#multi-shot | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lovesickeros · 9 days ago

Text

☆ choir of the faithless

{☆} characters venti, kaeya, the abyss {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings violence (minor) {☆} word count 2.7k

One moment, you lay wistlessly in your bed, head full of fleeting thoughts and ideas you bounced around internally. You were moment away from falling asleep, the draw of exhaustion unraveling the threads of your mind, pulling you apart and weaving your thoughts into the fathomless depths of a boundless dream.

The next you conclude that is exactly where you must be – blinking rapidly against the bright sun that bears down upon you through the massive branches and array of thousands of leaves swaying above you. It can only be a dream because you know those roots, those winding branches and the soothing song of wind chimes as leaves rustle and sway in the invisible path of the wind. It feels too real, but don't many dreams? You reach your hand sluggishly skyward, imagining the feeling of touching those leaves so high above, admiring the way light fractures as it passes through the tree so massive it blots out the sky above you. You'd have to crane your neck just to catch a proper glimpse of solemn blue past the swaying ocean of vivid greens.

It's beautiful.

It's familiar in the way home is. That warmth that settles in your chest, the solemn, quiet moments between. You've spent hours staring up at this tree, both your first steps and your last, simply admiring it all for what fleeting moments you can cling to.

You've played the game long enough – strayed towards its familiar branches at they reach towards the heavens – to recognize Windrise at even a passing glance. The perfect portrait of Mondstadt – the massive oak at the center, the statue of the seven with its hands outstretched and its wings curled protectively around itself..a memory of something you've seen a hundred thousand times, lingering like a ghost amongst its branches and roots, clinging to its familiarity. Maybe Mondstadt isn't the most complex, or gorgeous, or detailed..but it was the first stepping stone to the world of Teyvat you knew. It was the beginning of the Travelers journey and your own – the first, hesitant step into a game you'd learned to love.

You might as well enjoy it might it lasts, right?

This tumultuous, fragile dream of yours.

You sit up with no small amount of hesitancy, taking in the rolling, distant hills and far away cliffs. Mondstadt isn't that far – far enough that it bleeds into the scenery, but you feel that pang of fragile familiarity seeing it in the distance anyway. In contrast to its nation, Mondstadt stood like a towering beacon of stability, stark grey against the ever expanding hues of green and blue, a symbol of tranquility among the monster-laden lands beyond its walls. You still come by once and a while, whether or not it's your favorite place to linger – if only to reminisce and ponder the countless hours you've sunk into the game. To take a moment and admire the nation that had slowly dragged you into loving the world you've become so familiar with, to truly take a moment and process your endless journey further, deeper, into the mystery of Teyvat as it slowly unraveled like a spool of thread.

It felt almost real. The grass beneath you, the wind rustling the leaves and swirling around you, the warmth of the distant sun as it stood unwavering at its peak – but it was a dream. Vivid, maybe, but still a dream.

You didn't want to wake up from it, though.

It'd be nice to stay here for a little longer, to be able to wander past these fragile barriers of the world around you – but would you wake if you longed to see those distant horizons? Would you even remember this dream? Maybe not.

But the endless urge to explore – to see and truly experience that distant, familiar visage for yourself – was calling. A craving to run your hand along towering stone walls, to trace the intricate lines of the alchemy table you'd used hundreds of times, to get lost in the endless books tucked away in the library..a longing that you could never fulfill.

But you'd try anyway, wouldn't you?

You'd make the most of this fleeting dream – stumbling like a newborn fawn after seelies, watching from hidden perches as the occasional cart rolled by on dirt roads, observing the distant hilichurl with a look of solemn understanding. Re-familiarizing yourself with the paths you'd traveled hundreds of times, treading along the same, curious line you'd taken the Traveler.

Maybe it was just an aspect of the dream, but the wildlife didn't run away like it did in the game – the wild boars startled when you approached, but they'd settle down and continue their idle grazing before long. The occasional crystalfly fluttered to your outstretched hands like a moth to flame, the cool, subtle touch of anemo against your skin like a soft breeze, ephemeral and fleeting.

Even the squirrels did not flee at your boundless curiosity – it is as if you are a ghost, perhaps, wandering these wide spanning plains in search of..well, you aren't sure. You let your feet guide you, just like you used to. There is charm in the aimless exploration, a sort of comfort in wandering and observing the world through new eyes.

Perhaps you should've taken more caution when you reached Mondstadt itself – a dream was a fragile thing, after all..there was no telling when a dream could meld into a nightmare. But you were in the nation of freedom, who could blame you for throwing caution to the wind?

Uncertain as your steps across the bridge were, it was tranquil – ducks skimmed beneath the bridge, fish dotted the serene surface, clear waters rippling with their movements. There was something about it all that felt more alive. It felt more real, for a moment, but what an absurd thought that must be.

A dream is no more real than Teyvat.

And at the gates of the city, at last, you feel relief – the eyes of NPCs glide over you like water over the back of a swan, allowing you to simply step past them without even an utterance of a question. Up close, with your own eyes to guide you, Mondstadt is more alive than it's ever been. The people converse and laugh and breathe – the small details you'd miss looking through the limited frame of the Traveler peek through, now.

You get so lost in admiring it all you almost trip over a cat that strays near your feet, rubbing against your ankles. Your hand twitches, as if to reach down and pet it, to feel it's fur beneath your palm – but the small voice that flows from the tavern stalls you in your tracks. You don't have to turn around to know who it is, you've heard her voice enough times to recognize it – and, really, you'd rather not get caught up in the logistics of interacting with the characters in a dream at the moment. It's not like they can see you, besides. Everyone else didn't even seem to know you were there at all.

And you were here to explore, first. You could test the limits of the dream later, once you're satisfied you've seen it all.

You sidestep the cat – as much as it pains you to ignore it, you really don't know how much time you're afforded in this dream – and take up wandering undeterred. Maybe you'll check out the library, next..you only read a measly fraction of the books there, after all, and the wonder of something new is a tempting lure. Maybe if you get the chance, you'll seek out your favorite character – even if the dream ends there, it'll at least dampen the disappointment when you awake in your own bed again.

Mondstadt is still relatively small, despite seeming so much bigger – by the time you're slinking into the Knights of Favonius Headquarters, your legs are aching from all the walking. Even if you don't find anything too interesting here, well, you'll take sitting down for a moment to catch your breath at least.

The game made it seem so easy to get from Windrise to the city, but your legs practically putty when you peered into the library with a healthy amount of caution – it's not like anyone has even glanced your way since you woke up in this dream, but you knew not to test it around Lisa and her books..

Even if it was a dream, waking up because you got electrocuted by a pissed off librarian didn't sound very appealing.

Especially because, along the way, you'd become the perch for a handful of anemo crystalflies. You'd almost forgotten some linger on the rooftops until now..well, they seemed content to just rest on your limbs, and it's not like they weighed much if anything. It'd probably be fine – how much harm could a crystalfly cause?

The steps down into the lower level of the library creaked slightly as you slowly took in the grandiose room, trying to glimpse some semblance of familiarity amongst the hundreds of book covers nestled into the shelves. Maybe having a reference of just ten or twenty books wasn't exactly the most extensive list – you could barely even remember what books you mindlessly picked up chasing glittering spots like a moth chases the flickering flame.

Maybe you'll see Venti's statue, next – it was impressive enough in game, you could only imagine how it looks in person, how the smooth stone feels beneath your fingertips.

For now, you scour the rows and rows of book, gleaning the contents of the books from the assorted covers and titles so foreign to you. You recognize a scarce few, those you picked up on your first, brisk walk through the library scouring for treasure just to be disappointed at the lack of it. These days you're just happy to bask in the atmosphere and reminisce here – unless you're dragging your feet to do your Theater for the month. Not a lot of room for reminiscing when you're busy fighting for your life to finish on time.

Still, you're almost half disappointed there hasn't been many playable characters around..sure, maybe they'd just ignore you like the other NPCs, but it'd still be nice to see them. If Dawn Winery wasn't so far away, you'd consider dropping by, just to see, but..well, you've hiked long enough, personally.

Though as much as you'd like to busy yourself in the library, you do want to make the most of your time, too. You don't pay much attention to the patter of footsteps as you ascend the stairs and awkwardly step past the guard outside the library, the brief blur of reds and blues in the corner of your eyes gone before you can truly see its source. Well, there's more to see anyway – the cathedral was impressive enough when you first saw it in game, you can only imagine it's magnificence now.

All the stairs definitely feels worse now that you can't just haul yourself up a wall like in game, though. Maybe it would've been better to rest a bit more in the library, but you really didn't want to waste this chance..how often did you really have this much control over a dream, anyway? You feel lucky it hadn't turned into a nightmare.

