#ignore the skeletons making out under the tree .

[karda]

got inspired by iskall and made a little factory in creative :-]

[naffeclipse]

Heya @skizabaa! I'm your Secret Skeleton! I might have gone a bit over the word count minimum, but I had so much fun writing this! Your interests/likes are exactly my jam and I loved crafting this little piece for a cozy and sweet Halloween treat for you! I hope you enjoy some creature Sun and a Y/N who wants a friend!

The Harpy and Hazel Trees

Harpy!Sun & Reader

Word Count: ~3,500 Warnings: N/A

You’re so used to the quiet—birds calling to each other, crying out about the cold, and the buzz of the last insects filling the air with the gentle crunch of leaves underneath your feet, fallen off the hazel trees. Your lone heartbeat pulses within your ears. 

The quiet eats away at you in the way a caterpillar gnaws away at a leaf: slowly devoured. And yet, you remain. There’s still more of you left to be eaten. It surprises you every time you think you can’t take another moment of silence, of a lack of another’s voice.

Behind your simple wooden cottage, you kneel. Only a pale brown fence marks your lost lot within the forest for the deer merrily prances over it. Knees sinking down into the moist earth, you tug out the last few weeds crowding your pumpkins though they are only weeds in name. The plants, you’ve learned, hold nutrients that pair well in salads. You won’t have fresh greens for much longer.

Autumn sweeps back as if this was always its home, and you, its guest. Your garden is bursting with foods that make the harvest moon happy and the dreaded months of winter bearable. The late-season sun heats the crown of your head and strokes your hair, but it is not a substitute for a friend.

You toil away, cleaning out weeds, plucking fat cucumbers, and snatching a wide green head of lettuce. You’ll have a wonderful bowl of fresh salad tonight and cook an egg to go with it. Your chickens are still producing well but when the cold of the dying year steps in, the chickens will convert their egg-laying efforts to keeping warm, and you don’t blame them. 

These winters are brutal, on body and heart.

You shiver under a cool wind. A gust flips leaves of dill and oregano and you mutter of the cold to no one.

Then a shadow falls over you. You lift your head.

You startle in your garden. Perched on your fence just a few feet away from you is a beast, one with a rather wide grin at that. A harpy. He tilts his disk-like head, a large mouth displaying sharp teeth fit for pulling meat off of bones. Beautiful feathers sway around his face, long and curved, bright as sunshine and exquisite. He holds a rather polite expression; if only you could ignore the sharp teeth. 

His wide eyes, the color of cornflowers, hold the intensity of the hawk but soften upon gazing at you. His body is covered in a finer layer of plumage, off-white and yellow, with wings for arms and long claws on the ends of his fingers, though his large, raptor-like feet wield talons that currently balance upon your poor fence. He wears no shirt but an ascot tie of silky ruby around his thin throat. Billowy pants conceal his animalistic legs, stripped in a bright pattern of red and yellow. His wings are gently tucked against his side, hands curled in front of his chest in an almost nervous, shy manner. Radiant feathers of scarlet and gold decorate his wingspan. 

You understand immediately that he is beautiful and, perhaps, dangerous.

“Hello, I’m so sorry to drop in like this,” he begins, voice bouncing and cheerful, though a touch strained. “I hope I haven’t startled you.”

You slowly get to your feet, stunned. You clear your throat, afraid of how raspy your voice will be—the only conversations you hold are with the chickens and the goat. 

“I don’t usually get company out here,” you begin, though you sound a touch defensive. You clear your throat again. “Are you lost?”

“Lost?” The harpy cocks his head to the other side, feathers swaying like a rooster’s tail. “Oh, well, I’m only lost in that I have yet to find what I’m looking for and that I don’t know what I’m looking for yet, but the most pressing matter, currently, is the oncoming storm.”

He lifts one wing, long fingers nearly hidden under the cloak of gold and scarlet feathers, to point to the sky behind you. Careful to not turn your back on the stranger, you glance in the direction.

The harpy is right. Creeping forward are black, angry clouds. They gather low, pushing through the blue skies like a stain of ash. The storm wasn’t climbing the horizon this morning but swiftly it arrived.

He is being very polite, you muse.

“Oh,” you say, then face the harpy again. You clasp your dirt-covered hands, wishing you had thought to wear your apron so you might make yourself a little more decent. Of course, who could have predicted a visitor? Certainly not you. “Yes. I assume you don’t want to be caught in it? You’ve probably flown a long way here, no doubt.”

“No doubt,” he echoes with a grin that’s still toothy but much less sharp. His eyes upturned, the cornflower color beaming. “Could I trouble you for shelter for the evening? I won’t be in your way and I’ll gladly stay in your chicken coop or wherever won’t disturb you.”

You laugh gently. The harpy waits, his nervous hands returning once more to his chest, feathers rustling.

“Oh no, you’re far too big to stay in the chicken coop. You’ll scare my rooster half to death.” You look at him, resting a hand on your hip, forgetting the dirt caked on it. “No, you’ll come inside and out of the storm. The wind that will come will be fierce.”

“Oh!” The harpy leaps from the fence in a flurry of plumage. You start at the snap of his wings but find yourself gazing up into his towering expression, his smile absolutely delighted. “Thank you, friend! You’re so sweet!”

You look away, coughing once, unsure how to take the title he already bestows upon you. Is it even true? Could it be?

“It’s nothing,” you give. 

You bend down and snap a pumpkin from its stem, the bright orange gourd is more than ready to be harvested for its seeds. On second thought, you’ll roast pumpkin seeds and have a stew today. A meal that will honor your harpy guest as much as your little garden can. 

“Would you take this into the cottage for me?” you ask, pointing. The harpy is watching you closely, his head ticking with sharp adjustments to his gaze, his alertness unparalleled and fascinating. “I could use a hand for a few other things, too… friend. If you don’t mind.”

You hesitated, but saying it out loud dusts a lightness in your chest.

“Of course!” He kneels and scoops the pumpkin into his feathered arms as if it were a mere trifle, not a fully grown vegetable. His claws carefully cradle the orange shell. “My name is Sun. I am at your service!”

You give your name in return.

It’s been so long since you’ve heard someone call for you, but when Sun says it, you feel a little more alive. A little more real.

“Do you like stew?” you ask, plucking your gathered leafy goods that will wait in the cupboard until tomorrow, and lead the way to the back door of the cottage. 

“Stew sounds heavenly compared to what I've been scourging these last few days—bugs and berries and other bitter things!” Sun’s jubilee voice is no less dampened by recounting his horrid meals. “Yes, stew sounds lovely. How might I help you, friend?”

He doesn’t see you smile. You lead him to the door and open it, holding it so that he might duck inside and not fumble the precious pumpkin.

“We’ll need a few spices, celery and potatoes. Help me dig some up.”

* * *

Harpy claws, as it turns out, are great at digging up dirt, though you think he might have put them to better use hunting. Sun is cheerful and he easily takes to work. It’s not glorious, digging up potatoes, but he does it all with a smile on his wide face. 

You love his chatter. He sounds like birds trilling and cheeping, talking of the weather and the storm and how he was alone before he ventured into these strange but wonderful woods. He doesn’t tell you what he’s seeking, but he doesn’t seem to know either. A wanderer. A lost soul.

Like you.

People like you often end up here, in this forest. A woodland of spooky, lingering things, full of yellowing trees. Everyone is seeking something. A heart hungers beside the hazels. A person gets lost here, but sometimes, a person gets found.

Taking a much-needed breather from work, you lead Sun to the hazel trees. The leaves are soft and pale as butter and halfway melted, dripping to the ground. You show him the hazelnuts, perfectly round, dark treasures. In fascination, he gazes at the hard, black shells that you easily crack, shuck, and reveal the smooth nut hidden within. 

For a while, you two snack on hazelnuts. Sun’s tongue is dark red and licks at his teeth, chewing away. You love the soft crunch, and how nutty the flavor is. In summer, you take what you have left from winter storage to mix with cocoa and sugar then crush into a paste. A treat that is so lovely you tell Sun that you wish he could be here to have a bite when you make it.

His feathers perk at the mention. He looks as if he wants to say something, something you earnestly wait to hear, but he only agrees. It does sound lovely. 

You return to work. Sun is a bit quieter, back to his anxious hand curling and feather-ruffling, almost pulling a few from around his wrists, but you don’t ask. He would have told you if he wanted to. Why confine a stranger when he’ll be gone after the storm blows through?

You taste something bitter in the back of your mouth.

He helps you haul in the potatoes, celery, and carrots. Your cottage is small, but it fits him and you just right. You begin bowling the pot, adding in bits of beef you fetched from the wooden barrel where it sat in a brine of water and salt to preserve the meat until you were ready to cook. Then you begin chopping the vegetables. Sun fetches you an onion you had forgotten, and when he returns, his feathers blown against his body due to the picking up wind, he begins asking you questions. So. Many. Questions.

You can hardly pause between them. He’s so intrigued by your every boring answer. There’s very little for you to talk about except for the years you spent here and how long you’ve been alone (you don’t tell him the last part, though he does ask about family, and you simply comment that you have none with a sharp chop of your knife across a deep orange carrot.) He smoothly moves on, tending to the boiling pot and feeding the fire when it needs more logs. 

You can’t help but stare. A harpy tending to your stew. You think this must be a dream, a wonderful, heart-breaking dream. 

Tossing the ingredients into the heated meat and broth, you and Sun wait, listening to the howl of the wind and fearfully eyeing the flames as the pressure in the air snatches at the flames by reaching down the chimney. You’ll let the fire go out when the evening ends instead of fighting with it all night, but it will get cold. You ask Sun if he’ll be alright. 

He taps his chest with a wicked sharp finger and promises that his plumage is more than enough to fight off the chill. 

You stir the stew and spoon it into simple wooden bowls. You hand one to Sun. His large, clawed hand easily grasps it. He’s so sweet, so grateful. You sit down beside him at your small kitchen table—there was never a need for a full dining room set, and now you worry it’s too humble. You never expected company.

The stew, however, is heavenly. You’re relieved and immediately warmed by the savory broth and melt-in-your-mouth bites of beef and potatoes. Sun tears into the stew and you give him a second, then a third helping. You almost laugh at how sheepish he appears until he eats once more. 

He helps you clean up… You didn’t know what you expected, but certainly not his methodical ability to sweep the floor and scrub the pot.

“Thank you, Sun,” you say softly, handing him the last dish to set high on the shelf. “You’ve been a great help today.”

“It’s the least I could do to repay your generosity.” He faces you after setting the bowl away without any stretching or tip-toeing, unlike you. “You’re so kind and there’s so much for you to do by yourself. I’m amazed you can handle all this work. It would put a whole team of fieldhands to shame.”

“Oh, stop it,” you wave him away, ducking your head to hide your bashfulness. “I put you to work. I do hope you’ll sleep well tonight, despite the storm.”

As if summoned by your mere mention, a clap of thunder reverberates through the air. Your heart quakes in the strength of the ferocious growl. Sun whips his head towards the front door as if expecting the storm to rudely barge in without your invitation. 

“It’s a very good thing you stopped here,” you say, breathless. 

Sun slowly looks back, his hackles raised, and his cornflower blue eyes fall down. You follow his line of sight to your hand touching his feathered wrist, fingers anxiously curled.

“Oh.” You drop your hand away. “My apologies. Let me get you a comfortable place to rest. I’m afraid I only have one bed.”

“No need to apologize,” Sun says quickly, “Were you concerned for me, friend? That’s alright. Friends can be concerned for each other and there’s no shame in that. I truly don’t mind.”

You nod but don’t meet his gaze.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Friend?”

You stop, looking back at him. You wonder if he intends to leave, but that can’t be right. The storm is descending with a vengeance. 

“I need only sit by the hearth. I don’t need beds or other human comforts, though I appreciate your offer.”

“Oh.” You look around, the smell of stew having long since drifted away as the fire slowly begins to die. A thick darkness descends. You regard the harpy with a worry for the morning. Sunshine will come, yes, and the skies will be clearer, but he will leave.

You find yourself dreading tomorrow.

“Very well.” You hold his gaze for one brave moment. The cornflower blue holds you. “Goodnight, Sun.’

“Goodnight, friend.”

You close the door to your bedroom. In quiet reflection, you dress into your night clothes and slip under the quilts on your bed. You are so caught up on Sun’s ruffled feathers, his cheerful demeanor, and how anxious he holds his claws. 

He calls you a friend. You’ve only just met. You shouldn’t be so attached to a fellow so quickly, yet, you find yourself wondering how you might combat the silence in the afternoon after the thunder ceased its grumbling and the harpy has continued on his way.

You hardly sleep a wink before the storm splatters rain upon the roof and sends winds to rattle the shutters. A quaking bolt of lightning strikes, the thunderous cry shaking the very cottage and you bolt upright. You cry out, disturbed from dozing, dark dreams. 

The very world is being torn apart by a dark tempest.

“Friend!” The shout is muffled through the door, but you hop out of bed, bewildered and frantic, and throw it open to find the harpy.

He stoops low, his height eclipsed by the stout door frame. You stare up into his concerned eyes, long hands almost reaching for you but hesitating.

“I heard you shout. Are you alright?”

You lay a hand over your chest and breathe out. The wild blood pumping in your veins has yet to calm, but the sight of Sun’s cheerful face plumage, swirling about his expression like rays of the sun, and his big blue eyes, looking over you for injury or harm, touches your heart.

“Yes, I’m alright. The lightning—the thunder scared me!”

“It’s alright. It startled me, too,” he gives, though grinning with the energy of a thousand afternoons.

Sun peers through the small window in your bedroom. The lightning flashes again, not so close, but the thunder roars upon the little cottage as if a beast had snatched your home into its mouth.

You shudder to think of lying down now.

You hesitate, contrite, then ask quietly, “Sun?”

He visibly perks up and almost hits his head on the top of the doorway. His golden feathers brush against the ceiling of the cottage. 

“Yes?”

“Can I sit with you for a while? If I’m not keeping you awake, that is…”

His expression blooms as if a flower under the sun. He grins, the sight so lovely and tender before he takes your hand in his down-soft palm.

“Of course! There are still hot coals in the hearth, and I do hope I can help you stay warm, just a little.”

You lower your shoulders. A calming pulse moves through your chest as Sun, your friend, guides you into the room with the dying embers that beat a last, desperate red in the sooty black.

“Are you cold?” you ask, concerned. 

“No,” his eyes upturn, “If it’s alright, I would like to keep you warm.”

He opens his arms, the plumage of his wings falling like a cloak of ruffled sunshine and scarlet. His chest is fuzzy with soft down, and his billowy pants cross to make a comfortable seat on the floor before the cooling heart.

You want nothing more than to enter his embrace. Worry of the morning strains against your weary thoughts, holding you away.

“Are you sure?”

You only met him today. Why do you feel so much for this blossoming friendship, newly made under the threat of a storm and in the dirt of hard work?

He inclines his head gently, his feathers softly sashaying with reassurance. “Yes. I would be delighted to help my friend.”

His warm confidence chips away at the last of your reservations. Breathing in, you ease yourself into his embrace. Settling into his warm body—you didn’t realize how wonderfully comforting his form is, wrapped around yours, like a drop of sunshine. It immediately chases away the autumn cold nipping at your edges. Once you set your back against his chest, feeling a bit conscious of his presence and how you hold yourself, Sun wraps his arms around your shoulders. His beautiful wings cover you up in the burning colors of sunsets. Outside, the thunder and rain harmonize. 

“Is this alright?” he asks.

You nod and hook one hand over his fluffy wrist. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“Yes,” you murmur.

It’s nice to have a friend.

You sit a while, gazing at the fire. Sun hums a low, throaty sound that reminds you of birds calling to each other, and you drift quietly. Your head begins to fall. In smooth, careful motions, Sun shifts your legs so they drape sideways off his lap and guide your cheek so it might rest on the soft pillow of his shoulder. His arms fall upon you again. You are blissfully warm, sleep whispering in your ears.

“Friend?” he says. His fingers curl against your arm. An anxious clench.

“Hmmm?” Your eyelids flutter.

“I was thinking—in the morning, you’ll have so many branches to pick up off your garden and you’ll need to check your chickens and see if any of your precious vegetables have been harmed, and you have so much work to do! I could stay a bit longer tomorrow, just to lend a hand, as a final thank you.”

“Sun?”

Your eyes open in the blue dark of the autumn night. Your heart melts quietly in your chest, and you think you might be brave. You dare to want to be bold enough to let him stay with you, beside you.

The harpy titters nervously. “Well, only if that wouldn’t be an inconvenience for you, of course. I don’t want to impose or linger where I’m not wanted—”

“Sun?”

“Oh! Yes?”

You sigh softly and close your eyes.

“Would you like to stay?” You hesitate quietly. Your heart thumps with all the desire of your being. “My friend?”

The beat of silence is devastating. The echo of nothingness deafens your ears and you almost lift your head to see if you cross a boundary or assume too much, but Sun quietly trills.

“If you’ll have me.”

You smile.

