#nightmare gets a tentacle cut off

[ahoycaptainautumn]

Fated Mates

Synopsis: you, a vengeful vampire slayer, cross paths with the devious and handsome Astarion. Instead of a stake through the heart, Astarion finds something he thought impossible for vampire spawn. A mate.

Not sure how many chapters this will be but it will be slow burn 🖤

Crimson eyes. All that swims in your memory is the look of pure satisfaction in those eyes at the carnage that unfolds before you. Your mother and siblings laid drained and lifeless before you. Your father chanting prayers as he grovels at the feet of the man before you. He is sleek and pristine, with onyx colored hair and prestigious clothing now splattered with the blood of your loved ones. His lips form a nasty sneer, sharp canines glistening in the now dimly lit manor.

“You should have never made a wager you couldn’t keep, especially with a vampire.”

•••

Suddenly you are jolted away from the heart wrenching memory. Nightmares coming and going as blurs of reality swing past you. A tentacle creature. Some type of bug. But what alarms you now is the feeling of rock beneath you. You try to come to as your memories try to serve you. A ship, crashing said ship, others. Others! You jolt from the ground and look over. The Githyanki fighter is next to you as well as the other female you believed to have introduced herself as Shadowheart. You all look at eachother, relieved to be alive.

-

You all set foot to find any others that might have been held captive while in that demonic ship. So far you have found a tiefling named Karlach and the humans Gale and Wylls. You split up in search of any others with a designated spot to return to. You come upon one last survivor as you crest over a small hill. Silver hair rustles in the wind as the elf’s back faces you. He just barely looks over his shoulder at you, motioning you closer.

“Quickly! I have one of those brain things cornered over here! Come kill it!” He demands. He points towards the grass down the slope in front of him. You take cautious steps, moving silently towards where he mentions. You tense, hand ready at your weapon. A loud squeal comes bursting from the grass as a hog barrels out and away from you. You barely have a moment to turn around to the elf before a dagger is pressed to your throat. In seconds you are thrown to the ground tugging against strong arms ensnaring you.

“Now me and you are going to have a little chat. And you even think about pulling something and you’ll lose that darling neck of yours.” He all but purrs in your ear. You thrash against him, failing to pull the weapon away from your throat.

“Now I saw you on that ship, don’t even bother lying to me. What did you and those brain freaks do to me!?” He growls. You try to take a look at him but he has you pinned too tightly.

“I don’t have anything to do with those animals! I was taken, we all were!” You try to reason. Your temper begins to take over your fright. You escaped that hell hole. Fought tooth and bone to leave with your life. You would not be put down by some scared little elf. He bites back at you, focused on getting answers and not enough on how tight of a grip he has on you. Fury licks up the base of your body and fills your vision.

“Nice try but you’ll find me hard to convince, now what-“ you cut off his ranting as your leg wraps around one of his own. Your opposite arms elbow plants firmly in the ground as you swing yourself up and over the elf. You land him on his back; twisting his wrist in your right hand as your left hand reaches down to grab his now dropping blade. In one smooth motion your legs capture his frame under your own hip to hip as both of your hands ring around his stolen dagger. Confusion smears over his features as hands shoot up in defense. You just bring yourself to give into your anger, to drive the dagger directly into his heart for infuriating you with his insane tactics before your eyes meet. Crimson eyes meet your (e/c) ones. And the world falls out from beneath you. You plummet into a vast nothingness. Your heart gripped and laid bare. Vampire.

-

Astarions POV

-

Barely escaping out of a now wrecked ship with disguising brain maggots crawling from it was probably within the top ten worst days of Asatarion’s long life. His muscles ached and his neck throbbed from the impact of where he now found himself. Brushing off dirt from his sleeves, Asatarion rose to his nimble feet as he shook out the pains in his legs. He finds himself in a grassy plain. The ship that once held him hostage was now just over the horizon smashed in against a mountain. Wreckage spewed across the field with no hint as to where he now found himself. He had half a mind to just start walking and find somewhere someplace someone to end up in. But he remembered there were others, whether fellow captive or foe he was not sure. As if on cue, the crunch of feet on leaves and twigs ushered in behind him. A malicious smirk graced his handsome face. Now there was someone with answers. Or dinner. He could take it or leave it. The manic leer doesn’t leave his face as he feigns terror to his new audience. With a signal of his wagging hand he gestures for them to come forward.