And it was more than worth it when you crested the top of the stairs, the wind rushing past you for a brief moment and almost making you stumble as your eyes flit towards the towering stone you'd known so well. Hands outstretched and draped in robes, looking all the Archon they are..well, it was a lot more detailed like this. The lull of music doesn't escape you, either – because of course they'd be strumming that lyre beneath their own statue. Playing to an audience who knows not the bard that plays a melody of their own triumphs. The same bard who commands the wind as if an extension of themself, their voice the chimes that sing in tune with its winding paths, free and true.

Even if you've never heard the song they play before, it leaves a warm feeling in your chest – a homesickness, maybe, for a place you've never even been to. A longing for the world made up of lines of code and pixels on a screen. Endless yearning for a world not your own – a place you don't belong.

Poetic, isn't it?

Fitting, seeing as your audience is a bard who loves to tempt another into a riddle of their own, their silver tongue used for mischief rather than malice.

It wouldn't be so bad if you woke up now, you think. Lulled back to reality by the gentle strum of a lyre and the sweeping winds.

A reality all your own.

The harsh twang of a lyre brings you out of your aimless reverie, eyes of the teal ocean meeting your own in a moment of startling clarity. You are almost tempted to look behind you, for they must be perceiving another – but the empty, hollow thud of the lyre hitting the cobbled ground is like a bullet to the chest.

Beneath the shrouded eyes of an Archon, the wind coils into a tightly wound bolt that sings with danger, the draw of a string making your blood run cold and your instincts flare up.

Before you could even process the fact they'd just drawn a bow – the bow you had given them – the pillar of the corridor shattered like glass beneath the force of an elemental arrow, rubble dusting the cobblestone and dragging you out of your horrified stupor. If it hadn't been between the two of you, you can only dread to imagine what an arrow that pulverized rock would do to you.

There's a knot in your stomach as you turn to pace right back down the stairs, but you stutter at the sharp glint of metal and familiar blue hair that stands frozen mid-step – for a moment you can't even register any of this, your mind refuses to accept the stark, bleeding truth right in front of you, but the shrill sound of anemo forces you to make a choice. You only hesitate for a moment before throwing yourself over the edge of the wall, nearly choking on your saliva when you hit the ground – it was farther than you remember, but when your other choice is a blade and an arrow, you're thankful you haven't broken anything yet as you stumble to your feet.

Why haven't you waken up yet? You don't want to be in this dream anymore – you don't want anything to do with the nightmare it's become. Just seeing their faces, familiar and once so calm and warm, contrasted with the sharp edge of danger made you want to be sick.

Water – water will wake you up, right? That always works. Your feet slip on the dirt, struggling to gain purchase, forcing yourself to rush towards the cliffs edge – you have to repeat that it's just a dream like a mantra just to keep yourself calm when you look down, the lapping waves and jagged rocks making you almost reconsider. Not that you get the chance, really, when the wood of the tree beside you is splintered so violently you can feel them digging into your skin.

You don't even realize you've lost your footing until the edge of the cliff gives beneath your heel, air rushing around you and forcing what little breath was left in your lungs out violently. Your vision blurs into a collage of blue and grey, the sky above and the side of the cliff you find yourself falling from flooding your vision – you have to trust you'll simply wake up in your bed once you hit the water. You have to.

You don't want to imagine what it would mean if you didn't.

It's just a dream – all of it is just a dream, no. a nightmare.

And as the water parts from the impact of your body against the surface, it drags you down like an anchor weighed against your chest. Your vision bleeds into white, a chill enveloping your limbs until you feel numb – dead, probably. You must be dead. You died and you plead that you wake up back at home, exhaling whatever breath you had left, cold stinging your throat like shards of glass.

Anchored weightlessly in frigid cold, blinded by stark white, your fleeting thoughts are silenced as your consciousness flickers in and out, lingering long enough only to hear the murmur of a raspy, unearthly voice.

"I believe the experiment can be considered a success, Princess."

118 notes · View notes

winnie-the-monster · 8 months ago

Text

“She knew Colin wasn’t going to marry her but at least he danced with her at every ball, and he made her laugh, and every now and then she made him laugh, and she knew that that would have to be enough.”

#I wish I could’ve gotten a better shot of Colin’s smile in the 3rd one #quotes #romancing mister bridgerton #rmb #bridgerton #multi #polin #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #penelope x colin #colin x penelope

239 notes · View notes

waiting4inspiration · 2 years ago

Text

The first part/prologue is done! I'm so excited to carry on writing this!

Bucky x vampire!reader who's on a vendetta to kill off all persons associated to HYDRA because they made her into the "monster" she is today, but when she encounters the Winter Soldier, she sees that he is not the kind of man she heard about. He seems more...human than she thought. So, instead of killing him, she saves him from a coup of HYDRA agents.

Would you read some of something like this?

#An idea I have #Because I'm in a vampire mood #Yes #I still am working on the #dark!winter soldier #Multi-shot

19 notes · View notes

tinyluvs · 9 days ago

Text

⁺‧₊˚ smoke and mirrors 𖤐 swiss&mountain˚₊‧⁺

❥ summary; mountain is a little self conscious, swiss refuses to shut up about how perfect mountain really is, or mirror sex :3 ❥ warnings; anal sex, slight rimming, references to drugs, body worship (?), mirror sex, porn with feelings, idiots in love :) ❥ authors note; i don’t even know if like this anymore, enjoy !!!❥ wc; 5.4k ₊˚��♡⁺‧₊˚𖤐 read on ao3; ˗ˏˋ ꒰꒰ here !! ꒱꒱ ˎˊ˗ 𖤐˚₊.⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

smoke and steam collide in the air in front of mountain’s face as he exits the bathroom, steam pouring out from the humid room behind him while smoke billows from between swiss’ lips where he lays on his bed, his attention turning from his phone to mountain, half lidded eyes watching him in the mirror

“hey pretty boy,” swiss hums, his voice low and dangerous like it often is when he’s high, or at least getting there. his phone drops onto the mattress somewhere as he bustles, leaning slightly on his side to continue watching the earth ghoul as he ventures further into his room

mountain had forgotten to steal clothes from swiss’ dresser before his shower, leaving him without any other option than to come out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped tightly around his bottom half. of course, swiss has seen everything that’s currently being hidden but those are different circumstances. regardless, swiss shamelessly stares at him, or rather more, his reflection, and mountain starts to heat up

a blush settles over his cheeks and he wonders if there’s any air left in the room at all. clean air, that isn’t milky with steam or smoke, that can filter into his lungs, which suddenly don’t seem to be filling up fast enough. holes burn into the back of his head as he reaches swiss’ dresser, tugging a drawer open in search of boxers, sweatpants, anything he can throw onto his body

“stop staring,” he murmurs as the red under his skin starts to travel down his neck, heating it’s path as it goes. he pulls out a pair of underwear and sweatpants, leaving them in a small pile on the top of the dresser while he searches for a shirt

swiss doesn’t stop staring, the holes in mountain’s head burning deeper and bigger by the second, “but how can i when you’re so handsome,” swiss teases, light and airy around a mouthful of smoke that coils up towards the ceiling

“i’m not,” mountain mumbles, pushing a drawer shut harder than he meant to, the entire piece of furniture tipping and bumping against the wall behind it. mountain whispers his reply, like he didn’t want swiss to hear it, though he does, he always does

a gasp escapes swiss before he can stop it, incredulous and over exaggerated, like he’s heard something terrible but in his opinion, he has, a sin slipped from mountain’s lips, “oh but you are,” he finally says, watching the way mountain’s tail bats around nervously under his towel

they’ve been through this thing, this game, this conversation, several times. swiss will make a positive comment about mountain, how he looks, his personality, anything and every single time mountain will disagree with him, completely unwilling to see himself as his pack mates see him

if you were to ask any of them they’d be quick to talk, beaming about how gentle and generous he is, how helpful and sweet or how handsome he is, desired by everyone that has had the pleasure of laying eyes on him and more often than not their compliments will be wrapped up with a gentle bow of love, all of them declaring just how much they love him

but, mountain will never accept any of these things, will brush them off, never once accepting a compliment that’s sent his way and that, in itself, no one would even consider to be one of his flaws because to them, he is without flaws, a perfect being in their eyes

