#its just an “i want to scream and maybe rip something to shreds w my teeth” kind of energy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

showrunnerihardlyknowher · 3 years

Note

26 for the prompts? perhaps w the cat n mouse lads :3 (also look danny i did it i sent a prompt are u proud)

I...actually don't remember what the prompt was for this one, but I'm 87% sure it was "I'm not that scary, am I?"

So fine since y'all keep asking for 'em, here's more of the cat and mouse bois. Shoutout to @gabbydafurry and an anon for finally giving them names.

“C’mon.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“I said no.”

“I’ll make pollo asado for dinner, we can eat it together while we watch!”

Aaron sighed and rubbed his hands against his forehead, trying to ease the dull throb that had yet to wane over the past two days. His headache certainly wasn’t being helped by the constant badgering of his...roommate, for a lack of better words (as well as being a title so eagerly self bestowed by the cat in question) but much like many of their other interactions, his resolve was starting to wear thin. Usually, he was able to hold his ground for at least a week until he was bribed into giving the other some type of social interaction with the promise of his favorite foods. Today, however, the poor mouse just wanted a moment’s peace free from knocking on the walls or calling through the cracks until he answered, and if that meant watching some stupid movie then fine.

Plus, Lucas did know how to make some incredible Mexican food.

“...fine,” Aaron conceded after a pause, the pressure behind his eyes giving him a sharp pang before fading to its usual ache, almost like his own body was projecting how horrible of an idea this was.

As soon as the mouse slipped out from behind the curio, he came face to face with the massive grin of the cat mere inches away from the opening. Seeing the grin only split wider when he was fully in view of the other normally would have instinctively sent a shiver up his spine, it was kind of difficult to be intimidated seeing how Lucas had strangely contorted his body to lay on the floor between the curio and the bookcase. Most cats seemed to be fairly flexible, so it probably wasn’t too uncomfortable for him to be so bent and curled up, but he definitely lost some of that hunter’s prowess with his back twisted sideways and one leg leaning against the shelving.

In a flash, Lucas had managed to untangle his strange positioning to instead be crouched on his knees, now looming over Aaron in a way he wasn’t sure he would ever get used to. He flinched back when his hand started to reach out towards him, fully intending to scoop him up to dizzying heights without a second thought, but the appendage stopped just short of touching him at all. Instead, he dropped his hand palm side up and waited, smiling all the while. At least he was getting better at remembering Aaron’s explicit request to not be grabbed without permission, though he did always apologize with a sheepish look and some little treat whenever he forgot.

Once Aaron climbed onto the awaiting hand that radiated a delightfully intense warmth into his already aching muscles, Lucas was already jumping up a chattering a mile a minute about how much the mouse was going to love the movie he picked out, how dinner would be ready soon, how he wasn’t expecting him to actually agree to watch a scary movie with him since he never seemed like the type who would be into that sort of thing but--

“It’s a scary movie?” Aaron interrupted, the noise finally registering beyond the headache. Truthfully, he tuned a lot of what the other said out for almost every conversation, not that it ever seemed to make a difference. Yeah, sorry, I’m a bit of a chatterbox, he admitted once, but it’s less weird talking to someone who doesn’t respond than to talk to yourself, right?

Debatable.

Lucas tilted his head and snorted. “Uh, yeah? That was one of the first things I told you about. You know that one actress who’s in almost every one of those Christmas movies we watch, who’s always the jealous best friend?” Aaron has no idea who he was referring to given that he never absorbed anything from those stupid romance movies he was boarderline forced to watch, but nodded anyways, “Right, this is supposed to be her big break out role, or something. It’s the first thing she’s doing as a lead actress, and you know, good for her! I’m glad she’s getting out of that typecast she’s been in forever. Horror probably wouldn’t be my first choice for her, but I guess since she has those singing vocals it could carry over to being a scream queen. Kind of like when--”

And Aaron was out of the conversation again.

Lucas continued to drone on about the actress’s entire film career, or at least that’s what the mouse was assuming he was doing when he occasionally zoned back in to pick up a stray word here and there. The headache he had been staving off to the best of his ability was starting to come back with twice as much force as it often did in the later days. He probably could have just asked the other for some aspirin, maybe even some cold medicine as that was no doubt what this bout of illness was turning into, but asking the cat for anything was always out of the question. Of course, Lucas tried to sway him numerous times into thinking it most certainly was not and that he could always ask for whatever he needed, never to his avail. Aaron was indeed willing to prolong his suffering if it meant not having to stomach the dreadful embarrassment that would come to being indebted to the feline, no matter how insignificant.

Unfortunately, he was only setting himself up for failure in thinking this “agreement” would be providing him any sort of relief. His headache was treading dangerously close into becoming a full fledged migraine and the flashes of light and screams from the television would not be doing him any favors. His only saving grace was that, after he had been settled on the couch and Lucas scampered off to get the dinner he promised, the cat turned off every other light possible to, as he put it, really get them in the spooky mood!

The smell of the food was delicious and nauseating. His stomach both wanted and revolted at the idea of anything filling it, which would only serve to worsen his headache no doubt. Damn it all, he wanted to throttle both himself and this illness, the first for agreeing to watch this stupid movie when he was already feeling under the weather, the second for preventing him from getting his half of the deal. These movie-dinner dates deals were the only reason Aaron continued to stick around, even if he thought the torment of being forced to watch awful romcoms in exchange for a hot, homemade meal was a little unfair. No, that wasn’t entirely true, Lucas was a freaking culinary genius as far as the mouse was aware. It was a wonder why he wasn’t majoring in a cooking field.

“I’m not hungry right now,” Aaron lied when Lucas had asked why he wasn’t eating. “I’ll try some later.”

The cat looked at him strangely before shrugging. “Alright, just let me know. If you don’t like it, I can always make you something else.” There he goes again, offering things he knows the other can’t accept. At least he could let it slide this time as he had no appetite to think of any other dish.

Lucas finished his own meal in silence, completely fixed on the television as the opening scene carried on, introducing the canine main character that Aaron did, in fact, vaguely recognize. This was fine, he figured, the dark apartment coupled with a painfully slow movie, a warm body moving to curl up behind him as it so often did during these deals, he could probably get a few moments of real rest in before the credits rolled. As much as he loathed to admit it, the cat was actually rather...comfortable to be forcefully cuddled by. He wasn’t like other movie goers that needed to make a comment on every character’s decision, steady breathing and the occasional purr helping the mouse slowly relax.

That relaxation was cut short as soon as the romcom actress tore her tiny avian neighbor to shreds by the end of the first act.

Aaron had hardly been paying attention to the storyline up until this point, something to do with the girl being bitten and experiencing insatiable hunger lately. The sudden carnage of the otherwise trusting little prey creature made both of them flinch in surprise, though Lucas was quick to laugh it off. From then on the mouse’s unwavering attention was glued to the screen, but not by his choice. A chill ran through him each time she claimed another unsuspecting victim, always a prey animal, and ripped them apart with her teeth and nails like a starving animal. The way the tiny’s incredibly realistic viscera was slurped into her bloody mouth made him queasy, all too easily imagining himself in their shoes.

Eventually, her hunger became too strong and she began attacking fellow predator species as well. Ripping into throats and soft bellies was far messier than snacking on a tiny creature in three bites, making her feast all the more gory. While the violence still unsettled him, it was a touch more bearable now that he couldn’t picture his own body being mangled between the teeth of a predator he thought he could trust. Speaking of…

The mouse gulped and risked a glance behind him at the other who had hardly moved, save for a few jolts and snickers whenever a particularly good jump scare managed to startle him. It didn’t go unnoticed that every time Aaron had physically reacted to a sudden screech or attack, the cat would curl just a little bit tighter around him, hiding a laugh behind a rumbling purr. He wanted to believe this was meant to be an act of comfort and not something equally as nefarious as the canine plotting her next kill. Regardless, Lucas was equally transfixed on the movie, except he seemed to be enjoying every minute of the horror aspect. His tail would flick in interest during the high tension scenes, even more so when a chase sequence was underway. It made sense, considering that was his favorite game to make Aaron play.

Whatever the case may be, the mouse couldn’t help but be unnerved tenfold that the other had the audacity to enjoy a fictional movie he was interested in seeing. The last thing the mouse wanted was for Lucas to get any more ideas when it came to chasing him around the apartment, much less awaken any sort of primitive instinct to maim his prize after it had been captured. To this day, it remains a deep seated fear in the back of his mind that every time the cat cupped his hands over him, his teeth would be quick to follow. Natural instincts were hard to shake for a reason when it came to prey animals such as himself, he could only hope the same wasn’t true for predators.

His imagination was running rampant, enough so that he completely missed how the movie ended. Something about a cure, something about being put down, whatever. The only thing on his mind was the morbidly hilarious thought that if Lucas were to go feral like the canine, would he eat him raw or would he cook him up in another fantastic dish?

Aaron jumped when Lucas moved to sit up behind him, only now registering the credits scrolling across the screen. He stretched a bit, the quickly fading warmth that had been surrounding the mouse making him realize just how tight the other must have been snuggled around him. How did he not notice?

“Wow,” Lucas said, pursing his lips. “That...was one of the worst movies I have ever seen in my life.”

That wasn’t the reaction Aaron had been expecting him to have, but it was certainly better than to hear him go on about how it was a brilliant masterpiece. He got up to flick the lights back on, still laughing as he recounted each poorly written scene and cheesy effects. “I mean, oh my god, right? The mail man saved everyone? Seriously? I actually feel bad for making you watch that, you totally have dibs on the next movie night.”

He turned around to look at the mouse who was still huddled tight on the couch, wide eyes glued to the screen even if it was just names moving along with ominous background music. Lucas gave him another quizzical look, smirking.

“C’mon, even you have to admit those tinies had zero survival instincts. Like, who goes up to a rabid dog and asks for directions? I get suspending my disbelief and all, but they could have made it just a pinch realistic. This is so going to tank her acting career…” The cat shook his head and moved closer to the couch so that he stood right in front of the television, finally drawing the other’s attention to himself. “Hey, you hungry now?”

Oh, absolutely fucking not. An hour and a half of being tensed up gave no relief to his aching muscles and now that the lights were back on, so was his pounding headache. His stomach rolled, the nausea a mix of dizziness and disgust from the special effects. He didn’t even want to think about food, he didn’t want to be out in the open anymore, and he most certainly did not want to spend another minute in the cat’s company right now.

“S-sure…” Aaron finally squeaked out. He just needed Lucas out of the room, distracted somewhere so he could make a break for it. In some instances, he would have just darted off whether the cat saw him or not, but that always resulted in a game of chase that had a 50/50 success rate, the other loving it anyways. All he wanted was some peace and quiet to rest up and heal and not think about how easy it would be for the other to bite off his head whenever he felt like it.

Lucas stood there for a minute, studying him, and just when Aaron genuinely feared he was going to pounce, he flashed an innocent smile. “Cool, just give me a couple minutes to get it heated up.” And with that, he disappeared into the kitchen.

Aaron decided to be bold and waste a few precious seconds of his head start to collect himself. Deep down, he knew he was being ridiculous. Lucas had been nothing but kind to him. Aloof, but still kind all the same. But as a prey animal that spent the better part of his life living in walls and stealing to survive, trust was a risk he simply couldn’t take. There was hardly any benefit to keeping up this con if the end goal was simply to eat him. For all he knew, though, Lucas was nothing more than a merciless sociopath that was willing to milk every ounce of fear he could before chowing down. A sociopath obsessed with romantic comedies and wore an apron when he cooked and had begged Aaron for two months straight to tell him when his birthday was so that he could make him a miniature cake.

...okay, so maybe Lucas wasn’t a sociopath, but that didn’t mean he was trustworthy. Evolution gave him sharpened fangs and agile reflexes for a reason and the mouse was not about to find out what it was like to be on the receiving end of those one day.

With his head as clear as it was going to be for the time being, sans the dull throb behind his eyes, the mouse finally pushed himself up to make his way over to the couch arm. Slowly, as to not overwork his stiff joints, he climbed his way down to the floor and skittered under the couch for a little extra protection. Strangely, he noticed that he didn’t hear any noises coming from the kitchen just up ahead and when he stopped by the doorway, he couldn’t see anyone either. Losing track of the massive cat should not be possible, especially considering this was a one bedroom apartment and there was literally nowhere else for the feline to go without coming back through the entryway. Aaron should have taken it as a blessing, but of course he couldn’t leave well enough alone.

He proceeded to be daring and come out from under the couch completely to peek into the kitchen, confirming it was empty. Again, that shouldn’t even be possible for Lucas to slip out without having to directly pass the living room to go somewhere else. Unless he had, which would mean Aaron missed him somehow. He had been in quite a deep thought process on the couch...but he could have sworn he was only collecting himself for a minute!

The answer became glaringly obvious when the mouse took a few hesitant steps back and turned to retreat under the safety of the couch, only to come face to face with Lucas. He damn near jumped out of his skin, slamming his back against the wall in an effort to gain another inch of distance between himself and the face taking up his entire view. Really, this was nothing too out of the ordinary for the cat, he loved to sneak up and pounce whenever the opportunity presented itself and Aaron wasn’t too obviously close to heart failure. What made his heart stutter, however, was the fact that Lucas didn’t look like...well, Lucas. There was no smile, no warm eyes, no words being talked a mile a minute about nothing.

No, there was just a frowning cat with his ears pinned back and pupils slit, stalking closer with a terrifying rumble in his throat.

Instinct overtook him as soon as he saw the other’s lip twitch, trying to dart under the couch for safety and having his path immediately blocked by a hand being slammed down, claw out. Aaron couldn’t even yelp, the bile in his throat threatening to turn into vomit if he idled around too long. So, he didn’t. Instead, he turned on his heel and scampered in the opposite direction with the cat hot on his trail. He very nearly dodged a swipe, Lucas hissing that his blow didn’t land while Aaron only tried to speed up his sprinting. They circled maybe half of the living room, the mouse weaving under furniture while the cat knocked into them in an effort to jarr his prey into taking a misstep.

It worked, unfortunately, when Aaron took a sharp turn at the bookshelf and caused Lucas to clip it with his shoulder. The small bump did nothing to deter the cat on his hunt, but the two books that came tumbling down were enough to make the smaller skid and trip to avoid being squashed under the novels. He ended up twisting his ankle awkwardly, stumbling flat on his face while the momentum of his running made him roll twice until he landed on his back. Despite being winded and the additional pain in his leg, he knew there was no time to waste, trying to pull himself. It was too late, though. The cat was already on top of him, hand coming down to pin him under his palm while only his head poked free from between his fingers.

That cold, terrifying face came nearer, eyes tunnel visioned on its prize. Oh God, Aaron would give anything to have the other Lucas back right now. He’d watch a thousand sappy movies, do a date night for every meal, actually move into his bedroom like the cat had suggested he do a dozen times. He wanted...fuck, he wanted his friend back. What he thought was his friend, anyways. Not this killer, not this predator who was baring his teeth and was now mere inches away from biting off his face and--

The growling above him broke off into a snort shortly before turning into a full blown laugh. Aaron wasn’t sure when he had closed his eyes in preparation for his certain death, but when he dared to open them and blinked away the budding tears, he saw that smile he had been wishing for again. Kind and warm, just like eyes, and it was like Lucas had never even taken the form of a starving hunter in his life. Like he hadn’t been moments away from devouring his beloved roommate.

“Oh, come on,” he howled with laughter, “You can’t be serious! That movie actually scared you? I mean, I thought you looked a little freaked out by it, but wow!”

The movie...so this...this wasn’t real. Lucas was just pretending, just playing a prank on him. He thought that the movie had simply wound him up and made him jumpier than usual, no different than watching a zombie flick and popping out from behind a bush at your friend later on.

Except it was different. It was different in the fact that zombies aren't real, but predators are. Predators didn’t need an excuse to go feral and maim and consume their tiny cohabitants, they simply could by the laws of nature. And yes, it may be illegal and have several laws in place to protect prey species, but if no body was ever left behind, who could say if foul play was involved? That was the whole plot point in the otherwise dull movie they sat through together, the reason why the woman was able to avoid suspicion of her sickness by feeding on tinies that could only be reported missing at most.

Lucas’s laughter had tapered off, still clearly enjoying himself. “Alright, note to self, no more horror movies.” Finally, he released Aaron from under his hand to sit back on his haunches. “Man, I really didn’t think you would scare that easily, especially from a B-movie like that. Anyways, are you actually ready to eat now? I put your stuff in the oven so it would reheat better, but it should be done by now….Ronnie?”

Aaron hadn’t moved an inch since he was originally pinned, not even after the hand had been lifted off of him. He just stared up blankly at the cat, trembling and wide eyed, unable to do anything as the rapid succession of events sunk in. The cat’s humor died down a little, smile hesitating.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t resist, you know?” He shrugged a little sheepishly. “You didn’t even notice when I came back so I thought...I don’t know, it was funnier in my head. I almost broke character and started laughing before you ran!” With still no verbal response, Lucas reached out a hand. “Aaron? You good? Come on, I’m not that scary, am I?”

The reaction he got probably wasn’t what he was hoping for with Aaron suddenly scrambling to push himself away from the outstretched hand that might trap and tear apart his limbs. He gave a sharp squeak, managing to find his footing only to come crashing down as soon as he took the first step, his ankle noticeably swollen by this point. His cry of pain was muffled into a desperate grunt, trying so hard to drag himself away as a last ditch effort to avoid the same fate as the bird and the squirrel and the mole in the movie.

Lucas gasped. “Oh, Ronnie, your leg!” Both hands were reaching for the mouse now, aiming to cup around him and scoop him up before they surely put him out of his misery. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t...oh my God, I hurt you.”

Yes and no. In truth, Aaron had been the one to hurt himself by making his body move in ways it physically shouldn’t. But that didn’t change the fact that Lucas had shown his true colors. Perhaps in hindsight, that wasn’t a fair assessment, as he really did think he was playing a harmless little joke on a skittish friend. The pain came from knowing that the cat could turn feral, though, no matter how genuine he was being. There was still clearly an instinct within him, one that knew how to hunt and bare his teeth and hiss, one that knew deep down where they both ranked on the food chain. It hurt in knowing everything he thought about his friend, everything that kept him from really letting down his walls like the other so desperately wanted, was right. Cats and mice were not friends.

“Get away from me!” Aaron shrieked when the hands came too close. Though they withdrew quickly, he didn’t bother to watch if they would move again as he forced himself up to stumble back to his nook behind the bookshelf.

“Aaron, wait!” It was a fruitless request and Lucas knew it as he didn’t even try to stop the mouse from disappearing behind the furniture back into the walls. It would only make matters so much worse. “Aaron, please, you’re hurt, just...at least let me help you. Please. I...I’m so sorry! It was an accident, I promise!”

The cat shuffled closer, leaning down in hopes that the other could at least hear his pleas better, could hear how sincere he was trying to be. “I would never hurt you, Aaron. You’re one of my best friends. Look, it was a stupid prank and I’m an asshole and I’ll never do it again, just please come out. Just let me know if you’re alright?”

It didn’t matter how hard or for how long he tried, Aaron was long gone within the walls.

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blookmallow · 3 years

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rating spirit halloween’s new animatronics for 2021

or at least what’s showing as New Arrivals on the site for me. looks like we got 15 new arrivals listed here and im HYPE about them so here we go

the caretaker

pretty standard reaper character with a Gravedigger theme to it. hes... fine? nothing about this particularly stands out to me, but i dont dislike it at all. i like his gravestone. would be good for a graveyard set. i guess ill give him... 6.5/10

mr. dark

at first glance he also just looks like a standard reaper character (or voldemort. he definitely looks like voldemort now that i think about it) but it turns out he SPRINGS UP RIDICULOUSLY TALL LIKE A CURSED WACKY INFLATABLE TUBE MAN and the spring motion in the video is actually really fucking fast so, while this isn’t a lot different from other jumpscare animatronics, i gotta give him credit bc i guarantee this would have scared the fuck outta me in person. according to the site he’s almost 9 feet tall at his full height

i expected him to jump out and scream but i did not expect. That. i feel like if you put him up on a stage or something to make him loom over people even more he’d be very menacing indeed. would also be really good if you put him behind something so you don’t see him until he's suddenly There

i like him, 8/10 springy spook man

click for more

grave grabber

pretty much just a zombie but he’s cute i like him. i like the green eyes. i dont know what it is about him in motion but the video makes him kind of endearing to me for some reason and i dont know why. 6/10

ophelia

at first for some reason i thought the monster’s name was ophelia but i think that’s supposed to be the name of the victim? i think the idea here is “girl haunted by a Nightmare” but the fact that the monster itself is so small and doesn’t actually have a body for the most part makes this unintentionally hilarious to me

like. it. it’s so small. it’s just a little shoulder demon. it’s so cute

psst. hey do we have any more cheetos

anyway i like how the girl’s eyes move back and forth but the sounds she makes are uncomfortable and she just looks so. stiff and solid and there doesn’t seem to be any movement at all other than her eyes and the monster peeking out so it’s just kind of weird to look at. it’s an interesting concept but the execution is just strange and unintentionally hilarious. 7/10 bc i still think its really funny

someone should buy this and mod it into chrona and ragnarok

harriet hustle

WE DID IT KIDS WE FINALLY GOT A FEMALE CLOWN ANIMATRONIC im so happy i could cry i wish my store had her set up i want to meet her

i love how they have her hanging upside down like this, it makes it so much more visually interesting than the figures that just kinda stand there looking spooky, even though she doesn’t really Do much (she just swings and her head moves around a little, just laughs, doesn’t have spoken lines)

i love her outfit i love her hair shes SO cute i love this little murder gremlin i love her i love her

im still waiting on spirit to give us a female clown figure that isn’t “creepy little girl” (ive commented before on how their only female figures tend to be either the Old Hag or the Creepy Little Girl and not a lot else) but i absolutely love this all the same 20/10

this one is fun too because we also have:

henry hustle

according to the description he’s actually harriet’s dad!! we have an evil clown father and daughter duo here and im LIVING for it

i dont think ive ever seen spirit do characters that are related to each other like this that’s so cute,

apparently his wife/harriet’s mother left them and ran off with the ringmaster. he’s a single father clown trying to raise his evil daughter clown and i support him wholeheartedly

there doesn’t seem to be any more animatronics on this storyline, we don’t have the mother here and the only ringmaster animatronic they have is the rotten ringmaster who was released previously, but i doubt he’s the homewrecker ringmaster in question. he Could Be. imagine if your wife left you for That. we dont even know if henry’s wife was also a clown or not. spirit halloween clown lore going on here

anyway i absolutely LOVE this clown, he does something INCREDIBLY STARTLING AND UNEXPECTED which i dont want to spoil for you. go watch his video and see what he does its great

my absolute favorite type of halloween animatronic is the “does something completely unexpected” category and this one is ALSO a clown and a GOOD clown at that

and he’s got this great vintage clown style i really like, i love scary clowns like this that actually look like they could believably be a real guy and not just some kind of mutant Clown Monster

and hes got cards!! card suit motif!!! i love it i love him this is a great clown 20/10 for him too

w. raith

we have this one at my local store and listen to me. im completely obsessed with this ghost

it’s pretty much just a ghost but it’s SUCH A GOOD ghost. especially in this photo here with proper spooky lighting and everything. i would absolutely LOVE to see this in a haunt attraction, it looks SO good even in bright store lighting. i feel like this under the right lights and in the right environment could look SO fuckign cool

the shredded rag look!!! the ethereal glow!! the weird jellyfishy movement!!! the classic wooOoO oO o o ooo noises!! this may perhaps be the ideal ghost. it is without flaw. a perfect specimen. i fuckign LOVE this ghost i want it so badly but i do not have the space or the money for this thing 15/10 w. raith my beloved. my true love. maybe one day

buzzsaw

at first i was slightly disappointed to see that this guy didn’t have an actual name, but then in the description apparently his name is Bill “Buzzsaw” Jackson and his backstory is he tried to be a wrestler but it didnt go very well so he grafted weapons in place of his hands. i guess. you know, to be better at wrestling. i dont really understand it and i definitely would not have gone with “disgraced former wrestler” as the concept for this guy

but anyway we have mr jackson at my store right now, he’s Big, i like him. he doesn’t really move very fast and doesn’t jump at you, he just kinda swings his saw around. for some reason he just seems friendly to me and i dont know why. makes me think of like an uncle dressed up for halloween rather than an actual murderer guy. i dont know i cant explain it but i like him hes my friend 8/10

wacky mole

this guy’s also at my store this year, i didn’t know his name was wacky mole fsdgjsdg

he’s listed as a new arrival, but i thought i remembered seeing him before, and the description says he’s a returning fan favorite, so. i guess this is a re-release

anyway pretty standard Scary Monster Clown. his teeth look like candy corn. i like it but i think they should just Be candy corn. i like his colorscheme and his silly giant buttons. light up eyes are always a nice touch. he doesnt really stand out but hes overall a pretty good clown. 7/10

grim

good ol’ classic skeleton. he’s pretty nicely modeled though and i highly recommend watching the video for this guy because he moves REALLY well for a spirit animatronic, he’s got a way wider range of movement than most of them do and his head moves really nicely. one of the benefits of a skeleton animatronic is you don’t have to deal with lip movement, so his jaw movements match with his lines a lot more realistically. i like the animated glowing eyes too, it really gives him a lot of personality. he’s really interesting to watch. like, it’s just a skeleton, but it’s a really really good skeleton, so, 8/10

BEETLEJUICE!!

i love love love franchise character animatronics and spirit has so much great beetlejuice stuff this seems well suited to them but looking at it............. hm. hm

he just looks so. stiff and his face comes across like, deer caught in the headlights to me. it Does Not look very natural but it looks slightly better in motion (he just swivels from side to side and says a few phrases but it somehow looks less. shellshocked when he’s moving)

maybe not the greatest execution but maybe he looks better in person and im still hype to see him so 8/10 regardless

night stalker

we have this guy at my store too, im still not really sure what’s going on with his arms (did he just rip loose from them and leave them behind? did someone do this to him? i dont know) but i love a good spooky scarecrow. love his Wiggles. hes a pretty good boy. 6.5/10

here we have another pennywise, it pretty much just pops out at you, but it’s still pretty good. i like the full size one they had before better, but this one’s slightly cheaper and would be easier to integrate into a haunted house attraction since he comes with a built in set piece. it looks good but doesn’t do much. 7.5/10 i guess

GHOSTFACE!!!!

FUCK YES I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS

please. please spirit halloween set him up in my store so i can see him

anyway hes got kind of the same issue beetlejuice has where the figure just. looks kind of stiff, and he looks more like a spooky ghost decoration than like, A Person. he doesnt seem to have any lines or anything either, he just kinda pops out. but then again i guess whenever we see ghostface in person in the movies he doesn’t usually talk anyway. i dont really know how id make this better but it seems a little underwhelming somehow. still hype to see it though. 7/10 i guess

now if we could just get a jack torrance and a bela lugosi dracula id be content

i would LOVE to see Red from Us but i doubt they’d do one. my other horror beloved is norman bates but i know if they made one of him it’d just be him in a dress waving a knife around (not that i wouldn’t still be hype to see him, but, y’know) (anyway. tangent. moving on)

mr. howle

it’s. a werewolf. he howls. that’s....... about it

it’s a very nice looking werewolf, it’s a well designed figure and definitely looks very imposing, but it’s... just a werewolf. there’s not really anything particularly interesting or creative here. its a perfectly good werewolf. i dont have anything to say about this. 6.5/10

i also just am not a werewolf person so maybe someone out there who has a greater appreciation for werewolves might like him more

#spirit halloween #spirit 2021

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ohgodmyeyes · 4 years

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Freezing

Anakin gets hit by a train, and dies in the arms of a stranger.