“Quickly! I have one of those brain things cornered over here! Come kill it!” Soft steps quietly make their way towards and past him. Your frame comes into his view. Your (h/c) hair billows behind you as you step in front of him. He takes in your toned form flecked with blood and feels his hunger only grow. A tasty little treat. You appease his cries and look over into the clearing where grass covers most of what hides beneath. Just as you ready yourself for another battle a boar rushes out. Astarion jumps on your temporary confusion and pounces onto you. His blade reaches your neck as he hurls your joined bodies to the ground. You twist and curl from him as you listlessly fight from his grasp.

“Now me and you are going to have a little chat. And you even think about pulling something and you’ll lose that darling neck of yours.” Your face may be facing away from him but he can feel the anger pulsing in your rising blood pressure. Your suppulent artery thrums, tantalizing him under your (s/c) skin. He nearly loses himself there staring at your beating pulse. He reigns himself in, shaking the thoughts and desires to be dealt with momentarily.

“Now I saw you on that ship, don’t even bother lying to me. What did you and those brain freaks do to me!?” He spits. Your talon like nails dig into him as you fight back.

“I don’t have anything to do with those animals! I was taken, we all were!” You all but scream. Astarion snarls, the sound vibrating in his aching fangs. “Nice try but you’ll find me hard to convince, now what-“ Astarion finds himself interrupted as you maneuver your body to throw him under yourself. Your long legs hook under each of his own while you busy yourself with stealing his dagger. Astarion can’t help but be mildly impressed but confusion and annoyance soon take precedence. His hands shoot upwards to grab the weapon from your nimble hands. His gaze darts up to you and the moment your gazes lock it as if fire runs throughout his entire body. Every system, every neuron locks against his will. The rest of the world falls to the sidelines, the world blurring around you. You seem to have the same reaction as your muscles relax and a quizzical look takes over the fiery one of earlier.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” You sneer. Astarion puts on his most dazzling smile in hopes it covers the utter confusion he feels at what had just passed between the two of you.

“Astarion my dear, and what’s your name oh so deadly killer?” Your temper flares across your face at his teasing.

“(Y/n).” It sounds vaguely familiar. Like a name long forgotten wiggling in the back of his mind. Or it was the rabid worm that was placed there.

“If you are all done wrestling now, we have ground to cover!” Shadowheart yells. You look up at her, back to him and then back to her. Torn on whether to stab him or not, you decide on the latter. You hoist yourself up and side step away from him. Bringing himself up by the elbows Astarion takes a moment to look you over. Interesting.

Part 2 here

[papiliovolens]

Ccino Drabble- Occurs between Ch. 22 and 24

the drabble i said would be done yesterday is done todays! huzzah! it's another exploration of nightmare's personality, so it's got that focus, with a bonus of ccino and classic kitty :D

this was inspired by Boop's adorable animation!

also important clarification: Ccino does not usually nickname the kitties. He instead calls them by their counterpart's name.

Challenge: can you guys see the part I just had to go back and add, which ended up changing where the entire scene took place and thus warranted a rewrite and delay?

overlord

Five minutes.

Ccino blearily blinked as he stirred, taking his time to free a hand to check the message. He read it slowly as he yawned loudly and then checked the sender.

"oh, shit," Ccino cursed, his sockets flying open, and he swung his legs off the couch. He froze as he tugged on the blanket, and it refused to budge as a lump underneath made a soft meow. Carefully, he extracted himself from the couch and tucked the blanket around whichever cat had joined him for his impromptu nap.

Grabbing the apron flung over the corner of the couch, Ccino slipped it over his head and tied it behind him as he sped-walked onto the cafe floor. He didn't bother to close the door fully, allowing the light from the hallway to seep into the dark cafe. Slipping behind the bar, Ccino pushed the ON button for the coffee machine, rubbing his face with a sigh.

Thank the stars Nightmare preferred his coffee straight, Ccino thought as he grabbed a fresh bag of Robusta coffee beans. He gripped the counter's edge and watched the coffee drip into the cup, his mind drifting tiredly.