“Yes, I will.”

“Then you know my answer, dearest friend.”

You soften in relief, and in Sun’s gentle melody humming in his chest and soothing your very soul, you drift away. In the morning, there will be Sun. For every day after, it will be you two in the cottage.

You and your dearest friend.

[bunningchaos]

Desolate

Haha! Next part to the KVAU backstory done!

↼↼{Previous} - {Next}⇀⇀

Original Killer belongs to RahafWabas, on Tumblr!

Summary - Having firmed his resolution to persevere and locate the one whom pleaded for help. Nightmare arrives to find...

None other than Killer.

Link to the AO3 for the chapter

Drawing without the effects since the boi looks cool

Anyways

✕-✕

“YEAH LEAVE AND DON’T FUCKING COME BACK!” The forest echoed loudly, carrying that infuriated scream within the dense woods and trailing off. Though it’s only followed up by more curses filled with hatred and anger, having zero ounce of positivity within it. If anything, the acrimony increased with each words that spills.

“Asshole.” He hisses with disdain, kicking a rock that’s in his path. Tightening his grip on a knife in his possession, slamming the blade into a nearby tree. Puncturing it through the bark entirely, almost like that wasn’t enough to quell the rampaging bitterness in his soul which is pulsing and getting further deformed from it’s original shape. A target circle. Killer, clenched his hands into fists before punching the same tree. Ignoring how his knuckles gradually cracks and bruise under the harsh impact

It continued on until he can barely feel his phalanges anymore, letting it droop to the sides. Blood trickling from the fingers whilst the darkened liquid dripping down his sockets thickened in amount and consistency, tainting the once snow-white cheekbone and dripping onto the snow beneath his feet. Unironically enough, staining the ground.

“Piece of shit, turning your damned back on me.” Sneering at absolutely noone, but the empty air. The cold breeze blew past him as white puffs of air slips past his parted mouth. Teeth then gritting together as he gazed down at the forsaken glowing object, refusing to maintain a singular shape, floating within the front of his chest.

Irritating, irritating, irritatingirritatingirritating—-

Why can’t it simply cease hindering him? Disappear and never appear within his sight ever again, time and time again, he tried to will it away. To shove it within his ribcage- like what he saw for other skeleton monsters, better yet, every single monster– their souls were always carefully and safely tucked away in the magic-fueled body.

So why the fuck is his so insistent on settling out in the open?

Curse this forsaken thing, as if it isn’t already a curse itself in the first place. Why? Killer isn’t certain, whoever damned this unholy affliction upon his entire-being.. should go rot in the deepest depths of hell. So far off that he don’t get any chances to go after them. For the murderous urges within, spikes up drastically.

He’ll make them suffer ten-time over, no, hundred times. Repetitively, for the culprit- if any- to feel the living hell he was put through for years.

He barely understood anything about it. Not of himself, how he came to be. Even his own name, the one thing that should’ve at least given him a clue as to who he was, were as good as non-existent.

No matter how much time passes, the amount of agonizing headaches he endure just to search through the blurry and fragmented memories in his head- it’s all for naught. Time and time over, he wanted to rip his skull apart. Tear the forsaken soul which lingers appallingly by his chest. The multiverse forbids him from setting it to waste. End his life that holds no meaning.

Exception for the sickening joy he sought for, during a murderous spree. Their pain thrills him, the way they cry out for mercy, scream at him for being a twisted psychopath. How the life in their eyes slowly extinguish as he lands the final strike.

They called him a ‘Killer’, and he relished in it.

Why not just take that ‘name’ and embrace it? It isn’t as if he had any idea what else to address himself as anyways.

It’s the only thing that gave him a purpose.

Though as soon as it’s over..?

The feeling leaves his chest, cold emptiness fills him up at the end of it all.

In midst of all those void-like emptiness, there were times he could hear voices. Echoing, covered by static- making it difficult for him to hear what exactly they’re saying. The first few times were easy to brush off, yet as the days passes. It worsens, louder. Noisier. Terrifying even, it keeps on saying things that barely register in his mind but it’s enough to make him paranoid.

He can’t see.

His vision keeps on blanking out during those ‘episodes’ or so Colour would call it.

..

Right.

..

Colour, his friend, the only person that actually managed to stand his ground against him.

The sole person whom reached out to him, offered to be companions. Saw that there were good in him, despite Killer’s lack of understanding. Incapable of grasping what the other even meant, yet he took the warm hand that were provided.

Going along with his new-found friend.. 

It wasn’t an easy journey. The beginning was rough. Regardless of Colour’s constant attempts to talk Killer down and avoid another slaughter-fest, it usually end up fruitless. With Killer fighting against his own friend instead. Even stomping off alone at how.. nice Colour was. Without fail, he keeps looking at Killer with such softness in his eyelight. Gaze which held an incredible amount of hope.

It’s almost nauseating.

Not wishing to potentially disappoint the bundle of hope and joy, Killer began masking his true intents. Indulging in the various activities presented. Slowly getting acquainted with a few other monsters that were hesitant to accept Killer initially. However, with some convincing from Colour and the sight of Killer not acting up maliciously for a period of time.

They opened up to him, allowing him into their lives and also making themselves a part of his. It was peaceful. Life would’ve been perfect, yet Killer felt nothing.

It’s empty.

The gaping hole within his soul were always lingering within the back of his mind.

Everyone is smiling, laughing. The wondrously sweet moments, it should make him feel something too. Right?

He tried so hard to blend in with the crowd. Shove down the overwhelming urge to stab someone. Feel their blood on his hands, just for the temporary sense of peace. Managing it is difficult when Colour checks on him time after time, and even spend plenty of days by his side. Gradually loosening up and allowing Killer to spend time in public alone.

Oh that has got to be one of the worst possible mistakes ever.

All went well formerly, till Killer inevitably snapped. The voices swirling around his mind, echoing. Taunting, were far too loud to push aside. Coldness filling his soul and pleading desperately for some relief. To feel something.

It wasn’t intentional. Oh stars, he never meant to break Colour’s trust in him. Yet the moment Killer regained a sense of clarity.. All he saw was red. Mangled corpses of humans and thick ashes of white scattered in the surrounding.

Within all of those, were traces of belongings that were familiar. Did he also hunt down the ones that seemingly considered him ‘friends’? Though it wasn’t reciprocated properly. Yes, yes he did.

The next few moment was all a fuzzy mess. He could’ve sworn his vision blurred once more, clouded by splotches of black which spilled down his cheekbones. The consistency of the unknown substance growing thicker and much more frequent with each passing seconds.

A low blow was the sheer disbelief and shock that showed within Colour’s face for no more than a split second. Overtaken by a softer gaze, as he advanced towards the carnage. Reaching out to hold Killer, the familiar warmth was soothing. Least, it should’ve been. Yet all that the skeleton felt, was freezing and unrelenting emptiness.

Again.

And again.

He can’t feel a single thing. Except pain.

Whilst the cruel, taunting voices only gets louder. So much so that he ends up arguing and fighting with Colour due to more reasons than one. All of which kept on piling, snowballing till it’s nearly impossible to figure out why each issue stirs up.

Would it be wrong for him to simply forsake everything by now? Give into the voices, allow it to puppeteer him as it pleases? Lose every ounce of control he had?

He just wanted to feel something. Find out what he’s forgetting, why does he even exist? Do he even have a purpose in the first place? Did he belong anywhere? Is he truly incapable of doing anything other than murder senselessly for nothing but a temporary respite and silence within his mind?

Nothing could be found out about his soul, nor the strange substance that spills down his sockets. Staining everything it touches with a surge of black, that could barely be washed off. The stain is near permanent, it’s disgusting. Repulsive. The shape of his soul too, why is it circular? Similar to a target. These were puzzles that he couldn’t solve, like there was missing pieces that is scattered which he’s unable to retrieve to fit it back in place and understand himself.

Was it normal to feel close to literally nothing? To have voices speaking within one’s head, over, and over. With no clear coherent voice or words? This was torture, it wouldn’t ever stop chattering. Whispering.

Why is it excruciatingly painful when the voices start? His soul seem to also be reacting heavily to it, aching. His entire body feel so heavy. Even without the tortuous whispering, it’s naught but agony.

It hurts.

It hurts so much

Make it stop.

Someone. Anyone.

Please make it stop.

Ithurtsomuchplease

Help

Godithurtspleasemakeitstop

Someoneanyonepleasehelpme

Stepping foot into the universe where he felt the overwhelming negativity from. Where the cry for help continuously echoes, so loudly that it’s ringing within his head. Just who could be in this much agony? Wrong as it is, the tremendous power spike he felt from just this one individual alone was excessive.

No, is it really just one person? It feels as if there’s multiple. There’s just no way a singular person can withhold this much agony within their entire being. This intense surge of anguish is unlike any that he’s ever seen before.

Glancing around, the place he arrived in. Was far deep into the woods, almost similar to where he previously were.. If not for the difference in atmosphere, the air is so much heavier. Suffocating even.

The snow falling from the sky was thick, temperature dropping with each passing seconds. The chilly air stung his bones, exhaling a small puff of white smoke from his mouth as he advances towards the source of negativity.

It’s potent, concentrated entirely to one particular direction. Which he followed, despite all red flags blaring within the back of his mind. Yet, do he care? No, he don’t. Getting hurt isn’t even a concern that he bothers with anymore.

It wouldn’t even matter if he end up suffering the consequences of recklessness if the cry for help is nothing but a lure to drag him out. Would the one that overtook the body of his twin, fall so low to use someone to force him to take action? Perhaps, or maybe not. He barely understood him anymore.

Not anymore.

The snow crunched underneath his foot, one foot forward and another. It’s gotten so thick and high that he could hardly walk properly. Having to pull his leg nearly up to his chest, just to take a step onwards.

Keep going.

The cry for help tugged at his soul, a unknown feeling that he’s long buried away amidst all of his own suffering.. were slowly creeping back up.

It doesn’t take him long to locate the source. Coming across a skeleton, crouched over on the ground. Hands grasping tightly onto his skull while a consistent burst of eerie, darkened and purple aura spill from him, invisible to all but Nightmare. The negativity is so much stronger now that he’s merely a few feet away.

He could see a flicker of red lingering within the front of the stranger’s chest, though with how he’s slumped over. It’s difficult to pinpoint what exactly was giving off such bright yet unsettling glow. The pure-white snow was stained to the brim with black, almost like Nightmare’s own goop that would dirty every spot the tendrils touched.

..Why do this feel so familiar?

His soul throbbed deep within his ribcage, worry.

Sympathy 

Concern.

He wanted to help this person.

No, he has to.

This wasn’t logical, but he had long decided that he would do his best to save someone. No matter the cost, the chance is right here too.

Though, it didn’t feel as if it was out of the selfishness of wanting to leave a mark. To be important, no. It was like he genuinely wished to actually pull the other out of the constant stream of pain that he’s in.

It’s almost like the past where he would give up anything and everything just for his twin.

Taking a deep breath, Nightmare slowly approached. Kneeling down infront of the unidentified skeleton, who barely even noticed his presence. Choked sobs of distress and incoherent pleas slipping out of the poor guy’s mouth, though the sorrow was all too clear. Nightmare could still hear his voice crying out internally.

How can he even help?

How did he manage to calm his brother down in the past?

Come on. Hurry, think.

Night. Think.

If he could reduce the amount of negativity from the other, consume it and force him into a state of calmness.

He could.

He can.

It’s been so long since Nightmare last attempted this, tapping into others’ emotions to sap it away. ‘Feeding’ on the negativity to fuel himself

It can work.

He just has to hope he don’t mess up

Reaching his hands out towards the skeleton, Nightmare cups one of his cheek and gently tilts it upwards to make direct eye-contact. Ever so softly hushing him before leaning forward to rest their forehead together, a dim purple glow engulfing them both. Taking this chance, to also lightly grasp the red, fragile object that seems to be spazzing out and spiraling

Killer stiffens up at the touch, who is this? What is going on? Did Colour come back? This didn’t feel like the usual pair of hands that’s offered out to grasp onto his. It felt so..

..soothing…?

A shiver ran down Killer’s spine at the chilly sensation that washed over his entire body, his soul gradually slowing. No longer twisting and swirling into a deformed mess. Calming down to it’s original circular shape. His vision were still so blurry, unable to see anything but black and red. Yet, he could clearly feel someone holding onto his cheek, and his forehead pressed against something or rather- someone.

Having someone touch his soul oh-so carefully, felt strange. No one actually tried to make contact with it at all in such a way, if anything. He’d usually see them trying to yank it just to test how he’d react

That much was easy to figure out, due to the soft whispers that took over most of his attention. Quietening down the voices that he originally thought was ceaseless. However, it.. stopped?

It’s silent. Abnormally quiet within his head, hearing absolutely nothing except the uttering that he could barely even catch.

….

Uncertain on how much time had passed, the whispering stopped once Killer gradually eased up. Much to his disappointment, the gentle grasp also pulled away from his skull. Allowing him time to properly sit up, rubbing at the black streaks running down his cheekbones from both sockets. In turns, slowly clearing up his vision at the same time. 

Ugh it’s disgusting.

Glaring down at his hands, stained with an inky mess. He finally took a look at the person that were on their knees infront of him. The first thing that catches his attention is his own red soul, floating atop the other’s palm.

Who..?

..An angel? No, no that didn’t seem like one. Not from the few narratives he’s heard of- pure white wings, with golden halo that rests above one’s head. Soothingly warm presence and gaze that wills upon a surge of comfort.

Yet, this other being that appears so frail and worn-out - the complete opposite of what ‘angels’ are rumored to be - rather than a hollowed-out circular ring that stays above his head, there’s a golden crown with three symbols resting at the very front. In the shade of such vivid purple, one moon within the middle and stars at the sides.

Violet eyelight, which holds a mixture of caution, and undeniably an obvious amount of worry. It wasn’t as bright as the sun, far from it. It’s.. close to what he can describe as the moon that hangs above a darkened night sky.

In place of soft, feathery white wings.. is what he could assume, to be a surge of goop. Similar to slime, barely swaying behind the other. One might even deem it unsightly and unnerving, but to Killer? Oh stars, the way it moves was mesmerizing.

He wants to touch it, feel the texture underneath his phalanges. See if it’d react to his touch, perhaps even curl around his palm as he lavish it with attention..?

Ah, his thoughts were drifting away. Finally, refocusing on the smaller one entirely. Killer’s breath hitched in his throat, biting back any words that threatened to spill. By no means were the magnificent being emanating any warmth, if anything it’s cold. A relatively delightful coldness.

Never have he seen someone so beautiful. Skewed as it is, he could argue that THIS was an angel. To him, let others’ opinions be damned. The more he looked at the unknown stranger in front of his very eyes, the further his mind reaffirmed it’s statement.

Without his realization, his own eyelights briefly reignited itself within the usually empty sockets.

He could’ve sworn the accursed soul was shifting in place within the other’s icy grasp, a singular phalange trailing over the delicate surface as if it’s a precious gem.

“Are you..-” The voice caught Killer’s attention entirely, perking up much like a puppy would when hearing it’s owner’s voice. Hell, if he had a tail, it’d definitely be wagging.

“How are you feeling?” Melodious, akin to an alluring lullaby. One that could easily put someone to sleep,

…

“Can you.. speak?” Nightmare questions hesitantly, wondering if perhaps the other were uncomfortable with his presence. Despite not being able to sense any bit of it, or maybe his capability to detect one’s emotions properly weren’t at it’s tip-top condition anymore. Having been focused on sensing even the smallest bit of positivity in an attempt to slip away from a certain someone’s grasp and sight.

Though that’s not important right now. Not this moment

“Hello..?” The lack of answers made everything awkward. The tension was high enough as it is, till Killer finally opened his mouth. “..Beautiful”

..Huh?

Now that was completely abrupt, with nothing to back it up whatsoever. Catching Nightmare by surprise, blinking once, twice. A tinge of purple quickly dusting his cheekbones at the compliment, puzzled by that. Of all things he was expecting to hear, this was definitely not one of it. It’d make sense if the other demanded for the red object back! Or, lash out at the unconsented touch- usage of magic on him and all.

Yet, he receives a compliment? Killer seemed so awestruck, which were the truth. He’s mesmerized by Nightmare. Yes, this was their first meeting. No, he have never heard nor seen the other before. However, there was just something about him that captivated Killer’s attention. Perhaps the fact regarding how Nightmare practically silenced the torment he’s forced to face on a daily basis? The lovely and welcomed coldness that soothed his very being?

Killer can’t tell right now.

“I’ll.. take that as a compliment, thank you” Nightmare let out a small chuckle, and stars above. Killer could’ve sworn his soul was throbbing. Pulsing within the gentle grasp, to which earned another small rub. Sending shivers down Killer’s spine, how can someone be this.. soft towards him? It wasn’t even like Colour behaved this way too, no matter how much his friend claims that he cares- that he believed in him. There was always a distance between them, one that Killer could never afford to cross nor step over the invisible boundary.