You are the stranger.

Modern AU. 2.7k words. Bad writing.

TW: Suicide

...

"You're awfully handsome— did you know I've never met such a handsome guy before in my whole life?"

"You're just saying that."

You laughed, despite the fact that the tears you happened to be shedding were threatening to freeze to your face. "No— no, Anakin, I'm not just saying that."

It was dark and it was snowy, and you were all by yourselves at a sparse, semi-rural railway crossing. You were looking down on him right now, holding his head in your lap; his face was dimly illuminated by a few old, halogen street lights. There hadn't been time for you to get to learn very much about him, but it would have been clear from even the most cursory glance in his direction that Anakin was a lovely man... and so that was what you focused on. Even though his face had now been rendered as stark-white as the snow surrounding you, and even though his eyes were presently brimming with fear, you could hardly have used any word to describe him that was not synonymous with 'beautiful'. That shouldn't have made this any more sad or wasteful than it already was, but it did. Somehow, it did.

"Why are you doing this, anyway?" he asked, having begun to sound a bit weak.

"It's nothing," you lied. "You seem like the kind of person who would do this for someone else, so I think I should do it for you." The snow you'd thought was so pretty only a few minutes ago was landing on him; you moved to brush some of it off of his shoulder. The gesture was both gentle and useless.

He chuckled at that, as best as he could chuckle. "I seem like that kind of person to you?"

With an emphatic nod, you answered him, "You do— you really do."

He did. You'd been standing near the tracks appreciating the snowfall when you first saw him; the railway signs had just started to blink, and you could hear the sound of the train engine's horn blaring as it approached. You thought someone had left garbage on the tracks; a big bag of it. As you had admonished the offending litter-bug in your head, though, you noticed the end of the dark bundle start to move; that was also when you realized that it seemed to have both a head of hair and a face, too.

By the time you'd recognized Anakin for what he was— a person laying across the tracks— the train had been nearly upon him. You dashed toward him anyway; grabbed his jacket in an effort to try and pull him away, but you couldn't. You wouldn't realize until later that he had most likely been gripping the rails with his fingers, actively preventing you from rescuing him. He didn't say anything while you tugged on his coat; as the train whooshed by your face, you recoiled. As soon as it had passed, though, you leapt back to his aid in spite of the fact that you knew it was much too late.

The train, for its part, didn't stop— it just carried on into the night. There were so many little bushes and piles of dead wood alongside the tracks; maybe the engineer hadn't realized what had happened. Maybe he, like you, had thought the man in his path was just a pile of trash.

You tried as hard as you could not to look, but of course you couldn't help yourself: Everything below the middle of his chest had been decimated as the wheels of the engine had passed over him. It had been going so fast that it seemed to have torn him right in half. His legs were hardly even recognizable as legs anymore (save for the boots on his feet), and his midsection had been all but ripped apart. There was blood on the snow and blood on the rails; blood everywhere, really, although to look at his face you might have thought he was going to live. His eyes, after all, were open... and again, they were wide with fear.

"Why?" was the very first thing you had asked, somehow summoning the strength to lift (albeit with shaking hands) his head onto your lap. You were sitting on your knees in the snow; your own legs were cold, but you didn't care. You should have been panicking: Screaming, shouting, running for help. You weren't, though, maybe because you understood that there was nothing to be accomplished by doing so. Maybe you were just in shock.

It was by then that you realized you could smell the blood— rich, coppery, pungent. You didn't want to smell it, but you did anyway; kept your eyes fixed on his face so you wouldn't have to see it as well.

"I was too scared to put my head on the rail," he said, not really answering your question. "I still thought I'd be dead by now, though. How bad is it; can you see?"

"It's... well, it's pretty bad," you told him, without having to look again. "I just don't understand why—"

"My wife died," he said. He clearly understood what it was you wanted to know. You had no idea how he was still talking; still conscious. You were afraid to peer back down the length of his body, because you'd already glimpsed more than enough.

"Your wife?"

"I always used to tell her I couldn't live without her."

"You weren't joking, were you?"

"I don't tell jokes. Not lately, anyway."

You didn't doubt that was true. You might have asked what happened to his wife; how she died, or maybe what she'd been like. You didn't need to look to know you didn't have time for that, though, so you just asked for his name. You wanted to know his name.

"It's Anakin," he said. "My name is Anakin."

"That's a nice name. It suits you." You paused, and reached into the pocket of your coat to look for your phone, only to find that there was nothing there. You must have left it at work; you'd been coming home from work when this had all started. It didn't matter, though; a phone wouldn't have helped. Anakin was going to die no matter what you did. Maybe that was why you weren't running away, although by then you'd started to cry. You couldn't help but cry.

"A name's a name," he told you. If he could have shrugged, you thought he might have. "My mom must have thought it suited me, too."

"Well," you said, "I think she was right."

You had told him next that 'Anakin' was a handsome name, and that he was handsome too. After that was when he had said to you that he thought you were 'just saying that', and asked you why you were sitting with him. Again, your answer hadn't been a lie; he did seem like a kind person... so why the hell would he have done this? Losing his wife didn't strike you as being a good enough excuse to erase himself from existence... but then, you didn't know him. Surely, though, there had been more to his life than only her. Didn't he have anybody else?

"Why is this taking so long?" he asked, his face finally having begun to betray the seriousness of his injury. You glanced down even though you didn't want to; the blood was freezing into the snow, and the shredded remnants of his lower half had ceased giving off much steam.

"Probably because it's so cold outside," you said. The cold slowed everything down, from cars to rot to human bodies.

"I always hated the cold," he told you with a smile. How was he laughing and smiling right now, anyway? You didn't understand it. Maybe he was delirious from the blood he'd lost, or maybe he was just happy he was about to die. There was no way to tell. He still looked scared, though; if he had any trepidation, it was his eyes that betrayed it: Even if he wasn't frightened, they certainly were.

"You must not be from around here," you said, trying as best you could to smile back at him. It was cold, sometimes, for half of the entire year where you lived— cold, and dark too. Months of winter meant that most people who were born here grew accustomed to the climate when they were very young.

"No," he confirmed. "I'm— shit!"

His exclamation made you jump, although you tried not to jostle him too much. "What?" you asked. "What's wrong?" How stupid a question was that?

"I-I... I don't know. I thought it would hurt, but it doesn't hurt. It's just cold. Are you cold?"

"Freezing," you said, glancing one more time down the length of his body in spite of yourself. The blood closest to you was so dark that it was almost black, in sharp contrast to the bright red spray marring the snow all around. You thought you could see bits and pieces of a few of his internal organs scattered about the wood between the rails, but you didn't really know much about what people looked like from the inside, so you couldn't be sure. You took a deep breath then, trying to steady yourself.

"I'm g-glad I'm n-not the only o-one," he stammered.

"You're definitely not the only one, Anakin. I'm cold, too. We're both cold." The type of cold you were experiencing and the type of cold he was experiencing were two very different kinds of cold, of course, but you didn't want him to feel alone. Not at a time like this.

"I th-think... I-I mean, I think I'm a-almost..."

You nodded, and touched the side of his face; stroked it gently with your thumb. "You are," you said. "I think it's almost over."

"Th-that's a-all I w-wanted. I... I wanted this to be—" He interrupted himself then with a halting, ragged-sounding groan. You waited a moment for him to resume speaking, but he didn't. His mouth opened and closed uselessly as he looked up at you; when it was agape, you were sure you could see blood bubbling up from the back of his throat.

"Shh— don't talk anymore, Anakin, it's alright. It's alright." It wasn't alright, but what else were you supposed to say?

He nodded for you, and breathed as deeply as he could. His breathing sounded terrible.

"Can I tell you something?" you asked, because you thought it might help if you kept talking. If you were dying in someone's arms, surely you would have wanted them to talk to you. You didn't wait for him to nod again or otherwise respond before going on, "I'm glad I met you tonight. I'm glad I saw you. I was telling the truth when I said you seemed like a nice person."

There was blood trickling out the side of his mouth now despite gravity, and his eyes were starting to close. You'd only just noticed that they were blue— very blue. You guessed his wife must have liked them, because you certainly did. His bloodied lips seemed to want to turn up into a smile, but they couldn't, not anymore. You kept on talking to him, because he couldn't talk back.

"I don't have a lot of friends," you said. "I've always been that way, ever since I was a little kid. My parents called me a loner, and I guess they were kind of right. You know what, though? I think I could be friends with you." Even though you knew he couldn't respond, you asked him, "Would you mind if I called you my friend, Anakin?"

You didn't know why you did it, but you leaned down to kiss his forehead next. You hoped it didn't bother him. Again, if you'd been in his position, you might have liked for someone to lean down and kiss your head.

Maybe he did like it; maybe he didn't— you'd never know, because by the time you raised your head to look at him again, it was very clear to you that he was dead.

Cold, white, silent, and dead.

You should have leapt to your feet at that point; jumped up for the purpose of running to the nearest home (the homes were spread-out here; it would take several minutes no matter how quickly or in which direction you moved), but you didn't. Not right away.

For whatever reason, you just couldn't bring yourself to place his head back down in the snow.

"I'm sorry, Anakin," you said, as a violent wave of guilt crashed into you at a speed comparable to that of the train he'd just used to end his pain. You couldn't discern why you were apologizing to him; maybe you were sorry for forgetting your phone, or for arriving at the crossing too late, or for not being strong enough to drag him out of danger. Maybe you were apologizing for whatever he'd been through that made him think suicide was a reasonable response to losing someone he loved.

You wished, then, that he'd had time to tell you a bit more about himself before succumbing to his injuries.

You still didn't want to get up, because you still didn't want to lay him down in the snow. You'd held pets as they'd died before; every single one you'd ever had, you'd wrapped up in something like a blanket or a sweater before burying it or leaving it with the vet. Anakin, you knew without having to know him, had been much more of a presence during his time on Earth than anybody's dead hamster or fish or black-and-white spotted rat— how were you to be expected to leave him like this? Alone, in the cold?

Thinking swiftly (if haphazardly), you very carefully took your hands off of his face, and went on to remove your coat. You'd be running at full-speed soon; after that, presumably, you'd be riding in either an ambulance or a police car to show somebody who could help just what had happened.

It was difficult not to look at the middle of the tracks, and it was difficult not to move him too much, but you managed to slide your bundled-up jacket beneath his head in place of your knees anyhow. Reluctantly, you rose to your feet after that; hardly even noticed how cold and stiff your legs had grown while you'd been sharing Anakin's final moments. You'd notice tomorrow; tomorrow they'd hurt, but you wouldn't care about that. Anakin, after all, didn't have the privilege of looking forward to 'tomorrow' at all. You supposed that to do what he'd done, though, his 'tomorrows' must have seemed more like looming spectres, as opposed to opportunities.

Involuntarily (and inadvisably, too), you stole one more look at his body before you turned to run. Icy, black blood coated both the tracks and the wood between them; slivers of bone and cartilage as white as the skin on his face glimmered in the light cast by the street lamps. His legs had been broken along with the rest of him, and you hoped fervently that he hadn't felt them splinter apart.

The last thing you looked at before dashing off in search of a house was his face, which contrasted so sharply with the rest of his wounded body that you could almost imagine he was still alive— that, if you hurried, you might be able to get back with a team of paramedics in time to save him; take him to the hospital, where he might be patched up.

His life would never be the same, but it would be okay, because you'd already agreed to be his friend.

You let your imagination run as wildly as your legs in that precise direction, as you left him in the snow to go and get help.

I'm glad you found me in time, you imagined him saying over coffee, as he sat in a wheelchair or something like one at the café near your house.

I'm glad I did, too— I couldn't have asked for a better friend, Anakin, you pictured yourself saying back to him, as you smiled into those pretty blue eyes of his and opened up a box of your favourite kind of doughnuts.

You'd never actually know whether or not the ones with the white icing and multicoloured sprinkles were his favourites, too.

#anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #tw suicude #death #triggers #fanfic #star wars #modern au

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hazbincalifornia · 3 years

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Midnight Snack

Chapter 25: Blitzo gets peckish.

Warnings: As always, mpreg, and implied animal death. Also stuffing if that needs a tag I guess, and BABY VIOLENCE. (Violence committed by a baby, not against a baby.)

Likes, replies, and reblogs are all appreciated, both here and on ao3!

Ao3 link

Blitzo’s stomach gurgled, and his arms tightened around the pillow that he was hugging to his chest. A fussy, hungry stomach wouldn’t have necessarily been a problem, except for the fact that it had been doing it for the past hour, and he was just about ready to tear it right out of his skin and rip it in half. Acid sloshed around audibly in his empty gut- or maybe the freeloader wanted more room and was just squashing the organ down so much that it had resorted to griping as loudly as it could. Relatable fuckin’ content right there.

Dinner had been two burgers and fries smothered in hot sauce and mayo from the grease trap down the road, which was more than enough to coast through until breakfast. Besides, he’d be damned if the kid was going to make him deal with the grocery store any more than he had to in this condition. No, he was staying right where he was, especially considering he’d been denied any sleep last night. One day low on sleep was manageable with reduced caffeine, two would suck satan’s left tit.

“C’mon, that was enough and you know it, I don’t want you ruining my figure any more than you already have,” he grumbled as the muscles clenched around his stomach, wringing it out like a sponge and drawing a pitiful whine out of his throat. “I’m not gonna just- give in and give you whatever you want, daddy’s gotta do him sometimes and I’m not letting you empty out the fridge. I ate enough, siphon blood outta my system like a normal leech does. I’ve got plenty of that.”

The reply was another gurgling groan and a hard clench as Blitzo’s empty stomach demanded sustenance, this time loud enough to make his middle vibrate even through the pounds of baby. He stuffed the pillow over his mouth, drool leaking down the case and over his chin as he forced out a scream.

He had to take a few seconds to pant before setting a hand on the side of his stomach, fingers drumming. “This is a battle of wills, and I am not letting you win. Your baby-daddy already started all this shit, so I’m just going to treat you the same as him- by ignoring you as long as feasibly possible until you decide to pop up and make everything difficult. Sound good? Yeah, sounds perfect.” There was a nudge from inside and Blitzo nodded in satisfaction at the apparent agreement, settling back down on the bed. He’d gone to sleep hungry plenty of times before, the baby gut notwithstanding, he just had to muscle through this for the next few-

There was no time to muffle the next scream as a sudden pinching pain went from ‘noticeable’ to ‘holy shit who’s tearing up my guts with a chainsaw?’, and there was a thud and a shuffling of feet before Loona started pounding on the door.

“You having a heart attack in there or something?”

Blitzo clutched at his stomach, wheezing as he was clawed apart from the inside out. “N-no!”

“Look, if you die, I’m on the hook for the rent.” Still, there was a semi-worried vibrato to her voice, and he swallowed down the coppery taste flooding up with the saliva to his mouth.

“I’m- fINE-!” His voice pitched up at another pinch-turned-horrorshow and his claws dug all the way through the pillow, stuffing spilling out like viscera.

“What the fuck are you doing in there?” The doorknob jiggled. Where was a portable x-ray when you needed one? Or ultrasound, or whatever the fuck you used to look at a baby that was trying to kill him before it even got out yet. What kind of horrible mouth or claws must it have- oh, fucking hell, Stolas had said something about his kid having a razor-sharp beak from birth, hadn’t he?

“Okay, I’m coming in.” Loona eased the door open, already in her pajamas and clutching a package of opened peanut butter crackers tightly enough that crumbs were sticking to her fingers. “You look like shit.”

“I feel like shit, so good-” Sharp inhale for breath, let it out- “-To know that I’m all on the same page.”

She dropped down on the bed with a metallic creak. “What’d the kid do now?”

“It feels like they’re biting me again, but w-worse- fuck!” Another nip, this one dragging a line on the inside of the womb like they were drift racing in there. Wait, dragging? He swallowed down more coppery bile. “Okay, fine, fine, sheesh, I’ll fuckin’ eat something, happy you little shithead?”

Loona raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t say anything.”

Blitzo shoved himself up off the bed to wobbly knees. “Junior’s gotten real bold, and instead of just sucking up the meat I’m eating for them like a good little lump, they decided to put me on the menu- ow, fuck, I’m going, keep your baby-tits on!”

“Babies don’t have tits, Blitzo.”

“They do if I say they do, sweetie.” Blitzo ruffled Loona’s fur between her ears as he waddled across the room, pausing next to the TV to take a breath.

Loona raised an eyebrow. “Do you need me to bring you something? I don’t want you passing out in the middle of the apartment and tripping over you tomorrow morning.” In response, Blitzo just waved a dismissive hand.

“I can handle walking across two rooms, Loonie.” The active chewing had paused for the moment, but whatever they’d shredded in there was still shredded, and he’d rather not make it any worse- he had work tomorrow, dammit.

The fridge bathed him in a sickly, hospital-like glow as he tugged it open, and drool immediately started leaking from his mouth as the smells of half-forgotten, time-ripened leftovers hit him. A small mouse with four red eyes leaped up from the floor when he opened the door, burrowing into a box of takeout on the bottom shelf that Loona must have gotten when he’d been at Stolas’s place. His tongue snapped out automatically, snatching its furry body up and slurping up the tail between his lips before swallowing, and it took a second for his brain to load enough to register- after it slid down his throat.

Holy shit, did he just…? It squirmed a little as it descended, little hairs stuck in his teeth, and his fingers tightened on the side of his stomach before he reached for the box it had been after to wash out the aftertaste.

Everything after that was a bit of a blur, although he did retain enough sense of mind to avoid the six-pack of cheap beer in the back that still had four cans on it. Better to not risk puking all of this up or ruining the kid any more than they already were. Carbs, meat, a few wilted veggies that Moxxie had pawned off on him, sweet, sour, cold chili and whole untoasted bagels- it didn’t really matter what it was as long as it was at least mostly edible (he was pretty sure he swallowed a wrapper at some point), he just needed it inside of him now. Smothering everything in hot sauce and salsa and mustard made it more palatable anyway, especially the ice cream. The kid didn’t start taking chunks out of him again, at least, so he must have been doing something right. More and more of the white fridge walls became visible as the floor around him littered with containers, and his stomach grew tighter before he finally slumped back against the nearby counter with a groan. His legs sprawled out on the cool tile, both hands now stained with a mixture of about five kinds of leftovers, and he cradled his stomach after muffling a burp.

“Are you happy now, you needy little shit?”

Blitzo didn’t really expect a reply and almost didn’t hear it over the churning gurgles of digestion, but a soft ‘eee’ of a hoot, more a whisper-screech than anything, murmured from his midsection. He stared down at it, the warmth of his full stomach counteracted by ice dripping down his back.

“Oh, of course you sound just like him.” His claws dragged along the sensitive, itchy-while-stretched skin before the protection spell sprung up and pushed the fingers away. It only let him touch his own stupid body when he laid his palm flat. “Sure, it’s cute now when it's all little and squeaky, but you’d better not be as entitled as he is, alright? Or as you are now, since I’ve gotta do everything for you until you’re born. Considering you just settled right down in there without even asking in the first place, I doubt it. Rude.”

There were no more noises other than his stomach grumbling about going from empty to full so quickly, and he stayed slumped against the cabinet for long enough to let some of it digest. He must have been more tired than he thought, because he swore that he already looked bigger than he’d been when he’d finished binging. Maybe it started swelling in a bad reaction from whatever fucked-up food cocktail he'd accidentally made.

When he didn’t feel quite so much like a boulder had gotten stuffed inside his guts, it took three tries to haul his ass off the tile and drag himself back to bed, huffing like a cop running for the last doughnut in the process.

The ice had crept from his spine to the rest of his bones and muscles as he tugged the blanket tight around himself, but at least the churning food kept his stomach warm, and he passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

#insert that one link image with 'it's my fic and I get to write the self-indulgent bs'#I could have gotten more descriptive but then it woulda been like... the longest chapter and I'm not giving that to THIS #it is plot relevant though I promise #one time #daddy blitzo #shadow writes stuff #helluva mpreg #chub stuff

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seokoloqy · 5 years

Text

No Face | myg (m)

➳ PAIRING: demon!yoongi x reader

➳ GENRE: supernatural!au, smut

➳ WORD COUNT: 11k

➳ WARNINGS: mentions of hoseok in a car accident and in a coma, mentions of jungkook overdosing, blood, choking (not sexual lmao), fingering, dirty talk, wet dreams, voyeurism, masturbation, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, creampie, Yoongi’s dick... has ridges :)

➳ SUMMARY: Desperate to save your comatose brother, you make a deal with an ancient demon who wears the faces of his previous masters. When you refuse to wish for anything else, what does a demon do when he no longer has orders? He learns how to be human.

➳ A/N: this is my @bangtanarmynet partner collab w @softjeon!!! As always lemme know what you think!!! Maybe now y’all can get over hades yoongi lmao

—

The woods this time of night should be petrifying in the harsh dead of winter. Darkness entraps everything in the forest. You've been wandering through the desolate woods for an hour now, trying to find the exact location you were told about. The tree you’re in search of has been rumored to be a site where people's wishes can be granted for a steep price. Only meant for those who are brave enough to sacrifice everything for one wish.

And you are dumb enough to sacrifice everything.

You have to do this. Even if it means sacrificing your soul, your life, to save someone else's. You have to save your brother, Hoseok, and you’ll do anything—absolutely anything.

That’s how you stumbled across Jimin, an expert on all things supernatural, in a desperate attempt to find a miracle.

Of course, you thought the eighty dollar price for Jimin’s absurd secrets meant it was a hoax, especially when he started explaining how this deal you were about to make works.

“A demon,” the man said cheerfully, plopping down the thick book in front of you.

“A demon?” you echoed, becoming more and more wary of the man. “Like… Like the devil and stuff?”

If you weren’t so desperate and had exhausted all your ideas of helping Hoseok, you would have run out once he said demon, calling him crazy.

Jimin nodded, excitedly flipping open the book for a specific page. “This demon grants wishes. Anything you want, as long as you’re willing to pay the price.”

That sends chills through you. You look down at the yellowed pages, skimming through the text, none of which you understood because it was all written in a different language. “What kind?”

“Ten years. That’s all it gives you.”

You had a feeling after ten years nothing good would happen. Jimin flips the page and on it is an ink drawing of a haunched creature, grotesque claws, and the face was nothing but a black smudge.

“After ten years the demon will consume your soul and steal your face to make it its own.”

The whole time you wander through the woods, boots crunching against the thick blanket of snow, pushing aside dead branches. The day has come to rest over the horizon and the moon rose over the valley, you feel like you've ventured even deeper into the void and there's no going back to safety now.

The deeper you wander into the abyss, the more you feel something eerie watching over you. Its eyes crawl over you, stalking your every movement like it wants to steal you away and trap you in its grasp. It must be the demon watching over you, hoping you must be foolish enough to come looking for it.

The tree Jimin told you about is supposedly easy to spot. Twisted branches, ancient text carved into the trunk of the tree that was all dead language. The area around it is untouchable not even the freshly falling snow can touch it. The tree is timeless, years will pass and it will remain the same even as generations live and die.

Your boots sink deep into the snow with each stride you take, pulling you deeper into the forest.

There is a low hum, a haunting call echoing through the trees and ringing in your ears that guides you towards the edge of a steep ledge. At the bottom, you get a glimpse of the twisted branches, scarred trunk scrawled with carvings, a perfect dark circle around the tree that remains untouched by the snow.

You carefully move down the slope to the tree, nearly sliding down and falling in the fluffy snow below. Once you step into the circle it’s warm, almost like summer heat. You look back at the blanket of snow, taking off your glove and sticking your hand outside of the circle to feel the cold biting your fingers. The drastic change in temperature is startling. This is definitely the right tree.

The backpack on your shoulder slides off and you crouch down to retrieve the knife you brought along, carefully tucked away in the pocket of the bag. The intimidating silver blade gleams and reflects beneath the moonlight as you inspect it.

Should you really be bringing a deadly weapon to meet a demon?

It doesn’t seem like the brightest idea, but then again none of this is a good idea. You’ve gotten this far, so desperate to save Hoseok you don’t even care right now if the demon will take your life in the end.

"Here goes nothing," you say, taking a deep breath in before running the blade across your palm. The burn of your open wound is temporary, stinging at your flesh is cut open and blood flows freely and meets to open air. Red blood pools in your palm, your other hand wiping away tears that have sprung in your eyes. "Fuck this. Fuck all this shit."

The tree seems to glow, sensing the new sacrifice about to come. You hesitantly lift your bloodied palm, blood freely flowing down your wrists and dripping off your elbow, tainting the dirt ground below.

There's no going back if you choose to press your hand against this tree and tie the demon trapped in it to you, but you won't let that fear hold you back from saving your brother.

You press your hand against the trunk, wincing when the rough wood touches your open wound. Blood drips down the wood, sinking into the slits and crevices. Your hand tingles with warmth and you no longer feel the pain in your palm. When blinding light emits from the tree, it forces you to clench your eyelids shut and turn away.

Soon the light fades and you're left in the chilling darkness, but not alone. The hairs on your arm begin to stand as a warning. You're afraid to open your eyes and be met with whatever creature you've just summoned.

"Why so afraid, master?" The voice, not a singular voice, more like multiple distorted voices speaking at once, calls out to you. "You're trembling. Is it because of the cold or are you just afraid of me?"

You bring your hand back from the tree, still refusing to open your eyes. "The cold."

"Liar," the creature says, monotone voice lowering to your ears. "You're a liar."

"No," your voice betrays you by cracking and you wince, afraid that its volatile personality will snap at you.

"Then look at me, master.”

The oil lamp flickers in its glass case creating an ominous atmosphere surrounding you. You force yourself to peek one eye open, seeing the tree bark stained red with your blood. Slowly, you turn your head, met with the horrifying creature. The face you're met with is no face at all. Just a black abyss looking back at you. It takes everything to hold your tongue and not scream out.

"Are you afraid?" It asks again.

"No." The wavering in your voice remains the same and the no faced creature scoffs.

"You’re a liar, but then again, they all are."

You cross your arm, refusing to let the creature control your feelings. "Maybe I am a liar, b-but you’re supposed to answer to me.”

The creature stands taller, mimicking your crossed arms. "You're right, master. So what is it you want?"

You wet your lips, "I need you to save my brother."

"Save?" It sneers. “I’ve never had to save anyone.”

You find the strength to explain, “M-My brother, Hoseok, he was in a car accident. The doctors said he might not…”

You didn’t need to hear the dreadful news from the doctors when you went to first visit Hoseok. You could see him through the glass window at the hospital hooked up to wires and tubes and it was clear to you that he was on the brink of death. He looked so lifeless. You could hardly stand the sight of your brother that way. You were too afraid to go into his room—afraid you’d feel death lingering by his side waiting to take him away from you forever.

The demon inches closer, curious now.

You resist shutting your eyes to block out its dark ghostly face. You’ll never be able to stand in the dark without imagining it lingering in the corner, watching and waiting to drag you into the darkness with it.

“Fine,” the demon sighs, lifting its hand. A hand that looks so real, not the grotesque claws you saw in Jimin’s book, if you hadn’t seen its face you would have believed it was human.

You flinch in fear it will grab you, steal your face early, or rip you to shreds. Instead, it snaps its fingers. You don’t feel muscles being pulled to shreds, your insides boiling, or anything physically painful happening to you.

“He’ll wake soon,” it says, dismissively shrugging its shoulders. “So, when are we going to have real fun, master? What do you really want? Money? Power? Name it. I’m dying to know.”

“I don’t want anything else,” you say resolutely.

