#i feel all my love for you rotting inside me and eating me alive

[avpdspirit]

I have talks with Jesus where I tell Him I'm sorry for being so disappointing. I tell Him that I'm sorry for not being able to fight for my life, that I'm sorry for giving up. I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders and I want to rest. God, I'm sorry. You've put beautiful people in my life, yet the one I needed most passed away just when I thought I had my life together. It's been 7 months during which I've kept myself occupied with work, but I can't ignore the elephant in the room any longer. My Enzo's life was what kept me going, and now I find myself running in circles. I'm waiting for Your visit in my sleep, to tell me that You've made the decision to end this pain that makes it hard to breathe, for You to assure me that I'll join my friend in the afterlife.

You knew how much I loved him.

Please, I've been begging for this since I was young, and I can't bear it any longer. I don't want to keep breathing. Jesus, please make it stop forever. Make my heart stop beating.

[moonstruckme]

Are you going to continue the roomate James series? I’m actually in love with it😍

Yes! Thank you for reading <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 804 words

“Honey, I’m home!” 

A smile tugs at your lips, even as you roll your eyes to yourself. James has become more and more fond of these pet names, and of announcing his comings and goings like he’s worried you’ll miss him. (He’s never gone long enough for that, though you might actually miss him if he were.) If you don’t respond in some way or another, he’ll—

“Hey.” He pokes his head through your cracked door. “You alive in here?” 

You pause in folding your laundry to give him a deadpan look. “I could have been in my underwear.” 

He looks mildly horrified. “I’d hope if you were, you’d close the door all the way.” 

“You know, I did manage to stay alive even before you moved in.” 

James leans on your doorframe, giving you the sort of lazy grin you have to pretend doesn’t scare butterflies into flight in your stomach. You really hope that wears off soon. “See, but now I’m convinced if I don’t check on you, you really will die and it’ll be my fault.” 

“How would it be your fault?” 

“Classic case of roommate neglect. I smell the rotting coming from inside your room, the police come, they ask How did you not know your roommate was dead for a month? I reply, Well, officer, she said she could be galavanting in her underwear at any moment. They put me in handcuffs and I spend the next five to fifteen years having Sirius bring me cigarettes I don’t want so that I can trade them for ramen noodles in the yard.” 

You scoff, fighting a smile. “As if you would ever eat ramen.” 

“That’s what I’m saying, sweetheart. You’d be forcing me upon desperate times. But hey,” he raises his hands in a show of surrender, “I didn’t come in here to discuss prison currency. Would it be alright with you if I had friends over tonight?” 

“Of course,” you say, looking back down to match a pair of socks. “You don’t need to ask every time, it’s always alright.” 

“Thanks,” he says warmly, “but it makes me feel better to ask. What do you want on your pizza?” 

You blink. “Me?” 

“Yes, you.” He smiles. Butterflies all over again. “You don’t have to hang out with us to eat it—though we’d love to have you—but I’m not just going to order pizza to your own apartment without having any for you.” 

“It’s your apartment, too,” you remind him. “That’d be a very normal thing to do.” 

“Irregardless.” James waves you off. You wrinkle your nose at the word choice. “What do you want?” 

You swallow a sigh. There are some things, you’ve found, James is nearly impossible to argue with about. If you really dig your heels in, sometimes you can make him move first, but you don’t feel like it right now. 

You do the next best thing you can think of: choosing the least obtrusive option. “Cheese is good with me, thanks.” 

His eyes narrow like he knows what you’re doing, but he says, “Got it. I’ll let you know when it’s here.” 

“Thanks.” You turn your attention back to your laundry. James lingers in the doorway. 

A month ago, you would have kept ignoring him, working on the (unfounded) hope that he’d go away. Now, you look up. 

“Do you think you might come downstairs and hang out?” he asks. He has a strange look on his face, one you can’t quite decipher. “You know you’re always invited.” 

You give James a terse sort of smile. He’s not stopped inviting you to do things since the day he moved in. Your open invitation has been made very clear, and you’ve been accepting it more often lately. James is someone who makes it easy to feel close to him. He tosses pet names at you like they’re nothing, comes to check on you when he gets home, pretends he needs to go grocery shopping just because you need a ride to the store. Last week, you’d sat down to watch a movie with him and woken up to a black screen, your cheek smushed into his shoulder and his head resting atop yours. 

Somehow, you’ve let him spill into your life without meaning to, and now you have these childish, crush-like reactions whenever he smiles a certain way or calls you pet names with that familiar bent to his voice. You know you just need time to sort these feelings out. It’d probably be ideal to keep yourself from spilling into his life as much as possible in the meantime. 

But it’s hard to deny James anything when he’s so sweet to you. And he’s nice. His friends seem nice. 

“I might,” you say. 

“I’ll take the win,” James replies, smiling. These butterflies are seriously inconvenient.

[rainychaoloveshack]

May I request Shadow or mobian!reader in a time loop. One of them is stuck, the other is blissfully unaware and won’t remember every time it’s reset. You can pick who is stuck! They are Asking for help and then the other giving a sudden smooch? Maybe more… than a smooch? Little heated if you so desire. They’re not yet together, or aware of the other persons feelings until that little kiss. After the loop is fixed, it’s awkward cause the one that was stuck in the loop knows. Like what’s the aftermath shsosnszk

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ 𝐓𝐡���� 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝. 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐠.

you’ll love shadow even after every reset possible. no matter what.

⋆°•☁︎ content . shadow x gn!reader, angst to light fluff, friends to lovers, slight suggestive material warning. light mention of not eating/drinking for days, implied depression.

☂︎ wc. 1.6k ☂︎ a/n. i loved this request sm. like this one just spoke to my angsty soul. might be the longest thing here yet; sorry its too long ^^’ srry this took a while! i was flip flopping on who i wanted to be stuck ^^’

likes, reblogs, and especially comments are extremely appreciated!!! (i like chatting to you guys!)

Two hundred and thirty-six days. That's how many times you’ve watched the clock strike twelve exactly on Saturday, signaling to you the day had started over again. Never to watch the next day pass. Forced to live everyday like its a new one, yet still subject to HIS charming nature, even if he’s so stubborn in the way he shows his affection towards you.

You try your best to switch up the routines as you go nowadays, trying to excite your life, yet nothing ever works. The clock strikes twelve as it always does. At this point, it’s become numb; infuriatingly so. Some days you’ll gain that motivation back to try something different, whether it be surrounding yourself with new people to serve as a distraction, or trying to dig deeper into the cause of your time loop, to no avail. And other days you rot inside your room, staring at the clock on the wall, watching it tick. And tick. And tick, until it hits twelve again.

Some days you’ll forget to eat and drink, sometimes on purpose, first finding comfort in that pitting feeling in your stomach, finally feeling something after so long, but soon falling numb to that feeling too.

The only reason you have the strength to keep going is the belief that you’ll see your friends again. No matter what. In your timeline, without any interference.

Nothing changed today. Another day wasted, yet someone raps on your door sharply, forcing you to open your eyes gently and utter a small ‘okay’ to let them in.

… This hasn’t happened before. Why is he here?

“You’ve been stuck in here all day.” Shadow grumbles as he pushes your door open, the door squeaking on its hinges, with the moonlight already shining through your blowing curtains. “Have you even gotten out of bed today?” He says sternly, walking over to your bedside and nudging you, causing you to stir out of your resting state. You had already given up for today, so the plan was to just fall asleep until tomorrow.

‘Tomorrow’... What a dream tomorrow is to you.

Turning over, you meet his crimson eyes with a dull sigh leaving your lips, briefly glancing over to the clock set on the wall.

10:35 PM. It’s almost twelve. One more hour. One and a half.

He shifts his weight to one of his feet, setting a hand on his hip as he growls down at you. “No one saw you today, so Sonic told me to go and check on you. Especially since it’s this late and you’ve been missing for all of today.” He scoffs, clearly aggravated at your lack of energy or action. “You couldn’t at least tell one person that you 're going to stay inside all day?” Your blankets drop down to your lap as you sit up slowly, peering up at him through the blurry haze of your mind.

“At least I know you’re alive.” He says, walking over to your covered window to peel the curtains back, letting the moonlight illuminate your room with a soft, white glow. “Come on.” Shadow sits across from you on the bed, tugging the blankets away from you to encourage you to get up.

Why is he so persistent? Why can’t he just leave you alone? But even then, he’s still so…

Lovely.

Suddenly, tears prick and poke at the back of your eyes, welling up to the corners as they threaten to spill out and drip down your cheeks. Shadow stares at you as you hang your head low, refusing to meet his gaze as you try to shove that feeling away, despising that feeling of your throat tightening, even if you’ve begged to feel something other than despair for the longest time.

Of course. He doesn’t know what to do, but he’s still so charming…

“[Name]?” His hand presses against your calf under the blanket, slightly leaning forward to see the tears fall on your face, your shoulders trembling. “Wh-What’s wrong? Is it me?” A tremble flows through his hand; barely noticeable to someone who wouldn’t be paying attention to such a small detail. “[Name], tell me what’s wrong. Why’re you crying so suddenly?” Shadow murmurs, grabbing you by your shoulders to try to ease your worries.

Tell him. Tell him. Tell him you’ve been living every day hoping it’s the last one. Praying to be ripped from this curse. Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him

“What?” Shadow’s ear flicks in an odd manner, clearly confused at your sudden declaration. “I’m sorry? … Time-looping?”

And so you shatter. Break in front of his eyes; incessant ramblings about you feel like you’re going insane, yet the only thing to bring you back down to earth is getting to see him everyday on this agonizing, pitiful day. 

Something in his heart really does want to believe in you, truly. Although disbelief stands present in his head, he’ll reach out to you anyway. No matter what.

“[Name].” he utters your name, his gloved hand grazing your cheek to wipe a stray tear away. “I…” Shadow stares into your eyes, trying to fight back the shock from showing on his face. His hands twitch as he reaches out for yours, grazing the back of your palm. “If you really think that you’re… Looping; then I believe you. I promise.”

What?

This is different. New. Two hundred and thirty-six times. Never had something like this happened before. Two hundred and thirty-six. Two hundred and thirty-six. Two hundred and thirty-six days. Five thousand six hundred and sixty-four hours. 

It feels like your head is going to split into two, pulled and ripped apart by the hour and minute hand. It’s agonizing. But it’s something.

“[Name].” Shadow tilts your head up from your chin to face him. “I…” It looks like he’s at a loss for words, not that you blame him. 

“Come here.” He says softly, beckoning you closer to him with two fingers. What in the world does he want? Even though you ask multiple questions in your head, you lean in closer anyway to-

Huh?

His lips brush against yours, and it’s slow but sweet; still hesitant before he presses them further onto you, nipping at your bottom lip, almost desperate for something more. Deeper. Deeper. Even more so.

“[Name],” he growls in between pants, his voice trembling at the end of your name. “[Name], [Name], [Name], [Name]...” Shadow keeps on saying in between your kisses and breaths for air, almost like a record constantly on repeat. His palms press into your shoulders, pinning you down on the bed, as he leans over your trembling form. His eyes dart to the clock hanging on the wall, before looking back at you, cupping one of your cheeks.