“i’m not,” mountain argues back to swiss again, the blush fully blooming over his chest now. his search for a shirt goes forgotten about, his fingers busying themselves in a tray of rings on top of the dresser, swirling between cool metal while he attempts to distract himself from the conversation at hand

swiss sighs, not angry or with malice but slow and upset, something that settles deep in his chest with an ache, “mount-,”

mountain anticipates what is about to happen, what is about to be said and wants no part of it, “no,” he simply says, swiping the small pile of clothes from the dresser as he turns, refusing to even look in swiss’ direction before bundling himself back into the bathroom, the door clicking shut quietly behind him

it appears that there’s no air in the bathroom either as mountain leans against the door and wills his lungs to fill just enough for him to function normally. the clothes drop from under his arm, barely missing a puddle on the tiled floor as they fall into a heap next to his feet

condensation drips down the mirror, still fogged up and hiding his reflection from him, he prefers it this way though, not being forced to see the abundance of freckles that spread unevenly over his cheeks and chest or the way his antlers are slightly lopsided, one branching outwards while the other turns slightly upwards at the end instead

he’s not sure how long he stands staring at a blurred reflection of himself but if it wasn’t blurred it would be long enough that his brain would have completely distorted the image by now, twisting his reflection into something he wouldn’t even recognise but he would be convinced that it’s correct

gentle knocking on the door makes him jump, his body jerking as his head snaps away from the mirror, “mount, you okay in there?” swiss asks, his voice is gentle, steady and even but mountain flushes with the idea he’s made the multi ghoul worried, about him of all things

“u-uh yeah, i’ll be out in a minute,” he stumbles over his words as he turns, grabbing the pile of clothes from the floor as his towel takes their place. he hurries to dress himself, tugging boxers over his still damp thighs, the feeling makes him cringe but he refuses to make swiss wait any longer, let his concern build any further

when he finally opens the door he’s met with swiss, the multi ghoul leaning in the doorway with his head tilted and resting against the frame and a soft smile tugging at his lips, “hey,” he says, barely a whisper, his eyes never leaving mountains, though he doesn’t stare this time, his eyes fluttering shut in slow drawn out blinks

“hello,” mountain mumbles, his eyes tracking swiss’ hand as he pulls it out of his pocket and uncurls in the small space between them, palm open and facing upwards, an invitation. mountain flicks his gaze from swiss hand up to his face where the multi ghoul just nods, his hand making a slight grabbing motion in mountain’s peripheral

mountain drops his hand into swiss’, tension slipping away from his shoulders as swiss’ fingertips brush at his wrist. the feeling dances a line of being too ticklish but mountain likes it, his wrist getting heavier in swiss’ hold as he melts into the movement

silently swiss pulls on his wrist, not hard but enough to guide him out of the bathroom and towards his bed and mountain lets him, even as swiss turns them and walks him backwards until his calves are bumping the edge of the bed, prompting him to sit

he sits and looks up at swiss, who nudges his thighs apart to stand between them. smoke clouds around his head like a makeshift halo, which is ironic considering the tips of his horns are piercing through the thick air, creating clean lines in between the fog

swiss’ hands settle softly on the side of mountain’s neck, thumbs brushing the length of his jaw as he shuffles closer, close enough that the earth ghouls chin rests against the softness of his tummy, just under his navel, “so pretty,”

this time swiss doesn’t sound like he’s trying to prove a point, like he’s trying to convince mountain of it but instead like he’s thinking out loud, like his thoughts have grown legs and walked right out of his mouth before he could swallow them down and stop them

mountain chooses not to argue this time, so, he stays silent. his eyelashes kiss his cheeks and his fingers pick at a loose thread on the side seam of swiss’ sweatpants, content in his mates hold. swiss’ fingers drift from his jaw, sliding back to tangle into the hair at the base of his neck,

“you’re pretty,” mountain blurts awkwardly, one too many beats of silence between them that make his stomach knot but swiss smiles when he finally opens his eyes to look up at him and the knot unravels

“yeah? you think so?” swiss whispers, still smiling as he bends. the tip of his nose brushes against mountain’s before swiss tilts slightly to his left, lining their mouths up, hovering inches apart but he doesn’t act on it, not until mountain nods at his question and tilts his chin up

something swoops low in mountain’s belly when swiss kisses him, it always does but more often than not they’re caught up in a haze of lust, nipping and grabbing at each other so mountain has never had the time to fully process the swoop but while swiss holds his face so gently, like he’s terrified of breaking the bigger ghoul somehow, mountain feels it properly

he gasps softly, lips parted for less than a second before swiss is slotting between them to kiss at his bottom lip slowly. mountain’s back straightens, electric zapping up his spine while he pushes up into the kiss, his fingers pinching and pulling at the side of swiss’ pants

both ghouls' hands start to wander when swiss licks across mountain’s lip, tasting earthy in that way marijuana does and it’s all too enticing for mountain, a soft groan spills from his mouth. his fingers slide up the sides of swiss’ thighs until they reach his hips, squeezing lightly at the same time swiss squeezes at his shoulders

swiss isn’t sure if he pushes or mountain pulls but either way he ends up in the earth ghouls lap, his thighs pressing to mountains hips while mountain tugs him closer, arms looping around the multi ghouls back

“you’re,” swiss pauses, a little breathless as he breaks their kiss, “so fucking pretty,” he finishes, spoken like a mantra against a smattering of freckles just underneath mountain’s jaw. his lips trail further south, dancing along mountain’s neck and the top of his shoulder

mountain hums in a noncommittal way, neither agreeing nor disagreeing as his head tilts back to bare more of his neck to swiss. he starts to soften with swiss’ weight on top of him, slouching until he’s toppling back and dragging swiss with him, both of them bouncing lightly when mountain’s back hits the mattress

when swiss eventually pulls back from mountain’s neck, satisfied with the few purple marks he’s leaving behind, he looks blissed out. his lips are kiss swollen, shiny with spit and his eyes, which have started to redden around the edges, are somehow lit on fire with lust and twinkly with love, both at the same time

“look, how good you look right now,” swiss hums, sitting back on mountain’s thighs. the earth ghoul is splayed beneath him, antlers digging into the bed sheets, his hair a little tousled from swiss’ fingers, hazel green eyes blinking up at him in a question, swiss thinks he looks divine, “look,”

swiss takes hold on mountain’s jaw, turning and tilting his head until he’s looking back slightly over his shoulder and then, their eyes meet in the mirror. in the back of his mind mountain thinks the mirror has been moved, repositioned just for this, but he doesn’t have time to think as his cheeks start to heat up again

gently he tries to shake swiss off of him, allow himself to turn away from the mirror but swiss holds his jaw and his eye contact in their reflection. mountain lets his eyes wander a little, taking in swiss more than himself

swiss is painfully gorgeous, his horns aren’t lopsided, both of them curling back and then up towards the ceiling, identical twins, unlike the siblings mountain has on his head. little golden charms litter swiss’ hair, always managing to catch a light no matter where he is but as mountain’s eyes travel further down, away from his face, swiss starts to smirk

mountain takes in his shoulders, broad and muscly. his chest, the little bars that pierce his nipples and further south, past the softness of his tummy and then following the line of hair that disappears under swiss’ trouser line…

only then does mountain notice the tent forming in the front of swiss’ pants, the earth ghouls head turning away from their reflection, as if it’s lying to him, to look at the real thing and swiss lets him, crossing his arms over his chest and rolling his hips lightly

as he rolls his cock bobs underneath his sweatpants, a small, miniscule even, damp patch starting to darken the light grey fabric and mountain’s mouth waters. his fingers move fast, sliding up swiss’ thick thighs and just as he’s about to get to where he wants to be, swiss wraps his fingers around his wrists

“wha-,” mountain whispers, blinking up at swiss and then back at where his wrists are being guided down to the mattress, either side of his head while swiss holds them there, “swiss,” he whines, bucking his hips up and nudging his own cock against swiss’ ass

swiss shakes his head, the charms in his hair tinkling quietly, “not about me,” swiss swallows, looking down at mountain while he does everything he can to not sit back on the earth ghouls, now, very hard cock, “just let me show you,”

before mountain can ask what he means, swiss turns his head again, bringing him back to looking in the mirror. he holds mountain’s jaw for only a second this time, satisfied he’s not going to bolt away from him, or at least he hopes he won’t because swiss is on a mission now

“let me,” he mumbles, pausing to swallow thickly, “show you,” he pauses again to kiss at the front of mountain’s neck, lips curling up when mountain groans right beneath his lips, “how pretty you are,” he finishes, eyes flickering up to make sure mountain’s still looking in the mirror

“okay,” mountain practically mouths the word, barely a whisper even passing his lips. he watches swiss shuffle back on his thighs, sucking in a breath between his teeth when the multi ghoul’s ass brushes directly over his cock