“Who… who are you? What even are you? Why are you-” Too much questions at once, overwhelming to some extent. Which Nightmare halted, by simply raising a finger up with his free hand.

“I go by the name of Nightmare,” Addressing the first inquiry, he tilts his head slightly. Offering a small smile which made the object in his hand give another shake, odd. “I’m but a wandering traveler” 

A white lie, not entirely the full truth but also not false. Nightmare had been traversing through various universes on a daily basis. Never having a proper place to settle down to call ‘home’, much as he’d love to have a safe space. To finally relax, toss off the intense dread and fear of being taken back to the hellhole, by the side of the sole person he used to trust with his entire life.

“You seemed to be in.. distress. Are you perhaps feeling any better?”

Killer stares, gradually giving a small nod instead of simply gawking at Nightmare like a absolute fool.

“Uh, feelin’ alot better. That’s for sure, thanks Night” Unbeknownst to Killer himself, he unintentionally shortened the other’s name. By the time he realises? It’s too late, oh great. He screwed himself over again, didn’t he? Made himself look like a complete idiot that listen properly to one’s introduction and-

“That’s a first” A small giggle slips from Nightmare, catching Killer offguard. He.. wasn’t mad? He’s actually laughing at such a silly slip of the tongue?

“How may I address you?” The question was simple, one which is normal to be asking another upon meeting. But Killer felt like he was over the moon at the small hint that the other was interested enough to be engaging in a proper conversation instead of scurrying away or leaving as soon as the chance is given. That or, avoiding him like the literal plague. Those aren’t the worst, of course. He’d rather be left alone than to.. Be looked at with pity or like he should be experimented on.

“Killer.” What a strange choice of name, who would name someone ‘Killer’? Then again, it isn’t as if Nightmare had a better name in the first place, so he wasn’t going to comment on it. Other than internally wondering why the other was named as such when he seemed relatively harmless. An unusual individual, that’s for certain. Although when it comes to malicious intent? Nightmare couldn’t sense any.

Which further confuses him. Why and how did Killer end up feeling that devastatingly crushing pain and panic?

The question was right on the tip of his tongue. Alas, he doesn’t actually bring it up, as he himself isn’t going into personal information as such. Reasonable so, as they both just met for the very first time.It wouldn’t be right to dive into heavy topics off the bat

“Well, I reckon it’d be alright for me to depart now.” Returning the glowing, circular object to Killer. He gently grasped it and let it linger by the font of his chest. Watching as Nightmare gets up onto his feet. Causing an unknown spike of emotion to surge through the skeleton’s mind.

Is he leaving this quickly? Will he ever see him again?

Nightmare reluctantly stepped away. It would be amazing to converse more with someone else other than his own thoughts, but he had stayed in one spot for longer than he normally would. Besides, with the large amount of negativity moments ago, he’s certain the person he’s been avoiding the whole time, will definitely come over and risk catching him

He don’t want to be alone.

“Wait!” Killer hurried to call out, using a arm to push himself up onto his feet in a rush. The sudden movement giving him a headache, everything spun. However, he was quick to grasp onto one of Nightmare’s hand. Holding the small, petite wrist.

“You’re… a traveler, right? Could I.. tag along?” It’s rash, there isn’t a singular thought nor reasoning behind this severely impulsive request. None at all, not even a tiniest shred. Surprisingly not just Nightmare, but also himself at how he’s acting out all of a sudden.

“I’m sorry but my paths aren’t always the safest and switching between places is common” An explanation was given from Nightmare whom awkwardly glances away. Having to omit plenty of details and ensuring it’d make sense from a outsider’s perspective.

Was that enough to get Killer to back down? Nope! Not even one bit, if anything it encouraged him further. “I can protect you, I’m good at fighting.” This was slowly leaning to desperation, for more reasons than one.

Killer wishes to remain by this person’s side. He made his soul.. flutter. Feel emotions that he normally wouldn’t, and the voices- just being by Nightmare- was enough to get it all to shut up. Be it temporarily or permanent, it wouldn’t matter one bit. If one view this in another way entirely, it’d just be seen as Killer wanting to take advantage of someone that could help him, and is then willing to stick closely.

To say Nightmare was surprised was an underestimation. He did not stop to think that someone would be willing to offer going along with him. It will definitely lead to multiple issues, especially with Dream constantly on his tail. Hunting him down. How would that even be explained? Would it actually even matter?

Anyone near him is bound to end up being in trouble. However, at the same time? Nightmare couldn’t shake off the small anticipation within himself. He could maybe, finally, have someone he could deem a actual. living companion by his side. One that he had successfully managed to calm down, without things going wary. Nothing went wrong!

Maybe, just maybe. The same thing may end up occurring again, and if Nightmare agrees to have the other with him. He would be able to instantly provide comfort and assistance. 

But..

Dream wouldn’t like that. 

It may provoke him, should he ever find out about this and.. And he’d likely be hunted more than he already were.

“I swear, I can be a good bodyguard.” Killer reassures, cutting Nightmare’s train of thoughts short. That singular promise seems to confuse him more than ever. Why was this guy so insistent on coming?

“Please.” 

Nightmare bit back his words upon hearing that singular plea, of all emotions to be sensing from Killer. It’s desperation and loneliness. Something that he was familiar with. Was this part of why Killer’s soul cried out so loudly? Because he’s seeking for a purpose and something is weighing him down? Pulling him to the very depths of the sea and drowning him?

It’s like Killer is longing for something, which Nightmare couldn’t exactly place a finger on. Not right this moment at the very least.

“It’d be.. dangerous.” Nightmare began hesitantly, piquing Killer’s interest. Listening attentively, and expectant. The small surge of hope felt so foreign. “I can’t assure you that I’ll be able to keep you safe, and..-”

There’s so much that he’s not comfortable sharing right now. Not now. It’s difficult to trust someone on a deeper level, with how deeply scarred he is when it comes to trust and love.

That subtle frown spoke volumes. Killer, despite his incapability to properly indulge in emotions and understand them personally.. had  always known how to read one’s facial expression and body language. It felt like second nature, 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” That one sentence brought forth more reasons and emotions than Nightmare would’ve liked. The very same things that Dream would tell him time and time again, to comfort him. With the adoringly wonderful smile and soft gaze.

He missed it so much.

No, no he can’t sidetrack in his thoughts right now.

If he were to allow someone else, especially a frail mortal, accompany him. It’d only endanger the other’s life and put a huge target on his back. How can he afford to pull someone into his issues when he can’t even protect himself properly?

When he nearly gave up, forsake himself to a eternal slumber. Had it not been for the sudden plea that jolts him right back. To find a purpose in helping someone, and.. then what?

Abandon them as soon as he calms them down? Is this what he’s going to do? When there’s a clear offer to finally have someone by his side, after a long, desperate and lonely years of mindlessly wandering?

He could provide solace to this poor soul, take him in and guide him away from the pain- shelter him from the overwhelming negativity that is slowly threatening to creep back in. This wouldn’t exactly be a unfair ‘trade’ either, as Killer would also be granting him the very thing he’s been craving.

Companionship. 

A guardian shouldn’t be like this, yet.. He had long given up on that role, perhaps just this once. He could try to see how things go. If he can’t protect his own sibling from going down the wrong path, he could.. Help this one person out. Right?

“There is alot of things that I wouldn’t be able to explain.” Nightmare began slowly, turning slightly to face Killer properly. Looking him straight in the sockets, observing him carefully “It’d be confusing and not make any sense.”

..Why could he not detect any doubts whatsoever within him? Why do Killer want to trust him so much when this is the first ever encounter they had? If anything, there is an unwavering determination deep within that felt extremely foreign. 

There isn’t a shred of malicious intents either.

Why? Just why?

Is it normal for someone to be this hellbent on.. being loyal? Was Nightmare overthinking this, or perhaps he isn’t and being cautious like he normally were, is good?

“If you’re still willing to, I can take you along.” This wasn’t a vow, it never is. Nightmare wouldn’t ever, but a verbal confirmation to ensure that Killer had the decision to accept or deny. “At any point if you feel like wanting to part ways, I’m more than okay with letting you go”

No more words needed to be said, Killer shifts his hand to properly intertwine his fingers with Nightmare’s, Tugging it up to his mouth before planting a small kiss on the back of it. Which essentially confused and also embarrassed the smaller one, cheekbones flushing bright purple as he averts his gaze. Was this really necessary?

“Thanks, Moon” Nickname already..? This guy sure is bold, but it’s a welcome sight.. A change of pace from talking to himself.

Nightmare pulls his hand away, sighing. What an odd individual, turning away before opening up a portal. 

The purple vortex swirling was mesmerizing, the magic that sparked off the edges. From the looks of it, Killer would’ve mistaken that for a brief glimpse of the galaxy manifesting in a small area. Curious as he may be, he dared not ask questions.. yet.

There was so much inquiries he wished to blurt out, the main thing was- how did Nightmare even manage to have this much of an effect on him? Even Colour struggled to snap him out of his usual episodes, especially one as bad as earlier. It was a near miracle that it occurred when no one else was around, or that he didn’t simply lash out. The result would’ve been horrible, like usual.

Frankly he wasn’t expecting to have been eased into calmness so easily. Almost as if the other had simply took away the anguish. Surely that’s impossible, right?

“Killer?” Hearing his name being called in that sweet, gentle voice. Snapped Killer right out of his thoughts, head tilting in confusion. A clear sign that he had been zoning out the whole time, unintentionally letting every single things that Nightmare might’ve said, fly right past his head!

“I was asking if you’re ready to head off” Despite the facade of false peace written over his face, an underlying sense of apprehension and caution could be seen through. Tension within his shoulders, eyelight darting occasionally to the surrounding, and subtle fidgeting with the hem of his sleeves. It’s all too clear that something’s going on. Truly, Killer found it all to be weirdly exciting. Thrilling. Not once has those emotions arise for anything except murdering or torturing another to a slow, painful death.

Yet now? He can sense them! Why? That is a question for later, how? He shall know in due time.

All that matters is ensuring he remains by this unique individual’s side. Clinging to the one person that gave him the rare chance of quietude and so much more than what he could possibly ever hope for. Despite how small this favor was to anyone that might be confused if they ever catch wind of this brief encounter. To Killer? It meant the literal world, to have the voices finally cease it’s endless torment, to no longer experience absolute emptiness within his soul.

“Shall we?” Nightmare offers, holding a hand out. Blissfully unaware of the countless thoughts running wildly within Killer’s head. The accursed soul threatening to reshape itself, if Killer didn’t relax.

Taking the outreached hand, Killer gave a small squeeze. “Let’s.”

With that, they stepped through the portal and left.

Would Colour end up coming back? He’s uncertain, there were times that the guy disappeared for days on end. Be it during an argument or not, though the former usually lead to Colour’s disappearance lasting for longer. Of course, Killer appreciated everything that his friend had done for him. But, it just wasn’t the same. Colour didn’t understand at all. Time and time again, repetitively.

He could’ve sworn things started going wary when Killer brought up a particular topic..

..Was it even important anymore..?

Whatever.

He can think later.

The portal then closes.

“Oh stars, this is going incredibly wrong! He won’t be happy about this”

[spotaus]

Stuck at work rn so here's some DustedAfterdeath Thoughts :)

Under the cut tho because I'm not a monster.

So, I've mentioned this, but I've always thought that Geno and Reaper are already in a committed relationship before they meet Dust. And I've said before that Reaper is the one to meet Dust. What I haven't expanded on is Dust's initial view of the two.

First thing? He gets glimpses of Reaper at first. A fleeting shadow after he shattered some souls, the feeling of being watched when he enters an au with the gang, and a cold breath on his neck every once in a while. At first he blames Killer, and Horror can vouch that it's not him. Then he ignores it, thinking Papyrus is fucking with him. But that's just not it.

One mission, Dust isn't quite fast enough. Blue gets a solid shot in on him, and Dust goes *sprawling*. Back buried in cold snow, twenty yards into the treeline, fighting noises in the distance but he can't brink himself to stand up, his body just won't move. And as he's staring up at the trees, he gets that feeling of getting watched. Then a few more seconds and there's someone standing over him, black cloak just barely obscuring the skull of what he's sure is a Sans. One holding a giant scythe, it reminds him of a shitty Halloween decoration when he thinks back on it. In the moment? His mind draws a blank.

And this skeleton looks him over, before a knife goes flying between him and Dust and the cloaked figure whisks away. Killer to the rescue, sorta. He's dragging Dust back to his feet, then carrying him when he almost topples again. That skeleton was gone, but the feeling of being watched didn't fade until they were through Night's portal. That was Dust's first sight of Reaper.

Reaper follows him more openly after the second time Dust nearly dies on a mission. Dust can catch sight of his cloak slipping in and out of reality, an extra set of footprints in the trees, the glint of a scythe. And when he's alone? Chuckles. Sometimes a pun. Then eventually smalltalk. Dust tried not to engage at first, but once he lured Reaper into the open, shot a bone at him. It tore a piece of his cloak before he whicked away, and Dust grabbed it. Held it. Reaper wasn't a hallucination or a ghost, he was a real person. Whether that made him want to kill Reaper more or less he wasn't sure. He pocketed the piece of fabric, and it stayed in his jacket pocket.

It took a bit after that for Reaper to try again at speaking, but he was nothing if not persistent. It was idle curiosity, and Dust (after careful research after asking Night a few pointed questions) determined that Reaper wasn't any sort of threat to him or the gang. He, after a while, started entertaining the questions as he went along with his duties. He'd split from the gang just to talk with Reaper, to listen to stories about the multiverse, to talk about what stupid shit Killer was up to (and hear laughter instead of a grating voice), to rave about Horror's food or Cross' improvements in training (to hear a happy voice rather than hatred and jealousy). And he liked listening to Reaper too. Reaper told stories about folks who'd died hundreds of years ago. People who'd died recently. How many people Dust had killed in comparison to Killer or Horror. Reaper was *nice* to him.

Then Dust, without realizing it, was nice back. He saved some of Horror's cooking and smuggled it out on a mission insisting that Reaper try it. He started *asking* how Reaper was doing, rather than making the cloaked skeleton bring it up on his own. Once they just laid in waterfall together when he asked Cross to cover for him on a mission for "personal reasons". They grew comfortable, and Dust is rarely comfortable.

Then there was a mission when he finished extremely early, and Reaper asked for Dust to come with him. He swore Nightmare wouldn't notice. Dust agreed. That was when Reaper had him meet Geno.

[cabinofimagines]

A Graveyard Smash

and here is the last one of the year! Hope you guys enjoyed our shorter but still there Halloween fics :) Pairing: Platonic the seven + a bunch of other ones x reader Word count: 2k Warnings: none! -Asnyox < prev.

You didn’t know what to expect from the grove as a party destination, yet you were slightly blown away. You noticed how most of the decorations were themed around the destruction of nature- pollution was replicated by snack stashes for the satyrs (and perhaps some fauns from Camp Jupiter, you were certain you saw Don somewhere sneaking around), there were red and yellow lights all around, simulating fire and there were many skeletons (which, given how Nico had immediately left after the group call two days ago, probably was courtesy of him). You didn’t know how to feel about the possible real skeletons laying around, so you opted to ignore the possibility of Nico summoning them. 

However, you also saw that Meg and her siblings had deemed that to be a rather serious theme to decorate in, so here and there you found some more, handcrafted of reusable materials, generic halloween decorations. Except for carved pumpkins. There were so many pumpkins, but they were all uncarved. You guessed they didn’t want to show actual body horror to the dryads. There was some old-timey Halloween music playing, although you were unable to find any speakers. Guess the trees to really speak to you if you listen.  

As you saw Leo and Jason’s costumes you just knew that Leo had bribed Meg to know what the theme of the party would be like. He must have, why else would he think of these costumes? You had to admit, you didn’t know Leo owned a hat this tall, but you didn’t put it above him to have crafted it himself. 

“I don’t think the Onceler’s hat was that big?”  You walked up to the duo, “Or the Lorax’s mustache that big.”  

“I am lucky to not have to deal with the orange paint,”. Jason grimaced. Leo elbowed him. 

“Say the line Jason!”  Leo whispered, loudly. Jason sighed and deadpanned. 

“I am the Lorax! I speak for the trees!”  Jason tried to make a more spooky sound at the end of the sentence, after which Leo jumped forward, borderline belting.

“How ba-a-a-ad can I be?” Leo’s ‘be’ ended, somehow, on a S-tone so it rhymed with Jason’s phrase. He was grinning proudly. Jason tried to hide it, but he did seem to get amusement out of his friends' behavior. You laughed. 

“Jace, I have to be honest with you,” you looked at your friend, “I had a bet with Nico that you would be a tree. Will won though, he guessed the Lorax.”  

“You had a bet?”  Jason shook his head, “Let me guess, you do have a spare tree costume and want me to put it on so you win?”  You laughed again. 

“I wish,” you turned to Leo, “How is your hat staying up when it’s this tall?”  