“Nothing?” it says, despite the distorted voice, you can tell it’s shocked. “You’re a liar. There has to be something. All you humans are greedy, pathetic creatures.”

“I won’t make any more wishes.”

It shakes its head, moving to the edge of the ring. It looks down, although you can’t see its face when it sticks out its hand to feel the snow for the first time in years you sense that it is remembering what it feels like to be free of its cage.

“Let’s go.”

It steps out of the circle and into the fresh snow, looking as its feet sink in. You trail after it, as it glides through the snow with ease while you’re lagging behind, trudging through the deep snow. You feel out of breath trying to keep up with its fast pace, nearly falling over a few times.

“C-Can you slow down a little?” You call out.

It turns its head, unsettling inky darkness looking back at you, teasingly saying, “if you can’t keep up why don’t you wish for better speed?”

You grimace and don’t reply. Luckily, it stops walking to let you catch up to it. You try and run through the snow to get to it faster because the feeling of that darkness staring at you is frightening. Running blindly through, your foot snags on a branch buried beneath the white blanket and you nose dive right into the freezing banks.

The creature laughs. Its laughter hauntingly echoing through the woods with its distorted voice.

“Poor human,” it mocks.

You look up from the snow, your entire face numb from the cold. You’re beginning to hate this demon.

You pick yourself up with no help from it, wiping off the snow and marching on as if nothing happened, quietly simmering behind the sauntering demon. You walk behind it once again, staring curiously at the back of its ‘head’. It’s not really a head, just darkness shaped like a human head.

"Is that your… normal face?" You pipe up.

"Yes. Does this face frighten you, master?” The demon stops, turning around to face you. “Would you like a new one? I have taken many over the years, and soon yours will be added to my ever-growing collection."

The thought of this demon taking your face and using it to cause harm is unsettling.

"Maybe you'd prefer a sweet innocent face," the demon says. His face begins to smoke and a real human face appears in a matter of seconds. The doe-like features of the young man would almost make you think this demon was an innocent human. "You might recognize this face.”

You’re surprised to see a familiar face. One that was plastered over billboards and television screens daily, a world-famous star that died suddenly.

“J-Jungkook?”

A roguish grin appears on the star’s face—one you never thought you’d see up close.

Jeon Jungkook was a household name, a boy that seemed to come out of nowhere and shook the world with his talents. You were a fan at the start of his career when he was just a humble musician that rose to stardom through the Internet.

“Ding ding ding,” he laughs, an all too familiar laugh you heard through the television during interviews countless times. “Bet you never thought you’d see this cute face again.”

“B-But you… you’re not him, right?”

It’s impossible. He died nearly three years ago due to an overdose, at least that’s what the media said.

“Yes, I’m not the golden boy you knew. He’s long gone.”

So the demon is just wearing Jungkook’s face.

“He made a deal too?” You couldn’t understand why he would want to make a deal with a demon. He had everything—the talent, personality, looks. It was hard not to love Jungkook.

“Do you think that video of him singing would have gotten recognition without my help? He wanted to be a famous singer so I gave him everything he desired. He was humble like you at first, then he began wishing for drugs, alcohol, and lovers. By the time I took his soul, it was like there was nothing left of it. He was too consumed by his own greed and became an empty shell.”

You know Jungkook’s story, the downfall of one of your favorite singers, publicized by the media. Not a day went by without hearing about Jungkook caught up in some drug scandal. You had no idea it was all because he wished for it.

Near the end of his life, you could tell how tired Jungkook was through the screen, he was no longer the energetic, lively kid you saw on talk shows. The dark circles under his eyes and bar fight bruises couldn’t be concealed with all the makeup in the world.

It broke your heart to see him that way. All because he couldn’t stop wishing for more. The circumstances of his death become clearer to you now. It wasn’t an overdose, he made a deal with a demon and paid the price.

What if that happens to you? What if you become too greedy? The thought of being consumed by selfish desires scares you. Who would you be in ten years if you were to continue making wishes? Just an empty shell like Jungkook, making wishes to fill the unfillable hole in your chest.

“I wonder what sins will eat you alive, master."

You shake your head, “No! No, I won’t be like that. I don’t want to.”

The demon scoffs, rolling his eyes as if to say ‘sure’.

“I guess, his face won’t do out there anyway. Too recognizable, I don’t want to cause a frenzy. Think of the headlines: Jeon Jungkook risen from the dead?” He laughs again.

It’s unsettling to see Jungkook’s face, knowing how tragic the end of his life must have been. Now he’s being used as a puppet by a demon who’s laughing as if his death was something to joke about.

What you’re really looking at is a mirror. This will be you in ten years time. The demon will take your soul, your face and parade around, wreaking havoc. A chill runs through you.

“Let’s try Yoongi’s face, shall we? I haven’t worn him in centuries.”

Soon the beloved singer, Jeon Jungkook, molds into a stranger. You watch in amazement as his features morph easily. Even his hair shifts colors, dark brown roots bleeding into bleach blonde hair.

“How about this one?” His voice is different—lower, much more mature. But whoever’s face he takes on doesn’t change what he is. He is still a demon. You can’t forget that no matter what face he wears.

“He’s fine,” you dismiss. You just want to get out of the forest and back to someplace warm. The cold is beginning to numb your fingers and bite at your cheeks.

“Yoongi it is.”

—

Your eyes dart nervously around the bar. It's not so busy tonight, unusual for this bar, but you're glad there are no roaring voices. This chance gives you time to think about what you've done.

Before you even got out of the woods, you received a phone call from your parents, tearful voices exclaiming that your brother woke up from his coma. Yoongi really had given your brother a second chance. But as soon as your joy had worn off, the realization came crashing down around you.

Sitting here, staring into a shot glass, you dare to glance over at the lounging demon haunched over the bar with his own drink. You're not sure what he ordered, your thoughts a bit clouded at the moment, but his glass is tall and filled with a clear teal liquid and topped with a maraschino cherry.

His finger drags up and down the stem of the glass, a bored sigh escaping his mouth. You eyes move from his hand and hesitantly drag up to his face. You nearly jump out of your chair, hairs standing up on the back of your neck when you realize he has been staring at you the whole time.

His eyes are brown, nothing like the vermillion red color they frequently flash whenever he feels up to no good.

"So," he drawls, picking up his martini glass, having a small sip. "What's on your mind?"

There are many racing thoughts going around your head right now. You've just signed the rest of your life away to a demon, saved your brother, and are currently sitting and having a drink with the demon that's going to end your life in ten years.

"Nothing," you lie, turning your head back to your drink.

"You really like to lie to me, don't you?"

You don't reply, glancing to the side and catching the eye of the bartender staring at you. He looks away, flustered that you caught him staring, continuing to wipe down the counter.

You, in a sort of dizzying state from alcohol, are keenly aware of how cute the bartender is. Your eyes trail down the name tag on his shirt. Taehyung, it says.

Eventually, Taehyung reaches your side and casually wipes down the area next to you.

"How's it goin' over here?" He asks.

"Good," Yoongi answers gruffly before you have the chance to open your mouth to answer.

You attempt to laugh Yoongi's curtness off, "Oh, yeah, everything is great."

"Well, you look lost in tonight, just wanted to see how you were doing."

"I'm just feeling a little conflicted."

From the corner of your eye, Yoongi looks betrayed that you chose to confide in the bartender instead of him even though he asked you the same question just two minutes ago. In your defense, you'd rather speak to the cute bartender than the demon who eats souls and steals faces. What kind of advice could a demon offer you?

"Feel like talking?" Taehyung asks, throwing the rag over his shoulder and leaning against the bar.

"Hey, cutie," a drunken slur comes from behind you and takes a seat to your right.

You involuntarily lean closer to Yoongi to get away from the stranger's alcoholic breath, grimacing when he smiles and winks in a sad attempt to flirt.

"Hi," you politely respond, turning your head to look back at Yoongi's now empty martini glass, the stem of his maraschino cherry sitting on the counter. You try not to give the stranger the opportunity to talk any further with you, but he's persistent.

“How you doin’ tonight?” he slurs.

“Great.” You offer him a close-lipped smile and that’s all he gets out of you.

You do your best to ignore the stranger continuously pestering your right ear, turning to occupy yourself with the Taehyung and Yoongi. Now, you'd rather talk to the demon on your shoulder than some creep at the bar.

It’s clear the stranger doesn’t appreciate you ignoring him.

“Hey,” the man barks, reaching over to grab your arm. You flinch away, consequently pressing yourself against Yoongi who instinctively wraps an arm around you.

"She said she's not interested," Yoongi interjects, holding you closely. He's more annoyed than he was with the bartender and the energy radiating off of him is burning. If he wanted to he could decimate the man with a snap of his fingers, but he doesn't. He doesn't even let his gaze waver as he stares down the drunk.

"What you gonna about it?" the man challenges

"Look, buddy," Taehyung says, "How 'bout one more drink on the house and then I call you a cab."

The man mumbles a disgruntled 'fine' and Taehyung pours him another drink. He slides off the barstool with his complimentary drink and stumbles over to another undeserving girl minding her business.

You let out a relieved sigh, "God, I wish guys like that would just drop dead. They’re so annoying."

"Interesting." Yoongi smiles and you blanch, sensing exactly what he’s about to do. He brings his hand up and snaps his fingers.

Easily, the man that you had just been talking to crumbles over, groaning in pain, eyes clenched shut. The agony on his face terrifies you. You wished for him to die and now Yoongi is granting that wish. You're the one who's killing the man.

You shouldn’t have let your words slip out so easily. You didn’t mean it literally. A note of carefully phrasing your words better is placed in the back of your mind.

Taehyung immediately runs around the counter, calling out for someone to call the police as he goes to aid the man.

You grab onto Yoongi's shoulder, shaking him and try to plead with him silently. "I didn't actually want him to die! Don't kill him, Yoongi!"

"This is what you wished for though," he says calmly, watching in amusement as the man suffocates on his own tongue. "I'm only granting your wish."

"I take it back! I wish he wouldn’t die!"

Yoongi rolls his eyes and already the man is taking his last breath, face turning a light shade of blue from lack of oxygen. You cling onto the smallest shred of hope that Yoongi will spare the man's life. You wished for him to live so he should obey, right?

"But I didn't really like him that much either," Yoong shrugs, "maybe I want him to die."

"You can't do that," you nearly shriek, "Y-You're supposed to do what I tell you!"

Yoongi sighs, eyes rolling over to the gasping man. “I hate when they say that,” he mumbles, but you can hardly hear it over the choking and patrons screaming for help.

It takes a full second before he snaps his fingers again and the man takes a deep breath, the air finally returning to his lungs and color bringing his face back to life.

Your shoulders slump, face clasped in the palm of your hand. Your hands tremble against your cheek, despite relief flooding your system, you know the man's fate could have turned out worse.

"You seem to care a lot about whether or not a scumbag like him gets to live to harass another girl."

"It's not like that," you whisper, "I-I can't kill someone."

Your thoughts are conflicted. Maybe Yoongi is right. Maybe the man will go on to hurt someone in the future and this is your chance to stop it from happening. But you can't kill someone because they might be guilty. You can't know if this man would go on to do despicable things or if he was just some old drunk in a bar. You don't want to play God and decide who lives and who dies. You shouldn't get to choose. This power that Yoongi gives you is too much.

“Let’s kill him, master, make him suffer."

"No." You won't take a life. You already told yourself won't make another wish ever again.

Yoongi frowns, disappointed in your choice. “I was so sure you’d ask me to kill him.”

You slide off the stool and grab your bag to fish out money. "Well, I won’t be like all your other masters. We're leaving."

—

You both arrive at your apartment near eleven while the moon is slowly falling towards the horizon. It was a quiet ride on the bus. You tried your best to sit as close to the window as possible while Yoongi lounged lazily in the orange plastic seat, a content grin on his face.

He quietly commented on the city as it passed by in a blur, the subtle scent of musk, and how he preferred this mode of transportation over teleporting. He spoke as if the mundane parts of life were a luxury to him.

You didn't speak once, letting him ramble to himself while you were lost in thought. You didn’t seem to care much about how much the demon seemed to be enjoying the peace.

When you reach your house, you head straight towards the couch.

"You're too quiet, master," Yoongi notes, looking around your apartment and comparing it to his previous masters'. He must have seen much more lavish looking ones than the humble one-bedroom apartment you own.

"I don't feel like talking," you mumble, moving to throw yourself onto the couch. You grab a decorative pillow and bury your face in it to muffle a sigh. The familiar smell of fresh cotton eases your nerves until Yoongi falls down next to you. Too closely for your liking.

You remove your head from the pillow, surprised by how bleary your vision is from the tears building up.

"I think your face will be a wonderful addition to my collection."

You gulp, shifting away from the demon lounging too close for comfort. You're glad he is wearing a face and it's not just a black abyss you were first met with. Somehow the handsome face he is currently wearing lessens your fear, but it brings you anything but comfort.

Yoongi slouches into your couch. "I haven't been able to relax like this in centuries. My previous masters always had orders, something they wanted and couldn't wait for. I was a dog at their beck and call."

You shy away from the arm that slings itself over the couch, holding your breath as his fingers loop through your hair to entertain themselves with the loose strands.

"I’m sure you had to grant bad wishes but I don't want anything else from you. So, you can relax as much as you want.”

"Oh, you will want something. I guarantee it," he says confidently, "maybe not today or the next five years, but eventually, you'll give in."

The plan was to get help for Hoseok, that's it and you got your wish. No way you're going to let yourself be tempted to ask for more.

But maybe one thing won’t hurt. Paying off Hoseok’s hospital bills would be a big help. Maybe even paying off your college debt. It doesn’t sound too bad…

No! That can’t happen. The more money you ask for the more you won’t be able to resist begging for more.

You push yourself off the couch and away from Yoongi. It feels as if the more you're around him, the more you feel the desire to succumb to those deep desires.

“I said no!” you yell, unaware of the demon’s rising temper.

Yoongi’s hand darts out to grab your wrists, pulling you back down eye level to him, eyes turning the deep shade of red. You twist your arm, but he refuses to let you go. His anger radiates through the air, you can feel yourself begin to sweat.

“Stop denying what you want, you foolish little girl,” he snaps, “just make a wish, go ahead, ruin your life! Just like they all did before! You’re already going to hell, make the most of your dwindling years.”

You don’t want to stand here and listen to him remind you of how long until you’re going to die. Instead of fighting, fearful he might lash out further, you speak curtly, "I want to go to bed."

He releases you and you nod goodbye, skirting off to bed, worrying that the demon will follow.

Lucky for you, he doesn't move an inch from the couch, remaining there for the rest of the night even as you toss and turn in bed, whimpering from the nightmares plaguing your dreams of a faceless demon.

––

When the sun rises promptly over the horizon the next day, it's Yoongi who hovers over you silently waiting for your eyes to open.

"Good morning," the demon coos, surprisingly softly as if he were trying to wake a child from a nap.

"M-Morning."

"Any wishes today?" His lips curl into a devious smile, taking any softness he held away. His finger runs down your chin and traces your collarbone, touching your skin gently.

"N-No," you answer, hoping this question doesn't become a daily occurrence. You swat away his hand, getting off the bed.

He moves away from the edge of the bed, letting you get up and start your morning routine while maintaining a safe distance. He quietly stands in the background while you brush your teeth and wash your face, but doesn't leave the room when you change. You settle for making him turn around while you strip into work clothes.

"I can snap my fingers and make you rich. You’ll never have to lift a finger ever again. Don’t you want me to help you? Isn’t that why you sold yourself to me?" he says, eyeing a spoonful of golden cereal flakes.

He asked if he could have some of your breakfast so you poured him a bowl of cereal. You're not even sure he needs to eat it. He's more curious if anything.

"I-I didn’t sell myself to you!”

He makes it sound so scandalous.

Yoongi smirks but doesn’t say anything else.

“I don't want anything else," you groan. "What do you want me to say? After you nearly killed a guy yesterday, there's no way I'm going to make another wish. Like you said most of your masters were awful people who became greedy and selfish and I-I don't want to become that."

You stir your milk around, watching as the leftover, soggy flakes of cereal swirl around the ceramic bowl. You promised yourself you'd never make another wish, no matter how badly you want to. If you ever became as sick and twisted as Yoongi's former masters, you'd end your contract early and have him kill you.

You look up at Yoongi who has been quiet for a while now, odd for him to sit and not taunt you about something. Staring at his face, you wonder about the person he’s wearing. Yoongi isn’t the demon’s real name, just the name of the person whose face he’s wearing. You wonder if Yoongi, the human, felt pain when he died.

“How will you do it?”

“Hm?”

You swallow, letting your spoon go and watching it sink into the milk. “In ten years, when you have to… take my soul, will it hurt?”

Yoongi blinks, cocking his head a subtle amused grin on his face. “I don’t know. They never scream if that makes you feel better.”

It doesn’t.

“So, you’ll wear around my face after that?”

"I will,” he says. The reply is short and you’re not sure you want to hear more about what he’s going to do once he has your face. And after that, he adds, “this cereal is really good.”

Blinking, you gape at him, not expecting that. "Uh, yeah, d-do you want some more?"

"Mhm."

Yoongi follows you to work—in fact, he follows you everywhere. He never leaves your side, always glued to you and making comments about your mundane life and how he can make it more exciting if you just make a wish.

“Why do you never leave me alone?” You ask, finally fed up with the sound of his footsteps pattering behind you incessantly. You feel like he’s doting on you. Without any orders or wishes to grant, he has nothing to do. He can’t entertain himself by wreaking havoc because you won’t allow it.

Yoongi sips on his fruity beverage, blinking at you tiredly. He waits a beat to answer, “I have to protect you until the day you die. Your soul is mine to have and no one else’s.”

His words are heavy on your shoulders. It doesn't make you feel better. You'll never get away from him, huh? You'll always be reminded of the clock counting down on your life.

Yoongi moves past you as if the brief conversation was nothing to him.

“Come on let’s go visit your brother. I’m dying to meet him.”

—

"H-Hi, Hoseok," your voice barely comes out as a whisper, afraid you might break down and cry if you speak any louder.

"Hey! You finally came!" Hoseok smiles brightly, opening his arms wide to gesture you in for a hug. He’s sat up in his hospital bed, light blue gown on and disheveled orange hair. You're startled for a moment. The last time you saw your brother he had a tube stuffed down his throat and IVs running through his arm that all connected to beeping machines.

Pale and cold, that's how you remembered him and how you would have remembered him if you had let him die. He was on the brink of death, but you brought him back. Now he's returned to the brightest ray of sunshine you always knew. The hand you touch is warm, full of life, just like his smile.

The cost of what you did for him will always be there, lingering in the back of your head. But you'd save Hoseok again in a heartbeat no matter the cost. There is no price high enough that would make you give up your brother.

"You weren't here when I woke up and you barely answered up my calls and texts," he pouts and another pang of guilt hits you. He must think you were neglecting him. "I think you owe me an explanation. And..." He pauses, eyes darting over to Yoongi lingering near the sliding door. "Who's the guy?"

Hoseok is asking too many questions and he always has a way to get you to spill your guts. If he finds out you made a deal with a demon, he'd try everything to reverse it. You're not sure how he could, but you don't want to risk it.

"Just… just," you struggle to find an explanation for Yoongi.

"Her boyfriend,” Yoongi speaks from his place near the door.

You can’t believe the words that just came out of Yoongi’s mouth. Where the hell did that come from? You certainly didn’t prompt him to say that.

Hoseok’s brows raise, his lips form an ‘o’ shape. He looks between you and Yoongi. “I missed a lot, didn’t I?”

“Yeah you did, but I’m here to see you! I wanna know how you’re doing!” You try and divert the conversation away from Yoongi. If he starts asking how you met him, you’re going to let something slip.

You pinch his cheeks, laughing as he swats you away.

“Come on,” Hoseok chuckles, “you don’t visit me for almost two weeks and then turn up with a boyfriend out of the blue. I gotta know what my little sister has been up to.”

“Forget him, Hobi, seriously,” you groan, stepping into his view of Yoongi. You wish that the demon listened to you when you asked him to wait in the cafeteria or the hallway, but he always insists on staying close to you.

It’s like he watches every detail of your life closely, mimicking the way you speak to others, do things like ordering food or going about your day. You assume he’s trying to learn about life.

“Can I at least say hello?”

You begrudgingly take a step aside and gesture Yoongi to come in. The demon crosses over the threshold with a wry smile.

“Hi, I’m Hoseok,” your brother greets your ‘boyfriend’, extending his arm out for a handshake.

“Yoongi,” the demon says, “I’m glad to see you getting better. It’s like a miracle.”

You laugh awkwardly, ignoring Yoongi’s last comment.

“I know, I’m so thankful to be alive right now. And glad ___ is finally here to keep me company.”

“You’re lucky to have such a dedicated sister, Hoseok. I hope you never forget that.”

Yoongi sounds far away, raw and more… human that you’ve ever heard him. The longing in his eyes, now disguised as a warm brown, burns dimly, but it’s there.

You wonder what the demon with no face yearns for.

—

You came to the conclusion that if you only have ten years to live your life, you were going to live it to the fullest. You try and go places you’ve always loved and end up taking Yoongi places he's never been, and for an immortal being that has existed for centuries, there are a lot of places he's never been.

You first start with the amusement park where he discovers cotton candy for the first time. His sweet tooth is automatically attracted to the sugar coating his tongue and he continues to buy more and more. You can't help but smile at the joy in his eyes when he receives his fifth bag of cotton candy and he can't help but smile back.

And when he takes your hand to pull you towards the ferris wheel, your heart beats a little faster.

Even on casual days when you stroll down the street with Yoongi while he follows you to the grocery store and ask him if there’s anything he wants which causes him to stall. You were the only one of his masters that had ever really cared about him and it gave him a weird feeling in his gut. He can’t remember a time a human bothered to ask him what he wanted.

He was only meant to serve, nothing else. He helped others indulge in their selfish desires, but what about him? Here he is, given the chance to be free, to do what he wants without human orders controlling his every move. And he finds that all he wants to do with this freedom is spend it with you.

On a separate occasion, you have a day off and choose to stay up till midnight watching Titanic with him. When Yoongi sees you crying over the human sacrificing himself to save his lover, he feels an ache in his chest and wonders why you would willingly watch a movie that makes you cry.

He just doesn’t understand it. You tell him that it’s because it feels good to cry sometimes, that it’s cathartic. He can’t say that he’s had much experience with human emotions, but he knows that he doesn’t enjoy seeing you cry. It makes his chest tighten when he sees the way tears streak down your face and the way your nose reddens when Jack sinks to the bottom of a freezing ocean, leaving his lover behind.

Sacrificing yourself for someone you love to live.

Where has he heard that story before?

It doesn’t take long until he looks back at you to realize. You sacrificed yourself to save Hoseok and he was just the iceberg that ruined everything.

“Stop staring,” you chuckle, wiping away the falling tears. You can’t help, but cry every time you watch this movie and Yoongi being here to judge you doesn’t make you feel any better.

You hold your breath when his hand reaches out to brush a tear away. His hand cools off your heated skin as he tenderly caresses your cheek.

“I’ll always be a monster, won’t I?” he mutters under his breath, a sigh following after. "I'll never really be like you—no matter how many faces I take, no matter how many souls I consume."

It never occurred to you that the demon with no face longed to be human so badly.

"Yoongi..."

"I accepted it a long time ago," he brushes it off.

Yoongi knows he shouldn't, but he moves closer, pulling you into his chest. He wants something—someone—to hold. He desperately wants to be human and feel normal—to allow this pain in his chest to be normal.

Your heart hammers in your ears. Normally you’d pull away from his touch, but now it only brings you comfort. You stay like that through the end of the movie where Jack and Rose reunite once again in the afterlife. If there is an afterlife, would you ever be able to meet Yoongi there?

He rests his chin atop your head, sighing, "yeah… I've accepted it."

Somehow you doubt that.

—

You visited Hoseok once again where he continued to grill you about your mysterious boyfriend. You never let anything slip, letting Yoongi take the lead on explaining how you two met and fell in love. The tale he weaves together is surprisingly romantic and you wonder if he’s been watching romcoms without you to better understand humans.

The air once you step out of the hospital is a refreshing break from the strong sanitary odor of medical supplies and the lingering chill of death on your spine.

You said goodbye to Hoseok, making a promise to visit him again soon. After tonight’s visit, you feel… good.

“You seem happier,” Yoongi notes.

“You know what? I am.”

“You should,” he says, pulling his hoodie over his bleach blonde hair.

“This is all I could ever wish for. Hoseok’s happy and healthy thanks to you.” You pause, letting Yoongi take a couple of steps further before he realizes you aren’t next to him. “You know… I never really thanked you for saving him.”

His brows raise, furrowing when he realizes what you’re saying and how genuine you sound.

“Thank you?” He repeats as if he’s never heard the words or spoken them. “No human has ever thanked me before.”

You’re not surprised to hear it. You’re not sure what crazy person would ever thank a demon. But you can’t help but feel thankful for him. He brought your brother back to you, and no matter what price you’ll have to pay in the end, you’re glad to have him.

“Then I’ll be the first.”

“That makes me feel…” he looks to you expectantly, silently asking you to fill in his blank.

“Good?” You try.

He mulls the word over in his head as if trying to remember what it means and what it would feel like. Then he smiles, “yes, that’s the word.”

“All I’ve ever done is cause pain and suffering. I’ve always expected my masters to ask for selfish things, but these past few weeks I’ve learned what it’s like to be human. To not have orders.”

Yoongi looks up at the stars, shining in the darkness. He’s looked up at this unchanging sky so many times throughout his existence. It stays the same just like him.

“I like this freedom. I like what you’ve given me. Thank you,” he smiles at the stars. “Thank you, ___.”

—

“Goodnight, Yoongi,” you say, retreating into your room, waving at him awkwardly as he settles down on his usual spot on the couch. You don’t know why you feel so different. He thanked you tonight. Something he’s never done before, you never thought he would. You had no idea he felt that way. You were both thankful for one another which sounds impossible, but it’s true.

“Goodnight, ___, sweet dreams,” Yoongi replies, falling onto the couch with a content sigh.

You disappear into your room and settle into bed.

That night instead of the usual nightmares about a faceless demon ripping your soul away, you find yourself lost in sanguine eyes, rich as wine and a raspy melodious voice echoing your name and writes fire across your skin.

The heat in your core ignites at his slightest touch over your bare chest. You have no idea how you got undressed or why you felt so breathless in this darkened bedroom. A face comes out of the shadows, the features you know all too well.

“Yoongi,” you say, but it comes out as a whine, so desperate and wanton it hardly sounds like you.

You say his name again, but it’s muffled by his lips, soft and gentle. It’s not what you’d expect, but you don’t fight it. You simply melt under his touch and his hands do the talking.

His fingers brush the underside of your breasts, admiring the shape before fondling one, fingertips coming to pinch your hardened bud, rolling the tip between the rough pads of his fingers. You bite your lower lip, taking his hand in yours, pausing his motions. You slowly begin to lower his hand, allowing it to press against your navel, hoping he’ll understand what you want.

It’s so hot, your body is on fire, scorching as he touches your skin and ignites it even more. You just yearn for him—his touch, his body. It’s like an addiction and you have to have him now.

“I’m here to serve you, master, to please you in anyway I can. What would you like me to do?”

He speaks, but his mouth doesn’t move. Your pleasure is too heightened to care. You want him, you want every sinful part of him that he can give you.

“I want it all. I want you. Please, Yoongi,” you beg, looking into his deep red eyes glowing with ardor.

“Anything for you.”

