about what to say, the feelings you experienced when you were with him, the ache you felt and how you wanted to do so many things to him. After a few moments, you eventually came to the conclusion this must be love. Love makes one crazy, if this isn’t love, then what is it? It would mean it was something much more sinister, and that didn’t have a nice sound to it. Maybe it was just a mutual reliance, each one takes something from the other they desperately need while hurting all the involved parties as they do. Even if that was the truth, you couldn’t care less. All you wanted to do was to hold him while he repeats the words, ‘I’m yours’. You kissed his forehead, then answered with a ‘yes’. He pulled you towards him and both of you fell onto the bed, it bounced a little due to your weights. Then, Raphael hugged you tightly as he whispered, “I’m glad. I love you too.”

[poisonousquinzel]

"a dude in Texas legally changed his name to "Literally Anyone Else" and he's attempting to run for President against Biden & Trump" [source]

okay, but putting aside the comedic aspect of this, it is concerning the amount of people who are prompted to vote for candidates just because it's funny. I'm not the biggest fan of how his policy about the boarder sounds [Site], but I do implore anyone who is able to vote in the 2024 US election to please research other candidates.

The media is only going to continue pushing the idea it's inevitably going to be Trump vs Biden 2.0 and we have no other options, that we have to vote for Biden again because of Project 2025. Is that whole thing terrifying?

Yeah, fucking absolutely.

But voting for Biden will not solidify our safety from that. Biden is exactly like the rest of them. He always has been. You can't make the lesser of two evils argument when they're both just plain evil.

You cannot say that Biden is even mildly a better choice than Trump when he is currently directly involved in a genocide. That is not some little fucking thing. That in and of itself disqualifies him as a lesser evil. Biden is just as bad as him and he will not save us because he doesn't fucking care.

Cornel West [Site] is an Independent candidate running for President in the 2024 Election. [Policies]

Claudia De la Cruz and Karina Garcia [Site] are running for President and Vice-President as the candidates of the Party for Socialism and Liberation in the 2024 Election. [Policies]

There are options.

There are people trying to change the corrupt foundation our system is built on, but we have to help amplify them because the mainstream media will not.

[hellofastudysession]

am i rlly going to write a death note literary analysis when i could be doing other things

about the discourse going on in the tag abt "death note is acab and thats why the characters couldnt better the world with the note (/written in somewhat jokey matter)" vs "death note is trying to say we all have potential for evil, especially if you get a chance to insta-hurt ppl without repercussions, and it doesnt matter if youre a cop or not", i personally feel like it ignores the things that i like abt death note, which is "both of these things are true", and simultaneously "both of these things do not matter". the first part of this is dedicated to the first point, the latter to the last.

first point. i think its an important part of the message and themes (unintentional or not, and i lean on the former because... come on, can you really say the author intended you to not think of the cops as good people, at least compared to light and l) that light is a cops son, and that almost everyone who gets the death note is cop adjacent/thinks like a cop and is already corrupt/powerful when they get it (mello raised to think hed be just like l, yotsuba group is self explanatory; you cannot look me in the eyes and tell me teru "churchill" mikami, who was hand selected by light out of a bunch of rabid kira supporters, is a normal citizen). i appreciated the cop post bc its rlly important to not gloss over that aspect.

all of this would be an argument for "only someone like them would do something like this, and i am not like them, so im above them and immune to thinking about what id do with it", but... misa is the MOST important outlier in all of this bc her murders are solely selfish in nature and shes not doing any of this for "the greater good"!!! her nature of being an exception and still a very very bad person is really really important...

or it would be if death note gave a shit about her character at all!!! im not talking about her tragic side, im talking about exploring the ramifications of her killing people the way lights murders are (somewhat) explored. that would strengthen the message greatly! but shes dismissed and that weakens it overall. firstly, she's dismissed by the characters when l only sees her as a way to get to kira and basically shelves her the rest of the time. secondly, shes dismissed by the narrative when her character is gradually ground down to a stump and (not to sound perilously close to the bad takes ppl meme about) she never faces repercussions for her actions. every other character using the death note is treated relatively seriously, but misa just dies bc her love is dead. im not saying this isnt a... fitting punishment or that it isnt in character, but it doesnt fit snugly into the theme other people are talking about of "you reap what you sow" at all.