He really feels the same way about you? He does? Your head subconsciously leans into his touch, pressing your face against his hand, desperately wanting- No. You have to feel the warmth coming from him.

“I’ll use whatever time I have left to spend it here with you. Even once it hits twelve; you have my word.” He whispers, leaning in to kiss you again…

Your head's pounding, the blankets laying heavy on your body this morning. Strangely heavy. Ugh. The mental toll of last night might be hitting you already, even if it’s another reset.

Wait, no, it’s not the blanket. If it’s not the blanket, it’s…

“How’re you feeling?” Shadow murmurs, raising his head off your chest to look at you directly. It’s really nerve-racking… But not in a bad way, somehow. “Are you sore anywhere?”

His question makes you cock your head to the side in confusion. Sore? Why would you be-

No. More importantly, what in the world is he doing in your bed? The day starts with your alarm ringing, but it hasn’t done so at all. In fact, it’s later than you would usually wake up; the clock’s hands say so.

Wait. So it’s really Sunday? Is it?!

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Shadow chuckles softly at your bewildered face, opening his mouth again to respond, but your arms toss around him, bear-hugging his body tight against yours.

“Ah, okay, okay, you’re happy; I get it…” Shadow grumbles, starting to pull away from you, but the tears welling up in the corners of your eyes makes him stop his protesting movements immediately, reaching up to wipe them away. “Oh come on, don’t start crying again.”

… Again? 

Your happy sobs are cut short by your own shock; this morning is getting both happier and weirder by the second. Again? So that means he knows it all? Everything?

A rare smile spreads across his muzzle, his eyes staring thoughtfully into yours. “Two hundred and thirty-six times…” Shadow starts, brushing his hand across your shoulder, and your face heats up gradually at the mention of the number coming from him. “So you really were telling the truth.”

You never told him that number. No way. Shouldn’t it just be like another reset?! Did he really remember your breakdown? No way, no way…

“When you mentioned the loop, something was telling me you were right, even if it sounded absurd.” He says, pausing his thoughts to think a bit harder about the situation. During this, he lifts himself off your body to sit at the edge of your bed, stretching his arms out in front of him. “I just…” He mumbles, his voice softening with his own strange embarrassment. “If it was really a time loop like you said, I wanted to try something I knew I wouldn’t regret.”

All time stuff aside, something else is nagging at your mind…

Did you two really do all that stuff last night?

Shadow peers over at you, before turning his head away; surely holding back some laughter by the way his shoulders shake, cupping his hand over his mouth.

“It’s nothing; don’t worry about it, then.”

(the set-up took longer than i thought it would, sorry for the yapping…)

[rockatnothing]

Season three of From has got me screaming, crying and throwing up!! I love it!!

Here's a bunch of random thoughts I have from episode five 🐦‍⬛ ngl I don't remember any character names so forgive that please lol

I'm theorizing that Fatima is being turned into one of the monsters. She was eating rot and was drinking Nicky's blood. Plus, she couldn't get into the colony house in a previous ep. I'm thinking the eating rot might reflect whatever happened inside the monsters to make their internal organs dry up. Honestly, I think all of the monsters were at some point human and then got turned. I think there was a mass turning sometime in the 60s because of the monsters based on their costume design. Perhaps they figured out how to kill all their monsters but as a trade off they got turned. The life Fatima could be holding is the birth of a new monstrosity.

The town and everything feels like an escape room to me. There are rules the world follows and things get more intense when the people find something new. Like with the phone/radio. There was a man in S1 Jim talked to and now we're talking to Thomas. If all of this was meant to destroy the people then why have someone warn them about Tabitha digging or returning. This world works in a specific way where there are ways to solve the horrible mysteries and active various entities helping the people.

Which reminds me of the whole thing with Tabitha and Victor's mom. It feels crazy how deliberate the town picks people. Plus that Tabatha isn't the only one that has had visions! I think all of the characters who hallucinate fit into roles. Like the town needs someone to see the kids, the symbol or the dried up woman in colony.

Who is the dried up woman??? Is she a ghost like the other dead we've seen or like Boyd has seen? She doesn't feel the same because she looks immediately scarier than the other dead. Maybe she has different motives or a different purpose narratively.

I'm glad Victor is talking to people about the past and thank god it's Sara who can help put puzzle pieces together.

I want a big reunion with Victor, Jade and Tabitha. I like their dynamic and want them to talk to Boyd because I feel like they'll solve some shit. I do kinda love the lack of communication tho. It makes things tense and you kinda know these plot hound characters WILL argue regardless.

I'm going to go crazy when Victor sees his Dad. I feel like the writers might make me cry again lol.

It was so funny seeing Kristi and Kenny have a heart to heart, then cut to a wide showing Jade just off screen. It brought a fun sleep over energy to it. Especially when jade went fuck it, wanna hear some weird shit?

In season 2 I found Randall annoying and a good antagonist. Then, as he got isolated and cicada-d I started sympathizing for him. Yeah he was a dick, but like damn he has nobody in hell. Then seeing him get picked out by the monsters and getting left alive on the ambulance really made me feel for him. I can't wait to see if he'll call out Boyd for leaving him or really how either character will react in episode 6. I hope Randall lives because it'll be a lot more interesting if he does and I want to see more of him.

I want to see Marielle and Kristi be sweet together. I love my sapphics 💚💚💚 I do like how Marielle is proving herself as a nurse and her caring for Fatima is helping her feel grounded. If something goes wrong with Fatima and the baby then I feel like it'll be a big blow for Marielle emotionally.

Julie and Ethan deserve so much better. Their dad, Jim, is obsessed with the mystery and can't pull his head out of his ass to be there for his kids. Plus I bet he's going to be super protective over Tabitha now she's back. Like let your wife be the plot hound and learn your lesson you need to protect the kids you still have. I just feel bad Julie and Ethan are thinking about what will happen when their parents are gone. It sucks.

I want to hug Donna; she is being pushed beyond her limit.

For a sec I thought Donna recognized the new cop character when the cop ran in. But it could also be a Holy shit more shit to deal with kind of reaction.

I bet the cop character has some sort of connection to one of the main characters. Like all of the new characters from season 2 ended up playing a significant role. This cop has to bring something. If not I hope the cop and Tabitha have an interesting relationship since they entered together.

Tabitha can find someone better than Jim and that better person is bisexuality

I like how before they kill minor characters they have tended to be present in episodes prior to their death. Like Nicky's death wasn't on the same level of emotional devastation as Tian Chen dying. But Nicky still felt like a real person in this world who died and not just the red shirt of the ep. The writers are doing an amazing job and I hope that keeps up.

[instarsandcrime]

Tuned Out

Oh gosh it's been uh. Almost a month since I've written something??? Well, I hope you enjoy this one! I loved the idea of a sick L/uc/ifer spiraling, and being broken out of it by A/la/stor's radio show because I'm weak to the idea-- though it can be interpreted as both platonic and Ra//di//o//A//pple.

And here's a quick heads-up: Though this is still the usual fluffy fic, the spiral paragraph itself is a bit rough. So I'm going to put a trigger warning below and in the summary when I add this fic to the list. If intrusive thoughts and vague thoughts of self-harm are too much, please skip the italicized second paragraph. You can still read the fic without needing to include this part, so don't feel ANY pressure to do so if you aren't/will never be ready. Please, pleeeassseee take care of yourselves!

Otherwise, enjoy!

TW: Intrusive thoughts, vague thoughts of self-harm

---

Burning. His skin felt like it was burning him alive. That was the only sensation Lucifer could feel. His tired eyes stared up at the canopy of his bed, face glowing softly with fever. Its flush spread gold across the embedded pearls above, making them sparkle like stars. He sighed, crackling sparks floating from his lips as thoughts poked and prodded at his overheated mind.

Fuck. He really was pathetic, wasn’t he? Can’t move, can’t get up, can’t get a glass of water, eat dinner, call Charlie– call. Charlie? Oh, poor Charlie. She must be so disappointed in him. He chuckled weakly, What would she even say to him that she hasn’t already thought? He could imagine it. He really could. ‘Seriously, Lucifer?! I literally meant nothing to you for years and now suddenly you waltz into my life? And instead of actually spending time with me, you’re calling from a room that could’ve gone to someone who truly needed it, ordering me to wait on you hand and foot like I’m your butler? Like our entire relationship meant nothing? You threw me away, and now you’re going to do it again?! You know what? You deserve this! You deserve to rot in your bed! Get as starving and sick as you want! At least now the inside will match the outside! You’re terrible! I hate you! No. No, you know what? I wish you got your second shot at Heaven. I wish you had at least a week of laughter, fun, and fucking fireworks so they could tear off your wings andyoucanFallalloveragai–’

A burst of static pierced the air, shattering the constricting spiral just before it could break him again– and replaced it with a new form of dread.

“Why hello there all you wayward sinners! Welcome once again to tonight’s show with your host: The Radio Demon!”

“Uuugh!” Lucifer groaned dramatically, snatching one of his many pillows to press over his head. 

Right. The stupid fucking radio. From under the shadows, the sickly demon couldn't help but glare daggers at the piece of junk resting on his nightstand. Alastor had requested those old, outdated mortal inventions for every hotel room– specifically from the 1920’s era because apparently he preferred style and substance. Whatever that meant. 

Regardless. He insisted that it was needed for announcements, communication, and entertainment. In other words– somewhere, somehow, Alastor was currently studying him and him alone with invisible eyes. Surgically scanning him at the seams for the slightest rip. The slightest tear. As if his prey wasn't the most powerful being here. Dramatic bastard.

“And how are you doing this fine evening, Your Majesty?” The radio sung.

“Go away.” The lump of fluff grumbled.

"Of course not! It is my duty as your hotelier to take note of every little detail of my building, no matter how tiny and insignificant. And I am ever-so-glad I have! It is quite the rare sight to watch our King of Hell lose face to a simple case of the sniffles. Truly a headline for the ages!"

An angry red blush painted over the king’s golden cheeks, immediately pushing himself upright. Towering wings puffed, pillows and blankets tossed about the bed as he went. "Now see here! Sinners get sick. Overlords get sick. Hell, Charlie and Lilith can get sick! Me? I’m just rehhh…Snff! Ugh, resti'g…"

"Resting. Of course. I suppose I will believe you for convenience’s sake--"

"Hhheh…! Het'shiew!"

"--oh! Bless you."

"Het'shhhiew!"

"Bless y--"

"Hep'shhhh! 'Etshhh! 'Tshhh! 'Tshhh-'tshh-'tch! ...HhhhehhHH...! HEH'TSSHHHIEW!"

"My goodness, bless! You sound absolutely miserable. Shall I fetch you a glass of water? Or another blanket, perhaps?"

"Nhhh– no." Lucifer protested between hitching breaths, conjuring a handkerchief with the flick of the wrist, "N-no thahhh...hhhah! Hhhh...”