Yoongi uses both hands to part your legs, spreading you open for his eyes to feast upon, a hungry predator starving for a taste. His finger runs up and down your folds first, gathering up your wetness, teasing a finger past your lips.

“Yoongi,” you whine, grasping his hand and guiding him deeper between your folds. He allows you to use his hand to get yourself off without resistance. Your hand pulls his fingers into your clenching walls.

The intrusion feels like three fingers instead of one, you aren’t complaining, it stretches you so good and fills you up nicely. “Mhm, Yoongi,” you moan, releasing your grip to let him continue pleasuring you on his own. Your hand moves above your head where you clench the sheets beneath it, almost writhing.

Yoongi remains eerily quiet while your moans fill the room, crescendos of your helpless cries echo in the dark. He continues to assault your pulsing cunt, drilling his fingers deeper with each rough thrust. Every motion has you hurling towards a quick end.

Your breathless voice rasps his name, nothing else on your mind but him and his fingers. You shut your eyes, focusing on the feeling. Your back arches, hips grinding against his fingers.

“Wake up.” The voice sounds like Yoongi. What is he saying?

Your brows furrow, but your eyes don’t open, ignoring the voice to focus once again on your pleasure.

“Master,” his voice teases, “you must be having a pleasant dream.”

Dream?

Suddenly the hands on your core fade into nothing and you’re left empty, just on the edge of orgasming. When you open your eyes again, you’re in the dimly lit bedroom, sanguine eyes hovering above you. The sheets damp with your sweat. You can feel the heat and slick between your legs that pooled from your dream and an ache in your core that was never relieved.

Oh god, that dream.

Yoongi blinks, red eyes flashing at you and reminding you of whose fingers made you so wet while asleep.

“You were moaning,” Yoongi states.

Your cheeks burn from embarrassment. You bring the blanket higher to cover half your face. You’re praying you hadn’t let his name slip out in your dream state.

“Care to tell me what your dream was about?”

You lick your chapped lips, finding the courage to speak, “I-It was you.”

Perhaps you’re still feeling the effects of your dream, that desire manifesting itself right now, hoping that the true version of Yoongi could finish what dream him had started.

Yoongi cocks a brow, taking a seat on the side of your bed. As it begins to dip under his weight, you shift and sit up, ignoring how your shirt dips too low over your chest.

“Explain.”

His hardening gaze makes it difficult for you to think about anything but the way he looked at you in your dream, ready to devour you. A rush of arousal goes straight to your core and you cross your legs.

“Y-You were in it and you were t-touching me.”

“Touching?” He echoes, his eyes drift from your face down to your low neckline. “Touching you how?”

You really don’t want to explain it in detail. Doesn’t he get it already? Does he really not understand or does he want you to say it out loud?

“Well,” you wet your lips, “I was naked and you were above me.”

“Oh.” Is all he says. It doesn’t sound disappointed nor disgusted, that’s good at least. He nods his head as a sign for you to continue.

“A-And then your fingers… your fingers…they…” You clam up, suddenly recalling how deep and real they felt inside you, filling up your walls and making you scream.

Your eyes cast down, unable to look at him anymore, but that’s a mistake. His hands rest against the bed, propping himself up. The blue veins that run across his hands and slither up his arms, catch your eye. That hand, those fingers—your legs clench beneath your blanket.

“I should stay with you tonight,” his voice raspier than before. You’re not sure if it’s what you said that brought this on. All kinds of elicit thoughts run through your mind. In the same bed, beneath the same sheets, those veiny hands roaming your body once again. You’re dying to know what it feels like for real.

“It could be an incubus plaguing your dreams.”

And suddenly the fantasy is cut short.

“Incubus?” You've never heard of one.

“A sex demon that preys on women while they sleep.”

Well, that would explain the dream, but why would it appear as Yoongi? Did you really want Yoongi so badly a demon had to take the form of him to trick you?

“O-Oh, you really want to stay with me?”

“I won’t let anyone else have you, especially not another demon.”

With that, you allow Yoongi to stay with you for the rest of the night. The throbbing and want in your core never subsiding. He lays down next to you and suddenly you feel shy, scooting to the very edge of the bed until you’re threatening to tip off.

You know he doesn’t need to sleep, so you’re wondering if he will just lie there the whole night listening to the sounds of your steady breathing, or possibly more moaning if the dream returns.

“Did you enjoy it?”

Your entire body tenses, “y-yes.”

You don’t dare to turn over.

“Did you cum?”

“No.”

The bed shifts, his body moves to press against yours, molding together, fitting like a puzzle piece. His warmth envelops you, calming your erratic nerves.

What is he doing?

“Would you like to?”

Yoongi’s fingers sneak around your abdomen, trailing down slowly to cup your heat. His middle finger brushes against your clit beneath thin shorts and underwear. You chew on your lower lip, fighting back the urge to rub your legs together and whimper.

“I liked hearing you moan. I almost didn’t want to wake you. But now I wonder, what do you sound like when you cum?”

He brings his lips to the shell of your ear, hot puffs of air emphasizes every word he lowly whispers.

“Will you let me hear those sweet little whimpers again? I’ll fuck you good, sweetheart, I promise.”

“O-Okay.”

He takes his hands away to allow you to willingly roll onto your back. You watch as he moves to hover over you, his knees on either side of your thighs, his finger intertwined with a strand of your hair.

“Don’t be nervous, ___,” he whispers, oddly comforting. “I’ll take care of you.”

Those words remind you of his promise.

“I’ll protect you until the day you die. You’re mine to have and no one else’s.”

Your shoulders relax under his words like a spell cast over you. His finger releases your hair to drag down your face tenderly.

“You’re already wet, aren’t you? Did that dream take care of you well?”

His hands fall away from your face to the waistband of your shorts. Teasingly hooking around the elastic and tugging to get a peek at your baby pink panties.

“Answer me, baby girl.”

“Mm, y-yes, I am,” you answer, beginning to feel warm under your clothes despite how thin they are.

Yoongi snaps the waistband back and slides his hand up your shirt, tugging it off your body. Your breasts are exposed to him now and suddenly it feels real. This isn’t another dream. You’re really agreeing to give yourself to a demon.

His rich, sanguine eyes roam your body, memorizing each fine detail of your skin. You fight the urge to hide yourself. No one has ever seen you so intimately before nor looked at you as if they were ready to devour you whole.

Yoongi’s hand moves to touch your chest, but your reflexes force you to flinch away. You’re nervous about him touching you, thinking he’d be disappointed that you’re not everything he lusts after. He’s a demon, he must have been with—corrupted—countless humans.

“What’s the matter?” He asks, pulling his hand back.

“I’ve never…done this before,” you admit, looking anywhere but his face. Your eyes travel downward, the column of his neck, the deep pools of his collarbones, his loose-fitting wrinkled shirt, to his crotch. His bulge is prominent in his dark jeans, begging to be freed. You wonder how big he is. What if he doesn’t fit?

“Don’t worry, ___, I said I’d take care of you. Uncross your legs.”

You do as you’re told and Yoongi bends down slowly, pressing a kiss to your neck while his hand caresses your waist. He moves a hand up towards your breasts and brushes his thumb over your erect nipple. You squeak, a hand coming up to rest on his shoulder and squeeze out of nervousness.

“Don’t be shy,” he rasps, nuzzling his nose up to the shell of your ear. “I just want to make you feel good.”

His thumb rolls over your nipple again as he gets back to work marking your neck. You sigh, letting your eyes flutter shut, but still keeping one steady hand on his shoulder for comfort.

He sucks bruises into your skin that will stay as a reminder of this night and you don’t care what he leaves. You’re just enjoying the feeling of his lips on your skin. They’re so warm. You can feel yourself slowly getting addicted to his touch. It leaves you growing wetter than before.

His lips move wet kisses down your chest down to your navel. His hand leaves your breasts, trailing towards to your waistband once again.

Your hand falls from his shoulder and you rest it against your chest, feeling the pounding of your heart. You can feel it beating—boom, boom, boom—you’re so nervous about having someone so close.

“Will you show me how wet you are?” He looks up at you with a mischievous smirk. You can feel your heart racing even faster. One finger runs down your clothed slit, earning a quiet whimper from you. “Touch yourself. I want you to coat your fingers and show me.”

“Y-Yoongi,” you stutter, “I-I…”

“Don’t tell me to haven’t touched yourself before.”

You have touched yourself, but never in front of anyone else. Touching yourself in front of Yoongi sounds more and more appealing the longer his finger moves against your slit. You just want some relief for your aching core.

“Okay.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. Your hands move to slowly slide your shorts off, panties going along with it to the floor. Now you’re completely bare, left vulnerable to Yoongi.

He sits between your spread legs, watching your hands move. Enamored by your trembling hands, he can hardly wait for you to finally touch your wet slit. It’d be so easy for you to do it. You’ve probably done it many times before.

Yoongi could imagine you lying in this bed in the middle of the night, shrouded in darkness with quiet whimpers while you pleasured yourself. You’d think of faceless men, only focusing on their cocks filling you up, pounding into your cunt the same why your fingers did.

He feels himself get harder beneath his pants, the strain beginning to get uncomfortable.

Your finger brushes over your slit, gathering just enough of your arousal on the tip for it to shine in the light.

“You’re dripping already,” he groans, “fuck, I can’t wait to have my cock in that tight little cunt.”

You almost gasp at his sudden vulgar words. It’s nothing like your dream where he was silent through most of it, letting his fingers do all the talking. But you like this version better—much better.

“Bend your knees,” he orders. “Put that pretty pussy on display.”

You do as he says, the way his words sound like growls has you clenching, the throb in your core becoming unbearable. Your hand moves to your clit first, running over the sensitive bud. At first touch, you softly gasp, already feeling the jolts of pleasure running through your body.

“Want you to put a finger in.” Yoongi can’t look away,

You force your finger from your clit, running your fingers up and down your slit to collect all the juices that leaked out of you. Then, you ease your middle finger in, your walls already clenching around it.

Your mouth falls open with puffs of hot air coming out as you gasp. When you begin moving your finger in and out, you bite down on your lip to prevent any loud whimpers from escaping.

“Faster. Fuck yourself with your finger.”

Once you pick up the pace and move your finger in and out of your soaking pussy, you begin to need more. You want to be stretched full—so full of him.

“More, I-I want more, Yoongi,” you mumble.

“Slip another one in.”

You immediately respond to that and stretch yourself with another finger. Your mouth hangs open becoming parched and a moan almost escapes you, but you catch it in your throat before it becomes any louder.

Yoongi shakes his head, “I like hearing you. Go ahead and moan.”

“B-But the neighbors.”

You’re sure they wouldn’t want to be woken in the middle of the night hearing you moaning through paper-thin walls.

“If they like what they hear we can just invite them over,” he smirks, “and if not, I’ll take care of them for you, babygirl. So don’t be shy and let me listen to how good you fuck yourself.”

Yoongi takes hold of your hand, guiding your fingers into your soaked walls. His thumb presses against your clit and moves in circles, heightening your pleasure.

You whimper, releasing a breathy moan when he presses harder. Your hips buck, grinding helplessly on his thumb.

“There it is. What a good girl,” he praises while coaxing your fingers from your pussy. You whine when he refuses to let you stuff them back in, feeling his grip tighten around your wrist as a warning. His other hand fingers your slit, easing two digits in suddenly.

His fingers are much longer than yours and they feel amazing, prodding your pussy deeper than before. Your back arches, head falling to the side as you let out a wanton moan.

Squelches and obscene noises coming from your wet pussy fill the room along with your uncensored moans. Drilling his fingers faster, Yoongi releases your wrist to rub your clit.

“Ah, Y-Yoongi,” you whimper, digging your nails into the sheets.

“Do you like my fingers buried in your sweet virgin cunt?”

“Mhm,” you mumble, rolling your hips against his hand. “I like it. P-Please keep going. It f-feels so good.”

Tension knots in your abdomen with each thrust of his fingers, curling inside your walls. Your forehead is damp, hair sticking to the sides of your temple. Your legs fall open wider.

“You gonna cum all over my hand, babygirl?”

Whimpers and a simple nod of your head tells Yoongi what he wants to know. His voice is enchanting, a low hum, instructing you to meet your release and you do.

You feel yourself gushing and squirting all over his fingers, your entire body tense while your walls clench and unclench. His name falls hoarsely from your lips.

“You’ve made a mess,” Yoongi tsks, pulling his fingers out of your abused hole to play with your dripping cum. He traces your outer lips, rubbing cum all over.

Yoongi runs a finger along your thighs and over your abdomen to paint your body with your own sticky cum. “You’re all prepped and ready for my cock now.”

Your breath catches in your throat when his hands move to unzip his jeans. You’re anticipating the feeling of his cock sliding into you. How will it feel for the first time? You know it must hurt from all the stories. Nevertheless, you’re ready. You feel ready.

When he finally frees himself from his pants, throwing them off to the side, you’re left speechless, unable to think of what to say.

He’s big, so much bigger than you imagined. His fingers are nothing compared to his girth. It’s almost jaw-dropping. You’re afraid he won’t fit even with how wet you are.

And it’s not just how thick he is that’s causing you to do a double-take. Along his shaft, are smooth ridges dotting his length. You’ve never seen anything like it.

Your hesitant hand dares to reach out and graze one of the ridges. It feels just like skin, raised like a hard bump. Your hand flinches back when he gasps. You look up at him, a silent question hanging off your mind.

“It’ll hurt, I won’t lie, but I’ll try to go slowly,” Yoongi says, hoping to reassure you.

You lick your lips, glancing back at his hard xoxo once more. Your body is on fire and there is no denying how badly you yearn for Yoongi to be in you. You need this demon with no true face to fuck you.

“Go ahead.”

Yoongi pulls on your hips, aligning his rigid cock head to your swollen pink lips. He pushes himself in, the thick head of his cock entering your walls for the first time. He forces himself not to bury himself into you, reminding himself how untouched you are and how he doesn’t want to hurt you.

“Yoongi,” you whimper, grabbing onto one of his hands on your hips. “S-Slower, please.”

You lay there, breathing shallowly as he watches you carefully. You move your hips experimentally around his cock, trying to adjust to the thickness as it steadily pierces you. You can feel the ridges of his cock as it enters you. The ache is uncomfortable and you wince.

There can’t possibly be any more, you think until you choose to look down to where your bodies are connected. He’s just halfway in and you gasp. Not even with all of his length in you, you feel incredibly full.

“Such a tight cunt,” he hisses, pulling out partially and thrusting back in, keeping up the slow rhythm to help you adjust.

You’re beginning to feel pleasure instead of the uncomfortable pain and with each of his thrusts, he pushes himself deeper until you can take his whole cock.

“So… hng, full,” you moan, feeling him hitting your cervix. Your back arches off the bed. You can feel every ridge sliding against your walls. Sliding your hands from his, your nails rake up his back, making red scars that will remain until morning. You anchor onto his shoulders.

He drills into your cunt, no longer concerned with your pain, only focusing on giving you pleasure. With each of your whining moans, he rolls his hips until you’re flushed and panting.

“S-Shit,” he hisses, “you like this, babygirl? You like being fucked?”

“Yes, yes!” you cry.

“You can feel me all the way in here,” he smugly remarks, pressing a hand flat against your abdomen where you can see the bulge of his cock moving inside you. His cock feels like it’s stretching you open, each thrust threatening to split you in half.

You whine, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him in closer. You can feel your second orgasm approaching quickly. Your toes begin to curl in absolute ecstasy.

“I wanna-”

“Cum? You need to cum, babygirl?” He groans hotly into your ear.

Your fingers move to lace in his blonde hair, tugging at the locks. Your hips buck to meet his in a hurry to finish. “Yes! I need to!”

His finger moves between your bodies to flick your swollen bud causing you to shudder releasing a choked sob. His finger rubs your clit in circles.

Your muscles tighten, stomach and eyes clenching as all your nerves light up.

“Cum then, let go.”

You cry his name as you cum, back arching and your sweaty chest meets his. White leaks from your used cunt, gushing around his cock, and you’re absolutely spent.

“Good girl,” Yoongi coos, almost out of breath but not quite. Being a demon means plenty of stamina. “Such a good girl.”

Your eyes open, blinking—once, twice— and realizing he’s smiling down at you. His blonde hair pushed back, revealing his forehead and glistening sweat. You’re wondering how he’s feeling after this because you’re definitely confused. Do you love Yoongi, the demon, who only wants to be human? It’s hard to say.

“I might love you,” you admit. You might as well say it. You have nothing to lose anyway.

That forces his smile to fall. He has nothing to say in return, he can’t say anything. This is wrong—all wrong. His mouth sets in a hard line.

You're forgetting the inevitable. The inevitable moment when he's forced to take your life. Even if years do go by, even if he does allow himself to fall in love with you, it won’t end happily.

“And maybe I could too.”

#BAficexchange #bangtanarmynet #bts #bts smut #yoongi smut #btssmutclub #smutcentralnet #yoongi fanfiction #bts fanfiction #bts scenario #bts reactions #bts imagines

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nightmaretyrantvantas · 4 years

Text

When tensions break too often- a dark side au story

So I got my ideas back for some angst and some tension in this au, and I just couldnt resist writing it. Plus its a good way to warm me back up into doing things for this au.

This is also a bit of a deeper dive into the dynamics of darkside! Virgil and the other dark sides and how they all bounce and thrive off each other, as well a some backstory and peeks at the full effects of Deceit leaving( jealousy is with the dark sides but is only mentioned, he currently doesnt make much of an appearance in this one in particular, he gets his own angst later)

This was fun to write, not gonna lie. Its been awhile an this is gonna be long so buckle up with me

I also got alot of inspiration to finally write this out(and revise parts of it) due in part to @aimasup ‘s recent comics and writings about their kid sides(which I love, like alot alot and I hope they dont mind me getting super inspired by it!)

ships: Past prinxiety, past anxciet, implied intruxiety, implied intrulogical, implied intruloxiety, implied one sided remus x wrath, implied past demus, implied current roceit

Im putting a trigger warning here for cussing, fighting(verbal and physical), descriptions of panic attacks and emotional breakdowns, violence, gross and inappropriate language, some body horror descriptions, as well as implied unsympathetic sides(all sides are morally grey but the perspective is biased towards the dark sides as its seen from Wrath’s view- keep that in mind)

Things are about to get angsty my friends but i promise it ends happy(for once in this au)