we do have something of an equivalent to misa's grayscale motives. surprise surprise, its light yagami. first is light's characterization in the musical (i will also note that misa never kills anyone in the musical). light's thinking is coplike, yes — he literally starts his first song by talking about "throw[ing] away the key" — but also, oddly enough, could be read as progressive and therefore sympathetic to tumblr ("let the corporations make the regulations / and hold no one accountable when everything gets wrong / let the rich and famous get away with murder / every time a high-priced mouthpiece starts to talk, his client gets to walk"). compare to the anime and manga, where his bigotry and pride and disgust come from a place of lukewarm dissatisfaction and boredom. the musical has much less time to play around with lights character, so it gives the audience something to immediately hook on. more on how that actually plays out later.

in the animanga, none of this is justified from the start. animanga light could say he was just killing people to make humanity way, way worse, and that wouldnt matter, because at the root of it, it was always his boredom that made him pick up the note. of course he actually believes in justice and believes hes doing the right thing (no, he believes he's doing the wrong thing, for the sake of the world... the right thing, because he is god...), but it was boredom at the start. all animanga light says about justice and righteousness and the law is a front in the end, bc he is exactly like l and misa — amoral. selfish. searching for entertainment. hedonistic. we know this. he kills naomi misora*. he kills lind l. turner. everything hes saying deserves to be dismissed from the beginning.

"but doesnt that mean you agree with the discourse post you wrote this post to argue against?" like i said, i agree with both of them! but i... still think its not right to reduce death note to the message of "the power to kill people is bad". because that is not exactly what the story is saying, even though that's literally its whole plot and therefore reaching that conclusion is self explanatory (lmao). let's look at the concept of mu. nothingness. "there's no heaven or hell". The Real Slay The Princess (Death Note Essay) Starts Here.

in light's final moments in the death note manga, while screaming about not wanting to die, he remembers that the first day they met, ryuk told light that "there's no heaven or hell. no matter what they do in life, all people go to the same place. all humans are equal in death". it is retroactively revealed that light knew this the whole time, operated under this knowledge for all the years we watched him — the knowledge that nothing he does is actually bad, that nothing any human does is actually bad, that shinigami are not "evil", that the universe does not care. that no one cares except humans. this oblivion absolutely terrifies him more than anything anyone could ever do to him. its what he thinks of before anything else as he flails there, screaming, dying. one could say everything he does after that day is him trying to escape that fact, or wrest control over it. but it doesnt work.

here are the lyrics of requiem, the musical's final song, sung over the bodies of l and musical light, a light who was at least somewhat good-intentioned at first: "sleep now, here among your choices / then fade away / hear how the world rejoices / shades of gray / gone who was right or wrong / who was weak or strong / nothing left to learn". this is the final message the death note musical and the manga chose to leave us with. there is no judgement. even after all that acknowledged hurt, after all the damage done, there is no judgement.

in the manga and anime alike, the world is just as fucked when light picks up the death note as when he dies. sure, we as readers can guess otherwise logically (and be optimistic, believing the world was never fucked regardless), but that's not what death note wants you to think. it ends with matsuda and another member of the task force noting how the world is worse again even though they killed kira (matsuda is clearly much worse for wear, but still determined), we see the shitty motorcycle band again, it ends with misa and a whole kira cult on a mountain even though kira died a long time ago...

its extremely important that light is never killed by any human or any aspect of the law. he is always killed by ryuk: a chaotic force completely detached from human sensibilities, one that does not care about good and evil. same with l; in the anime, manga, and musical, he is always killed by rems senseless, morally gray love (and you could argue in the kdrama that hes killed by love there too lol). justice is just a set dressing.

this is not just because death note is a tragedy, because good and evil can still matter in a tragedy. the theme of "nothingness" and "good and evil doesnt matter here" is also shown in a situation relatively unrelated to light winning or losing, or being good or bad. and its in fucking lawlight of all things. we all know ls not a good person. we know lights not a good person. this is tip of the iceberg death note knowledge. but the moment they start to interact, none of that starts to matter. textually, their relationship becomes more important than the people theyve killed and hurt. and the thing is? the thing is? THAT WORKS STORY-WISE. THAT'S ENTERTAINING. AND IT'S NEVER TEXTUALLY CALLED OUT IN A LASTING WAY. l and lights relationship, no matter how much i meme it, is genuinely important to the themes and "mu" because it makes it clear that despite all the pretensions, despite everything, this was never about good and evil. and it still works in the story. this is why death note is simultaneously a comedy — isn't the battle of good and evil supposed to matter more? well, fine, i'll keep watching this anyway. that suspension of disbelief comes crashing down the moment l dies, though, and a relationship built on nothingness (the "mu" sort, meaninglessness, not "character development" nothingness, theres plenty of character development) gives way to just nothingness (again, "mu", not light's post-l depression nothingness), forever.