“good boy,” swiss praises, a low rumble that vibrates through mountain. the earth ghoul whines high, the desired effect swiss was going for as he lowers his mouth to mountain’s collarbone, immediately worrying the thin skin with his fangs. mountain whimpers when he starts to suck though, the swoop in his stomach returning as swiss works his way over his shoulders

a path of purple bruises mark out where swiss has been, starting on the earth ghouls neck, then travelling over his shoulders and collarbones and then swiss continues down, nipping teasingly at mountain’s nipples

mountain watches as he goes, see’s his own chest heaving, his stomach clenching when swiss sucks a bruise into his hip. watches his back arch as swiss drags his fangs across the lowest part of his belly, stopping briefly to nuzzle against the light hairs there and then unceremoniously, swiss gets off of mountain all together “lift up f’me,”

straight away his hips push up enough for swiss to tug his pants down. in the mirror he sees his cock spring free, hissing when the sticky tip slaps his belly, no doubt smearing precum over his skin, though at the angle he’s at, he can’t quite see

fortunately, swiss can see mountain’s cock, thick and fat where it lays against his stomach. the tip of his cock is flushed red, leaking pre into a little puddle and swiss can’t help himself. he swipes his finger through the mess, whistling low to himself as he does and then looks into the mirror to find mountain’s gaze already locked onto him

with a smile that’s all fang and cheekiness, swiss licks at his finger, cleaning it of mountain’s slick while the earth ghoul’s jaw drops, his eyes widening, ��fuck swiss,” he whines, fingers twisting into the sheets

“uh huh,” swiss hums around his finger before pulling it from his mouth with a lewd pop. his tongue darts across his bottom lip, refusing to waste even a single drop of mountain, “you gonna keep watching for me?”

mountain nods, at a loss of what to say while he’s stuck, well, he’s not really. he could get up at any point but he doesn’t want to, especially not as swiss holds his gaze and slowly sinks to his knees between mountain’s thighs

“fuck, your thighs,” swiss groans, turning his head to lick a thick stripe from mountain’s knee, all the way up, his breath fanning against mountain’s heavy balls. the earth ghoul jerks a little, his own breath held in anticipation as he watches swiss’ head dip further down between his legs

the spade of swiss’ tail cuts through the air, catching mountain’s eyes and distracting him as swiss leans in and attaches his lips to the inside of mountain’s thigh, “shit,” mountain hisses, his hand shooting down to grab at swiss’ hair

swiss smirks against his skin, opening his mouth to lick and drag his fangs, red lines streaking up and down mountain’s thighs “pretty boy with the perfect fuckin’ thighs,” swiss sighs and mountain’s cock throbs, a little string of slick connecting the tip of his cock to the puddle just underneath it

in the mirror swiss reappears, his chin almost resting on mountain’s thigh, “pretty boy,” he moans, inching closer and closer to mountain, “with the perfect cock,”

mountain keens as swiss doesn’t give him a chance to process his words before he’s licking up the underside of his cock, from root to tip in one wet movement. his tongue swirls up and around mountain’s throbbing tip until he’s dragging his tongue against his slit

“swiss, f-fuck,” mountain pants, rolling his hips up to smear his cock against swiss lips, nudging them apart just enough for swiss to suck. a shudder wracks it’s way through mountain’s body, swiss watching in the mirror as it happens, the earth ghouls eyes fluttering shut for just a moment before he’s looking directly into swiss’ eyes

the fucker winks at him, swiss actually winks at him before starting to bob his head, inching mountain’s cock into his hot mouth all too slowly, the tip of his tongue tracing a vein as he goes

it’s no secret that mountain is big, in all senses of the word. his cock is thick and long, something that most struggle with. some only being able to suck him down half way, their hands jerking off what they can’t fit. but swiss always takes him to the base, opening his throat and breathing through his nose as it presses to the soft hairs around the base of mountains cock

“oh my, fuck-ing hell, swiss,” mountain chokes on his words, his cock kicking in swiss’ mouth as the multi ghoul nods his head ever so slightly, grinding the tip of mountain’s cock against the inside of his throat

swiss’ eyes start to water, a fat tear running down his cheek just as mountain pulls on his hair, pulling swiss off of his cock with a pop. drool drips from the corners of swiss’ mouth as he sucks in a breath, “y-your cock,” he all but heaves, “fills me up so fucking well,”

mountain cries, his eyes leaving the mirror as his head tilts back and his hips buck up. swiss smirks to himself in the mirror, one of his hands pressing to his own cock which, admittedly, is starting to ache. he squeezes lightly at himself through his pants while he waits for mountains eyes to meet his again

“hey,” swiss says after a minute, tapping his fingers on the inside of mountain’s thigh. the earth ghoul looks down between his thighs but swiss shakes his and nods towards the mirror, “there we go,” he chirps when mountain turns his head

the angle they’re at hides where swiss’ fingers are dancing up the backs of mountain’s thighs, pressing into his skin, “hold them,” swiss tells mountain but the earth ghoul stares blankly at him, his brain moving far to slow for verbal instructions

so, swiss helps him out. he pushes moutain’s thighs back and watches their reflection, mountain gasps and jumps, his own hands curling around the backs of his thighs to keep himself spread and presented nicely

truth be told, mountain’s neck is really starting to hurt but if he moves, swiss will move and swiss is looking at him like he’s prey, his final meal, something but swiss? swiss is watching mountain’s perfect little hole, shiny and dripping with slick as it clenches around nothing

“damn it, you’re perfect,” swiss growls, his brain unable to come up with anything softer or sweeter as he dives in, pressing his tongue flat against mountain’s rim, “so,” he pauses to pull back, just enough to spit on the ring of muscle, “fucking perfect,”

and then he dives back in, leaving mountain to wail as swiss laps at him. the tip of his tongue teases, around and around, just soaking him and getting him dripping with spit and slick. his fingers inch closer, slipping between mountain’s hole and his mouth, “fuck, give it to me, please,” mountain whimpers

“yeah? you need it that bad?” swiss teases, cocking his head to the side in the mirror but, he’s not really teasing because he’s already pressing the tip of his finger into mountain and as the earth ghoul relaxes, just like he always does, swiss’ finger starts to sink into him

“o-oh, swiss,” mountain whines, though he’s not really sure what for but swiss hums and presses his lips to mountain’s thigh gently anyway, “move or, fuck, do something, “swiss,”

swiss kisses his thigh once more and then starts to slip his finger out, right to the tip before pushing back in, both ghouls groaning over the slick wet slide of it. mountain clenches down hard, his thighs tensing in his palms as swiss starts to finger him open, a second finger already teasing to slip in next to the first

slick drips down swiss’ finger and into the palm of his hand and he groans, his cock spitting pre that soaks into his pants, “oh shit,” swiss groans, tipping his head back to the ceiling, which mountain see’s in the mirror though he can’t see why swiss is doing it

“another, gim-give me another,” mountain huffs, doing his best to wiggle his hips and press his ass into the fingers teasing around his taut rim. he’s about to open his mouth again, to beg for it but swiss gets to him first, pulling his finger out and as he slides back in, a second joins alongside the first

mountain’s cock jerks against his tense stomach at the slight stretch, his back arching a little and though he may never admit it, being made to watch himself being taken apart is curling a dangerous heat through his stomach at an alarming rate

“so good, so fucking perfect,” swiss mumbles, entraced by the way mountain’s stretched perfectly around his fingers. he twists his wrist just right, crooks his fingers just so and drags his fingertips over mountain’s prostate

a gurgle leaves mountain’s throat, his eyes pinching shut while swiss watches his reflection, his own cock throbbing at the whole scene. in theory it’s filthy but somehow between them it doesn’t feel that way in the slightest, it’s just swiss and mountain, his mountain

“please, oh fuck, yeah there-,” mountain pants as swiss taps and rubs at his prostate before starting to scissor his fingers slowly, “fuck me swiss, need it s’bad,” mountain rambles, his thighs starting to tremble, vibrate almost, in his hands

normally swiss would at least try and work a third finger in, get mountain nice and loose but swiss isn’t sure how much longer he can hold out and he imagines mountain is starting to feel the same way, judging by the endless stream of pre leaking from his cock, which has flushed a gorgeous shade of purple