“Support beams made out of metal rods and foam!”  Leo’s eyes sparkled, “carton in between, I can show you after the party, I swear it’s so structurally sound. Annabeth would love to know the skeleton of. this hat.”  Leo pouted,“ It’s too bad she has been so busy with school lately, she would have loved to work on this thing together.”   

“Everyone was suffering under me indeed,” you sighed dramatically, intentionally showing off your outfit. 

“Wait, you’re-“ Jason got up real close to one of your sleeves, “That’s my English essay! How the fuck did you get your hands on that!” Jason shivered, “I still haven’t heard back from it, I sure hope I passed.”  

“I shalt not say, dear Grace, whether you passed or not,”. You smiled, “However, I have my sources and thankfully an amazing artist who hand copied all of your work.” 

“Luckily I do not have anything on here,” Leo laughed, “Dying was the best decision for that.”

  —- 

You found two sheet ghosts with cowboy hats a bit further out, talking to each other. 

“But you’re so cute though!” Hazel exclaimed, “I’m sure Nico meant no harm.”  

“I know it was just weird seeing that.”  Frank sighed, “Hedge seemed really happy though.”  

“Boo!”  You yelled and the pair jumped up. After a second Frank leaned back. You couldn’t see his face underneath the sheet, but you figured he looked upset. 

“That’s our line (Y/n)!”  He faked exasperation. 

“Yeah! We’re the cow-boos after all!”  Hazel snickered while saying her phrase. 

“Cow-boo? Oh- I get it,”. You smiled, “Yeah that is funny.” 

“It doesn’t seem like that when you say that,”. Hazel sighed, “Well, what are you then?” 

“Oh, for you I have my left leg,”. You smiled deviously, “Praetor's have a lot of paperwork after all.” You held out your leg. Frank and Hazel moved their eye holes to see more clearly as they bowed down to take a look.

“Uh Frank,” Hazel hesitated, “I think we forgot something.” Hazel pointed at your knee, “I did not fill out this document which we had to hand in yesterday.” 

“I did uh, I did not either.”  

“Fuck” they said in unision. 

“Also how did you get these?” Hazel sounded panicked, “These are classified documents!” You laughed.

“Look, most of my costume is deadlines,” you added a spooky ‘ooooooohhhhhh’ to the last word, “but for you two I also choose to be a security breach. I can give you the name of the one who gave Calypso the files.” 

“That would be great.” Frank said, “Uh, Hazel, maybe we should quickly IM someone at Camp Jupiter about the deadlines we missed.”  

“Yeah, also (Y/n) you better hide your legs or we will steal your pants.” Hazel glared at you. You slowly backed away. 

“How about dinner first?” You joked, as you ran for it. 

——

You quickly weaved around the crowd, trying your best to get away from Hazel and Frank. You stumbled into what seemed to be the heart of a gathering. On one side of the circle you had Rock, Paper and Scissors. On the other side you had The Argo II, together with the seven demigod heroes who defeated Gaea. 

Except that Will was just standing on the side. You joined him quietly. 

“This was Nico’s plan?” You asked him and he sighed, 

“Yes and he stood on me being Percy.”  Will looked at you, “As if he wanted to rub in that Percy was his first crush.” 

“You look nothing like Percy though,” You laughed, “You’re blonde.”  

“Nico wanted to force me to wear a wig,” Will shook his head, “I opposed him, wigs are itchy.” Will smiled softly, “Although the Cocoa Puffs are adorable, and it warms my heart to see Hedge in his element like this.” 

“I look nothing like Will!” Percy’s voice sounded loudly. He seemed offended, “At least Frank looks really cute.”  Percy pouted. One particular Cocoa Puff puffed out their chest in pride. Nico stood in the middle of it all, dressed at what you assumed to be a Reyna costume, as Reyna stood next to him, dressed in Nico’s clothes. Nico could hardly stop smiling at the reactions to the Cocoa Puffs. You were about to ask Will something when

 “BAM!” Hege yelled as he hit you from behind with a blow-up bat, “YOU JUST GOT ARGO’ED!” 

“Amazing,” you looked Hedge up and down. He was wearing a boat around his middle, and on his head was a … Festus Hat? Hedge looked like an excited child. 

“Whatcha think, huh? Valdez even delivered on the hat!” Hedge let out an excited bleat, “Although it was all the kids idea,” he pointed at Nico, “I’m really happy to be included though! It’s been a while since all my cupcakes were in the same spot with me! And now I even got two batches! OH! I see Zhang over there, gotta hit him too!” And Hedge ran off. 

After a moment of silence Will and you locked eyes, and both started laughing. 

“He’s having a blast,” Will smiled, “Nico was right to get Hedge involved. How’s the scaring going?” Will turned to you. 

“Hazel and Frank are panicking about some forms they forgot and the security breach,” You grinned devilishly, “Jason is just mostly disappointed, and I still have to show the Rock, Paper Scissors trio my outfit.” 

—

Annabeth hated your outfit. Whether it was the fact that you got her only failing grade paper on the back, or the fact that she did not want to think about the last minute mistakes she made in two of the other papers she would not tell you. However, she did say she would find Leo to, and you quote, ‘definitely not set fire to your costume and ruin Calypso’s hard work’. Percy held in his laughter until Annabeth was out of earshot. 

“So where’s my work?” Percy eagerly looked around your jacket, and you pointed him towards  the sleeve. 

“Sally was eager to give it to me, she seems proud of your grades, even if they aren’t that high.” you said, and Percy had a bit of an embarrassed blush on his face. 

“Whenever I get a passing grade she keeps it,” Percy explained, “to remind me what I am capable of.” He was still inspecting your arm, but suddenly stopped, “Wait, is this- I wrote this when I was 7!” he was now a mess, “Please don’t tell me you read it.”

“I did, Percy.” you cackled crazily for a moment, “Percy Jackson or should I say Aqualad!  I am your embarrassing past!” Percy glared at you. 

“Just because I wrote a Aquaman and Little Mermaid crossover does not mean I wanted to BE aqualad (Y/n).” 

“I think it does,” Piper spoke up, “Also I appreciate the effort but I will not be looking for my work, thanks.”

“Aw, Pipes, come on,” you begged her but she shook her head. 

“Deadlines cannot be scary unless you face them, so I am procrastinating.”

“Unfair!” you glared at her, “Piper Mclean I will come for you! You can run, but deadlines always catch up to you!” 

After a moment of silence all three of you laughed. 

Your moment was interrupted by Meg calling for attention. She was dressed as Gollum, while Apollo stood next to her in a Frodo outfit. A bit further in the back stood who you guessed to be Grover from the satyr legs, dressed as Gandalf. 

“It is time to announce the winners of tonight's costume contest!” she yelled, and everyone cheered, “We have seen many amazing costumes, but one duo certainly blew us away.”

Percy, who still stood next to you, breathed out a soft ‘dam’.

“What? You really thought you would win with ‘Rock, Paper, Scissors’?” you whispered and he just looked at you.

“I could dream okay?”

“Please come forth!” Meg paused, “Gideon Nav and Harrowhark Nonagesimus!” After a moment, filled with cheers, Calypso and Thalia took the stage looking absolutely stunning and creepy. Calypso was dressed as Harrowhark, with intricate face paint and basically wearing a skeleton around herself. Thalia was Gideon, with more shabby facepaint, the iconic sunglasses and with a six feet claymore on her back. They both bowed, looking up smiling. 

“By my rules,” Meg continued after a moment, “You get to decide where to host next year, so where will it be?” 

Thalia and Calypso looked at each other and Thalia shrugged, “I don’t know where I will be with the hunt, so it’s up to you Calypso.” Calypso looked a bit panicked, before taking a deep breath. 

“I guess it will be at the Waystation then!” she announced, and there were loud cheers from the crowd. 

As the party resumed, you hoped Calypso would be earlier with the invitations than Meg had been. After all, working with deadlines was pretty scary.

[assortedvillainvault]

ok if acceptable I'm dropping one more before closing time

"I remember you" with a reader being the reincarnation of someone the Horned King once loved

*Clutches chest* ROOOSSEEE-

This hurts me. In like, the best way. Here we go, modern reincarnation because I low-key would like to get lost in the Welsh Mountains forever (I have deadlines).

Also please forgive the Google translated Welsh at the end I did not have the time to look up proper medieval Welsh and asking someone real to translate would have been good to think of before I started operating on 5% brain. If anyone following me is a native Welsh speaker pls DM me or leave a comment and I'll correct Google's attempt.

The Horned King x Reincarnated!Reader : 'I Remember You'

You have no fucking clue why you're here.

'Here' being the Ass-End of Nowhere, Wales. No phone reception, no services, no people and no tourists. Except, uh, yourself. Obviously.

You got up, drove out, picked a random direction between two hills and. Started walking. You don't even know why.

You just know that there's something further into the mountains that your soul is ITCHING to get to. You've always felt it, but recently ignoring it has started to feel like being pulled through barbed wire.

The ground is rough and uneven, tussocks and hidden rocks threaten to turn your ankles every other step. The trees that twist their way along the crevices of the high moorland are all but draped in moss and thorns. The mountains arching up behind them are unwelcoming, cold and cragged.

It's...eerily quiet. No birds, no people...even the sheep seemed to stop at some hidden border a few miles back. Just the low moan of the wind accompanies you.

As you walk, you find yourself stealing glances at the sky. You tell yourself it's for birds - Kites and eagles maybe - but you have to keep a strange disappointment down that it's nothing larger. What are you expecting for fucks sake? Dragons??

You're so busy scanning the skies that you topple arse over tea kettle down the next scree slope like a graceful spaghetti mannequin with a screaming feature.

You manage to scrabble and hiss to a stop, skin on your arms and legs scraped raw. And upon looking up suck in a breath that has nothing to do with your sliced up hands.

It's as though a giant scooped the earth away and set it on fire for good measure. Bare reddish black rock contends with a bitter snarl of dead grasses and lonely tree corpses. Beyond lies a dessicated crevass that looks like a lake drained away overnight.

Beyond that, is a castle.

You blink and tear the vision that seared across your eyes - of a fully fleshed gothic fortress - away. What lies before you is a ruin. The bones of the structure, at best.

The barbed wire in your soul is all but yanking you toward the ancient structure. You don't notice that the path you tread towards it is one you can find without looking, despite the terrain.

The bridge, rotted and rusted as it is, is mostly secure. You keep your weight to the bolted metal crisscrossing the wood as you make your way across, slow and steady and feeling as though phantom archers have their sights on you from atop the wall.

As you pass under the archway to the courtyard, you shiver violently. The feeling of passing under so familiar that it almost clawed it's way out from your skin.

The very air seems to hold it's breath as you make your way deeper into the crumbling structure. Water drips from the stonework, the doors all long since rotted from their hinges. Tools lie forgotten on the cobbles. If it wasn't so creepy it would be an archaeologists dream.

Why does no-one around seem to know this is here? Why is this place so undisturbed?

You stumble into what must have been the Great Hall.

Cold sunlight shafts through holes in the ceiling, the corners in absolute darkness. Skeletons lie in piles across the floor, roughly around where large tables should have been, weapons scattered akimbo as though they didn't even get a chance to use them before they fell.

Your eyes are dragged to the dias. There's a body on the throne.

It's slouched, slumped, as if whoever this was had thrown themselves back on the seat and collapsed in exhaustion. The mothbitten red robe and fur stole is strung with spiderwebs connecting them him to the throne, but this isn't what yanks on the barbed wire in your soul.

The pair of great, regal thorn like horns protuding from the figures hood are angled towards you.

Your feet carry you forward.

The figures face is obscured but you know it, the fingers curled loosely still with flesh, after all this time, no weapons around the dias but no evidence of wounds on the body as if he would need them, as if they could ever lay a finger on their King-

Your hand trembles, reaching out to touch the nearest horn irrestisably, not even daring to breathe.

The corpse lurches.

An arctic vice closes on your wrist, bones grinding as he yanks you to your knees on the stone. His fist is impossible to pry loose even as you scrabble at it, nails ripping at leathery hide- heart pounding-

His second hand closes on your neck and you freeze.

Twin red lights blaze from under the hood. Pupils in a black socket that focus hazily on your face, blinking as if rising from a dream that still has its hooks in him. The hand on your neck squeezes and you gasp, eyes bulging, wrist forgotten as you plead with your hands against the unstoppable force around your neck.

Brows twitch as he watches you struggle. Marginally, the fingers loosen and you suck in air, sounding like a broken bellows compared to the cathedral-esque empty quality of the air passing through his chest.

Gently, reverently, knarled fingers parse hair from your forehead. You didn't even realise he'd released your wrist. Your throat remains in his grip.

You meet his gaze as the last of the fog clears from his sockets. His voice, rusted and broken from disuse, still rumbles from his throat like a shuddering landslide.

"Rwy'n eich cofio, fy annwyl."

"I remember you, my dear."

[tireddovahkiin]

OKAY I HAVE TO RANT ABOUT THESE HILLARIOUS SCENARIOS I CAME UP WITH- (At least to me!)

Basically Vincent Valentine having his ass forced to babysit my OC Junior who's a Twitch streamer. This is how it goes (I might even draw this):

[have in mind that Junior is a cringey ass teenager💀]

This oc x canon interaction is strictly platonic!

. . .

*stream starts with Juniors face in the webcam*

Junior: ".... Hello everybody my name is Markipl-" *breaks character*

Junior: How's it GOINNN', mothershockers, IT'S YA BOIIII Junie, with a VERY special guest today!~ ... Give it up for da babysitter, the one and only, Vincent Valentine~!!!! *dramatic ahh Will Smith showing off hand pose*

*camera is set so only Vincents torso is shown as he sits cross-armed, his head and legs off-screen* (its gonna be like that during the entire stream)

*awkward silence*

Junior: ... Psst. Hey. Dude. Peace sign. Show it to the camera.

Vincent:

Junior: *nudges his gloved hand*

Vincent:

Vincent: *awkwardly shows the sign to the camera*

Junior: LET'G GOOOO-

Junior: *reading the comments*

"What is Dracula doing in your house dawg"

"AYO SICK COSPLAY DUDE- How did you make him do it"

"He looks like the type of person who says: 'Fare-thee-well folks, hale be thou' to people unironically"

"Oh no... is he going to start talking about the war"

"bLAh, bLAH bLAH"

"Don't com to ma house or I'll succ yo di- I MEAN BLOOD"

Junior: Well, the audience seems to like you already, man. What do you have to say about that, Vincent? *presents imaginary microphone to Vincent off-screen*

Vincent:

Junior: Understandable, have a great day.

Junior: —And that is why I personally think flies are spy cams sent from aliens out in space.

Vincent:

Chat:

Chat: *Donkey_King43 donated $1.55 through super chat* "Stfu you dollar tree PaRappa The Rapper ahh bootleg" [bc Junior is an antro dog]

Junior: YOU MOTHERFU-

Vincent: *headbutt*

Junior: *sobbing into Vincents arm* I'M DO— YALL ARE JUST MEAN- I GIVE MY SOUL HERE TO ENTERTAIN PEOPLE I DON'T EVEN KNOW, I GIVE UP MY PRIDE IN HANDS TO THE GATES OF VIEWERES JUDGEMENT LIKE A BLEEDING SACRIFICIAL HEART, AS I BECOME NOTHING BUT A MERE TOY WITH NO MEANING AND PURPOSE IN YOUR EYES—

Vincent:

*few minutes later*

Junior: *kazotsky kicking to Mortal Kombat theme while wearing a creeper hat and minecraft sunglasses* I ate soap with japapeño sauce and sprinkles this morning! It was bussin' let me tell ya—

Vincent: (??????)

Junior: Vincent, question from a fan. What if you solve a math test while LeBron James is purple, does that make racoons skeleton knives or 6 AM greek yogurt under alphabet?

Vincent:

Junior: He thinks the answer is Mexico.

Chat: Xxdollasigndude: "Yo if you and your medieval knight babysitter bro sing "If you're happy and you know it" song I'll give you 300$ hands down"

Junior: *jumps and clears throat* HOLY— OKAY OKAY— VINCENT COME ON AT LEAST CLAP FOR ME BRO PLEASE— ANYWAYS— If you're happy and you know clap your hands...! *looks at Vincent in ecstatic hope*

Vincent:

Vincent: *after five seconds, he caves in, and claps two times*

Junior: *grins like an idiot, even happier* —If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands!

Vincent: *pause* *clap clap*

Junior: If you're happy and you know it, then your face will surely show it, if you're happy and you know it, clap your hands...!

Vincent: *pause* *clap clap*

*siiiiiiiilence*

Chat: ... *Xxdollasigndude donated $300.00 through super chat-*

Junior: IYEEEE—

Junior: *after one hour, he finally beats a level, releasing a victory scream and offering Vincent hand for a high five*

Vincent: *ignores*

Junior: *pouts*

Chat: *Khorn_lord donated $0.55 through super chat* "Haha get left on seen loser"

Junior: *looks at Vincent*

Vincent:

Junior: *offers a hand again*

Vincent: *high fives*

Junior: HAH! SUCK ON THAT YOU SON OF A BI—

Vincent: *headbutt*

Junior: And I'll make sure to show you just how much of a pro I am! I'll drink five cans on cola in ONE go, no reaction! Alright, buckle up! THREE, TWO, ONE—

*a few moments later insert*

Junior: *is knocked out dead asleep and snoring like an engine from the caffeine* (ADHD skill💀)

Vincent:

Vincent: *he finally picks up the camera, trying to figure out how to shut it off*

*pause*

Vincent: *reveals his face* To the rude ones in this 'chat' today, a message from me: I will find you. One way... Or another.