I hope you guys enjoy

~~~~~~~~~~

Wrath Sanders had a lot more patience then almost everyone gave him credit for. Most considered him the biggest hothead there was, going off at the first irritation. But, the truth was he was eerily patient...Sure he may simmer and seethe and hold onto things in unhealthy grudges, but he never lost his cool as often as some would want you to believe.

Wrath Sanders kept his cool during many things, even if that was the last thing he wanted to do.

He had sat back through many things, biting his tongue to hold back the venom and yelling and grinding his teeth together in anger and forced himself to sit through many many things that happened around him out of respect- out of a deep fucking respect- for Virgil’s Fear’s Anxiety’s authority. Instead, he watched shit go down over and over again and held himself back from reacting towards the problem, focusing his energy on the recovery.

But, the most recent event was his last fucking straw.

It had happened seemingly out of nowhere, Wrath had been slumped down on their shitty lumpy couch boredly watching some dumb movie. It was getting later in the night, around 10 maybe 11 and he had one of Remus’s crappy beers partially drank in his hand. He was just getting up to change the movie or turn it off all together when the whole house seemed to shift violently, the walls seeming to tremble. There was a moment of confusion before he heard it.

“ Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuuuughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

His whole body jolted to its feet unsteadily as the sound of Anxiety’s pain wreaked scream filled the house to an almost deafening volume as it distorted and deepened. His body moved before his mind, lurching over the couch and running for the source of the scream as another one wailed out even louder than the first, the sound muffling the breaking bottle and violently shaking the walls with their reverb. He heard other sounds too underneath, glass shattering heavy objects banging and wood splintering, wallpaper shredding. A third screech rang out, cutting itself in half with echoing high pitched sobs.

He hadnt been the first to make it to his room.

Wrath watched as he turned the corner in time to see Remus destroy Anxiety’s door with his morning star, a wild and desperately freaked out look to his glowing eyes as wood splintered and gave out under the weapon, some sending cuts into his cheeks. The creative side was then out of sight in a flash, forcing his way into the room yelling as to be heard over the screams.

Remembering the pain, the fear the absolute panic in Remus’s normally confident voice sent a deeper chill down his spine than the screams had.

“ Virgy??!! Fuck fuck fuck fUCK!! Virgy no no! Its me dammit!! Fuck FUCK FUCK!! No no NO! Virgy virgy virgy storm cloud creepy cryptid no no nnonononono look at me no no look at me cmon honey look at me not those at me. me me me me..” His voice continued, shaky and softening as the screams faded into heart wrenching sobs and high pitched hyperventilating gasps. Remus continued to speak, morning star thudding against carpet and a softer thud sounding.

“ Hey hey hey hey hey hey...hey hey hey I got you I got you I’m here im still here....i’m always here for ya honey...I got you now I got you see? Yeah yeah thats me....just focus on me....cmon cmon stormy cant pass out on me now...follow my breathing lets breathe together...in...out...in out...now....tell me five things you can see....cmon honey you got this just look up im here right here...”

The sight through the broken door haunted him, made his chest throb hard and bile burn his throat.

The bedroom before him was completely trashed. It was as if something feral and destructive had ripped it from its very foundation. Every piece of furniture, big or small, was broken and smashed apart, the anxious side’s bed and couch ripped into multiple pieces. Every shelf or flat surface had faced an even worse fate, thrown around and shattered into various pieces that had been strewn around the room along with glass fragments from anything unfortunate enough to have been made of glass. Papers and books were severed and torn apart viciously, and the wallpaper was slashed in huge wide cute, some of the slashes cutting deep into the wall underneath. And in the middle of the disaster was Remus and Anxiety. Long, protruding limb like dark shapes sprouted from the purple side’s back, twitching and trembling with adrenaline along with his heaving, hunched over shaking form. Remus was there in front of him, knelt down to the balled up figure and slowly but surely coaxing him up enough to pull him into his arms and rock him back and forth as he kept speaking to him. It took Wrath a few seconds of his vision adjusting to the room’s darkness to realize Remus had more cuts on him, and why.

Strings.

Millions of purple tinted, tautly pulled strings, like a tightly woven and intricate sickening spider web filled the room from top to bottom as if trying to shield the two in its depths. He could see parts of them hanging limp, likely from Remus forcing his way through to the other. He watched in a horrified shock as Anxiety’s body lurched and jerked with his piercing sobs, hand harshly digging into his scalp through his hood and shadowy claws threatening to rip said hood open. He could see many of the strings connected directly to various parts of his body and to the eight extra things on his back and it made him shudder. The room radiated a sort of fear and panic that was infectious, suffocating even. But he refused to leave the doorway and abandon the two there, in that too dense darkness.

He watched Remus manage to gather up the shorter side into his chest and rock him more, practically curling into a ball over him. He was still talking, his voice softening to the point he couldnt make it out anymore from the door. But he could see his expression. God his expression mightve been what pushed him past his bullshit accepting limit.

Remus’s face was grim, any traces of his grins and normal attitude gone. His eyes were glowing in a dark, dangerously violent fury but the way they stayed trained on Anxiety kept them, for the time being at least, soft and remorseful. There was so much pain there in that focused gaze, pain regret sorrow a disturbing amount of fear and understanding. His mouth moved with words not meant for Wrath to hear, soft gentle coos and reassurances too intimate to be heard by anyone else but the one trembling harshly in his strong arms. Brows furrowed and it made Wrath feel even colder to realize his hands, hands that were holding the other up and petting his hair through that black hood and rubbing between the spidery appendages, were trembling.

Remus was trembling.

After awhile the strings seem to fade away into nothing, those shadowy limbs following them scarily slow. Once that happened and the worst of the darkeness seemed to dissipate was when Wrath dared to take a few stiff steps into the room, debris crunching too loudly under his boots. He saw Remus stiffen and his eyes flicker up like a cornered, ready to attack animal before relaxing, glow never leaving.

“ W...wh..r...R-remus...”

“ Des...Dessy brat...h-hey spitfire do me a solid and go open my door ok? Dont worry itll lead to my bedroom...just...go open it for me...will you...?” Wrath’s voice failed him after that and he nodded, backing out of that suffocation and away into the brighter lit hall rushing from the room to push open the dark stained door further down. He turned around to go back, to try to help somehow...anyway he could, when he watched Remus instead picking his way out of the mess and into the hall, their leader cradled in his arms limply like a small sleeping child. Not a sound came from either of them as he stalked through the hall and into his room, a single nod dismissing Wrath before the door swung shut in front of him...

That was where he was drawing a line. Enough had been enough.

Wrath had sat back through many things, too many fucking things than he should have. He held back his doubts when Virgil and Roman had first started seeing each other when they were younger and dumber, had held himself and barely held Remus back from mauling the so called “good” creativity when things had gone awry and he had broken Virgil’s heart and left him in bitter, resentful pieces for them to pick up and help mend back together. He held back every time Thomas had, intentionally or unintentionally, slighted and undermined their jobs as a part of him, of their importance, of Virgil’s and Remus’s importance to him. He had sat back through the aftermath of ever fight with the “light” sides and with thomas, through every dismissal and banishment and arguement and accusation. He had helped and been there through countless sleepless nights and previous breakdowns and panic attacks between all four three of them, and he had been here, had been forced not to retaliate as per Virgil’s simple request.

“ Dont Des....dont go after them...Im forbidding it got it? Dont do it. it isnt going to be worth it...please...”

It had always been the please, soft and defeated that made him obey. Not the angry snaps and lashing out, not the cruel words and push and shove they all did for so long, but the plea in that word...the vulnerability it revealed.

He had sat through Deceit’s slow distancing from the rest of them...and his eventually leaving them for the light sides and the ensuing pain and breakdown that his leaving left behind.

It had splintered them, had struck both Virgil and Remus harder and more painfully than either side would verbally admit. Wrath had been forced to do nothing but helplessly watch it break them and break himself too, and try to clean up the aftermath best he could.

But this breakdown, seeing the side that had always stubbornly refused to buckle or back down reduced to a screaming sobbing wreck on the floor, seeing the other side he had always seen be nothing but strong and indifferent to everything thrown with a grin shaking in fear and softly pleading was too much.

He had stayed down, seething, resentment festering for years. too many years without an outlet.

He remembered the hand that had been held out to him all those years ago. Remembered coming along a little bit before Deceit ever did...and looking up from where he was angrily crying on the floor to see two figures before him. One was shorter, with two sets of brightly glowing purple and green eyes and a big black hoodie that was too big for him and messy hair that fell into his face. Behind him was someone much taller, with wild hair and a single streak of white in it, eyes feral and gleeful i a way that made him tense and made him mad through his tears. He was dressed extravagantly, like a prince or even a king grinning unnaturally wide. But his focus narrowed on the purple one, whose dark claw tipped hand stretched out in front of him in an offering. When Anger had put his head back in his knees to cry more he felt an arm drape over him. His head snapped up and he saw the princely one next to him with a softer expression, hand rubbing his back a little.

“ Hey....hey its ok Anger. Whatcha crying for? You did your job! Pretty damn well too! You were amazing the way you had Thomas screaming at that bully!” A clawed hand smacked him making him yelp and he looked in front of him to see Fear knelt in front of him with a look of understanding, a bitter smile on his face.

“ He’s right you know? You were only doing your job...you didnt realize how out of hand things would spiral and thats ok. How they reacted isnt your fault...”

They offered him a place to go, a place to thrive. Screw the others that refused to understand and stay with them. And Fear led them both deeper down the halls by the hand, making sure he didnt get lost

He was done standing down.

Someone needed to pay.

~ ~ ~

If he was honest, Wrath wasnt sure how long he sat outside the intrusive side’s shut door, sitting slumped against the opposing wall in a thick, deafening silence. It mustve been long enough for him to drift into an uneasy, restless sleep. His dreams filled up with memories of younger years, of pranks and scuffles and violent roughhousing the three of them got up to being on their own, of Remus making meals and running around frantic to keep both Anger and Fear from accidentally killing themselves or each other on something. Of Deceit hazily joining their trio, hesitant and quiet but able to snap back just as viciously and able to rough house back just as good as the rest of them after awhile. Of days filled with shrieks, squeals, bickering and shrilly laughter, of restless nights where they all broke into Remus’s room and dog piled on his bed to sleep. Of slowly growing up and watching Virgil come out of his quiet observance and transition from Fear to Anxiety and taking charge as a leader among them, of Remus stepping back and letting him with full confidence as his right hand and partner in crime in most cases. Of seeing Deceit come out of his terrified shell and blossom into a belovedly bitchy and...supposedly self assured side...of Virgil’s echoing screams that seem to reverberate through his very core...

He jolted awake at the sound of a door creaking, and sluggishly lifted his head to see a pair of familiar scuffled riding boots, laces fraying if you looked close enough. He lifted his gaze higher and soon locked onto tired green eyes that were dark and dull from exhaustion. Lifeless was a term he could describe those eyes with and that fact made him briefly queasy and cold. He looked tired, so very tired, and older. He was older than them both....but right now he looked much older than he was...There was a silence between them for a few moments that allowed Wrath to rouse himself up a little more.

“ Dessy....for all thats unholy...what’re you still doin out here dumbass? Did you stay there all night?”

‘Dessy’...‘ Des’ the nickname eased some of his shot nerves. Ever since they were kids they had joked that his name shouldve been “ Despair” instead of “ Daniel Williams” because of his very present pessimism and negative outlook. And soon it became so much more fitting that his nickname became “ Des” short for despair...or in Remus’s case “ Dessy” as he oh so enjoyed calling him. The annoying nickname was familiar though, and it helped him relax enough to speak. His voice was rough and awkwardly quiet in the small hallway, as if he’d been the one screaming.

“ I....wanted to make sure he’d be ok...” He trailed off, voice faltering with a clear shake. It sounded pathetic and weak to him.

But maybe, just this once pathetic and weak wasnt a bad thing. Because at the sound of his voice, and his dumb reason, Wrath saw some life flicker back into the older side’s eyes, some of their glow returning. Remus let out a tired, exasperated sigh and gave him a small sad smile, his expression softened into something sorrowful yet fond. That fondness, that softness sent warm tingling butterflies fluttering through his chest like it always did despite the grim circumstances. Remus let out a strained chuckle and shook his head, pulling his door shut with a quiet click.

“ He’s asleep now ya little Tasmanian devil...let him rest and we’ll check on him in a bit...now cmon, lets go make some breakfast and watch some movies or something....lets go up up.” With a grunt Des allowed himself to be heaved up by the armpits to his feet and didnt protest Remus wrapping an arm around him and guiding him down to the living room. He didnt want to see that pained exhaustion on his face...he needed to do something

and had a problem he was finally going to get rid of.

“ No Des you cant.”

There was that feeling as familiar to him as breathing bubbling in his chest, that hot smoldering feeling of anger or irritation igniting. It flushed out the cold he had been feeling in an unpleasant way but he ignored that part, pressing his palms flat on the table with a bit of force as he narrowed his orange eyes at the one across from him. He felt something like acid stinging his mouth and begging to be spilled free but he did as he usually did and grit his teeth to hold the worst of it at bay. Pushing it down. Holding back again.

“ Not again Remus. I refuse to just fucking sit back and do nothing again. They need to be taught a lesson! This is all their fault- all his fault--”

“ Even if it is so fucking what?! You blindly lashing out at them is only going to make things worse I can promise you that--”

“ Like hell it will!! They act like they can just walk all over us and treat us like fucking trash and cause things like last night and you think im lashing out blindly when--”

“ --When youre temper is as violent as a fucking feral mongoose--” “ Dont call me a fucking mongoose beetlejuice reject!!” “ Oh shut up and sit back down you twerp!!”

They went back and forth across the table, both their tempers and volumes raising as they fought. That bubbling feeling was twisting into a boiling, growing burning that began filling his chest and core. Why was Remus not agreeing with him for fucks sake--

His vision started tinging red.

“ Look brat you think I fucking like this?! You think im not pissed the fuck off?! Because I am! I’m beyond pissed off about this!! About the fact I know exact who and what caused Virgy’s breakdown and about the fact it happened at all!! I fucking get it!! But even I know you shouldnt just storm in there to take off trying to take off their fucking heads when youre too upset! Youre not thinking clearly enough for that kind of confrontation dammit im trying to protect you in this too!!” Remus’s words were loud, ruthless, and hard hitting. There were angry and forceful and made sense.

Plenty of sense.

And somehow that made him even angrier.

“ Oh? Ooooh! I get it, I fucking get it! Now that youve been sweetening up fucking logic youre suddenly the first to fucking defend them hurting our fucking best friend--”

“--oh for fucks sake bitch Logan has nothing to fucking do with this!! Im not fucking defending them either!! I swear to god im just trying to--” “ --to what huh?! Keep on his good side so you can get in his fucking pants?! Or so you can fucking push it aside and laugh about it later like one of them?!--” “ Goddammit you fucking stubborn brat you dont know what youre even talking about--” “ I dont know what im talking about?! I DONT KNOW WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT?!?!” His voice rose much louder, his own trembling distortion coming out and getting spat at the side who had helped fucking raise him like venom.

“ I dont know what im talking about?!! You mean like how I NEVER seem to know what the fuck im talking about?! Like how Virgil never knows what hes talking about or how you never seem to know what youre fucking talking about when your talking to them?! God now youre even starting to sound like those pretentious bastards!! Dont know what im talking about?! What part do I not know what im talking about Intrusive Thoughts?! huh??!!” His breath was coming out in ragged, squeaking pants as his eyes began to burn “Which fucking part do I not fucking know?! The part where ive had to sit back and bottle up my rage at being pushed aside and degraded and judged and dismissed or having to sit back for fucking years and watch you and virgil get hurt and hurt and ignored and dismissed and talked down and insulted and broken and having to swallow my protests of it?! Or of knowing last night fucking happened because Deceit decided to fully live up to his fucking name and abandoned us for those bastards and left us alone without a second thought and got away with it?! Or the fucking fact youre too busy trying to bone down logic to even fucking care--!!”

Smack!

It came so fast he hadnt had time to prepare for it before his head was snapped to the side and pain exploding in his face, on the cheek near the jaw in particular as he staggered to the ground a good foot and his eyes eerily slow dragged themselves from looking at the kitchen cabinets to Remus, who still had his fist outstretched near where it had collided with his face, his chest heaving almost like his own was, eyes wild and just as angry before a flash of realization went through them.

“ ....Des....fuck...i...you...” Nothing too coherent came babbling out Remus’s mouth, he was still way too hoped up on anger fueled adrenaline. His fist was starting to tremble and Wrath watched his pupils dilate a few times in his attempt to calm down.

And then there was something like an explosion as that burning feeling warped into a raging fire and Wrath let out a infuriated, inhuman shriek and lunged for Remus with a full intent to rip out his stupid fucking throat as his rage consumed him.

The two fighting sides went crashing into the living room loudly nearly knocking over the couch in their wake, both of them screaming and Wrath inhumanly screeching in an almost reptilian manner as he clawed and punched wherever he could reach. Remus wasnt just lying down and taking it either, yelling in loud angry spats of soon unraveling nonsense as he fought back mercilessly, throwing the other into walls, into furniture, throwing punches and kicks of his own. But nothing seemed to slow the orange side down and he struck back with slowly growing claws and fangs and something sharp growing out of his hair, angry tears burning his eyes and his voice too warbled and distorted to even be understood anymore, both their forms twitching and subtly shifting and glowing as they tried to rip each other to shreds, things fluid dripping and twisting lashing out from Remus’s back. Remus was stronger, he always had been, but Wrath had a seemingly endless stream of fury and adrenaline that kept him getting back up and charging in for more, the room being wrecked between them. Maybe things would have gone too far if it hadnt been brought to a hard, screeching halt.

By the time they could both blink they were ripped away from each other, both now uselessly struggling as they were entangled in roughly restraining strings that glowed a eye straining, furious purple color and seemed to tighten and wrap around them more the more they fought and struggled for freedom. Their indecipherable words and incoherent screams where just as ruthlessly cut short as strings wrapped warningly around their throats, not tight enough to actually choke or hurt them, but firm enough to be very present and felt, their voices being quite literally silenced the moment it touched looped once and touched the spot over their vocal cords. There was a horrifically tense silence as their mouths moved in spat insults and screams that never made a sound.

“......that....that is enough out of both of you.”

Virgil’s voice cut through the room like a cleaver, the tone dead, cold, and just as pissed off as they were. At first they couldnt see him, manic eyes darting around until Wrath saw the Duke’s eyes trained on top of the stairs near the hallway, pupils down to small pinpricks. When he glared over in that direction he fully understood and felt all that anger draining and quickly turning into a queasy, cold dread that made him want to cower.

That radiation of fury, or bone chilling fear and a kind of suffocating anxiety that made it hard to breathe and a panic that made them both feel like they were perpetually falling and simultaneously drowning swept over the living room like a flood, the corners and ceilings slowly developing intricate pulsing webs or strings that seem to absorb the rooms light as Virgil stepped, no, half crawled down the stairs and into view. Both sets of eyes were visibly, the whites dyed a void like inky black where his brightly burning purple and green irises cut into them coldly. Something sharp and gleaming poked from his scowl and revealed themselves as fangs as his snarl curled his lips. His hood was up hiding most of his pale skin but couldnt hide the flecks and scatterings of void like, inky and purple spots dusting parts of his slowly purple tinging skin. His hands, snapping out from his sleeves to grip the stair railing were fully blotched in that void, fingers curling into razor sharp claws that strings hung stickily too. The eight dark appendages, opaque and gangly half carried him down faster than usual, the ends digging into the carpet as if for stability. A shrill hiss whistled through Anxiety’s teeth and the panic inducing feeling of being stared at at being excruciatingly examined came from every corner, growing worse and worse as he stalked closer with silent movements.

“ What....the actual fuck are you two doing.” The words with sharp edged and cold, tone flat and tired. They both just stared helplessly, unable to move or speak and both beginning to mindlessly panic. Virgil blinked and a gust of air like an exhale swepted through the room and....left no traces of those fearful horrified feelings in its wake. Both of their feet thudded mutedly against the carpeted floor as the strings released them and retreated back into nothing, disappearing from all around them as if they had never been there to begin with...the room never dimmer than it had started in the morning light and the three of them stood there in silence. Any hints of inhumanity were gone from Anxiety’s form, leaving his two still glowing eyes losing their luster and leaving dull annoyance behind, no fangs, no extra limbs, no claws, no void dotting his skin. When he spoke he took a slow breath, as if unable to breathe just like them.

“....I...I mean it you two...what. the actual fuck did you two wake me up with.” Even his voice had returned to normal, if not for a bit shaky and hoarse from last nights screaming. Wrath saw his eyes were bloodshot, and his face was tinged with blotchy pink and was puffy from crying and something clenched in his chest, thudding hard. He looked at Remus, who was panting from lack of breath, eyes dull and exhausted and pain filled again, injuries from their fight blaring from the blood decorating his body and clothes.

He had done that....he’d lost control again...

“ Im dont want to repeat myself a third fucking time. What the fuck did you--”

“ I...This is my fault I started it...” Both of them looked at him, gazes drilling into him. But he let his head drop as shame took over, choking him a little. This was his family and they were already hurting and look what he’d done-

“Oh piss off Dessperato. It aint only your fault I fucked up too. Look virgy we were both tired and coming off that dumb worry adrenaline shit and we started arguing...and we got waaaaaay too heated and decided to beat the living shit out of each other...sorry we woke you you were suppose to sleep later.” Virgil let out a sigh and rubbed his temples, pulling off his hood and shaking out his messy bedhead.

“ Is that all that happened? Im not deaf and the doors arent sound blockers...” “ Then why are you asking.” Virgil and Remus as a bit of a stare off before finally, for the first time that morning all the life slowly returned to his eyes and he gave a toothy, blood streaked grin and started to laugh. The other two looked at him like he had fully lost it. Then Virgil’s lips twitched up and Des rolled his eyes and failed to stop the grin spreading across his face or the chuckles that he managed to choke out. Within a few minutes all three of them were laughing on the messy living room floor half sprawled over each other and Jealously bemusedly deciding they werent capable of making breakfast and making it for them all instead. Des watched half delerious from his exhaustion as Remus cackled and kicked his leg, just to laugh more when he kicked back.

“ I swear to god no more violence out of you two or I swear I’ll...” Remus let out a snort and gripped the other’s chin between his fingers sensually tugging their faces closer with a smug grin

“ You’ll what Hot Topic? Lock me in the closet again? Or send me reeling with nightmares and hallucinations~ Oh please virgy baby I dare you too~” His tone was light and suggestive, quirking his eyebrows up teasingly for added effect. Virgil snorted and and grinned back leaning close as well.

“ Oh dont start teeempting me with those sweet talkins about hallucinations dr. Hideous~ I might just take you up on that...” Then he flicked his nose and shove him away, both of them laughing. Des was about to try to give them the time to themselves when Remus yanked him between them waggling his finger disapprovingly, making him whack the other’s shoulder with a affectionate “ fuck RIGHT off” and for awhile, in that growing morning light, things felt ok.

It had taken alot of talking, and another arguement almost breaking out between himself and virgil to convince him to back down from confronting the light sides violently. Virgil brought a surprising amount of identical points to remus, while also reminding him that reacting to violently will only make them ignore and dismiss him further. Des was very reluctant, and stubborn, but ultimately he trusted Virgil’s and Remus’s judgement. He trusted Virgil’s reasoning and that he was looking out for him- protecting him. So when he asked him, softly, to refrain from trying to handle it on my own and let him deal with it Des had agreed, obeying his request.

And then a real tipping point pushed him back over the edge.

It was a few weeks later. He remembered distinctly because the mindscape was abuzz with excitement, even the dark sides were effected by Thomas’s unbridled joy. But Virgil had said he was getting a bad feeling...and headed off to the main part of the mindscape that morning. Things were quiet after, calm even. At some point him and Remus had started playing cards, though Remus was blatantly cheating and they were bickering.

Things were fine...things were calm...

Then Virgil crashing into the living room breathing harshly and in the midst of a bad panic attack.

They both jumped up and Remus caught the other in his arms, trying to calm him down and figure out what happened. It took a long time and for awhile they only got bits and pieces out

Thomas

A callback, a big important one he and Roman were thrilled for

Patton, something with both Patton and Deceit

Neither of them agreeing but both of them fighting Virgil

some kind of important friend event on the same day

they had argued, they had fought, there had been yelling by the climax of it

Him and Roman went at each others throat despite the fact he had been trying to help roman’s cause

Deceit fought him alot too, trying to cut him off at every chance in a form of fear response, out of defense

Him and patton argued and fought badly for the first time since Thomas’s last breakup

He thought logan would try to see his side and be a neutral party

Logan was getting tug of warred into agreeing to arguments to push him out

They kept trying to shut him down and dismiss him, they stopped listening fairly

Virgil had to pull out a form shift in front of thomas

He had to use his influences and fear to get them to stop talking over him and twisting his words

it only made things worse, and arguments harsher

They rejected him and his attempts to help more

He started having a panic attack mid argument

He thought logan and patton tried to help but they were getting drowned out by Roman and Dee

There was so much yelling, things that should never be said got thrown

They told Virgil he never does anything but make Thomas worse

Thomas finally nearly screamed for them all to stop and half asked half pleaded for Virgil to just leave until everyone calmed down

He lashed out and hit someone, he wasnt even sure who before he fled, not hearing them yell after him. It mightve been patton, or thomas, or maybe logan

And then his panic attack got worse and neither of them could get another understandable word from him.

In the end Remus eventually got him called down, after a good couple hours of trying, and it took everything in Wrath not to scream and destroy the room.

All Virgil did was try to help, and look what their....their bullshit left him. He was beyond seething at this point, he was fuming he was downright practically breathing fire and shaking from the effort to keep himself still. Remus gave him a cautious warning look, as if he was sizing up one of his many monsters in the imagination and debating if it would kill him or not and Virgil lifted his head to choke out for him to stand down, and to not do anything. Wrath had nodded silently and waited, watching Remus help him upstairs to his room to grab his headphones, and hopefully calm down more. Once they were out of sight he made a decision. He knew the consequences of it, knew theyd both be furious and Virgil would make hell for him for it. But none of that mattered to him

For the first time in many many years...he disobeyed Anxiety’s direct request.

It took a few days to find an opening, but once he saw one he took it, rising up in the big main living room, unknowingly in the middle of a video brainstorm.

Wrath always seemed to appear near the couch, between Roman and Thomas. Just seeing them made his blood boil more than it had been.

It was easy to say he scared the shit out of most of them by just appearing, his entire presence sucking the air from the room and making it hot and tense, a cracked dam waiting to break. Itd been months since he’d seen them face to face, and for a moment his senses got overwhelmed by everything.

But he let that fuel his anger further and he growled for them to fess up. Which one had said it. Roman had of course jumped to the defensive of his friends and that was all Wrath needed.

He lost it, pointing and yelling and accusing Roman. Blaming him for it. Roman didnt back down and fought back, and the fight only seemed to worsen. The others tried to interject, and maybe if Wrath’s vision hadnt been blood red from his fury he wouldve seen they were trying to diffuse the situation and calm things down, talk things out. But he ignored that, whipping around and lashing out at them too

“ Wrath you need to step back and take a deep breath! Youre getting irrational!”

“ Wrath kiddo please we dont have to yell and scream about this Logan’s right lets all take a deep breath ok?”

“ Like hell! Im not going to just let him force his way in here and yell and scream and pretend its ok and we can talk!”

“ Roman please!” “ro stop getting angry back is just making all of it worse the others are right we need to be calm or we’ll never get through to him.”

That voice. Silken and soaked with caution. He whirled around on Deceit and snarled pinning him to the wall without thinking.

“ This is all your fucking fault! Youre the reason they keeping hurting and virgil has breakdowns that put him out of commission for days!! Youre part of the reason Remus locks himself away beating himself up. they trusted you!! We all trusted you and you decided to fuck us over and throw us out like trash!! Was it worth it?!?! Was being here worth breaking the people you grew up with you and loved you?! Well?!” There was yelling around them, and he thought briefly he heard Remus’s and Virgil’s voices behind him as well. But now all that anger, that pushed down bitterness and resentment finally had a target and he couldnt focus on anything else. He didnt even heard Deceits struggling answer as he tried to claw him off, his different eyes wide and his mouth moving in words that werent registering.

“ -youre right ok?! Fuck youre not right at all--fuck fuck I get it youre angry and I fucked up with this, this isnt my fault and I havent been trying to figure out ways to fix it! I totally havent been beating myself up for what happened a few days ago with virgil and I dont regret it ok--” THe words blended together in his head, there were hands on his shoulders ripping him away the the freaked out snake and shoving him into the couch. He snarled but froze when he realized He was staring at the very formal business end of Remus’s morning star, inched from his nose and Remus standing over him with a dark look over his face...dark and upset The red faded from his vision and he blinked rapidly, eyes burning again and jaw aching from how hard he’d been clenching it or from yelling he honestly couldnt even tell anymore. From behind Remus stood both Logan and Virgil, side by side speaking in rapid low voices he couldnt decipher. Behind them he caught of glimpse of Roman and Patton both kneeling on the floor, fretting over a still freaked out Deceit as Jealously offered to help him up. Wrath was struggling to breathe, his body twitching and shaky from the quickly fading adrenaline. Soon he was left feeling cold and sick of himself, staring at Remus with just as wide and wild eyes.

“ Easy....easy spitfire....youre...just breathe for me ok?” He couldnt even nod, he couldnt move. He vageuely noticed Virgil and Logan both looking at him before the morning star was gone and Logan was in front of him, hands palm up in a non-threatening manner.

“ Wrath can you hear me? Good...just listen to my voice...I need you to name me five things you can see.” He blinked rapidly and barely heard Remus’s and Virgil’s murmurs of reassurance. Or maybe Virgil’s was more quiet talking, as he was standing at Patton’ side like the normally bubbly side’s shadow.

“u...uuh....y..youre tie...r-remus’s outfit....the stairs...the others...and the Roman’s s-sword...” Logan gave a nod, slowly kneeling in front of him with a calm, leveled expression that helped him focus more.

“ Good, now four things you can touch. Take your time Wrath.” He flexed his fingers, more of a twitch really as his breathing began to even out slowly. “ Um...My jacket...the couch...my jeans...uh...t..the carpet?” He nodded again through his faltered stammering as the deepness faded.

“ Three things you can hear?” He blinked again and listened for a moment.

“ .....your voice...Remus’s voice...the others...” “ Two things you can smell, remember take your time.” “ Bacon...from breakfast...and someones cologne..” A small smile came to his face as he adjusted his glasses in slow noticeable motions.

“ Just just 1 thing you can taste.” He managed to smack his lips once and his face screwed up at the taste lingering in his mouth.

“ ....acidic bile...” Both their brows furrowed a little but when Logan looked over his shoulder Remus shrugged at the silent question.

“Probably needs to puke Dr. Maywhoo.” Logan sighed at the nickname and turned back to him, holding up his hands a little.

“ Now, Wrath Id life for you to unclench your jaw, roll and relax your shoulders, loosen your posture if you can, uncurl your fingers and exhale please.” He blinked and slowly did as instructed, not realizing until then that he was wound up like a jack in the box. His jaw ached as he unclenched it and his shoulders slumped heavily as he relaxed, fingers sore from apparently being curled into firsts for so long, small red lines in his palms from his nails. He felt calmer, drained and upset, but calm.

“ Logan, Remus.” He looked past them to see virgil standing up tall, if not awkwardly, besides Roman and watching them with a hard to read look.

“ I...think sitting down and calmly talking...is now long overdue.”

~~~~~

Hours later Wrath Des found himself on the mindscapes main couch tiredly nestled besides a dozed off Jealousy Jacob and a cheerfully talking Patton. They had spent hours haphazardly strewn around the very room, just...talking and discussing and airing years worth of grievences. It wasnt easy, and things were no where near fixed or completely repaired. But, there were many small positive steps taken in that direction...and things were lighter and better as they stood at a better understanding of each other. Things werent perfect, and in the back of his mind he could list everything that could fuck up and send them back spiraling. Yet he didnt want to ruin what...whatever it was happening as dinner was cooked. Logan, Remus, and Virgil all sat together on the other side of the couch chatting among themselves and with Patton as they tried to decide on a movie and played candyland. In the kitchen he could hear Roman and Deceit cooking and giggling with each other, trying to outdo each other with some dumb food based pick up lines. But they sounded happy, so many it wasnt that dumb...Des watched them play candyland, staying relatively quiet aside from answering questions and jabs sent his way. It was comfortable and relaxed, and Des couldnt help but yawn. Without noticing , he ended up resting his head on Patton’s clearly unoccupied and underutilized shoulder as his eyes drooped shut. He felt Patton jump a little before slowly relaxing, and he didnt even need to open his eyes to flip Remus off as he let out an overly exaggerated coo at the motion letting himself relax. Patton smelled good he decided. Like fabric softener and baked goods and some kind of spice...Des also decided that the blurry sight of the trio next to them, with Remus’s legs draped across Logan and Virgil’s laps and one hand playing with Virgils messy hair as he sat on Logan’s right and Virgil contently and fully relaxed into Logan’s left side, head resting in the crook of his neck and his hand laced with the logical side’s unused hand as they played was also good. The sound of Jacobs soft snores was soothing and the joyful flirty voices in the kitchen blended into it well when combined with Pattons soft humming. If this was how things would be more often....he’d learn to add a little more patience to his supply of the stuff....

And maybe for once he didnt have to be negative, with no more tension for now to be broken.

The end.

Ok holy shit its finally finished!! This was over 7k goddamn words of emotion and holy shit was it a rollercoaster to write

THis is what happened when I wake up before 5 in the morning after not being able to sleep much...I apparently bust out 15 whole pages worth of words

Now....to go do my chores real quick and go pass the fuck out for an hour or two of sleep

I hope you guys liked it!!!

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98prilla · 4 years

Text

Deathworlder Down

AO3

Warning for blood/violent imagery.

based on @delimeful ‘s wonderful WIBAR AU

...

Flashes.

The arena, blood on his hands, of all different colors, teeth bared, trying, begging, the other aliens to stop, he doesn’t want to hurt anyone, but they don’t understand or don’t believe him, and then they’re lunging and instinct takes over, and when he blinks, it’s to a puddle of pepto pink ichor and a mangled body in his hands.

…

The cell, he’s back in the cell, and they’re coming, and he wasn’t ready and Patton isn’t hiding and the door opens, and he lunges, biting, scratching, kicking, screaming, the stun batons sending lightning through his veins, spasming his muscles, and he was aware of Patton’s scream, as he’s dragged away, his pretty blood splattering across the floor, and he’s beaten, shocked, kicked, all the while hearing Patton’s anguish as his feathers were stripped from him all over again, only this time, when they throw Patton back in his cell, his eyes are empty and blank, his body broken and still, and there’s nothing left of the chirping little ampen, and there’s nothing left of himself, as he loses his mind, ripping and tearing through the wall, tearing everything in his path to shreds until a blaster goes off and shoots a hole clean through his chest.

…

He’s running. He’s on an alien planet, and he’s running, and he can hear them behind him, they’re catching up, as he tears through the brush and the trees, leading them away, away, away, from camp, and he staggers as a dart hits his neck, the world spinning on it’s axis as he goes down hard. He can feel the chains being shackled around him, the collar fastened onto his neck, and he can’t even breathe, as electricity burns his skin, from the collar, sends him into unconsciousness, and when he wakes, he’s back in the cell. And the nightmare restarts.

…

“no…” He’s walking home, it’s late, the streetlights on, as he slinks through the shortcut through the park. He hates it, but it’s the fastest way home, and he’s never had any trouble, though he’s heard stories of people getting jumped.

“No…” He winces, at a sharp pain in his neck, for a moment thinking he’d been stung by a bee or a wasp, but when he reaches to feel, a small dart comes away in his hand. He stares at it, befuddled, before he feels another sting, stumbling against a tree as the world starts to tilt, trying to stay upright. Cloaked figures, shrouded figures, language he doesn’t know, and he tried to call out for help, tried to get away, but another wash of dizziness stole his breath, and he fainted.

When he woke up, he was on the ship, in the cell.