“y-yeah, okay,” swiss murmurs, slowly pulling his fingers from mountain’s body, growling at the slick wet sound that comes with it. on shaky legs and achy knees he stands between mountain’s thighs, “get on your knees,” swiss rushes to say as he folds over mountain to kiss him quickly, his free hand going south to palm at his own throbbing cock

mountain scrambles while swiss shoves his pants down, kicking them across the floor before joining mountain on the bed, “no c’mere,” swiss groans and grabs at mountain. the earth ghoul had been on his knees, just like swiss had asked but he wasn’t facing the right way

it’s not quite manhandling but swiss is moving mountain to exactly where he wants him, lined up in front of him, mountain’s sweaty back against his chest, directly in front of the mirror “fuck, look at you,” swiss swallows, looking over mountain’s shoulder at their reflection

he looks a sight for sore eyes, his hair is well and truly messed up now but still, somehow, it looks right. his torso is littered with bruises and little red lines and scratches left by swiss’ fangs. his cock hangs heavy, still dripping and if swiss looks real close, he’s sure he can see it pulsing

“perfect,” swiss sighs, turning to nuzzle his nose just behind mountain’s ear, he presses a quick kiss there and then slides his palm up mountain’s spine, pressing down until the earth ghoul bends forwards, planting his hands into the mattress to steady himself. swiss grinds his hips forwards, loudly hissing when his cock slips against mountain’s ass, warm and so, so, fucking wet

mountain is once again forced to watch in anticipation, thankfully this time without an ache building in his neck. swiss grinds back and forth, one of his hands on mountain’s shoulder while the other wraps around his own cock. he taps the sticky head of his cock to mountain’s puckered rim and then lines himself up

“fuck, ye-yes,” mountain’s jaw hangs slack as swiss pushes forward, an extra stretch from the slight lack of prep but it burns just on the right side of pain. mountain’s heat overwhelms swiss almost immediately, the multi ghoul having to still with just the head of his cock splitting mountain open, “please,” mountain whines, not quite realising why swiss is stopping

“i will, just give me a second,” swiss whispers through clenched teeth but, mountain doesn’t feel very much like waiting any longer. slowly but surely he presses back onto swiss, sliding himself down swiss’ length while the multi ghoul grunts and digs his fingers into mountain’s shoulders, “fuck mount,” he nearly shouts

the wrecked sound they both make when mountain fully sits himself back on swiss is loud, rattling off all four walls in the room, “oh fuckfuckfuck,” mountain’s head hangs, his chin touching his chest while his body adjusts, thankfully he doesn’t move otherwise swiss might have accidentally cut this whole thing tragically short

swiss’ tail wraps around mountain’s torso, pinning their bodies together, forcing mountain upright against swiss as the multi ghouls hand snakes up his body, wrapping gently around his neck, his thumb and finger at mountain’s jaw, “look,” swiss whispers against his ear

with a little whine, mountain looks, immediately moaning when he does. swiss is watching him over his shoulder, eyes burning into his again but mountain doesn’t look away this time, even as a blush spreads over his face, neck and chest, “swiss, it’s bad luck to have a mirror facing a bed,” mountain points out, a little high and whiny with an attempt to grind his ass back onto swiss

swiss chuckles against his shoulder, “well i’m feeling pretty fuckin’ lucky right now,” and then finally, he starts to move, slowly albeit, shallow thrusts that barely grind his cock into mountain but neither are particularly bothered, groaning and panting loudly at the slightest movements.

“fuck me, properly,” mountain asks after a minute, feeling maybe a little bit bold but the way his cheeks burn regardless isn’t lost on swiss. mountain wraps a loose fist around his own cock, humping his hips forwards and that jumpstarts swiss, the multi ghoul pulling back slightly before canting forwards to meet mountain’s thrusts in the middle

“you, are, so, fucking, perfect,” swiss chants, each word punctuated with a thrust that mountain feels in his chest, air being punched from his lungs every time their bodies meet with a clap of skin on skin, “perfect boy, my perfect boy,”

tears slip from mountain’s eyes, his free hand reaching back to slide around swiss’ thigh, squeezing tight and grounding himself, “yours,” he repeats with a cry, his hand practically flying over his sticky cock as he hurtles towards his orgasm

swiss tuts, shakes his head in the mirror, “my what?” he asks before sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, his eyes flickering down to watch his cock slipping in and out of mountain’s tight clutch, “say it mountain,” he prompts and sinks his weight into his knees, tilts his hips up just right and on the next thrust he nails his cock right against mountain’s prostate, “say. it.”

mountain sobs, “i-i’m yo-, oh fuck,” he trails off into a whine, panting and shaking as his hand jerks over his cock with earnest. swiss presses his fangs to the top of mountain’s shoulders, eyes burning into him in the mirror, “fuck swiss, ‘m gonna cum, ‘m gonna fu-cking cum,”

“not until you say it,” swiss huffs, willing his own orgasm to hold off for just a minute even though it’s right there. swiss’ hand slides from mountain’s neck to his hair, pulling back enough for swiss to get his teeth dragging against his neck, “say you’re perfect, say you’re mine, then you can cum,”

“fuck!” mountain shouts, squeezing his eyes shut and letting fat tears drip down his cheeks, “i’m yours, i’m yours, your perfect boy,” he rambles through a heave and swiss growls, doubling down before he even finishes the sentence

swiss fucks into him hard and maybe a little too fast, causing mountain to hold on, his fingers digging into swiss’ thigh more than enough to leave dotted bruises, “fuck yeah you are,” swiss groans, listening to the little ruined sounds mountain’s making, “gonna cum f’me?”

mountain nods, as best he can with swiss’ hand wound tight into his hair but words are useless to him, just a myriad of garbled sounds tumbling past his lips. he clenches impossibly tight around swiss, a little close to shoving the multi ghoul out completely but swiss drives forwards, bumps the tip of his cock against where mountain needs him most and they both fall

“fucking, oh fuck, shi-t mountain,” swiss rambles when, in the mirror, mountain’s cock starts to squirt, thick ropes of cum splashing over the bed in front of them, soaking puddles into the fabric, “o-oh fuck,”

swiss’ cock twitches deep inside mountain and then the damn breaks, spilling hot and entirely too fast as he does his best to fuck mountain through it, “oh, oh fuck, oh,” mountain shudders with overstimulation, his body feeling like a live wire as swiss’ cum floods into him with each little thrust

eventually the little humped thrusts stop, both boys spent and panting as mountain sinks back against swiss, his head rolling back onto swiss’ shoulder. little puffs of air fan over swiss’ ear as mountain whimpers quietly. a stray tear runs down the earth ghouls cheek though it doesn’t get far before swiss reaches up to swipe it away

the tail holding their bodies together loosens and falls away, hanging limp behind swiss with little to no current purpose, “i love you,” swiss pants, his body bending as he rests his forehead between mountain’s shoulder blades, “perfect boy,”

mountain nods, doesn’t argue, doesn’t even want to as their bodies sway together, “i love you too,” he confesses what swiss already knows, quietly, while swiss maneuvers them into a sort of pile on the bed, their faces towards each other, no mirror in sight, “what?” mountain whispers when swiss smiles wide, all fang and teeth, his tongue peeking out between them

swiss takes in a deep breath and then peppers kisses all over mountain’s face, “perfect, perfect, mine, all mine, perfect,” he mumbles after every little kiss and then as swiss swoops in to kiss him properly,

“my perfect boy”

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! & comment! i’ll give you a kiss if you do, mwah! send prompts to my ask box!

𖤐 ghouls masterlist 𖤐 lemme know if there’s any mistakes 😅

86 notes · View notes

alloftheimagines · 2 years ago

Text

joel miller | first kill

masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

words: 1.8k

warnings: blood, violence, strong language, angst, hurt/comfort in the best way joel knows how, they/them reader.

synopsis: in which the reader is forced to take a life for the first time in order to save the man they love. not requested just more brain rot from me.

tags: @sweetbabygirlsworld

When the first gunshot sounds, you bite down on your tongue to trap a scream, tasting blood. Joel ushers you and Ellie down behind the truck, and you wrap an arm around her to keep her close. Joel hunches over you, protecting you both. You hate that he has to; hate that he sees it as his job.

But he’s the only one who can keep you safe.

Your wide-eyed gaze snags on a small opening in the wall. “Ellie. Go hide in there. When Joel says go, you go.”

“Fuck, no. I’m not leaving you guys.”

“Do as you're told,” Joel bites out. He peeks over the top of the truck before returning his focus to you. As he does, a bullet pings off the metal and you all cower. “Shit. There’s two of ‘em.”

Your trembling hand reaches into your waistband for your pistol. You’ve never used it, not once, Joel always making sure you don’t have to. But there’s three of you now, and you’re not sure there’ll be an easy way out this time.

He looks over the truck again. “Now. Go now. Stay low.”

You urge Ellie away, and she crawls to the hole at the same time Joel returns his attention to the shooters. You breathe a sigh of relief when she vanishes in the shadows.

“You, too,” he orders, surprising you.

“No,” you reply. “Two against one? I don’t fucking think so. I’m staying.”