*ends the stream*

(Fun fact: Junior's account went viral over night because of Vincent.)

[BROS SUCH A SOFTIE FOR KIDS I JUST KNOW ITTT]

[kitmoas]

Na úpätí trónu

Summary: Two of the most powerful beings help your best friend get what she wants; and you're there to make sure it all goes as planned.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader x Kate Bishop

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Dark Fic (Sacrifice, Stockholm Syndrome, Hostage Vibes, Evil Gods), Dark Scarlet Queen!Wanda, Dark Skeleton King Kate, Dub con/noncon, Magic Use, Cum filled Strap (r!receiving), Power Bottom Wanda (kinda?), Royalty Kink!!!!, degrading, MAGICAL MARKS, pain with weapon use?, mental manipulation (magical and non), BREEDING KINKKKK

*As usual let me know if I missed anything important*

A/N: This is the LAST official Occult fic and I must say I'm pretty excited about the idea with this one! We love a stoic Wanda and slightly crazy Kate who end up being softies with you in private!  Once again any mistakes are mine, and we just ignore them because editing is hard

***MINORS DNI*** ***18+***

Main Master list // kitmoas | occult

No matter how much you thrashed about, kicked, or screamed you knew you were no match for your best friend. An entire lifetime of training in the Red Room made sure that she was a small firecracker of muscle, and even though you tried your hardest to stay fit you knew that you couldn’t even compare. 

You have no idea where you are, having decided with the blonde to take one last road trip before you graduated from college. The two of you were ending graduate school and you both were finally heading into the real adult world, but now you would give anything to just go back to studying. Everything started out so normal until the last leg of the drive when you woke up with something covering your eyes and you couldn’t move your body. You could hear her mumbling out how sorry she was as she drove, the car screeching as she made reckless turns at what sounded like dangerously high speeds. 

“Y–yelena..Elly..Come on, let’s just talk this out. Please? What is this?” Your voice was cracking entirely too much as you tried to stay calm, thinking that maybe the former widow’s chemicals were messing with her brain again. “Where’s your hand Els, I’m here.” She had a few times in the past where she would get violent and you just had to remind her that she was safe, and that she was free. This felt different but you needed to try. She was ignoring you, slurred mumbling under her breath as she continued to drive. 

Trying to plead with her for what felt like hours, the car was finally coming to a stop. She was pulling you out of the car before you could really process what was happening, carrying you and you could feel the tears hitting your arm. “Elly, tell me what’s going on! Please, we’re best friends. I love you. I–” Your sentence was cut off as your body was dropped unceremoniously on the ground, and the blindfold was ripped from your face. 

Trees towering over you and a snow capped mountain in the distance is the first thing your vision focuses on before it slips to your best friend as she paces in front of you, face red and wet. You’re laying on what feels like rubble, two pillars and a half fallen concrete wall are across from you. The blonde whips around a glare spread across her face as she looks down at you, “Don’t say that! Not now, don’t make this harder for me!” 

You want to laugh because it’s obvious that whatever is happening is entirely worse for you, but you fall silent regardless. Ill fate settles in your body as you realize that no matter how loud you scream, no one can save you and you still cannot move your body. She’s walking around now, pushing rocks and crumbled concrete into the grass and away from the cracked flooring. The panic on her face is obvious and she’s pulling bags out of the car, rushing around as she glances at her watch. You see the cover of one of the books, confusion fills your brain as you start to recognize the incantation written on the front. 

Yelena finally kneels down near you, a shaky exhale as she takes your fearful eyes. “They can help me bring her back. I need to bring her back.” She smiles sadly at you, “You will be the key to bringing back my Natasha.” She drags the book closer, reading through the instructions as she shakes above you. 

Even though this is a terrible fate for you, you can see how much it hurts your best friend. The blonde hadn’t been the same since her beloved sister died during a fight. Half of her soul disappeared that day and you spent your time together trying to get her to be happy again, and it’s become obvious that you failed. Yelena was mumbling, almost frantically, as she rushed to start whatever process she wanted. 

She freezes and slowly turns to you, a guilty almost apologetic expression spreads across her face. One of her many knives appears out of nowhere, and she makes quick work of cutting your clothing off. You barely have time to note the brisk air when she drags the blade along your torso, leaving cuts that bead with crimson. Pained whimpers threaten to fall from your lips, but it doesn’t deter her. You’re starting to believe nothing will, and you’ll be left here in the middle of nowhere by your own best friend.  

Shivering the cold wind makes your bones feel brittle and you can feel your entire will to live just start draining. “Are you going to kill me? Is this all just to watch me die? In the name of what? Some random being that won’t even give you what you actually want?” You had given up your fight long before this, but as she drew your blood you were just interested in who she was even trying to sacrifice you to. No true god would care about a single person, not even someone as amazing as Natasha. 

She’s on autopilot, not flinching once as she turns to pour your blood along the stone. You were too focused on Yelena as she kneels, rocking and muttering, to notice the spreading ice that covers the grass and trees. It’s only when a throne appears surrounded by a dense darkness do the two of you silence completely. Almost ink black fog radiates from the chair as it settles gently on the ground, and two pairs of glowing eyes float–unblinking crimson and indigo. As the darkness fades and the royal pedestal finally comes into light, you choke on your own words when you recognize the Undead King’s crown adorning the figure that is perched on the top of the crest rail. 

The fear sinks into your body, even more than before, as you realize this is real. You weren’t just dying, your soul is going to be sacrificed to one of the most cruel daemon’s out there. Yelena stands, shaking but confident as she approaches the throne. “Your majesty, King of the Skeletons, I bring you a sacrifice in exchange for a soul that you have. She’s everything you ever go searching for, the perfect soul for the highest of royalty.*” 

The blonde barely gets her rambling out before she’s encased in a blinding red mist, forced onto her knees. A pained whimper falls from her lips, but it’s only when the shadows fade away that you see the people on the throne. The Undead crown that you knew sat upon a young girl’s head, long raven locks flowing and a gruesome bloody skeleton mask across most of her face with only her menacing eyes visible. Dressed in all black, her sleeves torn off display prominent muscles and a staff strapped on her back. She looms over a gorgeous woman, a floating red crown above her ginger hair. You don’t recognize her, but you are entranced by the scarlet wisps falling from her ash tipped fingers. 

The brunette crawls around the palmette almost like a gargoyle to sneer down at the blonde, “Worthless mortal! You demand things from me before even acknowledging the true Queen?” The woman spoken of slams Yelena into a pillar, wrapping her magic tightly against the stone. “You will bend the knee to her as I did many moons ago for we would be nothing without the divine Controller of Chaos” Watching as the girl defies all laws of gravity, hanging carelessly on the ear of the throne, you can’t help but be confused. If this girl was such a big being herself that you were supposedly being sacrificed to her, then why is she working for some other idol?

You can hear Yelena babbling, apologies and swearing her loyalty, but the scarlet Queen is looking directly at you now. Her eyes ablaze as they bore into you. “Enough Kate.” It doesn’t take much more for the younger girl to turn her attention to you, following the ginger’s gaze. You watch as she settles in her spot, throwing her legs over the throne’s arm to lay lazily. Self hatred settles in your gut as you think about how attractive you found that, the way she so effortlessly moves. You were always attracted to things that were bad for you, glutton at heart. 

Startling you, Kate leaps into the air. Slowly hovering down to land in front of the throne, her outfit expands as she straightens. Black encases her entire body, just briefly showing off a crimson jewel around her neck, as she buttons her suit jacket. Slipping the staff to hold as a cane, skeleton hands emerge from inside, clawing at the ground with each step she takes closer to you. Even though you still couldn’t move, the fear was evident in your eyes and it made the girl cackle as she finally leaned down near you. 

Her nail, long and devilishly sharp, pierces your skin as she uses it to move your head around; inspecting you. She gropes your naked body, taking in the way some of the goosebumps along your skin pops against the eagle-like grip. Kate’s glowing purple eyes clear as she hovers above you, leaving an eerily dark sapphire. Using her staff she nudges your legs apart, pulling and poking your pussy lips apart as she examines every part of you. No matter how much you want to squirm away, you can’t and your body doesn’t know any better than to enjoy the probing. Shame fills your head when you realize that you begin to drip down your thighs, strings of your slick getting attached to her scepter. 

You want to scream, beg her to stop, that your soul is hers and just to let you go burn in Hell for all eternity. A squeak scratches at your throat, just barely making a noise. Her eyes dart back up to your face, flashing purple momentarily. Letting the tip of the staff tap against your cunt, hitting your clit randomly; she observes you. “Don’t be scared, sweet thing. You’ll serve an amazing purpose, and that’s better than anything you could have ever done in your meritless life here on this floating rock.” She lets her thumb pop into your mouth, forcing past your locked jaw as your teeth scrape against the thin skin. 

Every nerve in your body is firing, trying to squirm away from the spirit’s activity. You just wanted to go home and forget this ever happened but you aren’t sure that’s ever going to happen again. The thumb in your mouth is thrusting slowly, pointedly gagging you any time you seem to fight her. Kate coos above you, smacking her staff vigorously against your red cunt. “Awww Wanda, can we keep her? She’s just so adorable. The most enthralling voluptuous offering for you, My Queen.” 

Your eyes flicker over to the older woman, watching as she lazily calls the two of you over. The first time her magic wraps you up you feel like a lifeless doll, your limbs flopping to your sides as you are dragged through the air. “What is wrong with her? She hasn’t moved an inch since we arrived? ” The witch’s question is rhetorical, easily reading both yours and Yelena’s mind to understand what happened. “Does she not want to play with us?” Wanda’s pout is taunting, entirely too smug as she eyes the shiny wetness along your quivering thighs. A snap of her finger has you falling from the sky, but you’re able to put your arms out to brace yourself. 

Jaw slack as you stare up in shock at the ginger, who has a *lazy* arrogant look on her face. You’re so *enamored* with being able to move again that you weren’t expecting strong hands gripping your hips. Drawing you up onto your knees, you feel the *sharp* nails trailing along your backside. “We wanted you to be able to feel it when we take what we want from you.” The cold breath puffs against the shell of your ear, immediately making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. 

Even though you know the effects of whatever chemical Yelena drugged you with are gone, your muscles fruitlessly fight against the magic blanketing around you. Unbeknownst to you, the two supernatural beings just find your struggle endearing. Most of their sacrifices are frozen in terror, unable to resist the two even if they wanted to. 

A deep throaty chuckle makes you freeze, the sound striking against the nerves at the base of your neck. Head ticking as your body tries to fight the grating noise, Wanda finally moves. Sitting with her legs spread and her elbows resting on her knees, she curls a single finger under your chin. Her thumb traces your bottom lip, slowly smearing drool as a maniacal smile spreads across her face. Eyes squinting gleefully as you try to snarl at her, snapping your teeth towards her. 

You knew that fighting was stupid but you refused to go down easily, these demonic beings wouldn’t get your soul without a struggle. The feeling of something hard bumping between your thighs caused a stumble in your demeanor, but you tried to power through. Each time Wanda came near you, you tried to bite her and you threw a few insults her way as well but none of them made much of an impact. 

Her spit splatters on your face, and her palm collides violently with your cheek before you can even blink. The pain doesn’t register until she’s cooing and rubbing the bright red spot across the side of her face, a searing almost burning sensation ripples through your entire skull. “You think a couple measly Earth insults and some biting will make us run?” She grips your jaw, tightly with no regard at your high pitched wail as you can almost feel the bone cracking. Her gleaming eyes finally settle and a deep forest replaces as she finally looks at you directly. 

Diverting your eyes, the fear plummets into your gut and it’s beginning to take a toll on your mindset. Tapping your cheek, she waits until your gaze meets hers to let her powers overtake once more. Her magic seeps out of her dark fingertips, down your jaw and slithering around your neck. It drags you closer to her, strangling you as she watches your reaction. 

Glaring, you try your hardest to match her gaze in intensity but you were so focused on Wanda that you almost completely forgot about Kate. The undead king was having the time of her life, playing in between your legs as the ginger messed with your head. The strap adorning her hips always made her happy, she felt empowered as she ripped into her victims but you were different. No matter how hard she hit your raw puffy cunt, you just dripped with more slick and your clit throbbed under her thumb. It was almost like your body knew that you were meant to be theirs, even if your mind refused to let your soul settle. 

The thick strap forcing its way into you makes a gurgled scream fall from your squished mouth, the crimson mist around your throat tightening. You try to wiggle away as much as possible, the pain from Kate thrusting into you was overwhelming but her nail digs further into your hip bones. A mocking laugh fills your ears as the brunette leans down, rutting into you. “The dumb slut is dripping all over my cock and expects me to believe the pathetic fear emanating from you?” 

Wanda just smiles, tutting as you try to shaking your head. With a blink of an eye, the bottom of her suit disappears and your jaw drops in shock. “Hush now, little one, let’s put that troublesome mouth to work.” She’s dragging both you and the younger girl forward, leaning back as your tongue touches her hard clit. Her fingers tangle roughly in your hair, directing you where she wants you. “If you’re a good girl, maybe we’ll let you cum or maybe we’ll even let you live.” The ginger’s voice is breathy, a sternness backing it even as she lets the pleasure fill her body. 

You try your hardest to not get addicted to the taste of the woman in front of you, it’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever had. No doubt inhuman as you try to turn your head, pull away, anything to not give her what she wants but the magic around your neck forces you to pant. Not one to usually want to separate from a pretty woman, you mentally shake off the thought of you losing your freedom and decide to focus on the way Wanda is leaking into your mouth. 

The older woman isn’t really letting you do too much, the fist in your hair keeps you mostly locked in place. Her hips grinding on her own will, the most you can do is lay your tongue flat as she uses your face. Each time her movements stutter, you take the moment to suck her clit into your mouth; relishing the deep grunts and moans that fall from her mouth. 

Though your focus was forced to be on Wanda, it was getting more and more difficult the longer Kate thrusts into you. Every movement rocks your body forward, and drags you back as she pulls out of you. The skeleton ruler disregards your comfort as she takes what she wants from you, forcing muffled moans to vibrate against the witch’s clenching cunt. The king’s open palm slaps against the swell of your ass, leaving a rippling purple mark instantly. The pain makes you pitifully writhe beneath her as you try to put distance between the two of you when she slaps you again. 

Kate’s fingers pulled at your nipples, making your hips jut up. “Don’t fight it. This isn’t about you whore, this is about pleasing your Majestic. Get it through your idiotic meager brain that you are being blessed to taste her. Make her cum and maybe I won’t kill you on the spot, maybe I’ll even let you get some pleasure after I’m done using you like the hole you are.” Your body is rocking with each movement she makes, but the vibrating magic moves down your torso and suddenly you can no longer feel anything. It’s a buzzing numbness, like your entire body fell asleep–an almost stabbing pain erupting along your skin.  

The abrupt dense fog in your brain was diluting your thoughts now, the numbness along your body filling your mind quickly. You barely could keep up with Wanda’s movements, just letting her fuck herself on your tongue. It started to fill your body with a warmth that even her magic couldn’t get rid of, a sense of pride as you watched this powerful being start to fall apart because of your mouth. The moans falling from her crimson lips makes you up your ante, focusing as much as you can on her clit. You can almost feel it throbbing in your mouth as you suction around it, relishing in the grunted praise and the way her fist tightens in your tangled locks. 

Kate sinks her fangs in your shoulder, breaking the skin as she forces her cock as deep into you as possible with each thrust. “I’m going to cum in you, and you’re going to take it like the good little cum dumpster you are.” Her voice is cracking as she mutters against your sweat slicked back. 

It’s Wanda who falls over the edge first, her quivering thighs locking around your head and the magic encasing wavering for the first time that night. Her strained moans vibrate through her body, echoing in your ears. You desperately want to feel how you clench around the king’s cock, knowing that you loved making someone so stoic like the witch cum so hard. Her voice echoes in your mind as she finally starts calming down, her hand tangled in your hair streaming ruby fog into your brain. Praise that warms your body and makes you wiggle happily. 

Her grip falters with each buck of the brunette’s hips, the force snapping your head forward each time. Wanda pushes your head back, the heel of her hand shoving at your forehead so that you’re forced to look into her eyes. “Your majesty is going to paint your insides with her cum and you’re going to thank her. That bratty little mouth will not disobey us anymore, not if you ever want to feel anything ever again.” 