As if in an afterthought, Ccino straightened and turned, glancing over the cafe. Perhaps they could sense the incoming presence, but the cats had vacated, and Ccino heard none of the usual scratching and soft breathing from the cubbies. Ccino shivered as the temperature in the room dropped a few degrees, and he took a deep breath out of habit as he checked the coffee.

The shadows in the corner of a booth rippled, and Nightmare's form leered out from the reaching shadows, his tentacles gripping the edge of the black portal to boost him out. A familiar sense of heaviness settled on Ccino's body, pressing in on him from all sides, and he forced his jitters to still, his soul freezing and thawing rapidly as it always did as it adjusted to Nightmare's aura.

Ccino looked over his shoulder as Nightmare's eyelight latched onto Ccino. The corner of his mouth curled up as he smiled, deceptively sweet. "Ccino," he purred, the portal closing silently behind him. "I hope I am not intruding."

"i was just sleeping. since, you know, it's the middle of the night," Ccino grumbled with a raised browbone. "i'm gonna need more than five minutes if you want your coffee to be ready."

Nightmare's grin grew as he slipped into the seat directly before Ccino, linking his fingers politely on the bar. "And yet it seems you still have enough time to make it," he pointed out, nodding at the machine as it beeped to mark the coffee was finished.

Ccino hung his head and slid the drink across the counter. "that's because i rushed."

Nightmare gripped the drink lightly, slowly sipping as he watched Ccino clean the machine, setting the cup down only once it was empty. "What do you know about the Sans named Classic?" he asked, cutting to business.

And there it was. Ccino turned and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he swallowed. "right," he muttered. "well-"

He cut off as the blanket he had left on the couch hopped onto the far end of the bar, the corner getting caught under its occupant's paws and nearly sending them sliding to the ground. They rose slowly, awkwardly trouncing forward as the blanket attempted to restrict movement.

Nightmare and Ccino watched incredulously as the blanket stopped between them, swaying side to side, and then collapsed flat, making a small huff of exertion.

Ccino stared at it, unsure what the protocol was. "um-"

One of Nightmare's tentacles grabbed the blanket and lifted it off, the cat underneath going limp.

The cat's identity was either the multiverse's greatest coincidence or fate's greatest laugh.

Classic's counterpart, a white and blue-furred cat, rolled onto their side, half their fur raised from the blanket's static, and blinked at them. Their wide eyes relaxed, and they shot a look at Nightmare that screamed, "really?"

"Is this one defective?" Nightmare asked, sounding genuinely confused, and Classic's cat narrowed their eyes. "They are not running."

Nightmare's aura was potent, especially to those unused to its heaviness. Animals seemed extra sensitive to it, and the cats rarely stuck around to keep Nightmare company. It seemed Classic was an exception, which Ccino was starting to believe was the norm.

Ccino snorted and rolled his eyelights. "no, none of the cats are defective, i can assure you."

"Yet this one seems to lack the common sense the others possess."

Classic met Nightmare's gaze, ears flicking as if a fly had buzzed by.

"Will they leave?"

"probably not," Ccino admitted. Nightmare raised his skull, narrowing his socket suspiciously. "how much did the others tell you?"

Nightmare sat back slightly. "The same as you are about to tell me."

"did they tell you about what happened between classic and your counterpart at the cafe?"

Nightmare scrunched his face in distaste and snarled, "If you are referring to that travesty of a picture, yes. I am aware."

Ccino nodded as he stroked Classic from head to tail. "well, guess who this guy's counterpart is?"

Nightmare's browbone raised as he glanced down at Classic, keeping his hands off the bar as he frowned. Something sparked in his eyelight Ccino couldn't place.

"Is that so," Nightmare said, seeming to decide to resolutely ignore the cat's existence and fixed his gaze on Ccino. "Tell me everything you know."

Nightmare's voice softened as he gave the request, and Ccino sighed, feeling his soul tug. It was rare, but there were times when Nightmare, intentional or not, let a few of his genuine emotions slip through. And as Nightmare stared at him expectedly, Ccino could spot the genuine curiosity piercing behind his gaze.

The peaceful mood continued as Ccino started from the beginning, explaining how Classic had first come to the cafe. Nightmare didn't react when Ccino mentioned Swap nor Fell and nodded when Ccino repeated the explanation for Error's unexpected visit that day.