He finally lowered the cloth when the tickle finally fizzled out, heaving a sigh of relief. “Ndo thadk you. Snff!" He took a deep breath before letting loose a mucky blow into the fabric, "It's fine. I'm fine."

A pause. "Ah."

"What? What is it now?"

"Oh nothing, nothing! I’ll let you get back to your rest. But before I go, could I mention one more thing?”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s just. Well, I had my first impressions, but I assumed that the King of Hell wouldn't be so cowardly."

"Cowardly?!" Lucifer repeated incredulously, spitting a plume of smoke.

"I see your hearing is as sharp as your wit."

"I'll show you cowardly you…y-you…hhh-!" The demon’s nose twitched desperately, and he cursed between hitching gasps as it tried again and again to just get. The damned itch. Out.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't quite catch that."

"You…you self-important…hehhh…p-pompous…!" 

"How flattering of you to notice my worth! And would you believe it? You're absolutely right! I am the fundraiser for this humble project, after all. The guide for these poor, misguided souls. Ones such as yourself."

"Oh, please! We both know you’re...you're no behhh...better than…hhhH–!" Lucifer's handkerchief raised to his face.

"Trying to use your infamous silver tongue through a sneeze? My word! Charlie had told me you were stubborn. But this?"

"Eshhh! Et'SCHHH! HEH'ETSCHH'HHHIEW!" He quickly twisted his head away to let loose a breath of flame, barely singeing the well-abused cloth.

"Poor, poor Lucifer Morningstar.” Alastor teased, his voice as soft and careful as a snake in the grass. The smattering of footsteps echoed across the floorboards, circling the bed. “Always choosing your own heavenly guilt over the needs of everyone else."

"HEH'ESCHH'HHHIU! Hehh! Hhh…hghh…"

"Which is a shame, considering the ill resident who requires attention. Trapped in their own feverish mind. Alone while their partner is away. Unable to move or think or even ask for help properly. But I’m sure you wouldn’t know how it feels for them, considering how indestructible you are."

"...There is?" Lucifer finally croaked, cringing to himself at another gurgling nose blow.

"Of course! While you were hiding in your room with your wings tucked between your legs, I'm afraid you've missed someone very important. Someone close to you."

Lucifer froze. He didn't mean.

"Mmm. Let's see." As the radio host thought stubby knobs spun on their own, playing flickers of songs diluted by time. "Rosy cheeks. Blonde hair. Red eyes that sparkle so damn brightly one could go blind."

Oh no.

"Puffy bow tie. Black fingernails."

Did. Did he get his little girl sick? Please, please don't let that be the case.

"The most spell-binding singing voice."

He thought back to breakfast. How Charlie had eaten less than normal. How she sniffled once or twice at the table. Wait, did her face look pale? Maybe the light didn’t catch it?

A knot formed in the pit of his stomach.

"Wh-where is she-- they, um! That. Resident right now?"

"Oh, performing the usual suffering patient routine. Lying in bed. Being miserable. Quite adament about sleeping the bug off. Reminds me of the ol’ picture books that star wealthy socialites and their sickly Victorian children. The ones who die due to their parents' neglect and mistreatment."

"I could help her." The fallen angel mumbled anxiously as he pushed himself upright. "I could help her right– …now..." 

The second he dared to stand he nearly fainted, stumbling dizzily to grab the bedpost for support. From beneath a small string of black tentacles sprouted from the ground, nudging him back into place and under the covers as The Radio Demon tutted disapprovingly. 

"I wouldn’t do that if I were you. If you can't partake in the complex act of resting, then what good are you to our dear, sweet Charlie?"

"Shut. Up." Lucifer hissed, "I am a grown adult--"

"--debatable--"

"--and I choose what to do with my free time! And it's my jo-- koff koff! j-job to help my daughter when she needs it!" A shaky finger waved at all six radios. Or were there seven?

"To be quite honest Sire, I would prefer to do my tasks without your meddling. Actually, I would prefer not to perceive your existence at all, thank you very much. Unless..."

"Unless?"

"Unless you'd rather call her yourself. But I know you won't." A mocking tone laced with static, “You c̴̨̮͊o̶̗̤̿ẇ̷̙á̴̼̖ȑ̶͉̕d̶̙͚͗̕.”

“I– wh–” Lucifer laughed in sheer disbelief, snatching up his phone. “Y-you’re– you’re joking, right? I’m not some– some godforsaken hermit!"

"Then by all means, prove it."

"I am!"

“I’m waiting."

"Oh, I’ll do it! I’ll do such a good call. It’ll be the– snff! goodest caller you’ve ever seen.” The King of Hell pouted like a child as he moved his claws.

“Ugh. Lord knows how he’ll act if he gets worse.” The radio mumbled quietly.

“Whassat?”

“My apologies, Your Majesty! I forgot that your company as of late are less of the civilized and more the rubber duck variety.”

"Of all the– if you weren't stuck to Charlie like a parasite I would take the sharpest end of my tail and shove it up your--"

Click!

"Dad?" A voice croaked.

"Charlie!" Lucifer's venom turned saccharine sweet, flipping on a dime. "Hey! Hi! H-how are ya, sweetie?"

"Mmrgh...what time is it?"

"It's. Um. Evening…time? Look, that doesn't matter right now. Are you feeling alright, kiddo?"

"Am I feeling alright?" His patient echoed sleepily.

"Yeah! I uh. IIIII just wanted to check in. See if you were okay." 

"Oh. Um, I'm okay." A bit of rustling and a pause. "Are you okay?"

"Snff! Me?"

"Yes, you! You looked so tired at breakfast this morning, a-and you didn’t eat anything which never happens! And you were kinda glowing? It kinda seemed bad but I didn’t want to ask because maybe it was a personal thing and– wait, your voice is…are you crying?!" Rustling turned into the shuffle of pacing slippers.

"What? No! Nonononono! I just--" Lucifer froze, feeling another itch start to build, handkerchief nowhere to be found under the sea of fabric. "Jhhh-just excuse mbe for– snff! For a seggond. Keebp t-talki’g…!"

He quickly pressed his hand against the speaker, stifling into his shoulder until the scratchy wool felt damp. "Hh'ntt! Hh’ngk! Hhh’TCH! ‘TCH! Hhhhh...HT'CHNXT'hiew! Guhh..."

"Sure. A-anyway, you called me pretty early in the morning and after all that and this. Soooo…is there anything I can do to help?"

Desperate claws scrambled to craft a new handkerchief and wipe his streaming face. "N-no! No, no-- snff! absolutely not! Worry about yourself Char-Char, I'm fi--....f-fihh...!"

Hang up, pinch your nose shut, do anything but--

"HET'SHHH'HIEW!" Lucifer doubled over.

–sneeze.

"Oh geez, that sounded terrible!” Charlie gasped, “Is that why you've been in your room all day? Are you sick?"

A sudden, very obvious realization hit him. Silently the fallen king sunk into his mattress, wishing he could be swallowed by his comforter. His cheeks burned. The familiar description. The taunting. 

“Can I. Call you back, Stardust?” 

“What? Whoa, whoa, wait, we’re not finished here–” With a final monotone beep, the call ended.

"You.” Lucifer clenched his fangs.

“Yes?” Alastor hummed non-chalantly. “YOU.”

“Gracious! No need to shout. Even The Devil Himself should know that a sickly patient musn’t raise his voice, lest it get worse than it already is!”

“Watch your back, bellhop. Next time I see you, no ring of Hell will compare to what I-- koff! I’ll–" The threat died with a wheeze, breaking into another ill-timed fit.

"And that's all for tonight, folks!" The radio suddenly hopped back to life, "Tomorrow's show may be a little dicey schedule wise, as our guest star is feeling quite unwell. Will he finally exit his literal and proverbial cave of sorrows for once in his miserable life? Or, much like his saintly past, will pride once again be his downfall--"

"Dad! Are you– eep!"

Charlie's entrance was suddenly interrupted when a black fist rained down on the damned noise box, breaking in a fit of bouncing springs and wooden splinters. The room stilled until a meek, nervous chuckle finally broke the spell.

"Charlie, dear?"

"Y…yeah?"

"Um. Could. Could I trouble you for a glass of water?"

[heartfullofleeches]

Do it!! We love your ideas chief, that’s why we’re here!

Also ghoul reader is hot as fuck

[Light body horror. Angst]

Well- two important factors about ghoul reader are both their body and mind deteriorate over time, but can be rebuilt to full structure by eating human meat/brain healthy meals.

This led me to think of a "healer" ghoul reader who can sorta transfer/reconstruct the healthy cells to others and heal people that way. Lose a kidney? Ghoul Reader can create a new one and negate most side effects by eating some ground beef left in the freezer. A personal sacrifice of their flesh for another being.

Given the nature of their healing properties, Ghoul Reader is extremely caring and always puts others before themself. They make friends with the wrong person- someone who hardly cares about their well-being and uses Reader for their personal gain. They had been scarred horribly by mistakes they'd already made and without them even asking Reader starts to slowly heal them. Their body needs more work than reader's can take, but they just write the ghoul off as lazy and trying to keep them around. Reader's body mass continues to shrink no matter how much they eat. It hurts them to put so much strain on their body... it hurts so much... but they still try. They still keep that "friend" in their heart and notebooks so they'll never forget them when their memory blanks. They care about their friend. They love them. They want them to be okay and love themself for who they are-

But they never knew how truly rotten that person was - inside and out.

"Finally... All those horrid scars were a damper on my social life. I'm even more beautiful than I was then. That being said, I can't be seen around something like you. It was fun."

That isn't what friends are supposed to say.. After all they did for them... Gone without even saying goodbye. That was the ghouls first time being betrayed to such caliber- and it crushed them. They wouldn't feel this pain if they were just another mindless creature, but they were proud of the person they'd become. The "normal" human being who walked around same as everyone else. They were just like them... only rotting... maybe that person wasn't so wrong to leave them behind...

Ghoul Reader shuts off from the outside world after that. They stick to their routine as it's all they've ever known, but they've lost that rosy view of the world. Is it worth making friends anymore? What's the point of trying if they'll just be abandoned again? They were more human than the people around them. Unlike them - they felt pain. They wanted to forget it all - so they did. Most of it at least.

While out one night reader notices a musky scent in the air. So faint only their nose would catch it. They follow the trail to a body lying behind some dumpsters - stab wounds having torn deep holes through their vital organs. Their pulse was weak - fading. Despite all the pain they've been dealt, Ghoul couldn't let someone die for another's mistake. They fixed up the near corpse and waited for them to wake up so they couldn't get home safety.

"Ugh....I'm still alive....lame...who the fuck are you?.."

Ghoul Reader explains everything that lead up to the encounter and their healing capabilities.

"Eh....with how my nights gone - I'll believe anything at this point. Thanks for the help, bud."

It was nothing. Ghoul Reader gets up to leave.

"Aye! Where ya going? You save people's lives on the regular and expect nothing back? Lemme treat you to dinner. Know a good spot close by and I still have the wallet I was gutted over. Let's get going already!"