He sighs, jaw ticking in frustration, but there isn’t time. Footsteps grow closer. He rises into a crouch, balances his shotgun…

Shoots.

You flinch as you hear the body hit the floor, and then another round of bullets whistles through the air from the remaining gunman. “Stay there,” Joel says. “Don’t move.”

You wouldn’t know how even if you wanted to, frozen in place. Silence blankets you for a moment, and then Joel’s finger flexes over the trigger.

His second shot rings through the dilapidated building.

“Gone,” he whispers. “They’re gone.”

But you both know those shots were too loud, and anybody could be coming. Slowly, you rise onto your feet, peering over the truck. You try not to look at the bodies, the blood, as you ready your gun with both hands, just like he taught you.

Nothing.

And then a figure comes at Joel in a blur from a side door, and the two of them collapse in a writhing heap.

“Joel!”

The attacker is armed, and he has Joel pinned down by the shotgun. Joel is grunting, suffocating. You point your gun without thinking, aiming straight for the back of the stranger’s head. Fear spikes through you all at once, and your fingers curl around the trigger in a deathly squeeze.

The gunfire rents through the air, causing your ears to ring. The attacker slumps on top of Joel, and only as you see the blood blossoming just above his neck do you realise what you’ve done. The gun wavers in your hand like a ship in a tempest. You drop it, imagining that crimson staining your palms as the stench of gunpowder chokes you.

You’ve killed. Taken a life.

Before you can worry about the bullet going through, Joel pushes the body away, struggling to rise to his feet. His face is splattered in blood. You barely notice him, too busy looking at the attacker’s now visible features. He barely looks eighteen, maybe twenty at most, maybe far younger.

A kid.

You shot a kid. Somebody’s son, brother, nephew.

Joel is saying your name, but you feel like you’re underwater.

“Don’t look at him, look at me,” he commands, cupping your jaw and tearing your gaze from the lifeless boy on the floor. “It’s okay. You had to. You had to do it. I’m here, okay? I’m here.”

Slowly, you begin to shake your head as tears roll down your cheeks. “What did I do?” A sob falls from you. “What have I done?”

“Shit.” Joel tugs you into his warm, hard chest, and your tears soak into his jacket.

“He’s dead,” you’re saying, over and over. “I killed him. He’s dead.” And there is so much blood. You peek over his shoulder again and wonder if that speck there is brain matter on the floor or just your own brain torturing you.

“I’m sorry.” Joel rocks you, his palm hard as stone as his fingers tangle in your hair. “I’m so sorry, darlin'. But we have to go now. We have to hide. People will be coming.”

“There’s a way out through here!” Ellie calls.

It’s a blur as Joel lets you go, picking up your discarded gun and slipping it into his waistband. You can do nothing but stare at the life you’ve taken. It doesn’t feel right to leave the body, to leave him. Your victim.

But you’re being pulled away, through a door, a window, into the street and another ruined building, running, hiding, Joel clearing each step along the way as he keeps you tucked beside him. You stagger on numb feet, looking back every now and again to the building where everything changed. The building where you first took a life.

You have to stop after what feels like years of moving through the city, bile rising up your throat. You vomit all over the sidewalk. Joel’s hand strokes soothing circles across your shoulders — “It’s okay, darlin’. It’s okay.” — and then you’re being pulled away again, again, again. Finally, you find a place to stop. Joel checks every door, every window. You wipe your mouth, your tears, your snotty nose, finding that you’re still shaking uncontrollably. You imagine your freckles are blood stains and have to hide your hands.

“Look at me.” He’s cupping your jaw again, his face unfocused. You think about wiping away the blood crusting his weathered skin, but you can’t bear to touch it. “It wasn’t your fault, okay? You did what you had to. You saved me. It was my fault, baby. I should’ve seen ‘em coming. I should have known better. I should have been the one protecting you.”

There’s no answer that you can give. No answer that will undo what you’ve just done. You didn’t think it would feel like this, killing someone, especially when you know the attacker would’ve killed Joel if you hadn’t pulled that trigger, but it feels like the life has seeped out of you as well as him. It feels like there is a darkness weighing you down now, and you know for certain you will see that gaunt face every day, every night.

“We’re going to have to settle here for a bit,” he’s saying to Ellie. “Give them time.”

You sink down without taking off your backpack and are unable to keep from looking at your hands again. They won’t stop shaking. You’re certain they’ll never stop again.

Another hand covers yours. Joel’s. He’s knelt in front of you, wearing an expression full of sorrow — of loss. Because he’s lost you. The person he knows, the person who has never taken a life, who has done everything they can not to leave the world worse off or bloodier than it already is.

He squeezes your fingers tightly. “Listen to me. Are you listenin’?”

Your bottom lip wobbles, but you nod.

“I know,” he says. “I know what this means. I know that something has changed today. I know how it feels to carry ghosts around. But I need you to stay with me, right here. I need you to focus, just for a little while longer. You hear?”

You swallow. With the rough pad of his thumb, he wipes away your tears. “We can’t stay here. We’re in the open. We need to keep moving, but we can’t do that if you don’t come back to me.”

“I thought… I thought you were going to die,” you whisper. “I thought…”

“I know, baby, and you did so good. You did so fuckin’ good.” He shifts beside you to press his forehead against yours. Both clammy. “You saved me. You kept me alive.”

You took one life for the sake of another. And the worst part is that, even now, when you are breaking on this old carpet, you know you would do it again if it meant keeping Joel safe. Joel and Ellie. It’s the reason you didn’t think twice.

You can’t lose him. You can’t do this without him. He’s all you have to cling onto, and so you do, knotting your fingers in his shirt as though reminding yourself he’s here, he’s real, he’s worth the guilt and the pain and the fear.

“I’m a killer,” you breathe.

“Sometimes, there is no line between killin’ and survivin’. Not in this world. I’m so goddamn sorry I couldn’t stop him. I’m so…” His face crumples, eyes turning glossy. But he sniffs, shakes himself out of it quickly as he places a kiss to your forehead. “It shouldn’t have happened. But it has. And now there’s nothing we can do to change it.”

You close your eyes, and he’s there to catch more tears, more pain. Nausea rolls through you, but you swallow it down, catching a glimpse of Ellie. Though she’s trying to hide it, she’s terrified, and it’s written all over her face.

Better you than her, you think. Better this world makes you a killer than a fourteen-year-old.

“Okay. Okay, I’m ready to keep going.”

“You sure?” Joel whispers.

You nod.

He kisses you again, this one lingering enough that Ellie fakes a gag, which earns her a dirty look from Joel.

“I’m going to do everything I can to make sure that this doesn’t happen again,” he vows. "Everything."

You brush your fingertips across his cheek sadly, knowing it shouldn’t have to be him all the time. He shouldn’t be the only one fighting his demons.

Now, he doesn’t have to be.

“We have to protect each other,” you say. “Give me my gun.”

He gives you a reluctant grimace. “Darlin’...”

“It’s too late to go back,” you say, and you’re not just talking about the kill, the blood on your hands. You’re talking about the way you love him, the way you can’t stop loving him. The way your love has somehow made you into a fierce, broken, desperate killer. And a survivor, like he said. It’s too late to go back, and even if you could, you wouldn’t.

You love him.

He must see it all over your face, because he softens as he tucks a sweat-slick strand of hair behind your ear. So gentle. He’s so rarely this gentle.

“Give me the gun, Joel,” you ask again.

He does, dropping it into your outstretched hand. You want to flinch against the cool metal, but you fight that feeling, slipping the gun away quickly.

You try to compose yourself, moulding your features into something you hope seems reassuring. Joel dips his head before standing, holding his hand out for you. You take it and let him pull you up, and somehow, the world doesn’t crumble beneath your feet. Somehow, the earth keeps turning.

Somehow, he doesn’t look at you like you’re a monster. So you keep going, keep dragging this new ghost around the city with you in the hopes that one day it will be worth it.

1K notes · View notes

bubba-luz · 4 months ago

Note

Do you have like a summary of petals somewhere? From what i can understand from the comics its a zosan centric infection au and i wanna know more

Hi, thank you for the question.

Petals was an au for a now defunct fic I was writing earlier this year called “petals, a bloodied tongue” . I had published the first chapter and was working on the second chapter, but due to lack of interest from others and not really knowing what I was doing with a big story I wanted, I deleted it. I did make art for it, as you can see, and some notes when I was trying to map out the story.