(an aside: there is no one to root for in death note, and the only things to root for are either interesting character relationships, convoluted plots, or complete and total destruction: for everything to end so no more damage is done.)

not to say that death note does not encourage its readers to consider what damage they might do with the death note (obviously.), or that its characters never do. look at matsuda, a much easier heroic figure to latch on to than soichiro because of his unique place in the cast dynamic and because he's willing to consider both sides of the situation and kill light instantly for all he's done. its just that the story's own stance on the subject is... complicated by the existence of shinigami worldviews and by its own insistence that the world cannot change for the better.

also, this is not to say that this is executed well by the death note manga at all. it is a very strong tool, artistically, to establish and then violently remove any emotional connections between characters and make your story only about the exceedingly convoluted lengths characters go to to survive and catch each other so the reader can realize how ultimately pointless all of this is, but like... is that a good story choice if that's all you do? i would say not really. add in a good dollop of misogyny that destroys the second-to-last character who might actually be an interesting contrast to the rest of the cast's dull one-track focus on winning and justice, and youve got yourself a shitty story that... honestly still achieves what it went out to do, just not in a way id ever want to replicate.

anyway, back to the parts death note's actually trying to say. no matter what any human does in their life, no matter how they try to hurt or help the world, they all die in the end. hey, light, they all die in the end. once dead, they can never come back to life. and the seasons turn. and the world rejoices. and you say "goodbye"...

that's all.

no analysis of death notes overarching theme would be complete without nears final monologue, the definitive roast of light, the "you're just a murderer" speech: "what is right from wrong? what is good from evil? nobody can truly distinguish between them. even if there is a god." if we take this as talking about the actual god in the room (ryuk) as well as light, then near admits that humans will never be able to withstand these overwhelming forces and that, using justice and happiness and selfishness, they are just scrabbling to find meaning in things they ultimately have no control over.

but of course, near does not stop there. "[...] even then i'd stop and think for myself. i'd decide for myself whether his teachings are right and wrong." nears alright with not having control over everything, because near can still control nears own actions. these forces can and do exist, but they have no sway over nears own humanity — unlike light, who caved.

one of the creators of death note said they believe its message is "life is short, so everyone should do their best". the first time i learned this, i was like, thats... nice and optimistic, but an awful reading of the story! "life is short, so everyone should be desperate and striving like light yagami", who literally cut off other ppls lives for his own life? what character in death note are we supposed to strive towards when we "do our best"? they all do awful things with their lives! honestly, maybe they shouldnt have tried their best, if this is what their best is!

but with the view of "mu"... it makes a bit more sense. just a little. maybe.

there is no good and evil. there is only what humans think, and no matter what we do, we all die in the end. it is easy to be crushed and terrified by this in the same way light is, but what is more important than justice and righteousness and finding meaning is... doing your best. not being a person that hurts others too much. not letting yourself get swallowed up by an ideal. not going too far. and simultaneously, trusting yourself.

it leaves a few questions, though... was the currently dead l even a little bit right about his blatantly amoral approach, then? was there a point to this pain, and me slogging through this dumbass manga, and all the people that have lost their lives to a selfish teenage cop's son and the whims of everyone chasing after him? was there a point to any of this...?

the manga** never answers this. it stays clinically impartial until the very end. the musical is anything but clinically impartial (and i love it so much for that), and its ryuk that has the last word.

"there's no point at all."

of course theres no point. none of this was ever supposed to happen. that is what matters more than all the hurt and the crimes and the pain.

and that's... actually okay, because it's over now.

yes, death note has many really important themes present in its story, but its viewpoint is nihilism first and foremost. thats why its so fun and easy to play around with all the other messages, because no matter what fun or torment or awful things or righteous justice or absolute nothingness or sentimentality happens in between, there is always an end.

there is always the end.