Reader learns more about their new acquaintance. A petty thief trying to get on the right track in life. They spun some wild story about seeing a guy dropping his wallet and them trying to return it with the guy flying off the rails and accusing them of stealing it. The details were spotty, but Reader nodded along to every word. They needed a place to stay for the night as their home was too far to trek back too at that hour. They give Reader the rest of the cash in the wallet in exchange for their couch and they become the first real friend Reader makes.

Everything Reader gave they always tried to give back double. The near death experience gave them a new outlook on life. It was something to be cherished and not thrown away so easily as they had in the past. They wanted to share that new view with their only friend. Reader was a better companion than people they'd know their entire life. A little bitey when they got hungry, but everyone gets a little cranky when they're starving.

The friend gets a call over. Reader had skipped breakfast and wasn't sticking to their usual diet. They sat alone, unable to move and succumbing to the painful cramps of hunger. They begged their friend to bring them meat from the store, but their friend wanted to end their suffering as quickly as they could. They pulled out their trusty switchblade, embedding its teeth in their pinky finger. Ghoul Reader tries to stop them.

"Y/n, you saved my life. It's as much yours as it is mine. I'd give anything to properly replay you, but I'll never be able to and I don't mind living with that debt on my shoulders if it means we're together. This is the least I can do for you- so shut up and eat my damn finger."

-

A week after Reader tries them their finger back there's a knock on the door. Their friend refused treatment seeing it as a marker of their loyality to reader. They make sure reader is well fed at all times. A face reader has seen before stands behind the door. Some model they've seen on billboards and flyers. What could someone like that with them?

"Y/n. I know you probably don't want to see me after what I've done, but I need your help. I got into an accident after a few drinks last week. Nothing serious before you ask, but I've got these bruises and I have an important party to attend this Saturday. I'll allow you to be my plus one if that fixes things."

....

"I'll be out with a friend Saturday, but thank you. I can still fix you, but if you don't mind me asking - how do you know my name?"

Reader leads them to their couch and heals their spotty face all while the stranger is left bewildered. They're acting like nothing happened. Why are they acting like nothing happened? Who was this new friend and who the hell was that standing by their bedroom door?

"Are you seriously going to play this game?"

"What do you mean?"

"Pretending like you don't know who I am. That's harsh even with everything that's happened."

Ghoul Reader backs away from them.

"I've seen you in pictures, but that's it. I don't know who you are."

"It was cute at first, but I'm not playing whatever game you're trying to start. You know who I am."

Ghoul Reader racks their brain for answers, but there's no result. They begin to hyperventilate. "I don't....I don't know who you are....Stop it, please!"

"Not til you say my name. I'll own up to my part when do that simple thing."

They grip at their face, talons catching on their softened skin. "I don't know who you are...Don't make me remember..... Get out.... GET OUT!"

As the stranger leaves and heads towards their car a notebook flies out reader's window - aiming for their skull had they not stepped out of the way in time. Inside are pages of filled with scratched out ink held on a weakened spine. It was a miracle they held together. The pages stick togethered, water damgaged by crusted specks of blood and smaller dots of a clearer fluid. The words written were near illegible, but there's a few key points they could make out. A birthday, the begining and ending characters to a person's name, a repeated phrase pieced together over the various pages. Don't forget. Never forget.

They'd been erased completely from reader's conscious mind. This notebook had been kept to prevent that very thing from happening. All those precious memories thrown away. The stranger was happy with the life they'd been robbed of - but no one had ever been their for them like Reader had. A new stain falls to the page.

Flipping to the final page, a note slides off the back cover.

"Come here again - and I'll erase you permanently."

It wasn't reader's hand writing. The person in the window holds up a new journal - comforting a sobbing ghoul on their shoulder.

[six-white-venus]

MY FAVORITE WORD EVER

rot

OR!!

gone

you find my corpse on a bright summer morning.

you break into my freezing cabin with a raised eyebrow. unphased. curious. then, a slow smile appears. i am immediately wary.

it has been years since i’ve had visitors in my humble abode and i like it that way. the cold keeps me safe. my body rots like a bruise swells; slow, painful, with withering purples and blues. it stretches the time of my body in this land into an endless limbo that i clutch with my cold, dead hands. my heart is still and i am numb, have been so for a long, long time. i am safe.

you find my corpse on a summer morning and stomp into my home/hell with eyes ablaze and teeth flashing and if i was alive, my heart would’ve seized at the sight. you lug my body to my backyard, unflinching. the sun burns my skin and everything hurts and i want to kick and scream and thrash in your hold because you idiot, you stupid motherfucker, don’t you know the rot sets in faster when life is around?

but dead men don’t scream, don’t move. you drop me on the grass with heaving breaths and all i could do is burn while the cicadas sing of my second demise. then, you start talking.

you tell me about your day and ask me about mine and barrel on when all you’re met with is silence. you tell me of the sky, the wind, and your favourite sundress. you must be insane. out of your fucking mind. don’t you see this rotting vessel of mine? my unseeing gaze and blue lips and cracking skin? don’t you smell the rot, the death? you surely do. then why aren’t you running? no, stop. stop moving closer. you madman, leave me in this wretched place. the warmth of your touch will only make me fester, don’t you see?

but you stay. you tell me how the crisp apple bursts into a delightful sweetness when you sink your teeth into it and pull my head to your lap. you tell me about your mom’s cooking and let my cold seep into your skin. my mouth is sewn shut and you are holding me so gently and i want to scream for mercy, for an ounce of cruelty. give me back my home, you villain. give me back my hell.

ice melts. the heat thaws my flesh and the rot digs into my body with its talons unsheathed and merciless. you pitch a tent next to my body and spend your nights here. night after night, i listen to the lull of your heart and watch the rise and fall of your chest as my body breaks itself down from inside out. i am warm.

and you, stubborn, baffling, ethereal you; you stay. the next day and all the days after that. the stench is getting unbearable now. i can see it in your eyes, in every ragged breath of yours. a corpse will remain a corpse no matter how much it is loved. there are only so many stories you can tell without gagging at the sight of this monstrosity. the sun always sets. stories end. love lives where life does. your kindness never did have a place between my blackened teeth and diseased heart, my dear.

but you come back with a gentle brush of lips against my decaying forehead. your hand cradles my rotten head. my sweet warmth, there you are. won’t you leave?

you won’t, right?

you dig my grave all by yourself. six feet deep, seven feet tall because you want me to be comfortable. what a useless gesture. i learn love feels like the glow of the moon and feather soft touches and a grave dug with bare hands.  you lift me in your arms, careful not to jostle me too much, lest i fall apart. kindness feels like a siren’s lullaby and i can feel my eyes droop. it’s dangerous and so very beautiful.

things are different in my new home. numbness feels so far away. there is life thrumming in my veins and eating away at my flesh. you bring me flowers everyday- chrysanthemums, dandelions and tulips- you tell me they remind you of me. how foolish. how very wonderful.

soon, i will bloom into all the flowers you can dream of from this very earth you laid me in. soon, i will rise, petals unfurling, laugh booming. i will weave myself in your braids and take root in your chest and spread down to the very tips of your fingers. my darling, my sun, my rose; i promise i will find you on a bright summer morning.

[beevean]

It took me a lot of time to put into words that Isaac, simply, wants to feel important.

On one hand, there's his wanting to be the perfect weapon for Dracula. He is subservient to a T, he changes his body for him, he refuses to think about what they're doing, in pursue of surpassing Hector and becoming the Lord's favorite. He never accomplished that. It eats him up inside, and drives him to do illogical actions, like insisting on fighting Hector on fair terms to prove himself.

"I'm not as thoughtful as you, Hector... If you have a good weapon, you use it, don't you?"

"Good for you that you can judge our Lord’s deeds… It’s not bad for my position. But I will not tolerate any disservice and betrayal towards Him."

"I will not deny your loyalty..."

On the other, there's Hector. Isaac isn't going to submit to Hector, of course, not when Dracula indirectly forced him in that position already. At first, he wants to be at least his equal: he respects him but as I mentioned he wants to prove himself against him in a fight. Again, he doesn't accomplish that, and in fact Hector defeats him when wounded - and, in a last spit to his face, leaves him alive, unworthy of being finished off.

"Take a look at this pathetic sight, my Lord, my broken sword used as a cane. My body is the proof of Your expectations for him. Please ridicule me, scold me, next time I will do whatever it takes."

But then, he chooses another way. For three years, Hector dominates Isaac's every thought, as he rots away, hidden, a waste, a failure, while Hector gets everything he ever wanted.

"Mhh... You make that kind of face too… I've gotten a lot better too... How many times has the moon waxed and waned, I wonder?

"That’s a nice expression… I'm happy. Good pain is proof of life. I won't afford you the peace of death easily: live, spit blood, and then…"

He writes Hector's name under his boot, which can be interpreted in many ways, but I personally see it as a symbol of how thoroughly Hector owns him, like a toy.

So, then, Isaac flips the script on him.

I have spent words already on the significance of Isaac killing Rosaly. I also mentioned how repaying Hector with the same trauma he had inflicted on Isaac, albeit unwittingly, puts Hector in the position of the one being "owned" like a toy. Now it's Hector the one who is obsessed with Isaac, ruled by his anger and hatred. Isaac can play with him as he pleases. He can move him around like his puppet, and Hector will obey, not because he's stupid, but because Isaac has seized control of his emotions and thoughts. Isaac went from being dead in Hector's eyes to being his only reason left to live. At last, for a short while, Isaac was the most important person in Hector's life - and you bet he was relishing in that power, he who was made to feel worthless by the same man.

Hurts even more than even in his death, he was being as second best, as faulty material for his Lord's resurrection, his body left to be crushed under the castle.

It contrasts with Hector, who wants mostly to feel safe.

"The ability to rebel and blaspheme against the Divine Providence is accepted without blame. A place where we are allowed to exist."

When he talks in the MF manga that he sought power for the sake of remaining human, he was most likely referring to the power to live in peace, unthreatened, not feeling weak or vulnerable. He didn't care at all about being important to Dracula, something that Isaac envied instead.

It's yet another tragic parallel that Hector ended up being important to many people. To Dracula, as I said, as his best Devil Forgemaster. But to Rosaly as well, as someone she could live with and love, and to Julia, as someone who could help her and support her in her grief. Hector clings to people much like Isaac does, but not to the point of destruction, whether to himself or others.

[barrenclan]

I think catabolic seed by the scary jokes is very slugpelt, maybe about her life in general?

Yeah, I think so! I like the themes in this song about trying to take control of your life by reaching out to other people, but getting denied. That's very Slugpelt.

Also, check out this awesome PMV with Catabolic Seed, which I just have to show off cause I love it so much.

"But is bad luck really such a crime? If you won't be my valentine, could you at least give me a little bit of sympathy?"

"I don't care if I'm losing myself in the garden of earthly delights I could drop dead right where I stand, and I wouldn't mind"

You guys always find such interesting songs. I like this one. It's definitely got good Rainhaze energy.