Classic seemed content to lay between them, tail occasionally twitching, until Nightmare huffed, "Do you know any other details of that day?"

"no, sorry. i didn't see the fight myself-"

Classic stood and moved closer to Nightmare, sitting at the bar's edge and leaning forward. They attempted to sniff Nightmare, who pretended they did not exist. After Nightmare did not react for a few seconds, Classic reached forward and pawed Nightmare's cheekbone, just under where his missing socket would be.

Nightmare stiffened, his tentacles sharpening, and Ccino slowly reached forward, planning to move Classic out of the way should Nightmare lash out. Classic lowered their paw, letting out a mrow as if in apology.

Ccino bent forward, frowning in concern. "nightmare?" he called out, Nightmare immediately relaxed, his tentacles returned to their lax positions and instructed Ccino: "Continue."

Quick to comply, Ccino kept an eyelight on Classic as he continued. The cat seemed hesitant to touch Nightmare again until one of his tentacles accidentally got too close, and Classic wasted no time swatting at it.

Ccino stopped again, and Nightmare took a visible breath. "Are all your cats this insufferable?"

Classic seemed to smirk as Ccino responded in the negative. It seemed the evening was going to be a long one.

[derangedanomaly]

could you do bad sanses and star sanses who’s s/o is a skeleton monster as well:3

btw hope your having a good day:D

Hii! I am having a swell day! :D hope you're also having a good day! As for the request, I decided to do a little spin on it.

The reader is dead, and you're magically brought to life. (A little like in Corpse Bride).

Decided to cut this up into two parts! The next part will be: Error, Dream, Ink, Swap

Part 2

Their s/o is a skeleton (PART 1)

(Nightmare, Killer, Dust, Horror)

Nightmare:

He doesn't really care in the beginning, cause..like, he met more than thousand of skeletons before. Why would you be any special??

Would act like you're never even there. 😭

After one day of having enough, he tries to get some negative feelings out of you. But...you know...this proves to be difficult, cause you're always very cheerful!

It bothers him immensely, won't stop trying to get you in a bad mood.

But he just can't succeed. (Bummer)

This changes when he finds out that you're a skeleton... because you're dead.

His reaction is to be expected. He immediately reacts by smirking widely. (More like, creepily 😭)

Now he has a way to get negative feelings out of you. (Good luck with that by the way)

Your relationship is very...angsty. At the start. He's just using you to get some negativity, and you hate him for that. How lovely! :)

You actually can't take it anymore, so you snap at him for the first time that y'all know each other. This particular moment, is actually what makes him simp respect you.

Look, he just has a type for people that deny him or stand up to him. (Since no one really did it before, out of fear)

He became a little vulnerable when it came to you from that point onward.

He actually tries to help you out to understand some of the skeleton magic. (He's really just showing off though. Wants you to be impressed by him 💀)

You two act like an 'old married couple.' As Killer states.

Since you weren't born as a skeleton, but became one after you died, you were much more fragile...you would find yourself being wrapped around Nightmare's tentacles, so he can heal your injuries. (Mostly broken bones.)

Unfortunately, Nightmare very much forgets this fact very often...so he'll be frustrated with your fragile self almost every time.

Nightmare went up to you in anger, his tentacles furiously moving on his back. "I told you to cut off Ink! Not laze around." You furrow your gaze at him, starting to feel irritated. He knew you were physically unable to do so in your current health condition, yet he still shouts at you?! "Oh no no no Nightmare. You're blaming me?!" He rolled his eyes, staring you down. "Yes, of course. Who else would fuck this mission up as badly as you?!" You let out a low huff, cooking up a plan. Oh this is gonna be golden. "Nightmare...h-how could you say that...?" Nightmare's gaze suddenly changed as you let out crying sounds. He didn't know what to say now...it was.............awkward.. for him, I mean. "Uhm...damn, I really didn't expected that reaction from someone like you..umm....are..you.? Ok..?" You almost let out a small laugh at his quiet question. How very uncharacteristic of him. You shake your head, slowly looking up at him. "No...no. I'M NOT FUCKING OK!" He flinched when you suddenly shouted, pointing at him. "FUCK YOU, AND YOUR EMO ASS!" You stomped your way away from him, leaving him stunned, to go treat your injuries.