“NO!” He jolted upright, pulse racing, breath caught in his throat, the cell, the ship, he was on the ship, needle, needle in his arm, what were they taking this time? What else could they take, they were going to sell him for parts, maybe this was finally to off him for the scientists, he felt dizzy and lightheaded, weak, disoriented, maybe the tranq patch had worn off early, maybe he had a chance to get away, maybe-

A hand, a scaled hand came into view, and he hissed, scrambling backwards, falling off the edge of the furniture he was on. One second it was the sterile room, the iron bed, the suited figures, then it was a couch, smooth walls, soft light. His vision flicked between the two and he couldn’t figure out which was the truth and which was the lie, the suited figures turning towards him, batons out, crackling with energy, the scaled figure trying to reach out, trying to say something, but he couldn’t hear, he couldn’t and it burned, and he was dying, he was sure this is what dying felt like, as he scrambled further back, further away, hissing again as the tug pulled the needle out of his arm, pressing his hoodie sleeve against it to stop the bleeding, but the red, red, red, brought him right back, and it was everywhere, and there was too much, and it wasn’t all his, the bodies scattered across the floor, the colors blending like some macabre watercolor painting, swirling and blending and mixing and-

Touch. Touch against his shoulder. He’d curled into a ball, hands over his ears, forehead touching the floor, making himself as small as possible, trying to hide, but the noise was everywhere and they’d found him and he was going to die, going to be sold off for parts and he was so stupid-

Then the touch moved, a small, so small, hand slipping under his chin, gently tilting his head up, feathers tickling his skin, as he met those big, doe eyes. Feathers. Blue. Antennae, moth like. Fluffy. Safe.

Safe?

“Breathe, Virgil. Can you do that? In… out…” the words sounded so far away, and not quite in sync with the mouth movements, but he tried to follow them, tried to understand, tried to copy his movements. “good, kiddo. You’re doing good. Do you know who I am?” The feathery being asked, and his mind stalled. It must have shown on his face, because the being’s dropped, expression sad, and he hated that look on Patton’s face-

“Patton!” He rasped, voice barely a whisper, throat dry and sore, not helped from the hyperventilating he’d just been doing, from the panic attack. “Patton…” his eyes welled up, and he opened his arms, Patton flying into them without a second thought, hugging him as wide as he could around his chest, Virgil careful as he held him, letting his face rest against his soft feathers, mumbling an apology about getting them wet, met with Patton’s relieved little choked laugh.

He was shaking, he couldn’t stop shaking, the room still flickering, time and space folding in on itself, and it was making him dizzy.

Then Patton started doing the chirp, coo, pattern, vibrating against his chest, grounding him as he struggled to get his breathing under control, to force his mind to the present, but it wouldn’t stop slipping.

“s-sorry… I… I'm so-rry…”

“Shhh, you’re ok, kiddo, it’s ok.” He just shook his head, chest constricting, choking on the air, it burned in his lungs and made him want to scream, just to relieve some of the pressure, but there wasn’t enough air.

“virgil. Can you tell me, five things you can see? Take your time.” Logan, crouched down a fair distance away, to give him space.

“Y-you… patton… R-roman… the… the couch and the… the… n-needle" his breath caught again, his panic flaring, eating him up.

“Alright, good, stay with me, Virgil. Four things you can feel.”

“Pa-tton. My hoodie… the fl-floor. B-andages?” he asked, realizing his arms were carefully wrapped in them.

“you hurt yourself. Nothing serious, it’s alright. Three things you can hear.” He managed a deep breath in, forcing air in and out to answer.

“Chirp/coo.” He said, smiling slightly at Patton's added little trill. “my h-eart, my voice.” He answered, focusing on the feeling of his hands against his hoodie, Patton's warmth against him.

“Excellent. Two things you can smell?”

“Metal… myself" he wrinkled his nose slightly, smelling his own sweat.

“Last one, one thing you can taste.” Logan's steady voice, and he thought for a moment.

“Copper.” He answered, looking up, finally, meeting Logan's eyes for a brief moment, before his gaze flicked to Roman, who stood frozen by the couch, scales half raised in alarm, but also… worry?

“Virgil. How are you feeling?” Logan asked, snapping him back to attention, realizing he’d started to drift.

“um. Sore. Achy. Tired.” He answered, head thumping back against the wall, hissing as it hurt more than expected.

“I was going to warn you about that. We found you fallen over, unconscious on the bathroom floor, bleeding from your head. You’ve been severely ill, and mostly fitfully unconscious, for nearly seven days.” Logan explained.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were so sick!?” Patton scolded, though his voice was gentle.

“i… I didn’t want to bother you. I’ve been sick before. It’s… its fine.”

“no, it isn’t. Virgil. You are severely underweight and malnourished and sleep deprived, all factors that compromise your immune system making it more difficult to fight off disease and you very nearly died because you seemingly cannot comprehend that you are an important member of this crew and we will gladly help if you just ask for it!” He flinched at Logan shouting, his hands clenched into fists. He’d never heard Logan raise his voice, didn’t even know he could, but his mind snagged on what Logan had just said, and he shook his head.

“I… but I’m not. Important. You’re…a family. I’m just a tag along, because you were basically guilted into taking me with. You don’t… want me, here, and that’s fine, I wouldn’t want me here either, so the least I can do is take up the least space and use the least stuff and make myself as little of a nuisance as possible because then maybe I’ll get to stay longer before you get sick of me and kick me off.” Usually he wouldn’t be this candid, but he was tired, and he felt floaty and not all there, his normal anxiety not holding him back.

“Virgil… that's not true.” Roman added, Virgil's bitter laugh echoing harshly through the space.

“Sure it isn’t. You’ve made it clear, what you think of me. And you know what? I’m terrified, constantly, that you might be right. Sooner or later I’m going to hurt someone. It’s… it’s the only thing I’m good at, hurting people. Sometimes I think I should just bail, just leave a note and run, before I hurt anyone. Before I ruin it all. Before I ruin this… this amazing little family, you guys have.”

His eyes slipped closed, against his will, exhaustion weighing him down, settling into his bones from the panic attacks. “I w-want it so badly, it h-urts sometimes, but I can’t… I know I can’t have it. Be part of it. Know I’ll just… just be in the way.” He mumbled, not even sure if he was speaking aloud, anymore.

“Virg… we'll talk about this later, ok? Just… can you make it back to the couch? You need more sleep.” Patton asked, moving off his chest. He nodded, managing to peel his eyes open, stumble to his feet, collapsing face down on the couch before blacking out as soon as his head hit the cushions.

…

“Well. His fever’s broken. There’s no point using these, any further.” Logan, trying to keep his voice steady as he packed up the IV line and supplies, considering hurling the needle out the airlock, just to spite the universe for forcing him to use it.

“I… I need to go. Think. About… things…” Roman poorly explained, darting from the room, as Patton sighed, feathers fluffing and resettling, worried gaze flicking between the doorway Roman had vanished down, Logan storing the medical supplies, and Virgil, face down on the couch. His forehead was a lot cooler, now, and his breathing finally seemed to be normal, deep, steady breaths. His eyes weren’t twitching in his sleep either, a good sign, Patton had learned early on that eye twitches meant bad dreams, nightmares. That was when he would curl up around Virgil’s head and churr softly, a low, rumbling vibration in his chest, that he used to soothe kits, but it also seemed to do the trick on the human. Most of the ampen soothing methods did, which he would have once considered odd, since they relied on empathy to work. But if anything, Virgil had too much empathy, his words playing back in Patton’s mind.

“He thinks we don’t care. We don’t… don’t consider him family, why would he… after everything, still think that?” Patton asked softly, looking up at Logan’s sigh.

“He’s been hurt, Patton. Deeply, psychologically, hurt. He’s so used to being in fight or flight mode, that is all his body knows how to do. His body, his mind, it doesn’t understand, can’t comprehend, safety. And after… after what he went through, how they demeaned him and treated him like a wild animal, like a… a specimen, it’s no wonder that he struggles to comprehend his own self worth, lacks any sense of self esteem or importance. He had to fight every day just to survive, just to keep you safe, and though I am thankful for it, it likely has contributed to his fear of himself. He knows how easily he could hurt any one of us.”

“He won’t though! He’d rather tear himself apart than hurt any of us.” Patton protested.

“I know, Patton. But he clearly doesn’t. He doesn’t take care of himself, he doesn’t trust himself, Patton, and until he starts doing that, understanding that he is wanted and loved and safe, I’m afraid he won’t take care of himself.”

“Then we’ll make sure he does. I will physically fight him.” Patton muttered, determination clear in every bristling feather, and Logan chuckled slightly, shaking his head.

“I would enjoy watching you take down a human, Patton, especially since Virgil would let you, but violence is not going to help in this situation.”

“Still. If he won’t take care of himself, I’m going to make him take care of himself.” He ruffled Patton’s head as he passed the couch, barely containing his smile at the small squeak the motion illicited, stopping at a small tug of his hand.

“Lo? Thank you. For getting him through.” He softened, looking back at Patton, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Of course, Patton. Get some more sleep, now that he’s safe, won’t you?” Patton nodded, drawing away and circling a couple times before settling down curled around Virgil’s head, careful to keep a layer of blanket between them, so he wouldn’t accidentally siphon off energy in his sleep. Virgil needed all of it he could get.

@fortheloveofjanus

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onepdumpsterfire · 4 years

Text

Maelstrom

Reader . Straw Hat crew

Word count: 6623

Trigger warning: Death. Gore, I suppose. (spoiler: the reader dies then comes back to life)

if there are any triggers that you need specifically tagged, please feel free to tell me.

Summary: Reader was betrayed by their past comrades and left in a cage for the rest of eternity. straw hats stumble upon them and decide to help them.

Nami’s pov.

A harsh current pulled at The Sunny, dragging us closer and closer to the raging whirlpool behind us.

We raced around on The Sunny, trying to get her to move away from it, but its claws took hold of us before we could even take control from the waters. Roughly pulling at The Sunny one last time, it sucked her into its glistening wrath.

“Not like this, Sunny,” Franky yelled at his most prized creation, “You will not go down like this.” He pulled on the helm, hoping to salvage any form of power.

But the current was too strong, and before we knew it, the whirlpool took us from its lip down to its pit; swallowing our screams with its ear-splitting roar up to the very end.

We should be dead. The raging waters should have destroyed our ship and drowned us for trying to defy the sea’s fury; but it calmed at the apex of the whirlpool, making the Sunny swirl to a dizzying stop before it started moving in the same lazy path of the current at the whirlpool’s center. “. . .What . . . just happened?” I’m amazed at our continued death-defying luck, and it seems most of the crew did too. They either stood incredulous at the events or celebrated our, once again, unbelievable escape of danger.

As are many of the moments here, it didn’t last long before our captain decided to do something stupid.

“Hey! there’s an island!” Luffy pointed towards the very center of the whirlpool that caged us in. “Franky, turn The Sunny! We’re stopping at the island!” He shouted over his shoulder as he stretched out his arms on the railing. “Gomu gomu-no...”

I should have known that he would think very little about the situation we’ve gotten into. Walking over to him, I try to take hold of him before he can launch himself. “Oh, no you don’t. You are going to help-” Without a care in the world, our reckless captain slingshotted himself off The Sunny, yelling about finding a good restaurant on the island before I could finish my sentence.

“That idiot captain.” A vein practically burst out of my forehead as I shook a menacing fist at the spot where he once stood. “When I get my hands on-” taking in a long breath, I calmed myself. There’s no point in getting mad at that idiot captain right now. Let’s just anchor the ship somewhere secluded so that I can RIP HIM A NEW ONE.

Soon after, my anger towards Luffy’s rash personality dissipated and began to get replaced with a crawling sense of dread. Even before we anchored the ship, I felt there was something wrong.

The island seemed so still. So… quiet, besides the constant cascading water surrounding us there weren’t any sounds of bugs or birds or ANY animals. It’s getting hard to believe that this island was inhabited by anything, let alone humans.

To add to the ominous feeling the island gave off, the beach ended as soon as it began. The small strip of sand that surrounded the island like a halo turned into stone more than a yard in, and the few plant life that was here miraculously thrived from between the cracks on the rocky floor. No grass, no trees, just bushes, weeds, and a tall rugged mountain that seemed to be too steep to even be called that. It appeared to be more of a tower that onlooked the rest of the island. Looming over everything like a guardian that promised safety only to backhand you with its cracked and coarse hand.

Few of the bushes seemed to have some food to eat, but all of it were poor excuses for berries. Too small to carry any nutrients and too little to sate any hunger. I’m sure that even if you collected all the berries in this place it wouldn’t even be enough to constitute as a meal.

Without even looking I knew that the water surrounding us would be the same. Devoid of all life, plant, and animal alike. Had we really survived? Or do we await a less abrupt ending? One where we prolong our inevitable doom by scrounging up any food we can find or starve.

Looking over to the thrashing water that surrounded us, tumbling over itself to create an impenetrable gate, it seemed to be harsher than what we’d crossed to get in here. Was it even possible to get back out? With the way things looked if we even tried we’d get ripped to shreds. I don’t think The Sunny can survive that.

My concerns were interrupted when Luffy came running back to us yelling that he hadn’t found a town or village on the small island. “Of course not! Do you not see how deserted the island looks?”

“That’s right, Luffy!” Usopp joins in my scolding, “we should worry about how we’re gonna get out! Or what we’re gonna eat! Our food won’t last forever!” At least there’s one person here that’s reliable. I can always count on Usopp to be grounded!

“We can just eat fish-” I quiet the thundering dumbass with a hit to the head, “obviously not! There are no fish here!” With a huff, I look over to our cook, “Sanji-kun, can you ration out the food?”

“Yes, Nami-swan!” Hearts practically bulge out of his eyes as he praises my genius. disregarding that one, I need to make sure the whining resident glutton of the ship gets the message.

Glaring, I grab the scruff of Luffy’s vest, “EVERYONE’S on a diet until we get out or miraculously find food on this godforsaken rock.”

“Bᵤₜ ₙaaaₘᵢᵢᵢᵢ”

“No buts.”

“Bᵤₜ ₙaa-” Giving him another hard knock to the head, I dish out the rest of the orders.

Zoro is gonna go scout the island more thoroughly, taking Chopper with him because he wanted to see if there were any herbs he could use for medicine in between all of the weeds. Robin went to go check out the stone tower mountain with Franky and Luffy, who would have gone anyway even if I had told him otherwise. Usopp and Brook took charge of seeing if the sea was really as barren as the rest of this place in the Mini Marry. Lastly, I’m gonna go explore the island, map it out, and try and find any clues that explain why this place is so lifeless.

After an hour of looking around, I've come to the conclusion that this place makes no sense! If an underwater volcano erupted and created the island not so long ago then maybe it would make sense but by the looks of the untamed, patchy shrubs this place has been here for much longer. Not to mention, after an eruption, the first life that forms is lichen that slowly breaks away at the rock that formed; but it’s as if a sheet of rock landed on top of this island, killing everything that couldn’t claw its way out through the cracks. More so, it looks like it’s sealing everything beneath it so that no other life passes. It’s purposefully trying to keep any vegetation from growing.

The longer I walk around the island the more off it becomes. I should get back and tell the others what I found. Hopefully, Robin was luckier and found better clues about this place in the tower.

As I approach The Sunny, I can see that all of them are back and… there’s someone with them.

So there was life here?

How is that even possible?

Either way, I have a piece of my mind to give to this person about the island.

“Look who we found in the tower.” Robin gestures towards the new person in the group, “this is Y/n.”

“Thank you, Robin. I can always count on you.”

“Luffy and I were there too, y’know!” Franky yells at me.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, Y/n-”

“Don’t ignore me!”

“- how long have you been here? How did you manage to survive? Is there anything that’s edible here, other than the barries?” I give them a look like they’re our saving grace. Maybe, just maybe, there could be hope for us after all.

Reader’s pov.

They’d introduced themselves already; the black-haired woman that initially found me in my safe haven had done the courtesy, even going as far as telling me what each of the people on the crew did. That includes the redhead that approached us with a worried expression that soon turned to absolute bliss as she laid eyes on me. She must think I can get them out of here or find them some supplies, but she will soon be disappointed.

After a small one-sided exchange from the redhead and… Franky… she bombards me with questions.

“... no, sorry. There is no food here…” The life practically saps out of her eyes as she deflates into a feeble state of worry. “You all should leave if you can. This is no place to live.”

“Says you!” the long nose speaks up. Usopp, was it? “You live here don’t you? If you’d fallen in after us Brook and I would have seen you when we were searching around the island and we didn’t see any boats or wrecks!”

“Plus, you’re all alone here. What happened to your crew?” Chopper the tanuki braves his fear and speaks from behind Zoro. Well, not quite. He’s more hiding his face than his body.

“Maybe they ate their crew.” Usopp and Chopper scream in terror at Robin’s attempt at humor. “Don’t say that, Robin! They wouldn’t... R-r-right, Y/n-san.” Stuttering, Usopp tries to give me the benefit of the doubt so as to land a better standing with me. “W-we’re all friends here right, Y/n-san?”

“Maybe I did.” Usopp ashened at my words while Chopper yelled that I’d be restrained.

Such a lively crew. It's been a while since I’ve had such a nice interaction with… Well, anyone. Looking off to the side, I make note of the time of day. It’s nearly sunset, they should get out while there’s still light, if they even can. At the very least they should die trying. What this place is… What this place becomes after dark. They won’t survive for long if they stay here.

“All jokes aside,” admitting that I was only joking seemed to calm the scaredy cats, though what I’m about to say will raise their anxiety once more. Poor them, thrown one thing after another. “It’s getting dark. There are things on this island that come out during the night-”

“The caves dug into the floor Chopper and I saw, there was something inside,” Zoro steps forward, already knowing the answer to his upcoming question. “I felt something was in there, that’s what you’re talking about, right?”

“Yes, there are creatures here who burrowed down into the rock of this island,” turning behind me, I face the tower again, “they won’t go into the tower, so if you need it, you can stay there for tonight.”

“But take anything you want from your ship, those creatures will ravage everything on it.” I raise a hand to stop their upcoming complaints, “it would be best to leave right now so that the ship has a better chance to make it over the whirlpool, but there is no helping it if you have no idea how to cross it yet.”

Letting them finally say what’s on their minds they hurl a flurry of complaints at me.

Luffy: can that thing even hold up? When we went to go see it, it looked like it was about to fall over!

Franky: I’m not leaving my baby alone with whatever those things are!

Usopp: What are those things?!?!?!?! Do they only come out at night?! Am I the only one worried about them?!!

Zoro: I’ll cut them all down.

Sanji: Nami-swan, Robin-chwan! Your prince will protect you!

Nami: Thank you Sanji-kun

Chopper: I wasn’t aware there even was an entrance to the tower.

Robin: I hope we don’t get eaten…

Brook: Same here, I doubt I’m any good. I’m all bones yohohohoho

Taking a deep breath, I try to answer whatever questions or complaints they have. The tower will probably hold. No guarantee, though. It’s the safest bet to make it through the night.

The things leave when daylight hits.

They can’t just sail around the island until those things are gone in the morning because they are a type of magical creature that learns and evolves. (The creatures would struggle to swim at first but soon enough they would become exceptional at it and catch up.)

You can’t just cut them down because they’re immortal beings that re-generate.

“Well, not quite beings, considering that they were made from magic to mindlessly attack whatever is in the cage.” I corrected myself, gaining more inquiries. “Magic? Cage? Is that what the whirlpool is? What is it keeping inside, if not those creatures?” Robin seems to be one of the more inquisitive people on the ship, considering how gung-ho the others appear to be, I’m glad they have someone that they can count on. Such loyalty and trust from comrades is one thing that I miss most from the outside world.

“Hahaha those are good questions, maybe I’ll answer that some other time,” I turn on my heel, not really caring if they take my advice or not. “It’s a long story and it’s about to get dark. We should head inside.”

I’m not gonna stay out here to be live bait to those THINGS.

Suddenly a warm, cream-colored thing snakes around my abdomen before yanking me back, full force. Nearly making me spit out my heart, may I add. What the ABSOLUTE FUCK?

Flying past the ship’s railing, I land on the hard mast, knocking the wind right out of myself. “Ah, sorry. Sorry, shishishishi.” Luffy stands above me, laughing at my expense. That stupid face makes me want to throw him into the ocean. A devil fruit user huh? I hope he sinks, bastard! I prepare to scold him, but he cuts me off, “you’re coming with us, right?”

“I- wa- No! I can’t ‘come with you’!”

“Huh? But why not?”

“Because the cage won’t let me! Believe me, I’ve tried! It just drags me right back… I can’t… I can’t leave.” Pushing past Luffy, I try to jump ship but it seems they have other ideas. His arm now tightly secured to my waist he tells me they won’t let those things hurt me. That I can leave with them. To the outside world.

His words and the full confidence looks his crew gives us almost makes me fall to my knees. How can they believe so blindly in someone? Putting so much faith in someone can only lead to betrayal. They can’t be serious. This isn’t real.

I try to worm myself out of his grasp. Pulling and pushing at Luffy’s skin, kneading away at his arm but his hold only tightens. “We’ll get out, Y/n. Don’t worry.” He isn’t looking at me, rather choosing to stare as the last sliver of light vanishing and a tidal wave of misformed creatures rushing towards the departing ship.

They were all butched, they looked like the person who made them once intended them to look human only to change their mind at the last moment. Some of the creatures looked sickly, with stick-like bodies that clashed with bulbous limbs. Dried out, pale skin that cracked under their every jagged movement, spilling blood with every jerk of their body. Their faces so sunken and hollow you could barely tell there were eyes in the black sockets that reflected back the murky color of the dim moonlight.

Others had random limbs that were too long for them; elongated further than they should have to contradict the rest of their proportions. Their skin sagged on their forms and their orifices oozed a dark and coagulated purge liquid that slopped down with their every step.

They crawled at an alarming speed with their spidery appendages, falling over each other’s tangling limbs. They pulled on each other to get to us. Gnarled limbs clawing, biting, ripping each other open to get farther ahead.

Their dark gray blood painted the stone beneath them as they healed themselves then tried to get past again. Shoving, piercing, and sinking their teeth into one another turned to push each other underwater when they got to the sea.

They took no breaths between the waves that pulled them or the body pushed them under; they didn’t even look like they cared that they were drowning themselves.

They had one objective.

Destroy the occupants of the cage at any cost.

“Oh, god! What are they doing?!” Usopp yelled from the stern, firing off a few rounds with his slingshot, kabuto. Zoro, Sanji, and Chopper stood beside him observing the horrific sight. “Stop firing at them! It’s useless, that won’t make them stop!” I yell back at him, finally managing to free myself from Luffy’s arm. Whether they heard me or not didn’t show, all four of them began to throw any attack they could at the creatures.

“Have a little faith, Y/n shishishi,” Luffy smiled at me, “we’re gonna get out of here.”

Rolling my eyes, I walk over to the railing. “If you guys wanna take your chances with the cage that’s fine, but leave me out of it.” I prepare to leap over the railing only to be pulled back again. “Are you crazy?! Those things will rip you to shreds if you go into the water!”

“No, crazy would be staying here, and at the very least it’ll give you some time to try and go through to the other side! Look!” I pointed back to the mass of bodies that dived down before springing out of the water, almost taking out Usopp when they collectively reached out for him. “I told you those things learn, it’s just a matter of time before they manage to get on board!”

I pleaded with them to just let me buy them some time. I can’t leave but at the very least I can do that! I can do one nice thing to the only people that I’ve seen in centuries! To the people that tried to save me with their stupid blind faith.

But Luffy stubbornly refused to just let me go. No matter how many times I told them I’d be fine.

The waters sped up as we neared the edge of the whirlpool, leaving the creatures to get pulled under. “There isn’t much time before they resurface, or until the curse... I need to leave. I can buy you time! Please!” I am practically on my knees begging, but they won’t even listen to me.

“Luffy! We only have enough Cola reserves to make a small coup de burst,” Franky shouted over the white noise of the gushing water, “The wind that’s surrounding the whirlpool is being sucked in from the outside. If we don’t time it right we might end up being engulfed by the waters!”

“Alright, Franky! I’m counting on you!”

“Aye, captain! I’ll do it at the last possible moment to ensure we make it through!”

Panic sets in the pit of my stomach, “no, I can’t. I can’t!” I pull and punch at Luffy, “I won’t make it! Let go of me so you won’t be left behind with me, Luffy!”

“No.”

“Luf- Lu.” I nearly choked on my own words when I got a glimpse of the wide horizon line.

I thought I’d never be able to see such a beautiful eternity again. I’ve never made it this far, the water would only get more aggressive no matter how hard I tried with whatever unlucky ship was dragged down here. It would always drag me down under or pull me back to the island.

We’re getting closer and closer, the boys in the back are holding themselves against the creatures and Luffy isn’t letting go.

Can I… Can I actually leave this place?

Can I be free?

Tears distort my vision before falling freely down my face, “can I leave? I can be free?” I look up at Luffy for confirmation. Light seemed to radiate off of him. Could you be my savior?

“Of course, Y/n! Shishishishi!” Luffy lets me go, now satisfied knowing that I won’t try to jump off. I look out into the ocean that I haven’t seen In lifetimes and I can’t help the hope that swells in my heart.

I can see the outside again.

I’m gonna be free

I am gonna be FREE

All too suddenly the familiar weight on my neck constricts my airway.

No. I’m so close. no. No. NO!

The chain that binds me to the island finally shows itself. Shortening the closer we get to freedom.

How cruel to have me believe I could actually be free.

The chain pulled me back with such a crushing force that it immediately snapped my neck.

Sanji’s pov.

We were so close. So close to leaving this hell hole and then a chain appeared around Y/n neck. It pulled them back into the water and dragged them all the way back to land. All of the creatures that pursued us stopped immediately, taking more interest in Y/n’s body that flopped in and out of the water with the dragging force of the chain. The creatures jumped on to them, injecting their claws into their soft skin to secure their hold on them.

“Stop! Turn around! Y/n fell off!” Luffy yelled up at Franky.

I agree with Luffy, we may have just met Y/n but I heard about how they were willing to jump into the water to give us time to escape. There’s no way we can leave them behind after that!

“As the navigator, I’ll make sure to keep the ship safe, captain.” With an unshaken voice, Nami assured Luffy, “Go to the island and get Y/n back. We’ll keep The Sunny going around to keep her safe until you get back!”

“D-don’t worry c-captain. I’m a b-brave warrior of the sea! I’ll protect the ship!” Shakily Usopp raised a thumbs up to Luffy.

“Yes! Leave it to us, Captain!” Brook chimed in, soul solid at the ready.

“Oi, Captain. Don’t keep all the fun to yourself. We’re coming too.” Zoro and I stood resolute on our decision.

“Shishishi alright! Let’s go! Gomu gomu-no!” Luffy stretched his arm over the railing, while the other wrapped itself around us. “No! Wait! Luffyyyyyyyy!!” Our idiot captain wants to kill us! Launching us straight into a rocky shore, this ASS!

“Stop throwing us everywhere, Luffy!” I raise my hand to give him a hard knock to the head, the moss head agrees with me by giving him one too. “Sorry, sorry.”

Sorry, my ass. Grumbling I take out the cigarette box before fishing in my pocket for a lighter. “Alright, Y/n was dragged off somewhere near the tower thing, so let’s head there to look for them first.”

“Yosh! Let’s go!” without a second thought, this reckless idiot rushes straight in, leaving us to catch up.

It didn’t even take long to reach the tower, the island was small. Which is why it surprised me how many of those things there were. How far had they burrowed under the island for there to be this many?

The mass practically moved as one when they noticed us. Descending on us with such ferocity that it would have left a weaker man feeling helpless.

“Sit back and watch, marimo! I’ll take them all out.”

“Big words for such a small man, curly.”

“You shitty- Watch me!” I ran in yelling the name of my starting attack ‘Joue Shoot’ hitting my mark right in the face and sending it, along with every creature behind it, flying.

We aren’t making any headway! Every time we push forward we are pushed back with the same strength. One after another, every enemy we took down bounced right back up, better and stronger than before.

The ones I was fighting got tougher, callused skin and became resistant to the fire from my ‘Hell Memories’ attack; and to make matters worse, those things have started learning my attacks, and a quick glance can confirm that the others are having the same luck. Luffy’s creatures are doubling their speed, increasing their bulging muscles so that they look like Luffy’s Kong Gun. Zoro’s opponents broke their arms, shanking their bones through their skin to make imitation swords.