"even through the pain animals cannot change dance with the skeletons and float away"

"eat and then die all your siblings cast aside too"

"see with new eyes a world ready to despise you"

No, no one's recommended this Hannibal fansong yet. But nice call for Ranger talking to Rainhaze!

"So look in the mirror And tell me, who do you see? Is it still you? Or is it me?"

"Do you feel the hunger Does it howl inside? Does it terrify you? Or do you feel alive?"

That's a good classic ask, back from the beginning of the blog. Never forget Christmas music Daff.

"Underground, boxed and glum Left you there for rot All my fears are overgrown Will someone burn this grove?"

"Welcome home! It's been a while Do you miss your head? With your tattered clothes and your bloody nose?"

I LOVE Vulture Culture! That song is great. I've been wanting to do a version of its animation meme for years now with a fandom I'm in. Maybe someday.

It can be a Rainhaze song and a Defiance song. They're so interlinked now, right?

"We live and die in a vulture culture We crucify anyone we hunger Gemini and a broken brother We live and die, my friend"

"Well, I guess I made my bed Now I gotta lie in it Like a suicidal kiss I got a guilty conscience"

BarrenClan is a cursed land!...

"The curse ruled from the underground, down by the shore And their hope grew with a hunger to live unlike before"

"If they called on every soul in the land, on the moon Only then would they know a blessing in disguise"

Asphodelpaw's themesong is a MARINA song, so you're already halfway there! I also agree with you about the idea of Asphodel feeling like she has to put on a strong front and pretend like she doesn't have any genuine feelings.

"It's okay to say you've got a weak spot You don't always have to be on top Better to be hated Than loved loved loved for what your not"

"You're vulnerable, you're vulnerable You are not a robot You're lovable, so lovable But you're just troubled"

What a wonderful title for a song. I also love mashing my OCs into any vaguely related song to them.

"I bid the sunshine adieu! In 1872 When the girl that I liked Made me a creature of the night"

"On the shortest night of the year I told him he’d nothing to fear As I bit his throat and crooned as he choked “Together forever my dear”

I'm certain this song has been suggested before, but that's only because any song from The Crane Wives discography could fit into PATFW.

"He taught me that the hand that feeds Deserves to be bitten when it beats He taught me how to break my chains And that money ain't worth a thing"

"Reminding me how little I have But as for time, as for time It's mine, it's mine"

Poor Pinepaw! He really does know too much, often envious of who he used to be.

...yeah, that's going on the playlist.

"Everything here is built on bones

Everything everything everything

And men will do as they’re foretold

Everything everything everything

Visions you don’t want to see

Everything everything everything

Hide your face from prophecy"

If I'm being real - since this song is so desert-themed, it's giving much bigger Saltburn's Clan energy, especially with the line about "mountain cats". (Blasting beams into the 3 people who read this's head to go read SBC at @nanistar)

If you want my opinion, I would say Slugpelt.

"So, if I can wait five more In this shape that I abhor I'll sleep with an open door Knowing you haven't touched a cell on my body"

"Now, my love carries the task Of handling the aftermath Can you smooth the looping lines Of fingerprints before your time?"

Lol I ran out of video embeds

[creepling]

if i may suggest a slight idea for a nubbins/sonny drabble… perhaps something wholesome like nubbins giving him a charm bracelet or necklace? maybe its even made out of animal bones (or so he tells sonny) so it doesn’t totally scare him LOL

NUBBINS/SONNY MY BELOVED. they are my jeland at this point and and i love this idea so here's what i came up with!! been a hot minute since i've written a c/c pairing heheh.

tags: nubbins sawyer/sonny williams. gift giving. captivity. slight mention of death. this is as fluffy as tcm can get lol. 744 words.

Nubbins spent all day making the bracelet, scraping up the small bones scattered around his room and taking grandma’s old sewing kit. She had those elastic strings that are good for bracelets. Nubbins tied it together, sticking his tongue out in concentration. Once it was tight enough, Nubbins got up from his dusty mattress and placed it delicately into his pouch – heading straight to the basement.

“He’s gonna love it – yeah – gonna love it!” He muttered under his breath. He lowers into a crouch as he reaches the bottom of the stairs, sneaking past Drayton in the kitchen peeling potatoes and down to the basement. He slides the metal door open, hoping the radio upstairs is loud enough to mask the thud. But Drayton did not holler, so Nubbins took his chance and slid the door closed, jogging through the tunnels to the makeshift ‘holding cells’.

Nubbins liked to think the basement was a barn, rooms sectioned for the meat. But one room had more than just meat. Inside was Nubbins’ new best friend.

Sonny flinched as Nubbins entered unannounced, the clank of chains haunting his ears and Nubbins locked the door behind him. Sonny sensed every move they made, tracking their whereabouts. The last few days – no, weeks? Sonny has noticed the wiry guy that caught him in a trap only visits him. As his friends rot in cells, or on meathooks – the man visits him with gifts, food, and a shit eating grin. At least once a day, without fail. But Sonny still cowards in the corner when he enters, unequipped for the day he decides to take him to the slaughter.

“Hey!” Nubbins had all the confidence until he was faced with Sonny. Then he shrivels back into his shell, twitching smirks on his face that he cannot control. Sonny saw he had a lot of tics; face tics mostly. But sometimes he swings his hands too close to his pockets. Where he keeps the knife…

When Sonny didn’t answer, Nubbins lowered himself to his level on the ground, slowly approaching him like wounded prey. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya. I ain’t hurted ya yet, have I?”

You caught me in a trap, asshole. Sonny wanted to say. His ankle still ached, but the guy patched him up before it got infected. Said something about not wanting to spoil prime meat. Sonny levelled to reason with him as best he could. He noticed he’s more calm – even excited when he’s nice to him. Anything to keep him alive, I guess.

Sonny watched his hands carefully as he dug into his furry pouch, pulling out a bone bracelet with a flat hand. Nubbins presented it to Sonny like a peace offering, his twitching smirk spreading into a wide smile.

“I made this for ya,” Nubbins giggled, “Do ya like it?”

Sonny hesitantly took it from his sweaty palm, examining it with careful eyes. His callous, bruised fingers traced along the dry bone. Its fragments were too small to make out where the bones came from. God forbid if it’s–

“You didn’t have to do that,” Sonny forced a smile, finally having the courage to make eye contact with him. Nubbins witnessed the glint in his eye, his brown eyes dark in the lightless room; still shining like they do in the Texan dawn. Nubbins scratched the heat crawling up his neck, averting his eyes in a sheepish manner.

“Sure I did. It- It will go nice with ya other bracelet. Oh – and the necklace!” Nubbins said, “I made it small since you got small wrists. Like me.”

Sonny slid the bracelet along his wrist, feeling the grooves of the bones scrape against his skin. It was true to size, like Nubbins said, and if it wasn’t for the circumstances Sonny would feel flattered.

“Thanks, man,” Sonny slightly choked on his words, replacing the uncertainty with a slight smile.

He liked it. He really did like it. Nubbins was pleased, fiddling with his fingers, filled with so much joy that his body began to rock back and forth like a giddy school girl. Ever since Robert went to Vietnam, Nubbins has been awfully lonely. Like a part was missing from him. For the first time in years, he feels that has been filled. He now has Sonny, who likes his bracelet, and vicariously can like him too. Nubbins sure hopes he likes him like he does.

“Anything for my new best friend!”

[ask-lily-curo]

Enough Rotting For Two, Killing Me, Keeping Me High

Words: 0.9k Started: July 18, 2023 Finished: July 18, 2023 Summary: A vague hanahaki AU story I made for my OCs but I didn't mention anything specific so you can insert any ship you want here. A/N: I completely forgot to post this but here it is. Got hit with the Writing Spirit and wrote this in like an hour or two in a haze. Title from My Love is Sick by Madds Buckley, something that fueled the idea Even More.

Flowers are beautiful. I could watch you smile as you stare in adoration at one you hold between your gentle fingers as I stare adoringly at you forever. I would put as many flowers in your hair if it put a smile on your face.

Flowers are beautiful. I hold the one you gifted me, I know you took 3 hours to find one I’d like. I would’ve taken anything you give me. I can feel the care you put into the thought and the love you transferred through the plant. I take it all in like the flower takes in the sunlight, knowing I’d die without it.

Flowers are beautiful. I feel bad for tainting their beautiful image with me. My blood covers the petals in my hand, my love rotting inside me, punishing me for coveting something so beautiful. I smile painfully, the flowers still remind me of your smile. Even now, even alone, your joy is still infectious, the memory of you filling my brain like the petals fill my lungs, both filled to the brim with my love for you. 

Flowers are beautiful. Though not as beautiful as your laughter. The laughter I try to keep up with despite my love for you stuck in my throat. We lay in a flower field together underneath the moonlight. You point out the stars that twinkle among the night sky, the same way yours does when you eat something delicious or when you find something you like. A firefly comes near you, like a moth to a flame, and lands on the flower I put in your hair. You smile and point it out to me. I tell you one of the stars came to say hello and you laugh. I’d make all the stars come to you if you wanted but you’d still shine brighter than all of them with your bright smile and eyes that light up the sky. I cough and tell you it’s late, hiding the red liquid that attempts to taint this beautiful moment.

Flowers are beautiful. The ones that come out of me are filled with the love I have for you. It hurts, but you gave me these petals. I’d rather keep it than have you removed, even if they are tainted with my blood, withering in my hand because of it. I’d rather die drowning in your love than die without it. You fill my body with love and petals. Beautiful petals that feel more like thorns in my throat, but I’d rather they kill me than even graze you. You draw me in like a moth to a flame, or a bug to a flower. Your bright expression and your sweet smell, the one that I do my best to keep alive rather than taint, choke me gently.

Flowers are beautiful. The ones inside me grow and grow like an untreated infection. It leaves me sick, but I stare at them with a pained smile. It’s wrong to love someone so wonderful like you, but I continue to keep you as close to me as possible, close enough that I can enjoy your presence but far enough you aren’t ruined. You stay inside me all the time, rotting me for my sins. My love is sick, I am aware, painfully aware, but it reminds me of you so much, and that makes it bearable. You are the cause and my cure but you are there. If you weren’t, I would’ve died sooner, withering away like these flowers covered in blood.

Flowers are beautiful. I put one in your hair, hoping it’d also put a smile on your face. I allow myself to touch you, to taint you, just to wipe away your tears. You hold me close, allowing me to taint you, you’re as warm as the sun. You don’t wither away from my blood nor do you bleed from my touch.

You tell me I’m beautiful. As beautiful as the flower you gave me, even more actually, you say. If I’m a flower that brings you a smile, you’re my sunshine, the one that keeps me alive. You tell me how you watched me smile at that flower you gave me, studying my smile as I held it close to me. You tell me all the things I wanted to tell you, but instead speaking these through flowers, you told me while in your arms. Your words make my chest feel lighter and my lungs free up, breathing you in.