You aren’t sure if you want to know the state of your torso as the undead king claws desperately at it, digging her razor nails into your thin skin. “You’re so fucking tight, sweet thing. I’m going to use this pussy for centuries to come, and I’ll never get tired of it.” Kate’s voice cracks as she wraps a hand around your throat from behind you, using it as leverage. “Such a messy slut, drippin all over m’cock.” Her words slur as she slams into you, hips jerking as she finally falls  over the edge; the enchanted strap filling you with demonic cum. 

Everything is entirely too overwhelming, all of your senses that are overtaken by the two of them. The taste and smell of Wanda still strong, and the warm feeling as the tingly numbness disappeared was filled with Kate’s cum leaking out of you and her large calloused hands rubbing along your body. With the witch’s hand still in your hair, your vision is blurred but stuck to the way the ginger’s hair is messy in all the right ways now. 

You don’t even actually feel it when the king pulls out of you, just collapsing when the only support is the queen’s grip in your hair. You’re being lifted and settled on the lap of Wanda, who barely even pays you any attention instead just firmly grips your waist. Slouching on her, against what you believe to be her wants, you struggle to regain control over your body as it gets back feeling. The aftermath of the rough treatment you just received had exhausted your body even though you didn’t feel a majority of it. 

Watching as Kate goes to talk to Yelena who has finally slumped in a fetal position where she was dropped, Wanda surprisingly pulls you closer to her. Curling into the warm witch you relish in the heat difference, as your body is dramatically losing heat in the wind. Her hand comes up to the left side of your collarbone, thumb rubbing along it. It’s a sweet comforting gesture but you’re suddenly whimpering in pain. It ceases quickly, ultimately just an annoyance. Without really thinking about it you look up at her, pleading eyes as you pout at her. The queen shushes you, a soft smile along her lips as she caresses the mark that is the source of your pain. 

A dark cloud of smoke appears and out tumbles Natasha, pale and weak as she collapses on the ground. You don’t hear much as you watch your best friend stumble over to her sister, tears streaming down her face as the two embrace. The minute the two touch chains appear out of nowhere, a collar laid with bones wrapped tightly around your neck. Connected by the heavy metal to the throne, you look at the skeleton king confused as the fuzzy feeling in your brain returns. “You’re home sweet thing, forever with your Majestic and Majesty.” 

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

Donned in casual wear, Kate was walking around the spacious hall when she felt the call she had been waiting for. A smug smile stretches her face as she twirls around to find you, curled up in Wanda’s lap eating food from her fingers. She pauses for a moment to watch your pink tongue lap at the juices left on the ash dipped fingertips, a hungry growl getting caught in her throat when she remembers what she still needs to do. 

“We must go, an important deal is coming to an end.” As she strides towards you, you sit mesmerized as you do each time you watch her clothes transform into her formal wear. Her purple sweats replaced with a sharp black leather suit, armor wrapped around her torso and her cherished staff appearing on her back. Walking up to you, she cups your cheek and lets her forehead rest against yours. A throat clear from one of the only workers to see the private life of the three of you grabs your attention, “Are you ready my sweet love?” 

A mumbled “Yes, my Majesty.” is heard as your clothes fall into a mist, leaving you nude once more. The king rubbing her thumb over your collar, tracing the bones that she rules, cheek twitching as she struggles to remain focused on the task at hand. You settle on your knees, dragging your heavy chains with you to get comfortable at the foot of the throne. Wanda simply stretching out as she waits for Kate to climb onto the crest railing. 

Within seconds you are materialized to a plain, fire and rubble falling from the sky but only one thing truly catches your attention. There in the distance is a body, surrounded by heavy smoke, but with a snap of her fingers Kate calls the soul to stand in front of the three of you. The blonde braided hair is a quick give away as you take in your best friend, your sacrificer. She looks confused momentarily before realizing she died in the fight, gulping as she comes face to face with the end of her deal. 

The white widow had been fighting for years to fill her sister’s shoes after Natasha had once again passed away during an Avenger battle. You watch as Wanda fills the blonde’s head with memories, playing back the life she held as the three of them waited for her to perish. You can see the struggle on her face, the guilt each time her gaze passes your slouched form. The weight of the chains is something you aren’t used to as the more compliant you had become, the more Wanda took the weight from your shoulders. 

Unbeknownst to your best friend, you had fallen happily into a life with the demonic beings. Widely known across the pits of Hell as their pet, but the longer you spent with them the more you couldn’t live without them. There in the halls of their extravagant castle, you were their prized trophy. The life you lived was truly better than any moment that you held on Earth, just as your king had promised, and you couldn’t have imagined a better life. 

“Welcome to the calvary White Widow, you once again will fight alongside your sister; my general.” Kate’s voice is professional, a bit of a hiss at the end of words. She knows that the grudge she holds for this deal is pointless for it brought you into their lives, but she knows that the only reason you no longer fight is the everlasting fog that seeps into your mind. Something that she knows you can never learn of, for it will break the illusion of love and send you into an everlasting spiral. 

Glancing at the two marks, one a simple whimple along your collarbone while the other a harsh slash along your ribcage, glowing bright– unwavering crimson and amethyst. Laid there with love, it makes the brunette smirks as the guilt radiates off of the blonde when she sees them. “You will pay for the soul that you so selfishly sacrificed to myself and the Scarlet Queen many decades ago. For only the pompous would ever offer anything to daemons like us, and your soul does not deserve to rest ever again. ” 

Yelena gaze is stuck on you, watching with shame as Wanda’s magic wraps around your neck. It tightens painfully as it yanks your head back, forcing you to look up. “You’re little best friend no longer exists, but you can meet her once more. Don’t worry if she doesn’t talk, she only speaks to the two of us now.” As the witch speaks, your thoughts start catching up with you but they are no match for her. No matter how many memories of your time on Earth resurface as you look at your former friend, the queen forces them out with a bit of chaos. “Isn’t that right? What are you?” Her voice is all knowing, chuckling as she listens to the blonde’s hopes that her presence will shake you from whatever spell that she has you under. 

“The Undead King’s Property and the Scarlet Queen’s Pet.”

[radskull-69]

how exactly does stalker die?

he’s murdered, basically.

it’s when he takes Lou to his house, this is set in long into their relationship. He invites Lou to his house while papyrus is out, and Lou has been aware of the creep sans has been for a few weeks now since they’ve caught them stalking them and connected dots about things.

Understandably, Lou is terrified and angry. Yet didn’t have the courage to tell anybody, after all, this is sans we’re talking about. Right? The loveable lazy goofball skeleton who loves to pun around?

there’s no way he’s a creepy stalker!

despite how Lou tried to tell the others about sans, nobody took them seriously. And they knew if they went to the police with this all their friends would hate them and think Lou has a thing against monsters.

so they kept quiet for a while, there was even a small part inside them that didn’t want to rat on sans. To confront him.

but they snapped when they went into sans’s room while he was busy, and saw all the pictures he had taken of them, all the belongings he had taken that Lou thought they lost.

And so much more they wished they hadn’t seen.

So Lou closed the door and walked back downstairs to sit on the couch, numb and in shock. This was worst than they thought, they couldn’t just.. let sans keep doing this. No..

Lou’s eyes drifted to the pet rock sans had on the table not too far, covered in surgery rainbow sprinkles.

a heavy rock.

sans was walking out of the kitchen with some hot dogs on a plate he made, sans was so ready to make this situation-ship a real deal!

finally..

until Lou swung the rock onto sans skull.

sans fell to his knees at first, he didn’t go down easy. And Lou panicked, so they kept swinging the rock down onto sans skull

over and over, ignoring the grunts and cracked screams sans let out. He couldn’t even beg Lou to stop, so overwhelmed by the sudden attack and the overflowing intent Lou had in every hit of that rock, the intent to finish the job..

Lou stood there, rock gripped tightly into their shaky hands in a grip so tight some of their own blood mixed into the mess thanks to the rocks jagged corners. Breathing so harshly as though they were having a panic attack (they probably were) as they stared down at him…

it didn’t even feel like it happened, had happened so quick. Lou felt like they were dreaming. It was almost anticlimactic, staring at the dusting body of sans as he looked up at them with one remaining eye light. The small light flickering like a bulb grasping for energy.

but this was real, Lou could feel the pain biting at their hands from holding that rock so harshly.. the pain in their chest that felt like it was gonna make them puke..

sans looked so full of emotion, so.. confused, so scared. How…

how was this the monster that ruined Lou so much? That scared them every night and made them feel helpless?

But they could end this. despite how Lou stood there above him on unstable footing with harsh breaths he gave sans an empty narrowed look, and raised the rock one more time. They felt like the one in control for once. They felt safe.

They couldn’t risk letting him get back up..

and then there was only dust in place of the monster Lou had feared was under their bed, like they did as a child.

all that was left was the blue hoodie sans always wore, covered in dust. That’s all there was how.

Lou dropped the rock onto the floor, making some dust fly up. It smelled horrid..

they just killed sans.

fuck

this was worst then being seen as racist wasn’t it? So much worse.. what were they thinking!?

but.. they didn’t feel fear anymore, or regret, or helplessness.

they won.

Lou slowly dragged their sneaking away from sans like the weight of the world was on their back, slowly walking to the door even as their vision blurred and rocked like they were on a ship on a unforgiving ocean.

griping the doorknob to the front door with a weak grip they swung it open with a loud creek, nothing but trees for miles.

Lou spared one last look over their shoulder to the body of someone they both hated yet loved. (Or was it the attention from him they loved)

papyrus was gonna be sad when he got home..

Lou looked back out to the tree line, and after a few minutes that felt like hours they walked down the steps of the house and onto the wet grass. Walking with the expression of a corpse, eyes blank and bags under them. Arms hanging limp either side of them as they disappeared into the tree line with no real direction.

A few days later, a funeral was held for sans. And a missing poster for Lou was hung all around town.

[osleeplessflowero]

Day 2 - 😱Frightening New Friend🩹

You didn't wanna do this.

You REALLY didn't wanna do this.

But a dare's a dare, so now here you are, wandering through the dark and scary woods outside of a house where a party was taking place.

Not to mention those rumors of monsters lurking about, sinking their teeth into any humans who dare to stick around too long.. You don't have a Bravery soul, this kind of thing is not something you can do without being afraid.

You tread carefully, shining your flashlight around. You can practically feel your cat costume's tail between your legs. 

Man, why did you agree to this? 

You continue your journey, stopping and shining your flashlight on..a bear trap. Okay, not the most uncommon thing to see in the woods. There's a few more of them..okay there's a lot more. 

Carefully stepping over them, you make your way ahead. 

You have a feeling there's a lot more where that came from. 

There's this lingering feeling of being watched, like something's stalking. Waiting in the shadows for you to make a wrong move. One failure, and you're dead. Just like that. 

You shine your light ahead of you, trying to calm your nerves.

Maybe it's just some hunters trapping animals. Maybe the rumors about this place aren't true. Maybe you didn't see a light in the darkness.

Wait, what was that last one?

You look around, shining your light with you. You don't seem to see anything, but you could've sworn there was another light out there.

You feel a chill go down your spine, trying to ignore what you thought you saw.

It's probably nothing..

You listen to your surroundings, hearing the grass shift under your feet, an owl off in the distance, and the cold breeze blowing through the air. 

Just gotta reach some old house and turn back. That's all you have to do. Why does it have to take so damn long though-

As you continue your journey you hear a twig snap and turn, seeing one in pieces behind you. 

Yeah, time to run-

You pick up your pace and run from whatever invisible force might be chasing you, breathing heavily. You almost lose your grip on your flashlight due to how much your arm is shaking. 

You hear a pair of footsteps behind you, your eyes widening in fear. Your heart races as you make your way across, dodging a few more bear traps. 

Once you get a good bit away, you stop behind a tree and take a few deep breaths, calming your nerves. 

What was that? Who is chasing you? Or, what is chasing you? 

You don't think you want to know the answer. 

Keeping up your guard, you continue walking, before falling into a hole that was covered up with leaves. 

You hit the bottom, scraping your leg on sharp rocks that were left behind. 

"Damn it-" You curse, sitting up and looking at the damage. It stings..and blood is starting to come out. 

Someone is still chasing you, you can't stay here! But how can you run with your leg like this?..

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you look up, hoping. Praying that whatever that was doesn't see you.

The moon shines brightly above you in the sky, the stars sparkling along with it.

Your tears fall a lot faster as you consider the fact that this might be the last thing you ever see..

"Please- please, someone help me- I don't want to die-"

You mutter out, your voice shaky and nearly broken. 

You hear footsteps in the distance..

You pull yourself up, leaning against the side of the hole, hoping that'll give you more cover. 

Fuck, your leg stings. Why did it have to be your leg?

The footsteps stop as a silhouette comes into your view. They stand tall above, a dark menacing figure. 

Slender, very thin.. they appear to be a skeleton monster with long, damaged teeth. They crouch due to likely not being able to see you very well at their height, holding up a lantern to illuminate the hole.

It's quiet for a moment.. 

"MY STARS!" The skeleton shouts, causing your eyes to widen further since you were surprised. His voice sounds a bit scratchy, like he's done a lot of shouting over time. "A HUMAN HAS FALLEN INTO ONE OF MY TRAPS- OH MY-"

"Uhh- yeah, I'm- I'm so sorry, I, um..I was just passing through to get back home and I fell in- If you help me out, I'll just be on my way." You smile pleadingly, hoping the skeleton was a merciful one. 

"YOU POOR THING- Here, Let Me Help You-" 

"Oh, nonono, that's okay-" He reaches in with his long arms, picking you up with..seemingly ease, carrying you. You'd have to admit that the skeleton is very strong.

"I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL ALWAYS HELP THOSE IN NEED- LET US MAKE A STOP BY MY RESIDENCE, HUMAN." 

"Wait, please, that's okay, I can head home by mySEEELF-" 

You're startled once the skeleton starts SPRINTING through the woods, jumping over carefully placed traps on the ground you weren't able to see before. 

Panic starts to set in, and you try to remember your surroundings in case this results in you being kidnapped so you know an escape route. You've seen way too many horror movies for this. 

"Why don't we stay out here, um- mister.." 

"PAPYRUS! The Great Papyrus, That Is."

"Okay, Papyrus- why don't we stay out here and enjoy the scenery? The moon is so pretty out tonight, isn't it?-" 

You stall, trying to get him to put you down so you can run. 

"Nonsense, Human! We Must First Tend To Your Injury Before You Can Go On Your Way."

"I'm sure I can just walk it off-"

You continue trying to convince him to let you go, only for him to shut you down every time. 

Just your luck..you find out the rumor's true, only for you to die because of it. And now your last moments will be in the company of a terrifying skeleton. Could things get any worse?

He continues running until he reaches what you assume to be his house, the 'abandoned' one your friends dared you to go find and knock on the door. Well, now you know what would've happened if you had knocked. 

The lights are on, there are some small flower pots and pumpkins on the porch. One has a carefully carved picture of a skull, and the other one just has a smiley face carved into it.

There are some clothes moving in the wind on a clothesline to your right. 

He takes you into the house, gently sitting you down on the couch in the living room. Your eyes dart back to the front door. 

"My Brother Isn't Here Right Now, So There Shouldn't Be Any Trouble. Please Wait Here While I Gather Some Healing Items To Treat Your Injury." He smiles at you, before going upstairs. 

You stand up in order to try to make a run for it, but your leg betrays you, and you sit back down, holding it. Damn it, no luck there. 

You then think for a second.

If he had wanted to kill you, why would he waste time doing any of this? Leaving you alone would've given you a chance to leave- If you had a healed leg, you could just walk right out. And he didn't put any restraints on you to make it harder. So..maybe he doesn't want to kill you, after all. 

He walks back into the room, kneeling below you and politely asking if you'd hold out your leg for him. You do, and he looks over your injuries before using medicine to treat them. He then hands you a small piece of candy. 

"Here, Eat This. It Will Restore Your Energy, And Hopefully Speed Up The Healing Process."

"Oh, um..thank you."

He nods as you take the candy, debating whether it'd be trustworthy, before deciding to go with it.

Fuck it, why not give him a chance? Maybe you'll regret it, maybe you won't. 

You eat the candy, watching as your leg begins to heal before your eyes. 

"Woah..that was fast."

"Right? Monster Food Does Some Incredible Things."

You smile. "Thank you for helping me, Papyrus." 

"But Of Course, What Gentleman Would I Be If I Didn't Help Those In Need?"

"From all the rumors circulating, it made it sound like the forest monsters were all.."

"Dangerous, Threatening, And Scary?"

"..Exactly."

"Well, That Tends To Happen When You're A Monster, People Get The Wrong Idea. Especially Based On Appearance."

"Huh..noted."

"You Know, At First I Took You For A Cat Monster. Your Costume Is Quite Realistic! Or At Least, It Looks Like It In The Dark, Nyeh Heh."

"Oh, thanks. I wanted to be a cat this year so I got this costume early on before the good stuff could be sold out."

"I Think It Suits You." 

You smile. If you'd told yourself the night before you'd be having a casual conversation with a tall, seemingly terrifying skeleton, you'd never have believed it. But yet here you are. 