These things are fucking monsters. They don’t seem to be able to feel any of the pain we’re inflicting. We can’t keep the same mindless pace they do! We take a hit and keep all damage from it!

“Luffy, this isn’t gonna work, we need to retreat for now!”

“Oi, shit-cook! You think these things are just gonna let us retreat!”

“Fuck off, pea-brain!” I kick one of the creatures over at Zoro, “Let’s make them chase us-” the stupid marimo threw on back in retaliation, “obviously they’re gonna chase us no matter what, ero-cook!”

“Just listen, dick head! We make them chase us around the tower; when they leave an opening we can just grab Y/n and run!” There’s no time to fight over this! I sky walk over to Luffy, “Let’s go! Now!”

“Come on, Zoro!” finally taking the hint, Luffy rushes off behind me.

The monsters bolted with us to the right, but they were smarter than what I’d anticipated. While most of them did follow, there was still a large group guarding the entrance to the tower. They knew what we came for and won’t let us take Y/n so easily. We circled around the tower. Once. Twice. Three times, and still those things didn’t give us an opening. I can’t stand this! We’re just chasing our own tails here!

Impatience at away at us, but the first one to act on it was Luffy.

“They’ll never leave the tower alone! So if they won’t give us an opening we’ll make one!” Luffy threw his arms at me, a silent command that I understood all too well. “Armée de L’Air,” I positioned myself to throw Luffy, “Gomu Shot!” Launching Luffy off with a kick, he rocketed himself straight to the center of the tower.

The tower collapsed almost entirely on itself. Luffy would have just gone straight through it if he hadn’t reached back to hold on to the base and sent himself back in a rebound, effectively clearing the rest of the tower.

Rubble and ash covered the creatures as they all rushed back to the tower. “C’mon!” The moss-head shouted over to me, having seen the opening just as well as me.

. . .There’s something wrong.

The creatures surrounded the tower but weren’t fighting back when we attacked them to get past. They weren’t even moving. Just staring straight ahead to where Luffy should be. As odd as it is, I won’t slow down just because those freaks stopped. I need to get to-

I wasn’t prepared for this. It’s not…. It can’t.

No.

Luffy had a dark shadow casted over his face as he kneeled next to a bloody and gored out Y/n. Their neck was broken by the chain that pulled them away. Skin shredded off and placed in piles around the both of them. Their bones were broken. Protruding. Piercing through in white splayed out spikes from the pink muscles, slathered in blood. Their abdomen slashed open and organs ripped out.

Had the monsters been eating them?

Their arm missed its hand. The leg was torn off. A stray foot laid across from them, mangled. Bitten.

If those things wanted to eat them they had done it already. They had plenty of time!

But they didn’t.

Looking into the horde of creatures. They all stood still, watching us. Grotesque faces with gnarled teeth bared at us…. Smiling. They're smiling at us.

"Damn it all! Those things were just toying with us."

The creatures went wild at my words. Screeching and shoving each other, but never passing the remaining debris of the pillar that still circled around us. They’re waiting for us to get out of here.

“We can’t stay here,” Zoro pointed at the back of the throng, “some of them have already left. Probably towards The Sunny.”

“Luffy, we can’t bring Y/n with us. They’ll be safe if we leave them inside the circle. In the morning we can bury them but for now, we need to head back the ship.”

No words were exchanged on the trip back. All three of us fought as much as we could against the wave of creatures that pursued us, eventually making it back to the ship by sunrise.

The creatures hissed and hollered in pain when the soft rays of the sun became too much for them to handle. Their gray skin almost seemed transparent in the growing light.

Those thing’s bodies looked like luminescent meat bags carrying distorted skeletons inside. Too warped and bent to look anything like the humans they were initially mirrored after. The things clawed at their eyes, blinding themselves as they rushed back to hide in their caves.

After the last of the nocturnal creatures retreated, we docked the ship again.

Then the dreaded question came.

Nami asked if we’d managed to retrieve Y/n but she was only met with grim looks that turned the exhilaration of having won another breath of life sour.

“It’s not fair! Y/n just wanted to be free… they just wanted...” Luffy trailed off, glancing back to where their body should be laid. “We should take them with us and bury them out of here.”

“It won’t be that easy, Luffy.” Zoro tried to reason with him.

“We can’t just leave them in this cage!”

“We don’t even have a coffin! Are we supposed to just stuff them in a box and keep them in the freezer until we can find the next island?!”

As much as I’d like to take them with us, Zoro does have a point. We can’t just carry around a brutalized body with us. “Luffy, we don’t know when we’ll reach the next island. It could be weeks! We can’t-”

“Yo,” A voice greets us from beside me.

“Hey,” I give them a quick glance before getting back to what I was saying. “Anyways, we can’t t-”

Was that?

. . .

“You’re supposed to be dead!”

“Oh, shit. Am I?” Y/n’s tone was light, as if they hadn’t just been mauled to death by beasts. “The hell do you mean ‘am I’!?”

Reader’s pov.

After being magically resurrected, one would think that people would be surprised, confused, or maybe astonished? But curly over here seemed pissed.

“Thanks for the warm welcome, bud.” Putting on the saddest looking face I turned around, “guess I’ll just crawl into a cave and die again...”

“N-no, that’s not what I-” Sanji reached his hand out to stop me.

“Ahahaha I know, I know. Don’t worry about it….. Though I suppose I do owe you guys an explanation for this.”

It’s been so long since I had to explain to someone what happened that day…

No.

It wasn't just that day. Things were off since before that, but I didn’t pay attention to the signs. God, why didn't I?

I keep asking myself that.

Why didn't I back out when I had the chance? Why couldn't I just let sleeping dogs lie?

Either way, on that day, everything went wrong.

Long ago, when the world was in a time of mystic and wonder, the practice of magic was common throughout the four blues. Most things that could be done with magic were done with magic. Magic was so common that even the most secluded tribes used some form of it. And so, as with any type of power, people began to abuse it. People began to use dark magic to rule and terrorize.

Don’t get me wrong, magic isn’t inherently evil, but neither is it good. Magic is a form of science. It follows its principles and has its limits. People’s intentions, though, can be either-or.

Order had to be put in place. A council of the noblest, wisest, and strongest magic users was made. They became the authority; their rule was final. And in an act of democracy, they input a system that would not let them become all-powerful.

That’s where the seven covens come in.

The seven covens (separately) ruled over the four seas, the new world, the grand line, and the calm belts. The members of the covens were chosen by the people and, unfortunately, that’s where it started.

After magic regulation rules and laws came into place, people were angry that they couldn’t use it freely and unchecked as they did before. When the ones who were strong stood on top of those who lacked it. They couldn’t rule over people as tyrants or terrorize others for their amusement and gain; but it also meant magic couldn’t be used to ease everyday life either. Magic was monitored, you had to seek permission from a coven to use stronger types of magic for your work and some forms of magic were even banned.

Curious people that tried to see how far they could push the boundaries of magic were furious when their research was trashed. With magic now limited, underground organizations began to arise. I was part of one.

Since magic is a natural part of the world like waterfalls or clouds, that’s why I wanted to explore all of its nooks and crannies! It’s the same as when man first evolved enough to wonder what was beyond the island we were born into.

We wanted to explore the whole world back then! And this should have been the same as that. It’s normal to want to know our extent of power and knowledge. I just wanted to explore magic’s limits and push past them. It should be like training to sword fight or lifting weights. It should have been the same.

We could have used our findings for so many wonderful things!

But I was naive.

Banning together with a group of people whom I thought shared the same passion for the unexplored and unknown….

In the shadows, we did our research and found so many new ways to use magic! So many new types! We were doing so good.

We wanted to find a way to bring what we’d found to the world.

We wanted this.

We…

I wanted this.

As much as I want to believe otherwise, the signs were there from the beginning. But they were my colleagues. . . my friends. I gave them the benefit of the doubt at first.

We came up with a plan to get ourselves elected for the coven. We wormed our way in like maggots then ate our way up.

We were going to instill new rules. Be more lenient towards magic usage for businesses. Introduce a research team for magic that would take us out of the underground. Slowly release our findings.

That was as far as I would go. They left me in charge of the research team while they went behind my back and found new dangerous and unstable magic. They used it to hurt people and to gain authority.

They’d cart away lost civilians, people who were so forgotten from society that if they were to disappear no one would notice.

They breed them to keep their human supply going. Then they’d used them as guinea pigs.

Eventually, I did find out what they were doing, but by then it was too late. The plan had gone too well and now they were inside all of the covens except for the ones in east and west blue.

I tried warning the council, but my old comrades found out before I could.

They branded me a traitor and punished me with never-ending torment. Sealing me away in a whirlpool that would cancel my powers, where as long as I was inside I would never age. I would never die.

They put me on this island that would never bear enough fruit but would always have enough to have me desperate for scraps. Lastly, they added those things so that I’d fear their wrath and power for the rest of eternity.

Between slowly dying of hunger or dehydration over and over again and being mauled to death, the thing that hurt most was them branding ME as the traitor. They betrayed ME.

They USED me.

The people I thought of as friends.

Taking a deep breath, I finished off my story.

“...Y/n… that was a really sad story and all, but what do you mean magic?” Out of all the questions, I didn’t expect Usopp to ask that one.

“... what do YOU mean?” I shared a look with all the members of the crew. How could they not know about magic? It’s everywhere??? “Y’know magic. Like what brought me back to life and is keeping me from leaving this place.”

“Like witches, with wands and brooms?” As much as it worries me that they don’t know about magic, I have an even bigger question, “what the fuck do brooms have to do with this?”

“Ah, well witches fly around... on them…” With every passing word, Usopp’s face got redder and redder, a telltale sign of his growing embarrassment under my judgmental gaze. “Of all things someone could make fly, why a broom?”

“I uh… I don’t know…”

The conversation carried on until finally, they told me about the outside world. Apparently, the most magical thing that there was out there were the devil fruits that granted their users powers, like Luffy’s rubber body.

In a way, I was kind of glad that almost all traces of magic were gone. That meant that my comrades from back then failed.

My guess is that after their reckless abuse of power, magic was banned; or at the very least only used by those of the highest standing.

In time, magic must have dwindled, little by little until it just disappeared.

With so much time passed and with how things turned out, it’s hard to believe that any of my former friends survived.

That must mean that they tethered my cell to an object. If whatever the object is gets destroyed... I could have a chance of leaving this place.

“... Luffy… do you… do you still want to help me escape?”

Luffy’s voice didn't waver.

He said it as if it was the most obvious thing.

No hesitation. No doubt.

At that moment, I swear, the sun shone brighter than it ever had in this cage full of torment. His bright gaze made it feel like every horrid year I had spent trapped had somehow vanished. It gave me something that I hadn’t had in a long time.

He gave me such a knee-bending sense of hope that I could have cried. He had such conviction that it made me believe that I would soon see the outside once more.

In the evening, after I gave them some information that could help them find the object that kept this cage alive, the straw hats tempted the ferocious waters again and this time I wasn't on the ship.

Before they left they made me a promise.

One day, they will be back.

They will set me free and we’ll explore this new world together.

I’ll keep waiting.

No matter how long it takes, until that day.

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just-zenitsu · 4 years

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Zenitsu should've had an arc where he slowly learns how to love himself with the help of his friends and realizes he's not weak and has worth and doesn't deserve pain and doesn't deserve to be treated like shit- I just want him to have some shred of confidence please please please please please ple-

ok so every time i had an ask like this ive always just said ‘but look at the bright side! what are hc and aus for! gotoge had problems,, etc etc’ and i feel like ive always just glossed u guys over and maybe even made it seem like these opinions dont matter so im gonna take the time to try and answer this a smidge seriously (under read more bc its long, also im not tagging bc tumblr might fuck up the formatting again rip) (also warning for manga spoilers)

(also disclaimer sdjfhksd i havent read the manga! so im gonna go off of other people’s claims about zenitsu having wasted potential. and to be fair ive read the few last chapters, or at least PARTS of them)

im not new to having a favorite character whose more or less claimed to have had a lot of potential but losing it in canon bc of, for a lack of a more general term, ‘’bad writing’’. and im not saying kny has bad writing, i dont think im one to judge that JUST yet but for comparison yall should know that i have a fav character in another series that is written so badly that he has the personality of cardboard and was only given life thanks to fanon content. and i dont blame people when they say they dont like said character! its the same as zenitsu, only that this guy, this yellow idiot, actually has a much more solid grasp on how he acts/feels/does things! but more often than not, this linear perspective does damage to how deep his character actually goes, thus just making him the stereotypical ‘pervert’ in an anime. ive seen people say that he’s just the same as mineta!!! which is just. very sad for me

i understand why they’d think like that though, maybe there wouldve been a difference if kny became more popular b4 bnha, but who knows! anyways, back to zenitsu. now, i understand if people ever found his actions uncomfortable or annoying! but when people say that he’s just a crybaby and that he’s literally just dead weight that’s when i get,,, well, iffy. and this is kinda where the frustration comes, we see zenitsu overcoming these obstacles off screen, apparently it was even only just mentioned in a passing comment that zenitsu had stopped having to fall asleep to do missions and cried less when he was going on solo missions. these are the tidbits that i wish was shown more explicitly in canon, showcasing his growth and such. MAYBE it was touched upon once kaigaku came up, but thats another problem, literally kaigaku only showed up once in a flashback and then suddenly he’s a demon? sure a brief flashback that showed him being in gyomei’s orphanage wouldve been enough to put some light, but i think there was still some things that wasnt touched upon when we discuss how kaigaku was portrayed in canon. i think he’s even MORE misunderstood compared to zenitsu. they have (arguably) been in the same situation in their childhood, have drastically different personalities and dealt with it in their own way, but in the end i think he was just used so that zenitsu had a big bad he had to defeat. i think there wouldve been more impact if we were shown thunder fam interacting more, imagine how cool that wouldve been, ESPECIALLY if kaigaku just wasnt thrown into the manga and was given a chance to interact with kamaboko before hand. just, a lot to think about.

and now we have what happened in the last few chapters, w tanjirou becoming a demon and after all that zenitsu just says something along the lines of ‘ill make u pay for hurting me and my future wife (nezuko)’ which sucks to a degree. but count the fact that gotoge was inching towards zennezu, as i mentioned in a previous post, he was worried about nezuko getting hurt by tanjirou. im also a bit disappointed that he didnt really do much in terms of, well, caring for tanjirou, but one GOOD thing that i really liked happening was in the previous chapters bEFORE tan got turned to a demon, the part w him assuring inosuke that he can still hear tanjirou’s heartbeat, and then consecutively screaming at tanjirou that he had to stay alive, he went as far to say that he hears nezuko’s human heartbeat and that he has a family to return to, which was, surprise surprise, apparently somewhat a LIE! i cant confirm this unfortunately since ive long since lost the explanation but someone said that zenitsu wasnt actually able to hear nezuko’s heartbeat then, meaning he lied for tanjirou’s sake bc he knew that if he’d pull through something, he’d pull through it for nezuko. (there’s also that part where zenitsu fought hard to keep this family alive since well, he doesnt have one to return to, which is just. ouch) another thing i liked about this part is that he wasnt!!! crying!!!, but both inosuke and tanjirou were and dont u just love the irony. dont u just love it when zenitsu, resident crybaby of the demon slayer corps, is the one who shouts at the both of his friends, who are usually the ones pushing him, yelling at him to stop sniveling and fight, to raise their chins up and to not give up? i think these few moments are JUST ABSOLUTELY TASTY.

but. unfortunately, they are glossed over once we have what happened in chapter 203.

tl/dr; zenitsu’s character is something much more than a crybaby who’s a pervert and annoying. these points overshadow the fact that he’s a kind person, who was willing to protect nezuko despite knowing she was a demon just BECAUSE he trusted tanjirou that much and that he had a kind sound! he’s willingly THROWN HANDS when someone talked bad about kaigaku, a person he ADMITTED HE HATES, because he respects them as a person! zenitsu is much more than a crybaby who’s a pervert and annoying. if only canon were able to explain much more clearly than these few tidbits that we were given.

//im crying at the club im so sorry this is so long oh god oh fuck. anyways ive been disappointed time and time again and ive long since really stopped looking forward to the best to my fav characters and ive been p negative in previous fandoms so its why i avoided complaining like this in this blog but yeah kjfhkjsdf thank u for reading,,,

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abbacchiosbelt · 5 years

Text

Say You Will | Siren!Abbacchio x GN!Reader

here’s fic two of the mystery summer event! in case you missed it, here’s the first fic.

waking up alone and disoriented in a cave isn’t so bad when there’s such lovely singing coming from somewhere...

18+ under the cut! cw for mentions of injuries and possessive behavior.

You awaken with a horrible pounding in your head and the feel of cold water lapping over your feet. Whatever your head is laying on is hard and scraping against your cheek, but you can’t find it in yourself to open your eyes. Unable to get your bearings, you drift back into unconsciousness.

When you awaken again, you feel much of the same — your head is still aching and the ground beneath you is hard and unforgiving. For a moment you wonder if perhaps you’ve died and this is just the in-between to whatever afterlife awaits, and then you hear it.

A deep and silky voice rouses you from your spot on the ground, willing you to push yourself up on your sore arms and open your weary eyes. You blink, wincing at the sting that comes along with it. The voice quiets for a moment and the soothing feeling that came with it turns into abject horror when you realize you have no idea where you are. Looking around, you see you’re in some sort of cave filled with craggy rocks and a sandbar, which you’d woken up on.

You’re about to scream and cry for help but then it starts up again and your mind soothes itself in an instant. The voice is perhaps the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard, and when you listen, there’s an insistent pulling at your body telling you that you must follow it. Your own safety doesn’t matter when something so beautiful is in your grasp. At least, that’s what your mind is telling you.

You pad through the cave, not caring about the cuts on your feet or the fact that your clothing is torn and covered in blood. The voice becomes louder as you make your way through the cave, eventually coming across sunlight starting to filter through the opening.

You take a few more steps before you stumble upon a brilliant set of iridescent purple wings attached to a pale and muscled back. This wasn’t a normal sight, no, but did it matter when this creature’s voice was so alluring? When you take another step forward, the voice stops, and the creature stands and turns to face you.

Fear strikes your heart when you meet his deep violet gaze. Whatever this thing was towered over you — his face was absolutely stunning, with full lips and high cheekbones. He had long, silvery hair that cascaded down his back and faded into loose curls, his hair’s beauty rivaled by the stunning wings that rose behind him. And yet he wasn’t completely human either. His hands and feet are practically claws and he’s sneering at you with a mouth that has too many sharp teeth.

And despite the horror you feel, your eyes shamelessly trail down his naked body and take in the sculpted torso and the sizeable cock laying against his muscled thighs.

“You’re awake.” He says. His speaking voice is just as deep and alluring as his singing voice, though you don’t feel the same pull to walk towards him. You swallow and look around, quickly realizing there was no escape. He takes a step toward you and lets out a deep laugh when he sees you step backward. “I wouldn’t try to run if I were you.”

“W-who are you? Where am I?” You yell, your voice going up a pitch higher than you intended. The man smirks and steps forward until he’s only an arm’s length away from you. The faint smell of iron fills your nostrils. Before you can think better, you stammer out another question. “What are you?”

“You don’t remember what happened?” He watches you shake your head and clicks his tongue. “I’m a siren.” Your mouth gapes at his answer and you have nothing to say, so you shakily nod for him to continue. If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. “Your boat crashed. And before you get any silly ideas in your head, it wasn’t me. There’s a territory war going on. You just happened to wash up the nearby beach and I dragged you here. Otherwise, you’d be dead.”

Your brain is overworking itself trying to understand anything the man just said. You say the only thing you can think of. “Thank you.”

His eyes widen in surprise for a second before he shifts back into his surly expression and quirks an eyebrow at you. “I could still eat you; you know. Tear you limb by limb and rip your flesh from your bones.”

Something about the droll way he said it made that hard to believe, though you knew since he was a siren it was a real possibility.

“I don’t think you will.” Your response makes him click his tongue in annoyance, but he doesn’t push it further. Tentatively, you glance down his naked form again — that gets his attention.

“Most humans aren’t thinking of how nice our cocks might feel before we kill them.” You blush at his blunt words and stammer, but you really have no excuse. You were being absolutely shameless in a situation that would have most people crying and begging for their lives. He purses his lips and stares at you for a moment, giving you a shameless once-over that you more than deserved. “I didn’t just drag you here out of goodwill.”

“Oh?” He watches you carefully before he steps forward and presses his body to yours. There’s no mistaking the hardness that’s forming against your thigh.

“I need a mate. You looked… beautiful. I didn’t want the other scum around here to get to you first.” He turns his face away and you swear you can see the lightest flush of pink on his cheeks.

“You won’t kill me?” He turns his gaze back towards you and places his large hands on your shoulders. They feel cool to the touch.

“No. Even if you don’t agree, I’ll let you go. But I can’t promise that if we meet again, I’ll do the same. You shouldn’t get involved with me…” He bares his fangs at you and even though you know it’s a little wrong, it only strokes the flames of arousal starting to build in your stomach. “But if you want to be my mate, I won’t ever hurt you, not when you belong to me.”

There’s an obvious sense of possession to his words but even without his singing, his behavior is drawing you to him. Something behind his words screamed loneliness to you and it was hard to resist saying yes, knowing that this creature might feel just as alone in life as you did. It’s dangerous and stupid and you know you might just be gambling your life away, but you nod.

There’s one thing that you need first, though.

“What’s your name?” What could be a smile, or a smirk crosses his face — you’re not quite sure.

“Abbacchio. But you may call me Leone.” When you repeat your name back to him, his lip quirks up in what you know is a smile this time.

Abbacchio doesn’t waste a moment pinning you to the cold floor of the cave once you agree to mate with him. His mouth finds your neck and begins to place hungry kisses on it while you writhe under him, crying out when his sharp teeth scrape at the sensitive skin.

Before you can protest Abbacchio shreds your clothes from your body with his sharp claws, leaving you exposed before him. Despite your cuts and bruises from the wreck, he’s clearly pleased with what he sees, subconsciously fluttering his wings behind him as he takes in your naked form, his hard cock pressed flat to his abdomen and already leaking.

(You weren’t sure how often sirens had sex, so you wonder if Abbacchio was perhaps pent-up, considering how eager he was.)

The adrenaline rush from being pinned underneath such a dangerous creature has your nerves on fire but every time his mouth brushes against your chest or his long fingers trail across your skin and dip to stroke at your sex, the need to have him inside of you grows stronger.

Abbacchio groans when you rut against him and whine for more.

“It’s been so long,” he growls, running his hands up and down your sides. “Let me enjoy you.” The words of protest about to leave your mouth are cut off by Abbacchio pressing his lips to yours and drawing you into a languid kiss, his too long to be human tongue snaking its way into your mouth and making you shiver from the pleasant yet strange feeling. He moans into the kiss and adjusts to press his cock against your entrance, rubbing his precum into it.

“You’re mine,” Abbacchio hisses, pressing himself into you and pushing the head of his cock inside. You cry out and Abbacchio covers your mouth with his again in an almost painful kiss. One of his arms snakes around your waist to lift your hips up and he presses his cock into you further, letting you adjust to the stretch. Your nails scratch at his back - careful to avoid his wings - as he presses himself to the hilt. You’ve never taken anything quite so large and there’s a sting to it, but the moans that are falling from Abbacchio’s mouth help to distract you.

“You’re never leaving me,” he rasps, flexing his cock inside of you. You cling to his shoulders as the sting subsides to something pleasant — you feel so full and right and wander through the haze of pleasure clouding your mind if this is just what being with a siren was like. He flexes his cock again and starts to pull back, dragging it against your walls. “Answer me.”

“I won’t,” you reply, breathless. Abbacchio growls out your name and pulls all the way to his tip before slamming back in, scooting you across the cave’s smooth floor.

You can barely think as Abbacchio continues to pound into you, mouthing at your neck with his sharp teeth and whispering about what a perfect little mate you are. When your hips start trembling, Abbacchio adjusts and presses your knees back as far as they can go — his cock hits you so deep when he thrusts in again that you scream out his name as he fucks you into the floor, his wing spread out behind him and fluttering in the breeze that filtered in through the cave.

“I’m going to mark you as mine so no one can ever take you away.” Abbacchio says, meeting your gaze. Maybe you should be more concerned, but his possessive words make you tighten around his cock.

“Do it,” you whisper.

Abbacchio’s beauty distracts you from his descent upon your neck to bite into you and for one moment you think perhaps he’s lied about the whole thing — but he pulls back when he’s sufficiently marked you and laps at the blood before he shudders and presses all the way into you, cock twitching as he releases himself inside of you.

Your neck burns but it’s nothing, not with Abbacchio’s cock still inside of you and his fingers threaded through yours—

He presses a bloody kiss to your cheek, murmuring that he was sorry before he uses his hand to bring you to your own release, watching with renewed lust as you cum and cry out his name.

You whine out his name again when he flexes his cock inside of you, his member having lost none of its hardness even after his release. He grins at you with those too-sharp teeth again, lips stained red from your blood.

(There’s a tug at your heart that still tells you to run, that you’re in danger, but you’re Abbacchio’s now, he’d claimed you as such. Your human inhibitions wouldn’t be needed much longer, you think, and perhaps there’s some truth to the rumor that sirens are capable of turning others…)

He cards a hand through your hair and leans forward to lick at his bite mark — his bond to you.

“I’m not done with you yet, mate.”

#my writing #siren!abbacchio #monster au #monster x human #not sfw #leone abbacchio #abbacchio x reader #gender neutral reader #leone abbacchio x reader #summer event 2k19

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izaswritings · 4 years

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all that’s left in the world | chapter five

Title: all that’s left in the world—

Synopsis: —is me.

Neku’s been shot and Shibuya is threatening to go the same way as Shinjuku, but just because the first Game is over doesn’t mean they’ve forgotten how to play.

Or: Neku deals with a nightmare city and his most annoying (and mathematical) partner yet; Shiki and Joshua commit an escalating number of illegal moves, Beat and Eri hunt down a stray Reaper, and Rhyme watches and waits for the counter-attack. Shibuya refuses to go down easy.

Fandom: The World Ends With You | TWEWY

Warnings: references to past canonical character death, self-esteem issues, vague descriptions of an apocalyptic event (Shinjuku at the moment of Inversion, etc), and Joshua, again. Please let me know if there’s anything I missed.

AO3 Link is here!

Previous chapters are here!

part five: joshua

Joshua opens his eyes to a wasteland.

Beside him Shiki Misaki has fallen to her knees in the dust and dirt, hacking up half a lung; Joshua politely gives her a moment to collect herself like the very considerate and understanding person he is, and steps forward, scanning their surroundings with a frown. Empty streets filled with white dust that clings to his hand like snow; the air smells of nothing, devoid even of the stench of smoke. A low fog has settled over the city, so gray and dense it could be mistaken for a storm, the buildings vacant shells and the roads worn smooth and featureless. It’s more than a ghost town—it’s a city hollowed, its heart destroyed, and Joshua frowns momentarily, picking up his phone, fiddling with the settings.

For the first time, no call goes through. “Interesting,” Joshua decides, and tugs at one lock of hair, twining the strand around his finger.

“W-what is?” Shiki asks, and Joshua tilts his head and snaps his phone closed. Her breath catches. Ah, she’s noticed the city. “Where are we?”

“Shinjuku, I believe,” Joshua says, and even though he’d guessed as much the sight makes him frown, disgruntled. Joshua’s always liked a good Game, but this one promises to try his patience. “Well. What’s left of it, anyway.”