He should feel angry at you for shouting at him like that. He should already be making a punishment for you, but...he did neither of those things. The only thing he did, is stood there. A turquoise blush started to slowly appear on his face as he watched you tend to your injuries, with Dust on your side helping you out. He couldn't help the next thought that came to him as he watched you, little hearts appearing in his eye sockets instead of his white pupils. So this is love?

Killer:

Oh. You're also a skeleton? Cool.

He doesn't really know how to feel about that at first. He also thinks that you're just another Sans. 🤷‍♀️

After he finds out that you're not, his interest is 10 times more peaked then ever.

If you're not sensitive about the topic, he will ask thousands of questions about how being dead works.

Since he's a gamer at heart, he will make some silly jokes about you being like the skeletons in Minecraft. 💀 (Partially forgetting he's also a skeleton.)

He can't stand you doing anything that requires strength. Not because he's frustrated with you, but because the little playboy is very worried for you. 🥺

Literally WON'T let you even open a very tight jar.

He's like your little servant. (If you want, he'll even let you call him that. He's just freaky like that you know.)

He's partially helping you with everything just so he can show off his strength to you. He wants to make you swoon over him.

Whenever you're sad, he'll make it his mission to make you laugh. (Which works. He's good at making people laugh. Most of the time..)

You both just tease the other. Seeing who'll back out first. (None of you do. Lol.)

He's always demanding for you two to be paired together on missions. He reasoning is always like, 'I want you close to me' or 'I don't want to be paired up with anyone else besides you.' but that's only half of the truth.

He's doing this because he wants to keep a close eye on you. Wants to make sure you're safe.

Look, he once saw what injuries you had when you broke your bones for the first time, he doesn't wanna experience that again.

"Alright... Changing to blue!" Killer groaned as he took another card from the deck. You were seated on the couch, playing Uno. And you were winning! There's no way Killer can win, you have only one card in your hand, and he has-! Wait...oh SHOOT! You didn't say Uno! "Hah! You didn't say the word..~ take one." Killer pointed to the deck of cards as you sighed. "Whatever. I've got this anyway!" You beamed. Killer only looked at you with curious gaze.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"I never lose, cupcake." You hummed at the nickname, not refusing the pinkish blush appearing on your cheeks. "Me neither!" Killer's smirk made you suddenly nervous..what is he planning? You hope he doesn't have some trick up his sleeves.... really, he's kinda stupid..but not when he's playing games! It could be any type of game, and he'll win with passing colors. You didn't even know what to do to win against him at least once.

"W-What? What's with your smirk?" Killer shrugged. "It's nothing...why? Scared~?" You snorted, and let out nervous laughs. "Hah! You're kidding? Pfft..no..just.... why are you smirking...?" He couldn't help but laugh at your sheepishness. "Nothing.. really....I just like looking at you. I like playing games with you. You make playing them fun." You couldn't help the blush forming on your face. "....thank you, Killer...I also like playing games with you. Your overconfidence is very attractive." Killer suddenly stopped what he was doing, which was drinking, and spit out the said drink. He wasn't expecting that. And now... he's the one flustered.

Unfortunately, he didn't noticed your successful win in his dreamy daze...

Dust:

He doesn't pay you much mind. He knows too much skeletons to handle another one...

He views you just as a stupid joker that will only make his life more miserable....until he finds out you weren't born as a skeleton, but became a skeleton after you died.

His opinions about you didn't changed much. He just became less harsh with you.

He does feel very interested in the details of how does one even become a skeleton..but feels shy to outright ask you. Especially if you're sensitive about that topic! He would never ever wish to make you uncomfortable!

He starts to try to talk to you after he finds out that Horror trusts you. If Horror trusts you, then you can't be a stick in the mud or anything like that? Right?

You guys actually have a very pleasant conversation. You find his journalling cute, which he curses you for. 'He's not cute damn it!' yes he is. He very much is.

He panicked the first time he saw your broken bones after a mission. He'll ask you tons of questions about what happened, while patching you up like an angry/worried mom.

After that, he doesn't let you do everything alone. He has to supervise if something bad happens! (Just an excuse to hang out with you more)

He often likes to test out some 'gadgets' he makes specifically for you, to stable your fragility. Some kinda help, but some don't help at all.