You’re beautiful, my love. You laugh with tears as you quietly scold me, making sure I tell you when I’m bleeding. You looked so beautiful, I forgot. I forgot you weren’t as fragile as those petals you gave me, and you loved me back unlike those petals. You would do anything to keep me close, you say. We laugh and promise to allow ourselves to bleed a bit on each other when we need to, that way we can bleed out the poison instead of letting it kill us slowly.

Flowers are beautiful. They’re infectious and full of love. They’re like your smile. The one you give me after every kiss and the one I see when I catch you staring at me. My love, no longer caught in my throat, now pours out of me, like a never ending stream of praise, no longer tainted by petals. My sunshine, you make me feel like I’m a beautiful flower rather than a poisonous threat, and it fills me with joy.

May our love continue to heal each other, like a gentle flower, swaying in the loving breeze.

[beepartcollection]

sobbing into my hands engie and millicent (i love your elden ring au!! if you'd like, could you say a bit more about what sniper's up to in the lands between?)

Sure thing!

So Sniper, just like in canon material, is just kinda there. Not to say he's not important of course, he's the kinda guy who enjoys just being there. Unlike everyone else on the team, Sniper actually has survival skills, he knows how to set up a tent, make a fire, hunt for food, and more. Though the fact there's 9 people and 1 him makes things difficult. Plus, it's the lands between, so things are hunting them while they go about. I have this one idea for a chapter in the fic where they hunt a bear, and Heavy is like 'something doesn't feel right' and then they get attacked by a rune bear. For reference, a rune bear is this

Sniper, like the rest of the gang, would not have his weapons or gear with him, so he makes due- bow and arrow time. Canonically he at least knows how to use one, so he definitely would find the nearest shortbow and get to work sniping heads while everyone else distracts the enemy.

Eventually when Medic loses use of his legs (Deathblight), he's stuck to his horse, however, the horse only knows movement with stirrups and reigns, and Sniper lost his horse- an omen for how the rest of the au's gonna go- so they join forces, since both of them prefer to not be in range of enemy attacks. They don't like sharing the horse.

Also, Sniper's hair grows out! I just think he looks very attractive with long hair (blame @/queensqueercourt for getting me into it). He also by some miracle still has his aviators and hat by the end.

Speaking of the end! Spoilers for the fic and body horror ahead!

So, Sniper does eventually die in the fic, pretty late into it, but he does. The team needs all seven greatrunes to get home, so they have to beat Godrick, Morgott, Rennala, Mohg, Radahn, Malenia, and Rykard in order to get inside the Erdtree and restore the Elden Ring and all that. Now, Malenia, is, uh, Malenia is Malenia. She has +10 million kills of players over any other boss, and it took Jerma 4 hours to beat her (When I shared my au with friends, they asked if they can summon Let Me Solo Her. They cannot.)

So in the fight, there's Heavy, Scout, Pyro, and Sniper. Heavy uses fist weapons and he's slow and tanky, so against a boss like her yes he can hit hard, but he's also a liability in that she heals when she hits you. Pyro has fire spells, and that's fine and dandy, but she does eventually target them and Heavy has to protect them, cause Malenia is Malenia. Scout also moves fast, and can hit her, but Malenia is Malenia, and she will kill him before anyone can react. So Sniper, someone who stands back and takes shots, is perfect for this, and deals most of the damage and lands many status effects on her with some special arrows he made. But Malenia knows this, and after they beat her first phase, and she becomes an avatar of rot, she singles out Sniper, and, well.

However, after his corpse is thrown on the ground. He refuses to die. He has one last job to do, and snipers dont give up. He becomes an avatar of rot, and for the brief period of time he's got left, he's going to kill this bitch so the others can get home.

His eyes are rotten, the moths are eating him alive, and the rot is spreading throughout his body, but him and Scout work together, they've got to finish her before anyone else dies.

When Malenia finally dies, Sniper collapses, more than half of him is rotted, and it's spreading fast. Scout, Heavy, and Pyro say their final words to him, and Sniper says goodbye.

[minusgangtime]

(Coming this... September?)

...

....

START OF RECORDING.

"Hey, my name is Beta! Well... if you're hearing this tape, then I'm probably dead.

You might have a lot of unanswered questions, and I'm not sure how much time I have left right now. But I want to warn you about the disease that's been going around lately.

It's called "the Vivian Plague". It's a dangerous infection that's been spread through our town. I don't know how it got here or even started in the first place.. No one does..

I decided to go out to search for the source of the disease while I go to buy some food and drinks, but unfortunately for me... I got myself infected. I'm hiding in the woods right now, and I have a mask so I won't try to infect other people.

Yeah... It's a shame... But... But...! I was able to observe some things! I started to write down what I've known about the infected ones. I think there's five stages of the Vivian Plague? Let's see if I remember... Hmm...

Okay... Stage one, nothing seems to be happening yet, but I've noticed some people feeling tired and sick.

Stage two, they'll get massive headaches, muscle pain and confusion. I think they're close to going insane...

Stage three, change in appearence and behavior. Thanks to the previous symptoms in stage two, anyone's behavior will become aggressive and feel extreme hunger. And for the appearence, change of coat and rashes on your skin..

Stage four, now they're really going insane... Their sanity is close to being gone... Your body starts to rot from the inside and outside... They start to breathe very heavily... They have trouble sleeping and have strange halucinations..

And the final stage, stage five, they're some kind of zombie now. They're not in control anymore.. They're a completely different person... All they want now is to tear you apart and eat you alive!

There's no known cure yet... I'm not sure if the hospitals are helping.. Heck, I'm not even sure what stage I'm on... But... there's always hope, I guess! There might be a rare chance that some people are immune to the infection!

If you want to avoid being infected, always wear a mask, wash your hands and stay away from anyone who's infected with the disease! And, uh... make sure you're armed! And cut off your arm or leg if you got caught, just in case!

Before I go, I just want to say... MB, Blue, Girlfriend, Pico, if you're listening... I'm sorry not coming back home... I want you all to know I'm doing this to protect you, because... the next time you see me. I might not be myself anymore. The "me" won't be me. It won't be me. It'll be a hungry, flesh-eating monster. Remember, it's not me. I really don't want to risk someone getting infected by me right in front of my eyes..

Anyways, you know I love you guys very much. Stay strong out there. Peace out, and again... I̶̝͗'̷̮̀m̷͎̑ ̵̩̿s̶̯͊o̶̧̍r̷̤̐r̸̝̋y̴̰͂.̵̨̽.̴͖͝.̴͕̑"

END OF RECORDING.

...

....

.....

"...Beta? Ó.Ò"

[fandomficsnstuff]

The Dragon's Daughter - 1

(Warnings: mentions of someone burning alive (Mirri Maz Duur), think that’s all)

Dothraki will be in bold

High Valyrian will be in cursive

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It's the greatest poverty to decide that a child must die so that you may live as you wish.”—Mother Teresa, Roman Catholic nun

Daenerys woke up to the screaming sounds of a newborn babe, the child squealing, inconsolable as the Dothraki woman tried and tried to get the babe to calm down, the child continuing to scream and cry and flail it’s small, chubby limbs around as though it was fighting for it’s life. Daenerys felt weak, like her very soul had been ripped from her and forced back in and it pained her to sit up, Jorah quickly kneeling by her, trying to get her to lay back down and rest when her ears finally registered that the screaming and crying came from inside the small tent she was in, her eyes moving to the babe, wide with shock, unsure if she should be relieved, fearful, angry, a wave of emotions running through her. Her eyes moved to Mirri Maz Duur who entered, the woman looking down at the crying babe before looking back at Daenerys who looked at the child. “She won’t eat, won’t sleep, won’t rest…” Mirri admitted too casually while the babe screamed with misery, Daenerys looking up at her with a gentle frown “‘she’?...”

“You had twins, Khaleesi, a boy and a girl… the boy was malformed, his skin scaly, like stretched leather and when I pulled him from you, he faded to dust in my hands, rotting from inside your womb…” Mirri stated coldly before gesturing to the babe that the woman tried to calm down with no success “I wanted the same thing for your daughter, her skin like fire itself and I thought of her fate, I tried burning her to stop her unnatural cries, but she was spared with only-”

“Only what?! Give me my daughter, now!” at the Khaleesi’s demand the squealing babe was brought to her, given to her and put in her arms and instantly the screaming stopped, the sobbing continuing and uncontrollable, rosy cheeks and small tufts of white hair on her forehead, her small eyes closed, the tiny eyelashes kissing the rosy cheeks as she squeezed her eyes together as she fussed a little more before calming down in the arms of the child’s mother, Daenerys frowning at the seemingly perfect child. “What? Nothing is wrong wi-”

“Her back, Khaleesi” the woman who had held the baby stated, Daenerys frowning as she carefully unwrapped the child, lifting it up and leaning it against her breast, her eyes landing on the small scales that ran along the babe’s spine, Jorah watching with a saddened frown but it soon vanished when he saw the tears in the mother’s eyes, the utter joy. “Khaleesi?” it was a silent question, were those tears of joy or sadness, Daenerys looking up at Jorah with joy “she’s perfect, nothing is wrong with her…” Daenerys sobbed quietly as she gently rocked her daughter, the fussing slowly dying down and the girl’s eyes opened, the new mother smiling down at the babe in her arms as the child opened it’s eyes and gazed up at her, her eyes nowhere near the Targaryen lilac color, instead it was a mix of gold, like burning golden coins that had yet to mold together into one mixture, the small specks obvious, making her uncommon slit pupils stand out even more, such unique eyes, they reminded her of what she thought a dragon’s eye would look like, strong and powerful and observant, the girl’s lips stretching into a toothless smile as she reached for her mother’s silver hair, pulling gently on it, making Daenerys laugh as she removed the tiny hand from her hair, feeling it wrap around her finger, the child squeezing her finger as tightly as it could and it sent a wave of warmth through the silver haired Khaleesi. “She’s so strong already… Drogo will love her… where is he? Where’s my husband? Where’s the father of my child?” Daenerys asked with joy, looking at the three people in the tent with her, other than the babe she was holding.