Her eyes scan the wasteland, expression faltering. “That’s impossible,” she says, though she seems half-convinced already. Quick to adapt, isn’t she? Maybe this partnership 2.0 won’t be so boring after all. “That’s... how could this be Shinjuku?”

“Inversion,” Joshua sighs, and when Shiki’s brow furrows at the term he giggles and waves his hand. “A UG phrase. The RG and UG have merged here. The planes have gotten all tangled together—too many frequencies at once.” And, actually, liable to give Joshua a headache. He misses Shibuya’s song already. Ironic, considering his plans for it just last month. “Noise manifest in the RG, reality gets unstable...”

She’s pale. “And this is where Neku is?”

“Mm-hmm.” Joshua shrugs. “Unfortunate, isn’t it?”

“Yeah...” Joshua blinks at her, but Shiki has already stepped away, looking up and down the empty street. “I don’t understand. Where are all the people? And the stores...” She peers into a shop window and blinks fast. “Huh?”

“Oh?” Joshua steps up beside her, peering through the window, and then leans back, hands in his pockets and eyebrows raised. “My, my. That’s certainly something.”

The shop is empty. Not just devoid of people, but of anything—the mannequins stripped featureless and bare, even the fake features wiped away. The hangers hold nothing. The stands are empty. Even the picture frames on the wall, the art and decor put up just for flavor, have become hollow, the frames undecorated, the pictures turned to white noise.

Joshua lifts his hand, curious, and presses it against the glass. Against the blank slate of the store, he and Shiki and the colors they wear seem almost like a spotlight. Shinjuku is grey and cold around them, featureless and repetitive. Scrubbed clean of any life at all.

Joshua takes his hand back, frowning outright now. “Hm.”

“That’s so creepy,” Shiki says, drawing back a step. She shivers. “It’s like... anything that would have stood out, or anything that would have meant something...”

“A clean slate,” Joshua agrees, and rests his chin in his hand, thoughtful.

Shiki looks away, apparently unable to keep looking into the empty shop for long. “Is this... normal?” she asks, squinting up at the sky, like if she tries hard enough she’ll be able to see the sun. “For, uh... Inversions?”

Joshua giggles. “I have no idea.” It’d be a delightful mystery, if the situation weren’t so dire. He sobers. “This is the first time I’ve seen it myself. Though, I will admit...” He casts a glance at the sky, too. His eyes narrow. For a moment, there in the clouds... hm. “This doesn’t quite match up with the stories I’ve heard.”

“Creepy,” Shiki repeats.

“Quite.”

She rubs at her arms. “...Let’s go look for Neku.”

Ah, yes. Neku.

Joshua looks back at the shop, no longer smiling. His reflection in the display glass is pale and dim, faintly opaque. As if he isn’t quite there at all. He rubs at his arm, and wonders what Shiki would say if he told her Composers weren’t meant to stay outside of Their city.

Well, what’s done is done—he’s agreed to this, after all, and her reaction probably won’t be all that entertaining. Shiki Misaki, Joshua thinks, is too accepting. Adaptable to an annoying degree. At least Neku had a few moments of wanting to strangle someone before he compromised.

How funny, he thinks. The memory almost makes him want to smile, except he doesn’t feel like laughing at all.

In the dusty glass of the shop window, his own expression looks strange to him. Joshua turns away. He shakes his head and tugs at one bang, then drops his hand and sighs. “Yes,” he says, light. “Works for me. Lead the way, dear.”

She frowns at him, and he smiles back at her uncertain side-eye. And as Shiki picks her way across the city, and Joshua trails after her, he curls his hands to a careful fist, feeling the quiet tremor in his fingers with every step away from Shibuya, and cheerfully pretends that it hasn’t started after all.

It doesn’t take long for the first problem to rear its head. Ten minutes into the Game, Joshua and Shiki encounter their first Noise—and unlike how Noise are supposed to act, this one attacks on sight.

Joshua would suspect Taboo Noise, but no: normal Noise, just ten times more bloodthirsty. Shinjuku is getting more bothersome by the minute.

It takes a moment for them to work together—Joshua is back to summoning beams of light from his cellphone; Shiki apparently likes using her stuffed animal to rip the opposing side to shreds—but in the end, they sync up rather well, if Joshua is any judge. The Noise are nothing but static by the end. Joshua is half-way pleased. He’s missed this.

Shiki doesn’t look nearly so happy, however. At the end of their most recent battle, she kneels in the dust with the cat toy in her lap, staring down at it almost despondently. Joshua weighs his options, sighs, and goes to stand over her shoulder.

“Is this going to be a problem?”

“Maybe.” She opens her hands, glumly; Joshua looks down and tilts his head. “I forgot. Mr. Mew has a ripped seam. He’s fine for me to carry him, but...”

On second look... Joshua can see it. He presses his lips. “I hope you don’t expect me to do all the work,” he warns, coolly. “I hate working up a sweat, and this endeavor was your idea, Shiki.”

If she’s bothered by the over-familiar use of her first name, it barely even seems to register. Then again, she did offer. “Maybe I could stitch him up?” she wonders. “But I don’t have the right thread... I was going to buy some tomorrow...”

Joshua frowns at her, but Shiki isn’t even looking at him, mumbling under her breath. After a moment, he sighs—and reaches out, picking away one of the pins she’s clipped to her cardigan. He turns it in his hands, thoughtful. “Do you have any idea how you control him?”

She glances at him, startled, then looks uncertain. “Eh...”

He giggles, and flashes the pin at her. “Groove Pawn,” he tells her. “It’s a form of psychokinesis. You didn’t know?”

“Really?” She glances at the stuffed toy in her hands. “It always felt more like Mr. Mew was just doing his own thing.”

Interesting. “Maybe so, but without you to provide guidance, it wouldn’t be nearly as effective. It could be that your familiarity with the medium creates a stronger control of it... less direct commands, and more obeying of the implied commands—what you know you need?” Joshua tugs at his hair. “Hmm. You made him, yes?”

“Mr. Mew?” She hugs the stuffed animal to her chest. “Yes. Why?”

Joshua’s getting an idea. He smiles. “And your clothes?”

“I made those too, but why...?” She trails off, eyes widening. “You think—?”

“Worth a shot, isn’t it?”

She studies her sleeves, frowning slightly, considering. “I don’t know...”

“Try it,” Joshua cajoles. “Your pins will work here. The one nice thing about the merge between planes is that the Noise frequency isn’t needed to activate the pins. Lucky you.” Which is perhaps the only advantage they have in all this. But, regardless.

Shiki looks uncertain, but one last glance at Mr. Mew and her jaw firms. “Okay. I’ll give it a shot.” She rises to her feet, hand outstretched, and takes a breath. “Here goes!”

Silence. Nothing happens.

Joshua spins a strand of hair between his fingers. “...Have you considered—”

Thread cuts through the air like a whistling blade. Shiki screams.

Joshua, for his part, blinks over at what used to be a wall, and whistles through his teeth. “Wow,” he says, honestly impressed. “That’s going to be incredibly useful. Nice to see that you can pull your own weight after all, hm?”

Shiki doesn’t appear to be listening, but then, that’s little surprise. Her cardigan has been unraveled up to her elbow; the loose thread of the sleeve has reached long past its actual length and cut apart the air, slipping through stone like a hot knife through ice.

It’s like a net, Joshua thinks, and circles her, intrigued. It really is something. If she concentrates the threads, and focuses the force onto one impact point, she could cut right through the core of a larger Noise. Even the net of thread could cut apart quite a few of the smaller Noise, too... my, he thinks. Could she catch one? Fascinating.

His musing gets cut off by the loud, creaking groan of breaking stone. Shiki’s eyes go wide. Joshua looks up, startled, and steps back just in time to avoid a bit of rubble falling on his foot, as the building Shiki hit creaks, tilts, sways, and then ultimately tips back and falls apart into a burst of dust and debris.

Silence. Joshua stares. The building just behind the first, now walled off with ruin, also creaks, and then caves inward with a crash.

“Oh my god,” Shiki says, eyes wide and horrified behind her glasses. “Is that okay!?”

“…It’s fine,” Joshua says. A beat. He considers the rubble. “Well, maybe.”

There’s another pause, almost thoughtful. A wall on a third building goes loose and spills out onto the road. In the distance there is the sound of falling rocks. A small pebble rolls from the pile, taps Shiki’s shoe, and then falls sadly on its side.

Shiki covers her face.

“Useful, anyhow,” Joshua decides.

“Maybe this was a bad idea…” Shiki sighs, rubbing at her face. Then she lifts up her head— and at last seems to get a full look at her unraveled cardigan, because she blanches, and holds out her arms in horror. “Oh, no, my sleeve! I spent days on this!”

“I’m sure you can put it back.”

“Oh, you think?” She takes a breath, focusing again, and Joshua watches with interest as the thread pries loose from the rubble pile, pooling together and re-weaving back into the cardigan. Shiki peeks one eye open. “Did it work?” Pause. “It worked!”

Joshua claps for her. “Well done.”

She beams, then seems to remember who she’s smiling at and visibly falters. Joshua giggles at her. What a face!

“Um, thanks.”

“No problem at all.”

She tucks the stuffed cat in her arms, hugging it close as if in comfort, staring down at the ground. She bites her lip, then shakes her head and exhales hard. “I… never mind. I guess we should keep moving.”

He gestures. She looks at him for a very long moment, then nods and takes the lead, walking down into a small back-alley street.

Joshua follows leisurely behind her, one hand in his pocket and the other fiddling with his phone. He tries to place another call, but isn’t surprised when it fails once again. Well, he’s glad to still have the camera, at least, though he’ll have to be careful of its use. If he could find Shinjuku’s Room of Reckoning… though unfortunately, he has no idea where the Composer of Shinjuku might be located.

Hm.

He fiddles with it some more, as they walk, and the rest of the day passes by in routine—travel, fight the Noise that converge on them, move on. Joshua gets more in-tune with this new partner, and finds to some delight that their attacks mix well. Shiki is focused, direct, and methodical, as expected of her talent as a seamstress; she attacks her enemies one hit at a time until it falls, and then moves on to the next. Matched with Joshua’s habit of just blasting a general area and catching as many Noise as possible in the light, it covers a lot of ground. He flattens the ones he can without frying his phone—and she, in turn, picks off the stragglers.

After one such battle, Joshua touches to the ground and turns to smile at her, far more genuinely than before. He can say this for Shiki Misaki— in addition to being a living wrench in the works of Joshua’s plan, she’s also just a genuinely talented Player.

“This might just work,” he tells her, cheery, and toes a line in the soft dusting of ash lining Shinjuku’s streets. “I’ll admit, I had my doubts.”

She glances back at him, looking more confused than offended. “Then... why did you agree?”

“Hm.” Joshua tilts his head. “Why indeed?”

Silence, for a moment. Shiki’s expression flattens a little. “Okay. So you’re not going to tell me.”

It’s a little cruel, maybe, but this girl’s already thrown the first stone, back in the Shibuya River; really, this should be expected. “What makes you think you deserve the answer?”

His word choice is deliberate, and Shiki, of all people, sensitive enough to catch the subtext—her steps stutter, and she tugs the stuffed cat closer. “I... I didn’t mean it like that.” She eyes him again. Her fingers tighten. “You’re rude.”

He shrugs. “It’s an honest question. Really, Shiki, you haven’t changed much at all, have you?” He eyes her. “Wanting recognition is all well and good, but don’t go expecting it from me.”

She falters, steps stuttering in the dust. Joshua keeps walking, humming lightly. She doesn’t follow. He turns around. “We don’t have much time to waste,” he chides. “If you could, Shiki...?”

“How did you know that?” Her voice is tight. “How did you—”

“Composer,” he reminds her. “It’s my Game. I put in the entry fee requirement in the first place, you know.” Not for the reasons she probably thinks, but then, Joshua’s never claimed to teach kind lessons. “And you were Neku—my proxy’s—partner. Of course I kept an eye out.”

“Of course,” she echoes, a little hollowly. “So—so you know...”

That she is jealous? That she wants to be more than herself? That Shiki Misaki wants to be popular, and important, and at the center of it all? That she wants so much for herself she came to seethe at others who she thought stood above her?

Joshua knows a lot of things people wish he didn’t know.

“I do, yes.” He considers her, and sighs a little. She’s stepped on his toes, so to speak, but Joshua can relent where need be. “If it’s any consolation, you have changed.” Neku’s choice hadn’t been the only factor influencing Joshua’s unintended change of heart regarding Shibuya, though Joshua is never going to admit that out loud. “If this Game had an entry fee, yours would no longer be yourself.”

Green is a good color for Shiki Misaki. She’s still envious, even now. But it doesn’t fester in her anymore. She has come to learn her own strengths, started to realize her own Imagination— the value of herself. And Joshua will never, ever say it aloud, but he can admire that, a little. If all the world is secret gardens, then hers is finally growing again, no longer crushed beneath her own heel.

Shiki looks down like she can’t decide whether to be happy or offended about his words. Joshua shrugs and turns away. “It would probably be that ‘friend’ of yours,” he continues knowingly, and grins, a little wry. “Or maybe Neku?” The idea of Coco’s plot getting upended by something as a simple as an entry fee makes him snicker. “What a plot twist that would be, hm?”

“W-what?” And then her head snaps up, eyes wide behind the lens. “Wait, oh my gosh—entry fees— I completely forgot—” She stops, and visibly rewinds the conversation in her head. “There isn’t one?”

“Thankfully.” People really aren’t meant to play the Game more than once; Joshua shudders to think how much of Shibuya would have vanished if Neku’s fee had been taken again. “It’s more than the RG and UG merge. Whatever Game we’re playing...”

Shiki looks stunned. “There’s no Reapers.”

“Did you just notice? Well, anyway. That’s right. No Reapers, no walls, no mission mail...” Joshua frowns a little. “I’m... a little uncertain if anyone’s in charge of this Game at all.”

“What about that Reaper girl? Coco?”

“Let me reword. No one official, at any rate.” He leaves it at that, but deep down, Joshua can’t deny he’s getting uneasy. There is too much off—too much lack. A Composer encroaching on another’s territory is a heinous crime, and bringing an illegal Player with him? Even with his powers limited by sheer virtue of being outside Shibuya, that should have warranted some interaction, if nothing else. But no— instead they have been walking undisturbed, the city silent as a grave.

The Music gone.

It’s as if there is no Composer at all, Joshua thinks, but then—how is that possible? If the Composer were killed, both power and title would transfer to the killer; if the Composer were captured... well, the city still wouldn’t be like this. The power would live on and the Music continue. But this... what has happened to Shinjuku...

For once, Joshua can honestly admit he has no idea what’s going on. It’s kind of annoying.

“Either way,” Joshua says, with finality. “It’s not for you to know.” He smiles at her. “May we get moving again?”

And just like that, her hackles are back up. Sigh. “I’m just trying to be nice!” she snaps back, fierce. “Though I’m not sure you deserve it.” Her voice lowers. “You’re as bad as Neku was. We’re partners.”

“That’s a bit rude,” Joshua says, amused.

“Still. We made a pact. You could at least act like it. We have to work together!”

Joshua stares at her, a little disgruntled; Shiki crosses her arms and tilts up her chin and glares right back. For a moment Joshua considers pushing the issue, or perhaps ignoring her and continuing on anyway... and then, just as quickly, his annoyance fades, dull and tired. Joshua looks away first.

Shiki Misaki, Neku’s first partner in the game. Neku has learned a lot from her. And Joshua, though he is still only just able to admit this to himself, has learned from Neku in turn.

Joshua sighs heavily, the sound as loud as he can make it, and lifts a hand to his hair, tugging at the strands. “Oh, fine,” he says, only a little sullen, because he has learned something from his time playing his own Game and to pretend otherwise is probably beneath him, or something. “If you really want to know, I’m beginning to suspect this Game doesn’t have a Composer at all.”

Shiki looks a little stunned. Possibly she never expected him to admit anything; Joshua tries not to feel too offended about that. After all, if this were a month ago, she’d be right. (If this were a month ago, he wouldn’t have accepted her deal in the first place— but that’s not important either.) “Oh,” she says. “...Oh. Someone—someone killed Shinjuku’s Composer?”

Joshua clicks his tongue. “Not quite,” he says. “Killing the Composer wouldn’t cause an Inversion. Neither,” he adds when Shiki opens her mouth, “would kidnapping, or anything else of the like. This city has no Music. It’s silent. It is…” And this Joshua doesn’t like to admit, because the very idea is enough to make his skin crawl, but it’s the truth: “It’s as if it has no Imagination at all.”

“Um,” Shiki says. “Which is... bad?”

“You remember that storefront?” he asks her. “Yes, it’s bad. Imagination is what the entire UG runs on.”

“Oh. Oh.”

“Exactly.” He huffs, irritated. “Unfortunately, whatever happened, I’m rather in the dark. This event has very thoroughly erased any clues left behind.”

Shiki frowns, looking thoughtful. “Is there a place for Shinjuku like there was for Shibuya? A river?”

“Of sorts. I don’t know where it is, though.” Unfortunately. Joshua likes mysteries, actually, but it’s a bit more fun when there’s actual clues to follow.

“I remember the Noise around the river were pretty strong. The station underpass in general, too. Like they were just drawn there…” Shiki holds the stuffed cat in both hands, looking down at it. It’s almost as if she expects the cat to talk back to her; Joshua stifles a grin. “I wonder if we could ride on them.”

Joshua blinks. Backtracks. “On. The Noise?”

She looks a little red, but shrugs. “I mean, could we?”

He almost laughs, but then he makes the mistake of thinking about it. With the thread… and, well, Joshua understands the Noise better than anyone else, so…

There’s a long pause. Joshua looks over to the Noise, far off down the street. He thinks about it some more. And it is with great regret when he says, at last: “Mm. Better not.”

Mr. H would never let him live it down. Also, less importantly, “While stronger Noise tend to gather around the Composer’s place, it’s not exactly a homing beacon. It won’t lead us to the Composer.”

Disappointing, though.

Shiki hums, but seems to accept that, tapping her finger to her chin. “Then maybe...” She trails off, brow furrowing. “If not the Composer, we could find where it all centered? Like the Inversion? It had to start somewhere, right...?”

She sounds uncertain, but Joshua straightens up. He’s not entirely sure the issue of Shinjuku’s Composer and the Inversion are so directly linked, but if one mystery can’t be solved, it stands to reason they should move on to the next. “It must have.” He tilts his head, then grins. “Ah-ha. I have an idea.”

“What is it?”

Joshua is already on his phone, flipping through the settings. When she approaches, he generously doesn’t shoo her off. “Here,” he says, and tilts the screen to her. The idea has emboldened him; his foot taps lightly on the ground. Finally, a place to start. He has no doubt they’ll run into Neku on the way there, if he gets this right. Neku usually finds himself in the center of a disaster. “A while back I had a few... adjustments made to my phone. I never did remove them. This camera can take pictures of the past.” He waves the phone at her, grinning outright now. “Pick a direction, dear.”

Behind her glasses, Shiki’s eyes are wide. She claps her hands in front of her face. “Oh! So if the Inversion started somewhere, we can see what direction it came from?”

Her excitement is rather charming. Neku never got nearly as involved in the everyday mysteries as Joshua did; this response feels pretty gratifying, honestly. “Exactly! I’m impressed.”

She giggles, a little. “This is so exciting. I feel like I’m in a detective movie.” She spins on her heel, stuffed cat swinging from one hand, finger tapping her chin. She points down a random street, a once-main road turned hollow. “How about there?”

“As good a place to start as any, I suppose.” Joshua snaps the photo—he already knows the time they need, thankfully. Shiki leans over his shoulder; Joshua eyes her briefly, then sighs and lets it go. He opens the photo.

Oh, how fun. White light, the buildings crumbling, terrified people beginning to fade out... but it is vague, source-less, and impossible to tell the direction from which it’s coming from.

Shiki blinks at it, though, her eyes flicking from photo to the ruins and back again. “Oh, I know that building! Isetan department store… I went with Eri once.” She frowns a little. “Hmm. So we’re near the station?”

“Valuable info, but not quite what we were looking for… Well, two more photos left.” Joshua tilts the camera. “Choose wisely.”

“Uh... well, if we’re near the station, um, maybe the government building? Oh, where was it…” Shiki squints down a street. “There?”

Joshua snaps the photo, then sighs. Shiki frowns too. He’ll give her this much: she’d been right about the direction; he can see the tip of the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building and even some of Park Tower, but beyond the vague reddish light and screaming people, nothing indicates the epicenter of the event. Tsk.

“Last one,” Shiki checks, and at Joshua’s nod, worries at her lip. “Hm...”

Joshua considers it. His finger taps against the case. After a moment, his eyes flicker up. He’s never known Shinjuku too well, even when he was alive; he’d stayed in Shibuya most of his life, and then the entirety of his afterlife. “Have you been to Shinjuku before?”

“Well... once or twice. Not as often as Shibuya. Uh, mainly around the station. Why?”

He frowns at the screen, not really seeing it. “Can you guess where the center of the city might be?”

“That’s...” She trails off. Her brow furrows. “Um. Maybe? One second.” She takes a deep breath. “Er... where’s Shibuya from here?”

This, Joshua could answer in his sleep. He is so aware of the city it nearly dizzies him; he smiles to hide the sudden tremor in his arms. Ah, it really does set in quick, doesn’t it?

“To our right,” Joshua says lightly, and cheerfully ignores the headache spiking behind his eyes.

“Okay.” She bites her lip. “Then... from there, to... and then turn left... by Golden Gai, maybe…?” She trails her eyes across the ruined landscape and finally settles for a direction slightly north-east from them. “There? I think. It’s hard to tell, with the buildings all... you know.”

“That’s good enough,” Joshua decides. He lines up the image. Then he pauses. For a moment he frowns. And then, not entirely sure why, he lifts the camera, taking in not just the street and the buildings but also the sky, high above.

He takes the shot.

His fingers tighten. His smile widens, but there’s no joy in it at all. “Bingo.”

“Yes!” She looks at the photo. Her eyes go wide. “...What?”

The photo is exactly what they need, but neither is it a welcome sight. The distant high-rise of the buildings is turning to dust and ash. People are cowering in the streets, covering their heads. A pale white light, tinged faintly bloody with red, shines out through all the streets with a piercing glow.

And high above, settled in the sky like a brand, the Reaper’s skull bears down on the city, blood red and burning bright.

“Interesting,” Joshua murmurs, and thumbs the phone off. “I believe we just got our first clue.”

Shiki bites her lip, then seems to shake herself. “We know where to start looking, now. So that’s good.” She brightens, a little. “And Neku’s sure to be there! He gets in too much trouble not to find it himself.” She’s smiling outright now, and pumps a fist to the air, triumphant, turning to Joshua with delight. “We did it!”

He giggles at her enthusiasm, and her smile falters, falling awkward and flat. Her eyes catch on his face and she seems to remember who she’s talking to for the first time. Her smile fades. Her fist lowers.

Joshua considers her, shrugs, and turns away to mess with his phone. His hands are still annoyingly shaky from earlier. He doesn’t speak. Shiki doesn’t say anything either. The silence stretches.

When it’s clear she’s not going to break, Joshua sighs again and closes his phone, looking down at the case briefly before tucking it back into his pocket. “You really don’t like me, do you?” Joshua muses, and tucks his hands in his pockets. “What stories Neku must have told you, I wonder.”

“He told me enough.” Her voice is quiet again. “But you already knew about that.”

He hums, not really answering. Another silence. This time, Shiki looks away.

“I can’t forgive you,” she announces, apropos of nothing, eyes on her stuffed animal. She hugs it close. “Which sounds silly, doesn’t it? Considering you never did anything to me. But even if Neku does forgive you, one day, I don’t think I ever will.” Joshua keeps his eyes on the skyline, and half an eye on her; he sees her fingers tighten. “I don’t know why you did it, and even if I did, I don’t think I really care.”

Something hardens in her voice. Joshua waits, patiently, for her to finish. “Your point?” he prompts.

Her jaw clenches, and for the first time she seems truly angry with him. “You hurt Neku. You hurt him— a lot. I remember that much. He was crying. I’d never seen him cry before. You did that.” I’m aware, Joshua thinks. Her eyes are fixed on the ground, now. “And you hurt him after it was over, too.”

Joshua frowns, briefly, the barest flicker of an expression, and Shiki looks up and smiles at the sight, an expression that is half-hearted and small and not very happy at all. “Yeah. I figured you didn’t know about that one. Neku doesn’t either, I don’t think. But he— he wanted to see you again, you know? No matter my feelings on it, that’s still true. Maybe he just wanted to hit you, or yell at you—um, maybe he just wanted answers?” She shrugs. “Maybe all three. But he did want to see you again. Whenever we meet up, he’s always getting distracted, looking for someone else. And I’m not stupid. I can guess.”

He has stayed silent thus far out of some amused hope of getting this out of her system; now Joshua is regretting that. There is something ashy on his tongue, settled cold in his throat. He takes a thin breath and exhales it slowly, like a test.

“You never came,” Shiki says, simply, a little harder. She’s looking at him, Joshua can tell, but he keeps his gaze turned away, fixed on the sky. “Maybe you meant that as a kindness? I don’t know. That doesn’t really matter either. Because it hurt him either way.”

Another pause. Joshua closes his eyes, opens them, and then finally looks back at her. She glares at him—not angry anymore, not really, just stubborn, stiff and holding her ground. He considers her.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person,” Shiki says, at last, reluctantly. Joshua raises an eyebrow at her. She huffs. “Which kind of makes it worse, maybe. But I don’t. Neku doesn’t either, otherwise he wouldn’t be trying so hard.” Her chin lifts, determined. “You probably aren’t sorry for what happened. You’ll probably never say it; it’s not really my business. But Neku’s trying. I don’t know why, but he is—and you know, if nothing else, you could stand to try too.”

Joshua doesn’t say anything. She’s caught him off-guard with this—of all things, this is not what he was expecting her to say. And maybe that is Joshua’s fault. Hasn’t he learned this lesson already? Isn’t that why Shibuya’s still standing? They lost the Game, all of them, Neku and Shiki and the Bito siblings; they lost the game, but they had changed his mind. They had surprised him. They had changed him in turn too, even if Joshua still doesn’t quite know how to admit it.

“Just a thought,” Shiki says, hotly, and this time she’s the one to turn away. “I don’t know if you even… N-never mind. This was stupid, I told myself I wouldn’t— let’s just go.”

How silly. All of his little asides, and yet this is what riles her up. It probably shouldn’t surprise him. She’s broken into a Reaper’s Game just for the chance to help; likely Joshua should have seen this coming. It’s still annoying, though. Why has he agreed to this again?

But he doesn’t move. He feels weary, and strangely drained, and he pinches at the bridge of his nose with a quiet exhale. Hah. He could say he’s still not sure why, but then, that would be lying, wouldn’t it? And while Joshua is rather good at lying to himself, he prefers not to make a habit of it.

He thinks, once, he would have been angry at this. He’s not sure what to make of the fact he’s not. He’s not sure what to say at all, actually—and isn’t that funny? That doesn’t happen often either.

Mostly he just feels tired.

Joshua watches Shiki walk away, and lingers there, at the edge of the sidewalk. His gaze draws back, turning away toward Shibuya; he looks past the ruined buildings to the streets that are His and His alone. He taps his fingers against his thigh. Trying, he thinks.

But there is no time. And so Joshua pulls his gaze away, and leaves Shibuya and his thoughts behind him.

#twewy #the world ends with you #joshua kiryu #yoshiya kiryu #shiki misaki #neku sakuraba #joshneku #twewy fic #iza fanfic #fic: all that's left in the world

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