He has a journal titled 'Y/n'. At first, like usual, he writes about your powers... species etc.. but after awhile of getting to know you, it slowly shifts to writing about trivial things, that he doesn't normally writes in his journals..

Things like: your favorite color, drink,...your ideal date. (don't ask him why that's an important information.)

You sit on a chair, watching as Killer and Horror play a game. It was getting pretty heated, until you felt a hand tap you. You turn around, only to be met with Dust's chest. You pause, cursing under your breath, until finally shifting your gaze upwards on his face.

Dust shyly smiles down at you. "Hey..." You nod at him. "Hi." There's an awkward silence for awhile, until he finally speaks. "Uhm. So, Horror told me how nice you are... so I decided to give you a chance to prove yourself... Prove to me that you're not like the other skeletons." You slightly gulped, staring at him with confusion. "Ok.. so..what? You wanna play 20 questions?" He nodded, sitting down next to you. And so...your little game began.

The questions were quite normal. Ranging from 'What's your favorite color?' to 'Favorite animal?'. Dust suddenly asked you a question that made you pause for a bit..

"Do you have a significant other?" You blinked up at him.. thinking it over. "No...I don't. No one really made me interested, you know? Besides... I'm a little romantic in these sort of things! Heh..." Dust looked at you, curious. "Oh? We're your fantasies unfulfilled?" You slowly nodded at his question in embarrassment...

"I just want to be given flowers romantically, finding little romantic notes on my table from my secret admirer.... I know that it's a little fairytale-like. But I just like the thought of that..." Dust hummed, looking off to the side.

—

You get up from your bed as you hear knocking on your door. Nightmare couldn't possibly be requesting you for a mission at this hour?! You open the door, only to be met with Dust's eyes. You smile at him, relief washing over you to find out it's not Nightmare... "Dust? What're you doing here so late at night?" He smiled softly at you, blushing. He suddenly showed you a beautiful banquet of your favorite flowers! He held them out to you. You took them from his hands, feeling touched at this gesture. "Huh..? Dust.. what's all this for?" He smiled. "Do you remember when you told me about your romantic fantasies that were unfulfilled?" Ah yes. It was a little way back..you smiled at the thought. "You...did this for me?" Dust, yet again smiled and patted your head. "Anything for you... Sleep well, princess." You were left there with the biggest blush on your face. No fair Dust! You looked at the flowers again, smiling warmly, until getting inside your room.

You placed the flowers in a vase, and put it on your table. As you did this, a letter suddenly appeared on your table. You jump a little, not expecting that. You took the letter in your hands, reading it. It was a love poem, written for you! At the very bottom of the letter is signed: 'Your secret admirer'. You hug the letter in giddiness. He didn't forget...

Of course he didn't. How could he...when he has it written down in his journal. ;)

Horror:

He's... interested, to say the least. Horror always felt like something is different about you, call it a sixth sense or something, but he just somehow knew you weren't a 100% pure skeleton. (You smelled different 💀)

That's why he kept following you around... You found it quite cute, but from other people's perspective...it was.. terrifying.

He was like your own guard dog.

You tried making conversations with him, but he would never respond.

He did watch you closely while you talked.. but it was really like if you were talking to yourself.

It kinda seemed like he never listened to you, but truth be told, he did listen. Just never responded.

He was never much for talking anyways. He's a good listener though! 👍

He panicked when he heard your bones break the first time. And when I mean panic.... I mean he went absolutely bonkers.

After that, whenever you were on missions he sat you on his shoulders. (I HC that out of all the sanses, Horror's the tallest)

This slowly became a normal occurrence to you. You would be standing somewhere, he would come and sit you on his shoulders.

I mean...you didn't complain. 🤷‍♀️

You were talking with Horror about your day, as he watched you with that smile of his. Wait... he's probably not listening. He's not listening...you probably bore him. Now you feel bad.. you're wasting his time..You slowly stopped talking after awhile, glancing down. Horror looked at you in confusion.

"Something..the matter..?" He carefully put his hand on your shoulder. You sighed, looking up at him once again. "No.. it's just.....It doesn't really seem like you ever listen to me...I feel like I'm only wasting your time with this, sorry.. I'll just go now-" as you were about to run away, he stopped you, holding your hand. "Wait..!" You looked at him curiously. He looked really sad..