Daenerys felt weak as she walked after Mirri, the child in her arms heavier than she expected but she refused every person who offered to carry the babe, not even Jorah was allowed to touch the child as it clung to her, sleeping soundly in her arms until Daenerys saw her husband. Motionless, dead-looking if not for the small rise of his chest when he breathed, not even his eyes moved. Daenerys felt tears rise in her eyes after her anger had subsided, her knees hitting the warm stone under her and she leaned closer to Drogo, carefully placing the young babe on his chest in an attempt to evoke some kind of response from her husband. “It’s our child, my sun and stars… our daughter, Rhaella, our night’s sky…” yet nothing, nothing happened and Daenerys couldn’t help but let out a small sob.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Daenerys gently rocked the babe in her arms, fingers grazing over her chubby cheeks as the child looked up at her, almost gazing at her, it brought tears of joy to her eyes and she turned her gaze to her immobile husband. “She’s beautiful, my sun and stars… She already has your strength. Our little dragon… our white horse riding along the black night’s sky… our little white dragon…” Daenerys whispered softly, stroking the small tufts of white hair on the babe’s forehead. Daenerys was careful in placing the babe against her chest and shoulder, her eyes landing on the scales that ran along the child’s spine, her fingers grazing them softly, her eyes traveling to the four dragon eggs laid out in front of her, her cheek pressing against her daughter’s head on her shoulder, Daenerys’ lilac eyes closed as she enjoyed the warmth of her child, her only child. “Nothing will happen to you, my night’s sky… not the blade of a sword, not the change of tide, not the fire nor ice of this world, nothing will touch you, blood of the dragon, blood of my blood… the white dragon of the Khalasaar and the Great Grass Sea” Daenerys whispered to her baby, her fingers dancing alone the spine of the child. Her eyes turned to her husband, tears rolling down her cheeks as she carefully hugged the babe in her arms even tighter, making sure not to hurt the precious child, the embodiment of her love for her husband, the last remaining piece of him she had left aside from the lion skin he hunted for her.

Daenerys moved to stand up, laying in bed with her husband, their child on his chest, on her stomach, her small chubby hands grabbing at his beard, tugging at it and laughing and giggling, Daenerys watching it unfold with a smile despite the tears of sadness and despair that stained her cheeks. “She grows so fast, doesn’t she, my sun and stars? Already so strong… it’s only been a week…” Daenerys marveled, smiling at the baby girl who could barely hold her own head up, yet she tried, she tried so hard it almost made Daenerys worry for her newborn daughter. Daenerys sat up as she saw Jorah enter the tent, her hand on the babe’s spine, over the scales, as Jorah frowned at her, a look of regret on his face. “More and more are leaving every day, Khaleesi… the Khal has to recover, soon… or you won’t be Khaleesi anymore, your daughter will not be safe from their blood-lust… she will be their first targ-”

“No one will touch my child… no one will hurt my white dragon” Daenerys stated with anger, the babe beginning to cry at the change in atmosphere. Daenerys gently picked up the babe, rocking the child in her arms as she smiled down at the child who began to grow silent again. “There, it’s alright, my night’s sky…” she whispered, grinning down at the child, Jorah unable to not smile at the sight. “You’re already a good mother, Khaleesi” he praised, Daenerys smiling up at him before looking back down at the child, her smile slowly fading as she sighed softly. “What are they saying?...” she asked quietly, Jorah sighing as he sat down inside the tent, near Daenerys, Drogo and Rhaella. “They-... they call her a curse… a malformed child from the cursed union of a dragon and a stallion… they say she will devour them all in the night, as a dragon of the old days would… it’s why most of them are leaving, they fear the child more than they fear the black sea” Jorah admitted, knowing that lying wouldn’t do him any good, not to him, Daenerys or the babe in her arms. Daenerys frowned at him, desperation clear in her eyes as she gently shook her head “devour them?? She’s just a babe, she can’t even hold her own head up, yet they fear her??” Daenerys asked in shock and disbelief, Jorah sighing softly as he looked down. “Not everyone sees her as you do, Khaleesi. You are her mother, you gave birth to her, her scales and eyes are ones of beauty to you, not to them…”

“And what do you think? Are they beautiful, or cursed?” Daenerys asked quietly, her eyes on the baby in her arms that gazed lovingly up at her, making her heart swell with utter pride and joy. “She is the blood of the last dragon, Khaleesi, her scales are both beautiful and cursed, her eyes is that of the old dragons of Valyria” Jorah stated softly, Daenerys frowning down at the child before sighing “perhaps they need to see her? See that she’s just a babe, harmless… see that she’s perfect?” Daenerys asked, looking up at Jorah with even more desperation, desperate for them to accept her child, Jorah giving her a sad look. “If you wish, Khaleesi… I will stand by your side, protect her, and you, if you will” he offered, Daenerys nodding as she looked back down at her daughter “thank you, Ser Jorah…” she murmured, moving to get out of the bed, the child still in her arms until Jorah stood up and approached, giving her a sad smile. “I can take her, carry her until you are steady on your feet” he offered, Daenerys hesitating before nodding, letting him take the child and hold it as she stood up, a little unsteady on her feet at first but the second she was steady, Jorah gave the child back to her without needing to be asked. As she exited the tent with Jorah, she felt defeated, so few left, so many had parted at the mere mention of her child. “Blood of my Blood!” Daenerys shouted, the flock of people raising their heads, some with skepticism at the sight of the babe in her arms. “Some of you are afraid, scared, of my child. Are you not Dothrak?! Are you scared of a mere babe only two weeks old? Scared of a child not old enough to hold up her own head?? Blood of my Blood makes you Blood of the Dragon! She is the blood of the Dragon and the Great Stallion Khal Drogo! Your Khal! And you fear his newborn daughter? I am your Khaleesi, and this, this is my daughter, your princess! Find your courage and overcome your fear of a newborn child barely off her mother’s teet!” Daenerys shouted loudly, hearing them murmur as she turned to one of the blood riders who had remained loyal to her, and her husband, even though he couldn’t ride a horse, and she had carried a ‘malformed’, ‘dangerous’ babe. “My brother’s sword, what became of it when he was killed by my husband?” she asked quietly, the rider frowning before admitting that it was thrown out of the city of Vaes Dothrak, probably long buried under the sand. “Blood of my Blood, find it, return it to me, and to my daughter…” she ordered, the rider nodding, instantly heading for his horse as he rode harder than she had ever seen. Daenerys laid her cheek against her daughter’s head once more and walked back into her tent with her daughter, smiling down at the child as she sat next to Drogo, holding her child with one arm and placing her other hand on her husband’s chest, hoping and praying he’d wake up, that his eyes would move and settle on her, on his little baby girl, his daughter.

---------------------------------------------------

Jorah couldn’t help but smile down at the baby girl, her small chubby hands locked around a strap on Rakharo’s leather, her eyes shut tightly as she was sleeping, seemingly taking well to her new sleeping place. Rakharo was one of the few Dothraki who wasn’t afraid of the two week old babe, instead he found her scales and eyes interesting, though her scales weren’t very visible with the clothes one of Daenerys’ Dothraki handmaidens had made for her from rabbit skin that one of the Dothraki men had caught and skinned. “She likes you” Jorah noted to Rakharo, the young man smiling at the old knight before looking down at the child, studying her white hair and pink face, something very uncommon to a Dothrak, their copper skin and dark hair dominating their genes, yet this child was born as white as clouds, in his words. Everything was well until suddenly the babe woke up, screaming and crying and wiggling in Rakharo’s arms, his eyes wide, unsure of what to do when out of nowhere Daenerys walked over, cheeks stained with tears as she looked far beyond defeated, like after her wedding night with Drogo, a sense of dread hanging over her head like a dark cloud. Yet she gently took the babe, seemingly holding the child against her chest, like she was trying to comfort herself despite the babe’s cries. Daenerys turned to Rakharo, eyes empty and face wet with her tears “build a funeral pyre… Khal Drogo is dead” she announced in a tired voice before walking off with the crying babe.

She walked to the spot Mirri Maz Duur had led her to, when she had first woken up and had seen her husband, the very same spot he had been laying. She sat on the now cold stone as the sun was setting, freeing one of her breasts and putting the child towards it, the crying turned to sniffles and sniffles turned to silence as the child was fed, Daenerys’ eyes were glazed over as she stared at the child in her arms, trying not to cry again, not wanting to upset the only love she had left in this world. “My sweet little dragon… daughter of the great Khal Drogo and the Dragon’s Daughter, my night’s sky… my moon…” Daenerys whispered softly to herself as she watched the babe feed, her fingers lightly stroking the white hair on the babe’s forehead, the golden, predatory eyes staring up at her and Daenerys actually managed to smile a tiny bit, feeling a sense of comfort in the eyes that should belong to a dangerous creature.

It wasn’t long until Jorah approached, hesitant to disturb the new mother as she fed her child, yet he had to, walking out in front of her, kneeling down with sad eyes. “The pyre is built, Khaleesi…” he announced, Daenerys nodding as she kept her eyes on the child. “Tie Mirri Maz Duur to the pyre… she will burn… my dragon eggs will be placed around Drogo… two at his sides, one over his head… lay the white one on his chest…” Daenerys spoke softly as she looked down at the little girl, trying her best not to cry at how beautiful the child was, scales and all. “Khaleesi…” Jorah’s voice finally made her look away from her child, looking at the old knight who gave her a sad smile “it is time” he stated softly, the sun already gone as the sky was darkening. Daenerys nodded, looking down at her child, making sure the babe had had enough before covering her breast again, standing up with the babe over her shoulder, her hand running along the scales on the child’s back, the child’s golden eyes watching Ser Jorah as he walked behind Daenerys to her tent, he gave the child a small smile and the child seemed to light up at it, gurgling and spouting nonsense as Daenerys walked into the tent with her young child, Irri following her into the tent along with Doreah. Irri helped Daenerys into her wedding dress, braiding her hair as Doreah gently rocked Rhaella. “How did you name her?” Doreah asked softly, looking up at her Khaleesi, trying to bring a smile to her lips, and she managed. It seemed as though the only thing that could make the Khaleesi smile and console her was her daughter, the scaled infant being rocked by one of her most trusted handmaidens. “My mother’s name was Rhaella, she died after I was born…” Daenerys admitted, her eyes still on the baby girl who was now sleeping in Doreah’s arms.

“When she was born, Khaleesi, I thought she’d never stop crying. She wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t sleep, refused to be rocked and calmed down… I will never forget the cries we all heard through the night and day until you woke, and when you finally held her… she stopped… like she knew who you were and had been miserable without you by her side” Doreah muttered softly, her eyes on the sleeping child in her arms, Daenerys smiling at them both. “She had the lungs of a dragon, I’m surprised she didn’t burn down the tent… her skin felt so hot that I nearly burnt my fingers after she was born, pulled from you… I was the first to hold her, her skin like fire, nearly scorching my skin” Doreah added jokingly, Daenerys frowning at first before she remembered. Remembered the way she entered boiling hot baths and felt nothing, what should have burnt her, soothed her, a smile tugging at her lips at the thought.

Fire cannot kill a dragon.

Daenerys stood up when Irri was done braiding her hair, taking her child from Doreah and walking outside, in time to see her eggs being laid by her husband, as she had commanded, the witch being dragged to the pyre. Daenerys carefully hands the baby to Doreah, leaning down and kissing the sleeping child’s head, lips lingering on the white hair as she allows herself to smile at her daughter before stepping back.

Ser Jorah approached her, worry on his face as he noted how she seemed to almost say goodbye to her beloved daughter. He pleaded with her quietly so that only she could hear his words, to let Drogo go, take her newborn daughter and come with him to see the wonders of the east. Daenerys smiled softly at the old knight, cupping his face and leaning up, kissing his cheek gently. “My daughter will not grow up without a mother, Ser Jorah” she stated softly, smiling at her child with utter love and adoration.