"So, Papyrus..I don't have to be home for a while..what are some of your interests?"

He gasps dramatically, causing your smile to widen. 

"YOU- You Wish To Know About My Interests?" 

"Yeah. I'd like to get to know you."

"Alright, Wait Here, I'd Better Make Some Tea For This!"

You spend the evening enjoying tea and candy, having a lovely chat with Papyrus.

Seems you've both made a new friend today.

[ao3 link :)] <

[strawberryscandy]

Curiosity Saved Me

^ Chapter 1 ^

CHAPTER 2

Then she heard the sound of rustling in the tree, Frisk picked up her pace. Feet rushing across the snow, blindly leading herself across the snowy waste land. And the rustling sound was following her. Frisk had stopped in her tracks, thinking maybe if she confronted her fears it wouldn't be so bad.

“HELLO?” She shouted, her voice was harsh and her nose was red and runny. Frisk's hair was starting to freeze solid after walking in the cold for so long. “PLEASE IS ANYONE OUT THERE???” No response.

Huffing she turned and started her walk again. Maybe she was just hearing things, or maybe it was just the sound of the cave itself.

As she continued to walk, her head bowed down so as to not get any more snow to blow into her face. From the state she is in, she might lose an ear or two. But Frisk had run into something, or someone? Slowly her head tilted up, seeing a hooded man shadow over her. Hints of his smile peaking through the darkness. “hello…?” her shaky voice squeaked out.

The man on the other hand could see the skinny girl, shivering, lost and looking like she was about to cry. He felt a tinge of guilt inside of his soul. King Asgore gave him the task that if a human had wandered into the underground that they were brought to him. And he knows exactly what will happen to them.

He reached his hand out, wiping the snot from under her nose. “Now now.. Don't worry. Nothing is going to happen to you.”

Frisk took note of his kindness, the only warmth in the freezing state she was in. “Thank you… My name is Frisk. What's yours?” She spoke out to the man.

“My name is Sans.” Taking off the hood to show his skeleton head. “Sans the skeleton.” The once sinister smile is now a comedic one. “You look freezing cold.” His smile seemed to frown a bit.

Frisk nodded her head at him, her teeth chattering so hard it would probably break a tooth. “Here kid. Take this.” Slipping off his winter jacket only leaving him in a white over shirt. A noticeable red stain on the side. Sans draped it over her shoulders. It looked like a dress on her.

He snorted a little, “That'll do. My little brother might have something at our house more fitting for you.”

Even though it swallowed Frisk up, it was warm. It was incredibly comfortable and oddly had a hint of ketchup. She snuggled herself up in it, letting it absorb her into the cotton. Frisk looked up at Sans and smiled, “Thank you very kindly Sans the Skeleton.”

Sans turned away rubbing the back of his head, “Yeah yeah… No problem kid. Now let's get a move on it!” He said before making his way straight infront of her.

Frisk quickly followed behind, but still the windy snow made it way to difficult for her to see. Without her even thinking she reached out and grabbed a little piece of the back of his shirt to hold onto. Now she for sure couldn't get lost.

Sans could feel the slight tug, but ignored it. It flustered him a little but it mostly reminded him of his little brother. He use to be so shy. Sans choose not to say anything, letting the girl do so. What could he do? Yell at this scared freezing girl for holding onto him so she wouldn't get lost? No, of course not.

In the fog there seemed to be a distant light, looking over at Frisk, Sans spoke. “Now. Do you see the oddly human-shaped lamp? Go behind it.”

Frisk stared dumb founded at the skeleton, “What.” She spoke out loud, “Why.. Why is that there??” She stuck her arms out to it. “Who MADE that??” So many questions she had. And Sans couldn't help but chuckle.

“Shoo Shoo! Go behind there! Hurry now my brother is coming!” Sans said out between chuckles. Frisk followed his directions, hiding behind the lamp as she saw a VERY large skeleton come strutting forward. “SAAAAANNNSSSS!!” He stated loudly.

“Yo.” Sans said nonchalantly, his hands inside his basketball shorts as he leaned back. “I heard a HUMAN!! Now where are they!” The larger skeleton prompted incredibly loudly, striking a pose even. Frisk had a slight smile on her face. The new skeleton reminded her of a cartoon soldier, even a superhero. Covering her mouth to not let out a giggle.

“I don't know what you mean lil bro.. No humans here. Just that oddly shaped human lamp over there.” Sans hinted at the lamp, his smile growing a little larger.

The new skeleton had the same questions as Frisk, “HOW DID THAT EVEN GET THERE SANNNNSSSSS?!?!?” The larger skeleton shouted loudly at the smaller one. “WHO EVEN MADE THAT???” He shoved his hands out, hinting at the lamp Frisk was hiding behind. She felt a little nervous, what if this tall skeleton came any closer and saw her, what would happen to her??

The tall skeleton shook his head before turning around. “Now Sans! I have to check out our traps! So stop SLACKING OFF!!” He screamed out before running back into the snow storm. Vanishing in the distance.

Frisk stepped out from behind the lamp, looking over at Sans. Her hands stuffed into the jacket pockets. And face cuddled deep into the fluff of the jacket.

Sans looked over at her, seeing her cuddled so warm up in his jacket made him gush a little. He turned his head again quickly before saying, “Come on, let's go to me and my lil bros house. It's not that far.” Sans started to walk again. Frisk rushed to catch back up to him. Following very closely behind with her head bowed.

They walked together for a few miles, until they were at the entrance of a town. Sans turned around and looked at Frisk. Quickly grabbing the hood of his jacket and pulling it over her head. “Keep your head down. Not a lot of monsters have seen a Human before. And they can get kinda spooked.” Sans wasn't completely lying, but if he told the full truth he would scare her. And that's the last thing he wanted to do.

Sans grabbed Frisk's hand and started to walk through the town. Whistling as he walked. Frisk had no idea how this man was whistling, he had no lips! But she shook that thought out of her head. Focusing instead on the feeling of his bony hand against her own. She could really feel every single finger bone a human should have.

As he guided her through the crowd of all types of monsters she was in awe. Everyone was so unique, there were so many things she had never seen before. And so many questions that were unanswered. Like how come they never contacted the humans and why was Tori so scared of this.

Frisk listened to all the cheerful chattering, the different shops, the laughter and the families all around. Until they had stopped in front of a house with Christmas lights still up. Sans walked forward and opened the door, looking back at Frisk. “Well come on in. Make yourself at home.” Frisk made her way past Sans and into the warm home. Stripping herself of Sans jacket and handing it back to him. “Thank you.. For letting me borrow this. That was really nice of you.” Frisk smiled up at the monster, it was such a kind and gentle smile.

“Of course kid… I mean, what was I gonna do? Let you freeze out in the snow.” He smiled down at her and rested his hand on her shoulder giving it a little pat.

“You know I'm not a kid right? I'm 18.” She retorted at Sans. “Yeahhh still a kid short stack.” Sans had laughed back. What a playful banter.

Walking past Frisk he pointed to the couch, “Go ahead and take a seat, I should have something up in my little brother's room that will fit you. We kept a lot of his smaller clothes.”

Frisk nodded her head and took a seat, and Sans went and vanished up the stairs. She started taking in the setting of the living room. There was a TV in front, a fireplace and little to no decor except a photo of Sans and his brother. There was lettering at the bottom of it. “Sans and Papyrus skeleton.”

“So that's his name, Papyrus. How unique.” Frisk mumbled to herself.

Just a few moments later Sans came wandering back down the stairs with a purple and purple and blue striped sweater. “Here this should fit you and keep you warm.” He handed it to Frisk and Frisk took the gift with much appreciation.

But as soon as the sweater slipped over her head, Papyrus slammed open the door. “PAPYRUS THE GREAT IS HERE!!” He shouted with triumph. Sans and Frisk were frozen in place in the middle of the room, staring wide eyed at Papyrus. And Papyrus just stared back.

“A HUMAN?!?!?!”

[aur0rahearts]

(here I go again ;w;)

could u make a little drama filled Jupiter, Mars and Y/n?

(also I hope your having an amazing day! if not, then I hope it gets better!, Keep shining like the star you are!)

*I am so sorry for taking so long 😭😭😭, I got busy but I hope the small story is good for you 🫶🏻*

⚠️TW: Depection of violence and gore⚠️

————————————

Your body hurt

Your lungs stung as your breathed in and out rapidly. Even a slight huff felt like the walls of them were collapsing. Wounds covered every inch of your body as your feet beat harshly into the ground, your legs wobbling with each thud from them.

You never thought you would run for your life, especially from your people.

Banished and chased after by your tribe because you wanted to love someone. Monsters

“I think I heard them, over there!”

You gasped as you murmured a slight “damn it” under your breath. You picked up speed, ignoring the pain that sparked throughout your body.

You could hear them catching up, and that thought was only proven when you turned around.

There, you saw four or five guys, with torches and spears, chasing after you as they yelled for you to stop running and calling you a coward.

But you didn’t stop

No matter how bad it hurt.

You turned a corner only to enter into a open area of the jungle, a giant circle where there was no more paths to take except going through the tree covered land itself.

You turned back around to see that the men had already entered the area, trapping you into that corner of the jungle.

“Thought you could get away, you coward?” One of the men taunted.

Their spears all pointed at you, as you could feel your emotions start to bubble up.

“Awe look at them, they are shaking. The poor baby must be scared.”

They all laughed at you as your body started to shake, your legs wobbling uncontrollably as tears started to form in the corner of your eyes.

“Don’t worry, we’ll make your death quick.” The man in the middle spoke up as he raised his spear.

You put your hands up to your face, preparing for your death to come.

But it never did.

Instead, a loud growl that almost shook the area did.

You opened your eyes, not realizing you had them closed, and lifted up your head. Everyone started to look around the jungle to see where the source of that noise came from.

But all was silent again.

The man in the middle was about to take a strike at you again but a louder growl came. But this time, it was joined by a bunch of spears.

One of the spears hit the man in the middle’s leg, causing him to scream in pain as he ran away in fear. The other three started to back away until a shadowy figure jumped out of a bush and slamming onto the ground in front of them.

Crushing the man that was running away beneath him.

You gasped as you stared at the scene in front of you. The giant, shadowy figure let out another deathly growl. One that sent a shiver up your spin.

“W-what, what the hell are you?” One of the men asked as they held their spear shaking.

Before you could see the brutal scene in front of you, another figure jumped out in front of you. You nearly screamed but a gloved, torn hand closed your mouth. The figure bent down lower for you to see it’s face. It was a face you recognized too well.

“Jupiter!” You softly exclaimed, as the skeletons crooked teeth merged into a smile.

You suddenly heard the snapping of bones as Jupiter turned around. You tried to get a look at what was happening, but you couldn’t, as Jupiter swiped you up into his arms and hurriedly carried you away into the jungle.

You turned around to see that he was carrying you into a excluded area in the jungle that was only lit by a lantern that they had found. Once you arrived, he placed you down on the ground only for you to turn around and wrap your arms around his neck. Giving him kisses all over his cheek.

“Oh Jupiter! I am so happy to see you!” You exclaimed as you didn’t realize the tears that were falling down your face.

“I Am Very Happy To See That You Are Well Also, My Bunny.” He stated as he gave you a kiss on your own cheek, a slight burnt-orange colored hue on his cheek bones.

You both stayed like that for a while, until another familiar face arrived.

Mars.

A man that was covered in blood as he held a beat-up spear in his hand. You turned your head around and ran to him, not caring if the blood had gotten all over you.

“Mars!” You almost knocked him down as you kissed him in a similar fashion as you did to Jupiter. Though he did not seem to mind as he chuckled.

“Hey, sweet meat, I hope I didn’t worry ya too much while I was gone.”

You reclined back as you cupped his cheeks. Feeling the painful sting at the corner of your eyes.

“Oh, Mars…What are we going to do.” You stated as you could feel the hot tears pour down your face.

Mars gives you a sadden look as he cupped your cheeks. Jupiter coming up behind you, wrapping his long arms around your waist.

“It Will Be Okay Bunny.” Jupiter cooed as he nuzzled his face into your back.

“Yea, we will find a way to make this work.” Mars stated as he braced you into a hug, placing his chin on top of your head.

“What if it doesn’t?”

“It will, we’ll be by your side any time sweet heart.”

“Yes! We Will Be Their For Any Challenge You Go Through, Bunny! Trust Us, It Will Work Out.”

And you did trust them, with all your life. Because in the end, it did always work out.

[bored-storyteller]

Since you listed Bungou Stray Dogs in your word list here's an idea:

our little anemic Russian lady Fyodor Dostoyevsky - Bones

Or ignore this if you don't feel like it

Yees, Dostoevsky is always a welcome challenge. But a challenge, I'm never sure with him.

I warn, this could be a bit macabre, even if on an evocative level more than visual. And a toxic relationship is implied.

Bungou Stray Dogs, Fyodor Dostoevsky x reader

Word: "Bones"

The first thing you perceive is the air. Air that enters your lungs as if they were filled for the first time, cold night air but living air, the air of the world.

Then your vision clears up, the blindfold that hid your gaze fell and now you see the moon, the stars, the black trees already damp in the darkness.

You would like to feel happy, or at least relieved, but underneath the restlessness it does not leave you; it snakes in your bowels making them tremble.

Your body hurts. The arms, the legs, the muscles, the bones hurt.

His violet eyes stare at you silently. They are undeniably beautiful, hypnotic, tired, sick, all at the same time. Despite everything, you would like to look at them forever now, to lose yourself in them without returning to reality, but the sly smile beneath them does not allow you to linger.

Fyodor Dostoevsky watches you, his figure standing tall against the starry background. It’s dark there, yet his pale face seems almost translucent under the moon's rays, like the face of the angel of death.

Ah, if only he could read your thoughts he would wallow in them, or maybe he already does?

Your body just huddles, instinctively, in a vain attempt to hide from obvious danger.

Why is he here? You ask in your head.

"I came to save you." He tells you in an unsolicited response.

He came to save you. Those words on his lips sound like a mockery, they are a mockery.

There is no one else besides the two of you in that remote place, and you are sure that he wanted you in that very remote place.

You turn to look at the dilapidated farmhouse from which you have just been dragged out, it is too dark to see what are the shadows that can be glimpsed on the ground.

"It’s wet." You say, as your fingers touch the earth.

"Yes, it's the blood."

Everyone has to die somehow, right?

His hand reaches out to you, and you reluctantly grab it.

Ah, it's cold, so cold it looks dead.

Yet it pulls you harder than you think, and you fall into his arms; thin and dangerous arms, arms that could kill you now.

Your body still hurts, everything hurts.

"Why did you come?" You ask him in a whisper while you turn your head away, so you don't dare look at him.

"Did you think I would let my purest angel die at the hands of these sinners?"

Angels don’t die, you would like to tell him, but instead your surrendered hands rest on his chest.

Under your fingers his heart beats; it is irregular and accelerated, but you know that the wicked pace is not due to the emotions he feels.

His is a sick body: he hates it, you don't know it. Maybe it's reassuring.

It is reassuring to feel his bones under his skin, to feel them only by stroking him. You can count his ribs against your palms, his phalanges against your back.

Or maybe it's just you imagining you're counting those bones. Just feel his ribcage and you remember that despite everything he is a human being, a sinner. One day he too will die, and he will perish.

Someday both, him and you, will be nothing than those skeletons now aching. Which of the two will get naked first?

“Do you fantasize about my decay? What macabre thoughts." His light voice hits you and seems to catch you red-handed. His poisoned smile, however, does not break down, while he looks at you without letting you go.

Fyodor always smiles at you, but never out of joy.

His fingers slide under your chin, run the line of your jaw absorbed, threatening or dreamy, you can't tell.

“Such a dangerous wish… but it suits you. It’s ok."

The tip of his nose touches yours, you are in his helpless embrace and even though he is dangerous and sick, he is also mesmerizing and fascinating. Even if you would like to escape, you can't imagine any place in the world that fits your figure like next to him.

“You will gather my bones and make them your shelter. You know it as well as I do. "

You already did it; he knows it as well as you do, and that's why your tired head can lean against that cage.

[10piecechickennuggy]

Magic and Secrets, Chapter 2 - Sanji x Witch!OC

WARNING: Mature content ahead!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own One Piece or the art featured above. This is a fan-created work featuring an original character.

Read Chapter 1 Here

Bloodied hands scrubbed frantically at the marble floor, tears mixing with soapy water. 

“Please, my Lord! Have mercy!” A slave pleaded to her master.

Misericors Toshinori only scoffed at the pathetic display. “And why should I? It’s not like she’s my daughter.”

Vera continued to scrub, the wounds on her hands stinging. She tried desperately to ignore the conversation happening behind her. Even at six years old, she knew better than to hope for kindness. Not from her stepfather.

“She’s just a child! Give her a chance to live, I beg you!” The woman dropped to her knees, groveling before the white-clad man.

“The illegitimate brat is lucky she’s even allowed to breathe.” Misericors sneered, hatred flowing like venom from his lips. “At the very least I should be able to profit from her continued existence.” 