"...I...." No words were coming out of him, as he felt shy under your gaze. He inhaled a deep breath, and then exhaled. "..please..don't...leave..." He coughs a little to make himself stop talking so slowly. "This is...all I'm....waiting for...at the end...of the day.....Y/n..." You feel touched by his words. "I'm always...listening....to you...I love your voice.." it took everything in you to not burst out into tears.

You went up to him and hugged him. "Aww! Horror....I thought you're never listening to me! Thank you.." Horror blushed red, but smiled, enjoying your hugs. He returned your hugs with a smile similar to a puppy..

He's surely going to try engaging in your conversations now! He doesn't ever want to see that broken expression on your face again..not when he's around.

[osleeplessflowero]

//I've had this on Ao3 since last year, I forgot to post it here so..why not do it now? :)

Bittersweet

A Short Flirty Vampire!Nightmare x Vampire Hunter!Reader Oneshot

Spice warning, Licking/Biting

Thunder roars in the moonlit sky. You travel under the cover of night, following a path. You keep your hand over a blade at your side, the cloak you're wearing flowing behind you as you run.

"You are the only person we can count on to defeat this monster. He's killed off many of our own long enough. Dispose of it at once, we beg of you!"

You stare up at the now illuminated mansion, running closer to it and halting once you reach the front doors. Your hand hovers over the knob. ..There's no time to dwell on it, just get it done..

You open the door abruptly, walking forward. Lightning strikes in the distance behind you as you point your now unsheathed sword forwards. 

Before you sits a large monster on his throne, tentacles twisting around and moving ever so slightly. His single eyelight falls on you, glowing throughout the dark room as it rests on you. His attire is fancy, you've seen quite a few eye-catching looks from him before. NOT THAT THEY CAUGHT YOURS-- That's ABSURD--

"Welcome back, darling. I was wondering when you'd return to me." A grin stretches across his face.

"I'm here to slay you, Nightmare. Once and for all. Your soul will look gorgeous on my shelf.." 

"You already have my soul..my heart as well. There is no need for all of this." He rests his cheek on the palm of his left hand.

You feel your cheeks heat up a bit. No, NONONO. You are here to KILL him, don't fall for him- NO.

Taking a deep breath, you charge at him. "There's no time for idle chitchat-"

"A shame..I could talk with you for hours, love." 

You jump up, slashing your sword downwards before a tentacle grabs you, holding you in place before throwing you backwards, onto the floor. 

"Winning the approval of some mindless villagers is quite meaningless, you know. Wouldn't you rather go towards the arms of someone who actually wants you there?" 

"I'm not doing this for approval-" You jump towards him again, swinging your sword before he knocks you back once more.  

He stands up, tentacles reaching out in different directions. He looks..amused by your attempts to attack him. You want to wipe that shit eating grin off of his face. 

"Don't pretend like you actually want to kill me." 

"I do, and I WILL-"

You're cut off by a tentacle wrapping itself around you, another trapping your arms and dragging you towards him so you can see him face-to-face. 

He reaches out his hand, placing it against your cheek. You feel your face heat up even more, trying to turn away before he caresses your chin, holding it in place with his thumb and index finger. 

"Why do you resist your true desires? For your reputation? For the profits of the hunt? I could give you so much more. You don't need this life..wouldn't you rather stay with me?"

"Stop it. Your devilish charms won't work on me."

He chuckles, staring into your eyes. "I've done nothing but talk, my dear. Perhaps it's simply you that finds me charming." 

"You'd certainly wish that were the case, wouldn't you?" You struggle to get out of the tentacle's grasp.

"I know it's the case."

"Just how would you know that?" 

"For one, I can see it on your face. And second..it's why you've hesitated to kill me each time we've fought..you can't bear the thought of killing me. So you hesitate and hesitate until someone asks you to do it..and even then.." He lifts one of your trembling hands with his own. "You still don't want to do it."

"I.." You avert your eyes from him. 

He's right..and god, do you hate it. 

The fights..the banter..the tension..all of it drew you more and more in. 

Why? Why did it have to be a vampire, the very species you're trying to hunt down and exterminate for good? Why must fate be this cruel? 