Once the pyre was completed, Daenerys gathered her people together, now fewer than a hundred, and declared that they would be her khalasar. Among the crowd, she sees slaves and declares them free, declaring the bonds that bind them were no longer tied around them. She announced that any among them are free to go, but that if they stay they shall always have an honored place among her khalasar. As Mirri Maz Duur was bound to the pyre, Daenerys turned to her, pouring oil over her head, a look of spite on her face as she thanked the witch for all she had taught her, turning back to Doreah and her daughter. “You will not hear me scream!” Mirri Maz Duur shouted, Daenerys turning to her, a cold look on her face as she looked at her “you will scream, for my daughter. For the son you stole from me for your own gain. For my daughter’s brother” she stated softly before turning to her child, stroking the white hairs on her forehead, smiling softly at her “Blood of my Blood, White Dragon of the Dothrak, Daughter to the last Dragon, Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, my night’s sky…” Daenerys whispered so softly that none but the baby girl and Doreah could hear her, Daenerys’ lips kissing the child’s forehead once more.

Mirri Maz Duur began to sing in a high, ululating voice at first, but her voice became a wail as the flames engulfed her and she soon fell silent. The Dothraki and Ser Jorah backed away as the smoke grew thicker and the heat stronger, but Daenerys stood her ground, her eyes moving to her child, looking for any sign of discomfort but when she saw the fire reflected in her small golden eyes, even at this distance, she knew; she is the blood of the dragon and undeterred by the fire, like her mother. Daenerys gently took Rhaella from a very confused Doreah, Daenerys gently carrying her daughter as she began to slowly walk towards the fire as sweat covered her body. Daenerys heard the crack of breaking stone as the pyre collapsed, showering her and the Targaryen babe in her arms with ash, cinders, and broken egg shells. Behind her, she can hear the Dothraki and Ser Jorah shouting, yet her child is quiet in her arms, only two weeks old and she knew that she and her mother were safe. As the pyre begins to collapse completely, Daenerys hears two more cracks like the first and walks into the heart of the fire with her sleeping daughter in her arms.

It was dawn when the fire finally died out, Ser Jorah found Daenerys with Rhaella, naked but alive and unburnt, nursing three baby dragons, one of which was protectively splayed out over Rhaella, with a third draped across her shoulders. The dragons match the colors of their eggs: cream-and-gold, green-and-bronze, black-and-scarlet and silver-and-white. Ser Jorah dropped to his knees wordlessly. He was followed by Jhogo, Aggo, and Rakharo who declare her and her daughter blood of their blood, and then her handmaidens and the rest of the Dothraki do the same and Daenerys smiled at the thought that they bowed not only to her, but to her newborn daughter.

Daenerys rose with her daughter in her arms and for the first time in hundreds of years, the night comes alive with the music of dragons, a stunned and awe-struck Jorah hesitantly walking over after getting up, eyes wide as he stared down at the sleeping child, Daenerys smiling at the child, handing Rhaella to Jorah who hesitantly held her, hissing at the burning heat that came from the child’s skin, Daenerys gently nudging her dragons away from her arms, taking the child into one of her arms, the other one holding one of her dragons and Daenerys watched as the silver-and-white dragon moved from her shoulder and down her arm, sniffing the babe and it’s white hair, looking up at his mother, almost as though he was asking for permission, and when Daenerys nodded, the dragon crawled over the babe, laying protectively over it’s sister as the other dragon crawled up to her shoulder, freeing Daenerys’ arm so she could hold her daughter with both arms, a dragon on each shoulder with the black one resting on her elbow at the child’s feet and the last one, the silver one, laying protectively over Rhaella, it’s golden eyes shining up at Daenerys and her breath nearly hitched at the same golden eyes with slit pupils that were staring up at her from the dragon, the creature sharing the exact eyes of the babe in her arms.The sound of horse hooves beating against the ground brought all eyes to the rider who had left for the sword, his eyes wide as he stared at the dragons, his burnt Khal and the unburnt Khaleesi and her daughter. He hesitantly got off his horse, the sword and it’s sheath in his hands, his movements hesitant and unsure but he approached, holding out the sword before kneeling down in front of Daenerys and her babe, head low until he heard a shriek, raising his eyes to look at Daenerys who gave him a warm smile. “Thank you, Ezzo, Blood of my Blood” she stated softly, the young rider nodding as he stood up, watching the unburnt Khaleesi with her ash-covered child, the white dragon on top, as though they were fused together and were never to be parted.

[bigusbossus]

Holy shit I just had the worst idea ever, I know this doesn't make sense timeline wise but uh

Tw: Child Abuse

Ocelot finds out what was going on with Otacon and his stepmom, so he kills the stepmom, kidnaps Huey, and starts bullying him for it. "Wow, Huey look how pathetic you are, tell me, are you so bad at sex that women would rather be pedophiles than fuck you or is your cock so small that the only women willing to touch it are into kids?"

GOD YEAH IVE ALWAYS LIKED THE IDEA OF OCELOT FUCKING UP HUEY AND HIS WIFE AFTER FINDING OUT WHAT THEY DID TO THEIR KIDS

the moment ocelot got his hands on Huey he was practically dead already. Ocelot just loves to drag it out, give him enough trauma to last several lifetimes, "worse" than the trauma he gave his kids.

[warning just intense prolonged sadistic torture under this and mightve projected a little bc i had a people very similar to Huey and his wife in my life 😭]

he'd hire a bunch of dudes to gang🍇 Huey for days. And it only stops when Huey gets used to it, by then Huey would be so hungry but Ocelot wouldn't ever want to spend money or effort in sustaining him. So he'd cut off Huey's legs and force him to eat them, then he'd leave because he knows Huey would argue. Ocelot does grant him the courtesy of having his wounds tended to though, just the ones that could kill him because he wants to drag out this punishment for as long as he can.

By the time he comes back the dismembered legs are rotting, fleas and maggots on them and yet Huey is slouched over eating them, he's so hungry his brain has turned off every alarm in his head telling him no. Maybe he even has to eat his wifes body who knows.

But over the months each limb huey has is severed. When hes got no arms left, he's made to wriggle on the floor to eat his own flesh. Ocelot even cuts off Huey's schlong when there isn't any more limbs to cut. In between the amputations he tortures Huey in more typical ways, injecting him with chemicals to burn him from the inside, ripping off his nails, waterboarding him, electrocuting him and even setting him on fire, on top of depriving Huey of basic human necessities.

Then Huey's eyes go, then his tongue, then his ears. But even then he isn't all gone. Ocelot skins parts of him and stuffs the flesh in his throat. Just little bits at a time so he dosnt die... until finally he's looking worse than solidus body from mgs4 and yet he's still alive. Trapped in his own body, feeling nothing but the cold floor. Ocelot just leaves him there, locked up until he starves to death, regretting every bad decision he's made...

and then ocelot goes find otacon and offers him a job at foxhound to make walking war machines :3 the exact interview process was " hey kid you look like you watch mecha anime.. wanna make irl mechas for us?" and otacon was jumping up and down going YIPEEE!!! 🎊🎊🎉🎉

[asharaks]

horizon gone godless

post-bhaal part one of three 800 words blood/gore cw

You die.

You wake.

You remember.

In a pool of blood (fathoms deep, an ancestral memory made flesh) you open your eyes, and for the first time in your ruinedruptured memory, you are—

—quiet.

At peace.

Empty.

Your first thought is

(absence)

Where?

(nightsinger is this your hand)

And then: how?

Blood surrounds you: soaks your hair your skin your hands. It seeps sticky into your mouth and clings to your armour, and as you sit up it cascades from you in glistening strings.

You are

(alone)

you are

(lost)

you are

alive.

You open your mouth, tasting gore, and you say

(Father)

help me

(forgive me)

someone tell me

what have I done

(what have I become)

and the voice that speaks before you can is familiar (all of it so familiar) and comforting and feels

(faithless, godless)

like

(Father)

something old something missing something lost in the rubble of your skull.

Your sister(sisterniece how many times removed how many times your own) lies on her back. The butler (vile, wretched, and it isn't your Father that makes you want to show teeth at the sight of the ruined corpse) lies opened beside her, a family portrait missing only one.

On your knees.

On your knees in the blood you wait, you listen (you pray):

(FatherFatherFather)

He talks, your newfather your notfather your notgod, and his words are kind but

all the powers of life and death

(blood in my veins notmine notHis not this)

you can't hear them over the emptiness in your head, the chasm between you. Nothing left but a tadpole nest and a silence that threatens to swallow you whole.

(Father I’m sorry)

Boots splash in the blood: hands touch your cheek, and come away stained. Your skin, metal and flesh, dyed crimson. The warmth doesn’t reach far enough down, down to where you

(pleasepleaseplease)

drown, the light above ever out of reach, but still those hands

(take it back take it back take it back)

hold you close, hold you still. Voices echo, in the cavern of stone and blood that is your chest (this temple, a sense memory, your body turned outwards), calling for you. Begging you to return.

Tiavyn—

(Father)

—can you hear me—

(can you hear me)

—please?

(please)

When you turn, mismatched eyes stare into yours. Scarred hands warm and wet and sticky on your cheeks, tipping your head like he can rattle you back to yourself. He's on his knees in the blood

(in your blood

in your Father's blood)

just like you, just like (all of you). Your tongue is heavy, corpse-swollen half-rotted in your mouth. Words squirm from your grasp, slick and bloodstained, your jaw locked-shut-muzzled. Your lips (split) (bleed) pull back, emptiness eating you from inside out, and for the first time in over a century—

—silence falls.

You slump, let him (himhimhim, Father forgive me I love him and it hurts) take your weight, brace himself (knees slipping in the blood) against you, your weight, your armour, the sin and sinew of you. His hands spread over your shoulders; tilt your head, lean into him, his skin, his warmth, his

name His name His name

breath hot against your cheek.

And still, your newgod (newFather neverFather) talks

(who hath challenged a god)

(I never wanted)

(and liveth to tell of it)

(I never wanted)

and still, the hands on you are gentle

(can you hear me, love)

and still, the emptiness inside consumes you.

Turn your heavy head and meet his eyes. See the way he looks at you, holds you tight like he lost you, like he loves you.

Try to remember his name, drag your filthy bloodstained claws through the ruin of your memory, through two deaths and countless almosts, and come up empty.

All you know is that his hands are warm on your skin, and you are so so cold. All you know is that he looks at you with pride and concern, and you warrant neither. All you know is—

“It was peaceful,”

your tongue fumbling the words, your hands shaking, and you look up at the God who stands over you and you saypleadpray:

“I just want to rest.”

And, merciless as any other, your new God looks down on you (your lover's hands tighten on you) and he says: “There is no true rest for those like thee,

faithless”

(faithless)

(searing through you

faithless godless nothing nothing nothing)

and his next words are almost lost, a hand reached down into the dark where you

drown.

“But when victory is won I swear I shall find thee a home,” and the hands on your neck are warm and careful and the emptiness in your skull eases, and out of the dark and the fog and the bloodbloodblood you close your hands on a name and a feeling.