You got it mostly right, it is an infection au, though I considered it be more Zoro centric, since I planned it to be told majority from his pov. I got the idea from One Piece Movie 6 Baron Omatsuri and the Secret Island and a 2008 film called The Ruins. It was a plant-based horror story with some cosmic elements. I mostly wanted to write a story where Zoro couldn’t really protect anyone. Zoro makes it his job to be the strongest and always protect the crew. But this is something beyond his control and he can’t slash his way through it.

The Strawhats end up on a mysterious island after a strange storm the night before. The island looks peaceful and has weird animals and creatures on it, but overall nice temporary vacation spot. Then Chopper goes missing. Then Nami and Robin. They find Robin, but shes sick? Nami is no where to be seen. So they eventually get picked off one by one. I made a numbered list of who goes first:

And manner of “death”:

The island itself is alive, it is it’s own being/animal. The souls of those that are consumed are trapped at the heart of the island, and their bodies are essentially fertilizers, some people grow into trees, or flowers, etc. There was a scene I wrote as a test run, of zoro finding a tangerine tree, the tangerines taste metallic like blood, and the juice is a red orange. So their blood also runs through the island.

For humans and the like it tends to infect them, they may cough up blood, sweat, hallucinate. They grow weaker in a matter of hours and lose mobility and the ability to speak, as there are plants growing inside them. Eventually they bloom and are consumed by the island.

Majority of the arts I did were scenes from the story, like Zoro giving the flowers to Sanji, Sanji telling Zoro he’s sick, Frobin having a moment.

This is the full layout notes I did:

I had some in between stuff planned, like Robin’s group exploring abandoned ruins which is where they are attacked and Robin is infected. Zoro and Robin have a conversation about some groups believing that when they die they become a star in the sky, so, eventually, they’ll see their loved ones again. Zoro digging into the ground hysterically after he realizes Sanji is gone.

The infection hits Sanji the hardest and slowest because of his genes and he’s the last to leave Zoro.

As for why Zoro never gets infected, I had this weird idea that the island recognizes Zoro as an animal like the island is. This would tie back to Sanji telling Zoro that he “doesn’t think Zoro is a mindless wild animal, even if he fights like one sometimes.”

Also I forgot to post this:

This would be Luffy’s death, but he comes back as the little dancing monkey orchid that Zoro sees when he’s all alone. Zoro believes he has lost it from grief.

Chopper turned into the little bean guys you keep seeing, he’s the one with the broken leaf. He seems to still remember Zoro.

Sanji turns into a field of dandelions and daisies. He got infected when he smelled the flowers Zoro gave him. The field seems to protect Zoro from any hostile animals.

Zoro has these recurring dreams of Sanji running away and leaving him, much to Zoro’s efforts. His final dream Sanji places a hand on Zoro’s heart and smiles and disappears, Zoro wakes up to Sanji gone.

Zoro also sleeps more now, since he sleeps with Sanji. He feels safe with Sanji, so he let’s his guard down.

Here’s chapter one, unfinished two, test run

If you have any specific questions, please send an ask in the inbox.

#ask #petals #I’ve decided to stick to one shots instead #im not that good of writer so 🤷#theres plenty multi chapter fics out there 🥸#so go read them instead lmao

93 notes · View notes

shinelikethunder · 11 months ago

Text

you ever stare into the middle distance and just. think. about how Doctor Who series one episode eight "Father's Day" first signaled that time itself had gone screwy by having the radio start playing a song that didn't exist yet in 1987....... and then lapse right back into Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up." in an episode that aired on 14 May 2005. two full years before the invention of the rickroll.

#i'd say that's some 'twin peaks accurately predicts the length of its own multi-decade hiatus' shit #but at least past a certain point david lynch got to *aim* a shot he'd already called #paul cornell writing a silly little Wait That Doesn't Exist Yet gag that didn't even know it was rickrolling us from 2005 is much freakier #doctor who #father's day #ninth doctor

184 notes · View notes

nicooriia · 8 months ago

Text

I had finished this earlier this year but only posted it on youtube. Saw a fellow post their part for the same MAP so I wanted to render mine too!

... why do I insist adding gradients that look like ass in .gif...?

#spyro #animated #multi animator project #its my first time animating lipsync #i almost animated this little dude with a 360 camera shot around him and I wanted to implode.#I also almost added more allies behind him and said nah he's got enough friends

129 notes · View notes

skzdarlings · 2 months ago

Text

i am writing so many jisung stories at once this is ridiculous 😭

#finishing the last kingsguard chapter. two one-shots and the prompt fill. started another multi part.#someone needs to prohibit my access to his face. i see him and suddenly a six part franchise and tv spin off is in my mind

50 notes · View notes

kingleedo · 7 months ago

Text

ONEWE 'A book in Memory' | Yonghoon

90 notes · View notes

megaerakles · 9 months ago

Text

To Whom It May Concern

Tim couldn’t stay.

No matter what Bruce had said when he caught Tim in the act of laying the paper trail to establish his Fake Uncle, no matter how long Dick had sobbed into the phone at him during an inordinately expensive long distance (read: off planet) phone call, no matter how much Alfred had been fussing over him and insisting it was no trouble at all to care for him since Tim’s scheme had been revealed and promptly foiled, it just didn’t change the fact that Tim couldn’t stay. Truthfully, the Wayne family’s apparent sudden burst of affection for him actually made this whole thing worse because somewhere along the way, without even trying, Tim had failed to keep things wholly professional between them and somehow tricked them into thinking he belonged in their family!

He couldn’t let it stand. For the sake of Jason’s memory, for the sake of preserving the sanctity of the true Wayne family, he had to stop this… this absurdity of pretending that Tim belonged with them from continuing! Tim had to run. Tim had to vanish. It was the only way to make things right again. Sure, the thought of never seeing any of them again, the thought of being done with Bruce and Alfred and Dick and Barbara and everyone in his life he currently held dear once and for all made it feel as though his heart was being ripped out of his chest only to be shoved back down his throat to stop the flow of air into his body—but it didn’t matter. He didn’t matter, not nearly as much as they did. This would be for their own good.

Tim was leaving, and it turned out to be easier than he thought it would be in the end. Not emotionally easier, but logistically easier. Bruce had been extra attentive lately, so he thought he’d have to fake an injury and get ‘benched’ so that they would lower their guard long enough for him to slip away. But by some divine stroke of luck, a new player had waltzed onto Gotham’s criminal scene not too long after Tim’s Fake Uncle plan fell through and started making threats against Batman and Robin. They had apparently freaked B out enough to prompt him to send Tim off to Titan’s Tower to ‘focus on his team for awhile’. Tim had accepted the command with the requisite amount of complaint, planted some fake texts to make it look like he’d actually communicated to his Team that he would be there, shoved everything from his guest room in the Manor that he couldn’t bear to part with into a duffel bag underneath a spare uniform, gave Bruce what only he knew was a more emotionally charged nod goodbye than usual, and then poof. Tim Drake was zapped out of the Batcave for the last time ever.

He let himself have one night in the Tower. Partly to catch a few hours of sleep in a familiar and secure environment, but mostly so he could clean up his room for its next occupant, sweep his belongings and his person for any extra trackers, and repack his bag more efficiently. He also took the time to grab a spare backpack and fill it up with emergency rations. While he was taking plenty of cash, he didn’t want to risk having to go into stores with security cameras for a while, at least until he’d cleared a suitable distance from San Francisco proper as well as implemented the first of his many planned disguises. He didn’t think a bottle of cheap hair dye and some colored contacts would be enough to fool Oracle indefinitely, but if he was appropriately cautious it might keep her from getting a confirmation of his location long enough for the Bats to either get bored looking for him or to actually realize they were better off without him around.

When the early rays of dawn started to bathe the sides of Titan’s Tower in ember colored light, he was off. He left behind seven trackers pulled from his clothes and bag and one more from behind his ear; he’d kept the one he noticed in his favorite pair of sneakers because it was a type that wouldn’t start transmitting data until the Bats actively started tracking it and he was hoping to find someone who wore his size at the bus station he could pay to wear them so he could throw them off for even longer. If all else failed, he would just toss them in an out of the way trash can. He had also left a letter of resignation for Batman that he’d whipped up based off of an online template, signed and sealed and awaiting discovery atop the pillow in his nearly empty dorm room (he had tried for something more personal, a longer note of explanation for Bruce about why he couldn’t stay despite being asked, but—the words just wouldn’t come, and he’d been running out of time). His bag was heavy, courtesy of all of the extra supplies he’d grabbed in anticipation of having to evade not only Batman’s team but the rest of the Justice League. His heart was heavy, courtesy of emotional baggage that he wished was as easy to unpack as his actual bags would be when he finally found somewhere to settle.