“Enough of this.” A firm, feminine voice interrupted the slave before she could speak. Praesentia Aenigmatica, the lady of the house, entered the ornately decorated parlor. An air of authority followed the woman. “Stop this wretched babbling and get back to work.” Her eyes crinkled as her attention shifted from the slave to her child, still scrubbing away as if she’d not just had her hands crushed.

Paper rustled as it exchanged hands. Praesentia’s scowl transitioned into a delighted smile upon reading the letter’s contents. “This is splendid, dear. Finally, someone willing to pay our asking price.”

Praesentia moved to exit the room, turning to address the slave who’d been pleading for her daughter’s arranged marriage. “And clean up the whelp. She’s smearing blood on the floor.”

***

“Excuse me, miss. But may I see your panties?” Vera stared at the skeletal hand outstretched toward her. The undead man had made the vulgar request with such decorum that the girl didn't know how to respond. Luckily enough, that decision was made for her almost immediately.

“Ow!” Bone could be heard breaking under Nami’s fist. 

“Cut it out, Brook!” Anger morphed the ginger woman’s face into a monstrous expression. “Go be a perv somewhere else!”

The musician rubbed his afro-clad skull as he scurried away. “Sorry about him. Anyway, it’s nice to meet you!” As if the disturbance had never occurred, Nami’s features returned to a calm smile.

Vera opened her mouth, about to thank the woman for dealing with the offending skeleton when a boy bounded up to her, holding a straw hat firmly against his head. “So you’re a witch?!” The raven haired boy wore a toothy grin that scrunched his face.

Smooth fingers landed on Vera’s shoulder. “The genuine article.” Sanji nodded, lifting a newly-lit cigarette to his lips and inhaling deeply. “I thought a spell caster would make a great addition to the crew. Plus, she’s a trained maid!”

Luffy’s eyes sparkled. “That’s so cool! Join my crew!” He waited with impatience for Vera’s answer.

She shook the cook’s hand off her shoulder and pondered her options. This group was far more eclectic than she’d imagined when Sanji told her they were pirates. The captain was barely an adult and acted more like an impulsive child. Did she really want to swear her loyalty to someone so boisterous?

Sensing her hesitation, a furry creature approached. Vera had to look downward, observing the form of a tanuki. With antlers? And a hat? It spoke in a child-like voice. “If you’re nervous, I can promise you’ll have fun here!”

The girl’s head rotated, her gaze meeting a large window. Trees bent in harsh curves, strong winds forcing them into unnatural positions. A thick haze obscured much of the village, rain falling in quantities so large that only the buildings nearest the hotel could be seen. Had she not ran into Sanji at such an opportune moment, she’d likely be out in this very storm. But thanks to that chance encounter, she was indoors and engaged in a conversation with the potential to alter her life indefinitely.

“Alright.” She nodded to her new captain, deciding an uncertain future was favorable to continuing the past.

“Woohoo!” Luffy raised a fist in the air, exclaiming his excitement. “That’s one more crew member and one step closer to becoming King of the Pirates! Sanji, start cooking so we can celebrate!”

***

Sanji in fact, did not cook upon his captain’s request. Being stuck ashore, away from his kitchen and pantry, the chef had nothing to prepare. Instead, the crew had raided the hotel’s snack bar. A banquet of junk food now spread amongst them, half emptied wrappers and tins littered the hotel room as lively chatter filled the air. 

“And that’s how I took down a kidnapping ring using only a seashell, an empty book of matches, and my trusty slingshot!” Usopp struck a proud pose as his story concluded. The tale had been an obvious fabrication, but entertaining nonetheless. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Zoro dismissed the other man’s excitement, a sake bottle hovering just short of his lips. “You sure your name isn’t really Pinocchio? That nose is long enough for it.”

“What’s a Pinocchio?” Chopper - who Vera later discovered was not a tanuki but actually a reindeer, and the crew’s doctor - asked through a mouthful of cotton candy. 

“He’s calling Usopp a liar.” Robin answered the confused reindeer, her eyes obscured by a book recounting the island’s history.

“What? That story wasn’t true?” The doctor’s innocent eyes bore into his nakama, silently begging for the enrapturing tale he’d just heard to be true. 

A snort brought the group’s attention to their newest crewmate. Vera had been taking a drink, the adorable scene being so out of place amidst a group of criminals that she couldn’t help the laughter now flowing from her drenched lips.

“For you, mademoiselle.” A clean handkerchief was offered to the girl, deep blue orbs seeming to gaze into her soul. She’d come to learn much about the StrawHat Pirates in the few short hours she’d spent with them. For example, the kind chef she’d seemingly been rescued by was actually a chivalrous flirt who pushed the line between simp and pervert on a regular basis.

“Thanks, Sanji. But I got this.” With a wave of her hand, the liquid disappeared. 

“Woah! That was magic, yeah?” Franky, a large cyborg and the crew’s shipwright, pointed to Vera’s now dry form with a cola bottle. Upon receiving a nod, the blue-haired man continued. “What else can you do?”

Vera nervously rolled the hem of her apron between two fingers, looking down toward her lap. “Mostly just small spells like that. All I did was transport the water into a pocket dimension within the astral plane.”

“Is that where the book came from earlier?” 

The girl muttered a quiet affirmative to Sanji’s question, uncomfortable with the number of eyes focused on her.

“You can send things to and from the astral plane?! Just think what you could steal that way! All the berries we’d have!” Nami’s eyes shone with greed, already cooking up a plan and counting the riches it’d bring.

“Or the meat! You’d always have food whenever you wanted!” Luffy joined the navigator in her daydreaming, drool running from his mouth.

“I’d use it for sake!” Zoro joined in, his cheeks already flush from the aforementioned liquor . “Nothing better than a constant supply of good booze!”

“Could you use it to hide dirty magazines?”

“You can do it with books? I’d love to have access to my library wherever we go.”

“Or sweets!”

“What about cola? Barrels of cola!”

“Hey! She isn’t our personal storage!” Sanji cut in, bringing his fellow Strawhats down from their imaginings. 

“There’s a limit on how much I can transport.” Vera spoke softly, her companions barely able to hear the words as they came out. “The bigger something is, the more energy it takes to send or retrieve. And I only have so much energy to use before it gets dangerous.” Her eyes never rose as she informed the group of her limitations. “I can regain energy by eating or sleeping, but I can't really store large amounts.”

“Aww man!” Luffy fell onto his back, disappointment evident in his voice. “I really wanted that meat.”

“Could you not eat a huge meal and then transport something bigger?” Robin had closed her book and held a contemplative expression.

“How brilliant, Robin! Beauty and brains! What a blessing it is to be in the same crew as you!” Sanji held his hands tightly together as his eyes turned to hearts. He then turned to Vera, his enthusiasm unwavering. “And if it’s energy you need then I’ll make sure all your meals are packed full of nutrients! Of course I’d do that regardless. I’d never neglect a gorgeous lady’s nutrition! But I’ll put extra love and effort into yours!”

“Think of it like a glass of water.” Vera began, both surprised and silently delighted that someone actually cared to understand her powers. Before continuing, she held out a hand and whispered something unintelligible. An empty glass appeared which she placed on the ground.

“I’m the glass and my energy is the water.” She turned her palm downward, hovering above the cup’s open mouth. Liquid began to ooze from her skin, dripping down and landing within the vessel. “I can pour water in by sleeping or eating, but the cup stays the same size. So even if I sleep for a week or eat a twelve course meal, the amount of power I can store is limited.” 

At this point, the glass began to overflow. The liquid’s descent abruptly stopped and began flowing in reverse, disappearing upon its return to Vera’s palm. “Plus, I still need energy to live and do normal, non-magic stuff.” When the cup had emptied, cracks began to form along its walls. “So if I try to do something that uses too much power, I could end up hurting myself.”

The glass disappeared as well once Vera had finished her speech and demonstration. Her eyes grew wide and she began to stammer, blurting out a hasty adage. “B-but I wouldn’t mind transporting stuff for you guys! As long as it isn’t too big or anything.”

The witch raised her eyes to meet kind smiles. Nami spoke, her voice soft and genuine. “We get it. Just got a little excited there. But don’t worry. No one here would try to push you too far or force you to do anything.”

***

A bright sunrise glared over the island. Birds sung, nature’s symphony signaling a new day. Tree limbs and shingles littered the streets. The storm had raged through the night, only ending a few hours before dawn. Though damages were evident across the village, no buildings appeared to have suffered structurally.

Vera yawned, stretching her arms into the air. She stood on a balcony, breathing deeply and relishing the petrichor. Her eyes surveyed the island - her home for the better part of a decade - knowing this would be her last chance. 

“Coffee?” She turned to see a sleepy blonde chef, a mug of steaming liquid in each hand.

“Thank you, Sanji.” She took the drink happily, sniffing before taking a sip and humming her delight for the flavor.

The man smiled, coming to rest his elbows onto the railing beside her. “We’ll be leaving once everyone’s awake. Last chance to change your mind.”

Dark bangs tossed as Vera shook her head. “Not much to miss when it was never home to begin with.”

“Oh?” A swirly eyebrow raised. “And where is home?”

Vera turned away, her face hidden from the cook. “Far away. In both distance and time. What about you?”

Sanji took on a wistful expression, his gaze moving to the horizon. “I was born in the North Blue, but grew up in the East. Ever heard of a restaurant called Baratie?”

Memories flashed in the back of Vera’s mind. Cruel parental figures, a contract, and a boy from the North Blue. She shook the memories away, continuing the conversation with her new crewmate.

[direwombat]

what tragic horror character trope are your ocs?

tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton to do this quiz for the kids!

tagging: @natesofrellis, @thomrainer, @funkypoacher, @adelaidedrubman, @strafethesesinners, @harmonyowl, @poetikat, @aceghosts, @confidentandgood, @strangefable, and anyone else wanting to give it a go!

FRANKENSTEIN’S MONSTER. this plight is the simplest of them all: you did not ask for this. you were never given a choice. no part of yourself feels human, just a collection of traits you've picked up from mirroring anyone you could, even the people you meet through a television screen. it's alienating to live that way- yet someone has called you the alienating one. maybe too many people to count. maybe they treated you so uncomfortably inhuman that it's all you can understand now, or you've dug yourself into such a deep hole in an attempt to keep safe that you can't remember a person living in the home of your body at all. being alive is confusing and painful and lonely and loud but living is all there is to being human- you're already there. just take air into your lungs and breathe. close your eyes and picture a beautiful sky. you made that. you painted that yourself.

+ARI VASQUEZ-SULLIVAN (UNCHARTED)

THE ONE WHO OPENED THE DOOR. you turn the door handle. you call out, "who's there?" and the crowd has the audacity to groan, to get frustrated with you. as if the gift of hindsight was something you had. how the hell were you supposed to know you were born into a horror movie? no one bothered to tell you. say, if instead this was an action film, or a fantasy, would they still be telling you how silly of a mistake it was to press further on your quest? they would've commended you for your bravery. you thought you were going to be saving a princess in a tower, not getting stabbed in the back by a killer in the shadows. how is that fair? it isn't, and none of that was ever your fault. it is not wrong to believe things are good. your trust, your optimism, it shouldn't ever be mistaken for ignorance or stupidity. we need more people who open doors. how else are any of us gonna move forward?

KATHERINE VOGEL (RDR2)

THE WITCH. people need to find blame wherever they can; it makes the bad things in their life feel just a touch more bearable. the witches are so often blamed for the curses others are under that no one even questions it anymore. you point to a supposed witch and everyone else prepares the stake, no matter their innocence. to be born and believed a witch is one of the worst curses of them all- you can have friends and family, but there's always a dread that someday, someone will point to you, and everyone you once trusted will throw you into the pyre. if you're here, reading this, you've probably been burned before. and i don't blame you for wanting to hide away, to really become the witch they all say you are, to curse them. but to be a witch is to brush your fingertips over the bark of a tree and watch it grow a touch stronger. keep that in mind.

HENRIETTA GRAVES (RDR2)

THAT WHICH CANNOT BE KNOWN. oh god. how did it come to this? to some extent, you've gone so far past your own idea of "human" that it must be kind of fun, right? maybe. i'm not sure. as an artefact of cosmic horror, you're wild and wacky and colourful and people are probably drawn to that, but you will never let them know you. the mystery intrigues for a while, but it'll wear everyone down. it'll wear you down, too. who are you? do you remember? are you so far gone that you can't go back? and maybe that's the most tragic thing of all- becoming so distorted in your identity, and for so long, that no matter how hard you want to return you can't ever seem to figure it out. but you've learned a vast amount up in the stars, and people will work hard to get to know you. it doesn't matter who you used to be. sometimes, you should just start from scratch: give yourself a name, a birthday. let someone celebrate these things with you.

[ivyprism]

A Caged Bird AU (Info Dump: H, Skeletons, and Villains (?))

Mentions: Violence, isolation, etc.

Long-ish!

Laurel - A Caged Bird H

Personality: She is warm-hearted but lonely. She rarely interacts with others and often remains in her cage (or her own AU) with no remembrance of anything other than the location. She is really patient and lovely. She is really lovely and shy; she rarely speaks or opens up when meeting new people. She is unable to even speak to anyone but her main caretaker. She's desperate to get out of this prison, but she can't seem to find a way. She is frequently caring for a small garden within her larger garden. She can also be found reading, writing, or painting under a laurel tree. She likes to make birds and creatures to keep herself company.

Appearance: She is a very beautiful woman with faded hazel and long wavy brown hair that reaches her calves. She has a small scar on her eyebrow. She is about 5'1" and is somewhat thin, but chubby. She can turn into a stellar jay or a raven with purple on her wings. She's a shapeshifter.

Calendonia - The Caretaker of the Caged Bird

Personality: Laurel finds her chilly and distant. Despite this, she considers Laurel to be her kid because she raised the young girl from childhood until she was sent to the cage. She is a villain, but she is not cruel towards young Laurel. She shows little care for her but does feel a bit of remorse. She appears to be in love with the owner and often manipulates him. She, on the other hand, makes no attempt to violate her commands and frequently actively ignores the girl. She does not really care for her, but she does try to for the sake of Laurel's father.

Appearance: She is a cat monster. She seems to take after a Maine Coon in appearance.

Forrest - The Guard of the Cage: Papyrus

Personality: He sincerely wishes to keep Laurel safe. He considers her to be his sister because they are almost the same age. He keeps an eye on her from afar and tackles any threats that come across the cage. He has been plotting her release while adhering to his commands. With threats directed against Laurel, he is cruel and unmerciful. He is devoted to her and is willing to shed blood to prove it. He is very gentle and sweet, frequently directing children away from the cage to keep them safe from the primary caretaker and Calendonia.

Appearance: He is a skeleton monster. He has dull orange eye lights and he has a large crack on his skull.

(But with orange accents.)

Juniper - The Guard of the Cage: Sans

Personality: He is a very lazy and calm skeleton. He enjoys puns and jokes. He looks after others. He manages to keep threats out of the cage and away from his brother. He has no idea how to feel about Laurel because he has never had a genuine talk with her. He believes his brother is overly protective of her, despite the fact that he hasn't even spoken to him (to his knowledge). He cares for her, yet he doesn't go out of his way to see her. He is unaware that she is present against her consent. He enjoys flirting and is generally a nice man.

Appearance: He is a skeleton with light dull blue eyes. He has a small scar on his left eye.

Adair - The Doctor: Gaster

Personality: His children are Juniper and Forrest. He is kind and considerate. He is worried about Laurel because she can't control her power when she transforms, which causes her magical troubles. He has a solemn and somber manner, yet he will not confront Eilif. During check-ups, he tries to be a pleasant presence and put her at ease. He is one of the few people who understands her. He is an excellent parent who constantly chastises his sons when they engage in unsafe behavior. He is exceedingly loyal, but for the sake of his patients, he will break that allegiance. He might be somewhat cold, but he is incredibly nice. He adores and takes care of his sons.

Appearance: He has the usual Gaster scars, but they reach the bottom and top of his skull. He has fangs and light orange and blue eyes.

Eilif - The Owner of the Cage and Laurel's father

Personality: He is a ruthless and immobile force. As Laurel's biological father, he loves her very dearly and wants her to be safe; nonetheless, he keeps her isolated and trapped. Since his wife's disappearance, he is the only one who is truly allowed to communicate with her. He manipulates her and the other individuals that dwell among the caregivers, albeit unwittingly. He has no pity for anyone who tries to liberate Laurel. He has the finest intentions, yet he can't just let go. He often ignores his daughter's pleadings for freedom and would do whatever to prevent anyone from rescuing her from his steely grip.

Appearance: He has longish white hair and green eyes. He's about 5'8". He has a large nasty scar on his face. He has a slight dad bod, no cap. He can turn into a raven and a stellar jay. He's a shapeshifter.

--------

@kioko-noodles / @kiokodoodles @miscneilleaneous @und3rwat3r-a5tr0naut @hearty-dose-of-ranch @buff-borf-bork @fruitsnackart