He boarded the first bus he saw after he’d gone a few blocks and took a seat towards the back, where he leaned against the window and stared back at the iconic giant T that he used to belong in, however briefly, until it disappeared from sight. And just like that, Tim Drake’s life as Robin was over.

—

To Whom It May Concern:

This letter is to formally notify you that I’m resigning as Robin in Gotham City, effective immediately.

Thank you so much for the opportunity to work with you all for the past three years. I’ve enjoyed getting to know the team and appreciated the opportunity to learn about vigilantism and hone my detective skills. I’m excited to take these skills with me as I pursue the next step of my career.

During the past two weeks, I have done everything possible to wrap up any ongoing cases and leave no unfinished business. The Robin suit as well as my spare have been cleaned and placed in the armory of Titan’s Tower along with any gear I have been issued.

I wish Batman and team the best, but am afraid I will be out of contact for the foreseeable future.

Sincerely,

T. J. Drake

—

Red Hood stalked into Titan’s Tower with all the grace of a wildcat closing in on its prey, his vicious smirk hidden by his helmet, his unauthorized entrance hidden by virtue of the heroes’ own stupidity in failing to remove his codes from the database. Seriously—he’d thought gaining entry into their so-called fortress would be the hardest part of this little trip, and had only tried his access codes for the sake of checking the most stupidly obvious Plan A off his list! For them to work, to realize that there was nothing truly separating the precious sidekicks from the wrath of a vengeance minded crime lord, well… it sure made the message he was about to send feel all the more poignant.

He had come equipped to subdue an entire horde of Teeny Titans without hurting them (much), but to his surprise, the tower was empty of kid sidekicks despite Robin having been sent to work with his team yesterday afternoon, a fact Jason had gleaned last night from listening to the mind numbing chatter of Nightwing being bored on a stakeout and wanting to chat with anyone over the comms Jason had hacked into. Which he’d done in order to better plan his aggressive takeover of Crime Alley, not because he missed hearing his family’s voices. Nope.

(Since coming back to Gotham, it had been more difficult than he anticipated to stick to the plan when some part of his mind still stubbornly clung to those foolish, childhood dreams of belonging and family and a father who gave a shit and things like that, and kept popping up with annoying questions like ‘what if he revealed his identity to Dick or Alfred or someone just to see if maybe Talia had been right and they’d want him back after all. Clearly, the existence of a new Robin meant that they’d never really given a damn about him, so he was going to go through with this thing, just watch him.)

Truly this had to be fate, because the path to Robin was practically unfolding before him with no barriers. All that was left to do was find where in this gigantic clubhouse the itty little birdie was nesting. Jason tried the common room first. Then the kitchen. Then the rec room. And then the training floor. And the med bay. And then the armory, where he found Robin’s suit, but no actual Robin. He supposed the next place to check would be Robin’s bedroom, because even though it was well past eleven, Drake was a teenager and could conceivably be sleeping in, especially since there was no Alfred around to rouse him at a reasonable hour. Luckily, the doors on the floor with sleeping quarters were all clearly marked with either the name or symbol of the person it belonged to, so it was easy enough to find the one with that all too familiar stylized ‘R’. Jason paused to take a steadying breath before gritting his teeth and deciding to really make an entrance by kicking down the door.

…To an empty bedroom. Like, not just devoid of Tim Drake, but also devoid of books, trinkets, photos, decoration, clothes, dishes, mess, et cetera, et cetera. It looked as clean and sterile as a hotel room, and if Jason hadn’t literally just seen Robin’s insignia on the door he would think he’d entered an unassigned room by mistake. He frowned and yanked off his helmet, as if looking with his own two eyes would suddenly change the scene, but no. Nothing. He strode into the room and yanked open the closet—empty. He walked over to the desk and yanked open the top drawer—empty. He yanked open the bottom drawer, and mostly empty except for—wait, was that a pile of deactivated Bat trackers? Fucking bizarre. When he stood up, he glanced around again, and this time something on the bed caught his eye. It had been easy to miss against the white pillowcase, but there was an envelope tucked up against the pillow. With a scowl, he stalked over and grabbed it.

When Jason flipped it over, he noted that it was addressed to Batman, but decided that since he was a crime lord now he didn’t have to care about something as trivial as opening someone else’s mail. He didn't want to take off his gloves and risk leaving prints on anything, so he pulled out a dagger and used it to slice open the envelope. As he flipped it over to dump its contents on the desk, he had the fleeting thought that he probably should have put back on his mask in case this had been some villain’s ploy to poison Batman, but luckily all that fell out was a single sheet of printer paper folded into thirds.

This he was careful not to damage as he unfolded it. It wasn’t a long note, just a few small paragraphs, so it was quick enough to read: To whom it may concern. This letter is to formally notify you that I’m resigning as Robin in Gotham City, effective immediately…

Jason dropped the letter and took a step back, staring at the innocuous piece of paper with wide eyes and racing thoughts. Robin had—Drake wasn’t—Timothy—the kid, he was quitting? Leaving? Gone?

It could be a trap. It probably was a trap. Except Robin shouldn’t have had any way of knowing Red Hood would be able to track him all the way to Titan’s Tower so why would he have set a trap for him in the first place? A trap for someone else, then? If it was, it was really, really stupid of him because the kid had signed his resignation letter from Robin with his actual name, and surely he wouldn’t have made it this far if he were that careless with his identity. So, it was either a very bad trap, or not a trap at all. And if it was not a trap at all, then…

Then Robin had… resigned. Which, ok, Jason’s stated goal coming into this thing was to get Tim Drake to stop being Robin. So he should be happy about this, right? Except he’d not gotten to toss the kid around and work out his aggression at all so there was no satisfaction in it. Also, the timing was fucking obnoxious. Go figure that the very day he decides to do something about his replacement, the kid decides to peace out of the Gotham vigilante scene and… and go…

… Somewhere. Jason had no idea where Tim Drake would go if he were no longer Robin. Given how he’d waited until he was alone and then left the note to be found on the other side of the country, Jason had a sneaking suspicion that returning to Gotham was currently off the table. The letter had said he would be ‘out of contact’ for the foreseeable future; Jason could read between the lines enough to figure out that meant he was running away.

—Which, fuck. Another Robin was running away from Batman because of… well, Jason didn’t know what this kid’s issue with B was, but there were plenty of potential flaws in the man to choose from so Jason was going to play it safe and assume it was something Bruce did. Clearly, the man could never learn. And now, this poor dumb Robin was going to pay the price! Jason was more than familiar with the number of horrors that awaited kids who ended up on their own. He could starve; he could freeze to death; he could catch some disease like the flu, or get cut on a rusty nail and get tetanus, and then die from it because he couldn’t access medical treatment. He could get mugged, or harassed by cops, or snatched up by traffickers, or—

And fine; Jason himself had meant to hurt him. But that had been for ideological purposes, to prove a point about putting children in danger and not taking good enough care of them and stuff. It wasn’t like he was going to hurt him that badly, just bad enough to freak out Bruce a bit. But Jason was also the Red Hood, and the Red Hood’s mission was to do what was necessary to stop awful shit from happening to vulnerable kids. And this stupid, stupid letter was apparently enough to abruptly transfer Timothy Drake into that category in his head.

Everything Jason had heard about the kid said he was smart, and the timing of his disappearance pointed to some thoughtful planning on his part. Jason could imagine that the little shit had some sort of plan in place to evade Batman’s attempts to locate him, and he probably could manage to run without getting caught by Bruce and the Gotham team for a while. Heck, the kid probably had strategies to get away from most if not all of the Justice League members, since B was sure to call in favors once he got frantic enough about the little bird. But one thing the kid likely did not plan for was being pursued by him. Ex-Robin, currently a crime lord, League of Assassins connections, and a bone to pick with Timothy specifically? (He ran away from home and left a fucking resignation letter about it? Does he not realize what that would do to Dick, to Alfred, to Bruce—)

After stuffing the letter into his pocket, Jason put back on his helmet and stalked out of Titans Tower as silently as he’d arrived, this time with a new yet equally furious purpose sharpening his steps. Sucked to be Timothy Drake, he thought, because the Red Hood got his message and he was officially concerned.

#my writing #my fanfic #tim drake #jason todd #to whom it may concern #would be what this fic is called if I ever continue it haha #but this is as far as I got and then kinda lost steam #but it stands as a one shot pretty nicely so I thought I'd share it here see what people thought. ya know.#could it be a multi chapter fic one day? sure. what do I know. will it be soon? probably not.#um ok what else #unreliable narrator #tim drake has self worth issues #are probably the two most critical tags/warnings for this one.#anyway actually being on desktop is giving me way too much power look at me go all these tags and no typos damn!

99 notes · View notes