"Well? What now, Vampire Hunter?" 

You break free from the tentacle's grip, raising your sword once more. 

He stands completely still, holding out his arms. 

"Go on, then. Make your move. I'm even making it easy for you.."

You shudder, staring at the end of your blade, which is only inches from his chest. One strike to the soul and it'd be over. 

..Why aren't you moving? Why are you just standing there?

The sword shakes along with you. 

"Even if I were to give up..all you'd do is kill me and take my blood. I know your type." You glare into his piercing gaze.

"I wouldn't dream of killing you, darling. You're much too precious to me.." His eyelight narrows a bit, a light green flush manifesting over his cheekbones. 

You gulp, moving a foot back. Keep your stance wide..body lowered..just hit him. Kill him and get this over with.

"Just as I thought. You can't do it."

"I- I'm getting to it-"

"You won't kill me, because you love me. You love me so much you can't stand it."

You glare down at the floor. 

The sound of a sword making contact with something is heard. 

Nightmare's eyelight shrinks as your sword falls from your hands. You collapse, placing your hands over your eyes. 

He lowers his arms, walking over to you and knocking the blade out of the way with one of his tentacles, kneeling in front of you.

"There's no need to hide how you truly feel. I understand it more than anyone in this universe could."

"It's not fair. Why does it have to be you?" You stare at him.

"Fate works in mysterious ways, my dear. It simply brought our souls together..a collective feeling. Fate brought us together, and fate will not tear us apart..I'll make sure of that."

"What am I supposed to do? Go back there and tell them I didn't kill you? They'll burn me at the stake or something-"

"There's no need to go back." 

"I live there, smart guy."

"Yes..but you don't have to any longer. You could always..stay with me." 

You put your hand over your mouth. 

"No, I couldn't possibly-"

"I insist. This way we wouldn't have to be separated again..it works out for both of us, doesn't it?"

You frown, looking at your sword. "But my work..my efforts...everything would be left behind."

"You could always..find something new for yourself." 

You turn back to him, seeing a small smile on his face. ..Maybe he's right. This work wasn't exactly making you all that happy, anyway..

"We can arrange something..make it look like we killed each other in a long battle. That way you will still have your..dignity, I suppose, and we both get to leave together." 

"How do I know I could trust you? Vampires are known for persuasiveness."

"If I am to betray your trust, I give you full permission to put a blessed blade through my soul. Do we have an agreement?"

"..Very well.."

He grins, lifting your head with his hand. "Now then..may I claim you as my own?"

Your face flushes, warming up. Wow, if you told your past self this would happen you'd have never believed it. 

"Speak, darling."

"..Yes."

He leans down, hovering over your neck, exposing it. You shiver as you feel his hot breath against your skin. He moves his long tongue over it slowly, savoring your taste. You bite your lip, feeling yourself get a little excited.

He pauses for a brief moment, admiring your expression before sinking his teeth into you, holding you still with his hands. 

You wince, leaning back a bit before he grabs you to make sure you don't fall. 

You feel yourself begin to grow weak, and only then does he stop, wiping away your precious blood from his mouth. 

"Ah..Bittersweet..just how I like it."

Staring longingly into his eyelight, you lean your head against his chest as he lifts you in a bridal carry, beginning to use his magic to fix up the room. 

"A shame..I quite liked this vacation home. Oh well..there's always others."

You close your eyes, needing rest from today's events. 

[monodramatic-cannibal]

Realized I never posted my Crossmare ship kid.

So here's Raiden :D I will put into for him under the cut if ayone is curious about him.

Head Canon voice: (Wanderer ((English)) from genshin impact) (Personality wise he's also quite similar to Wanderer too)

More info on his design:

He’s actually goop like Nightmare, it's just his goop is different colours. Has claws which they’re red like the marking on his face. When viewing his eye from the side the star pupil can be seen slightly above his eye. The skeletal things on his tentacles can be shot out/thrown as a sort of weapon can regenerate. The main necklace part is actually a gem. His legs have the same gradient that's on his face (the dark to light, doesn’t have red in the gradient on his legs)

Some info on family:

Raiden was raised primarily by Nightmare and Cross, but had the rest of the murder trio to look after him too. To him Killer is like an older brother, whereas Dust and Horror more so feel like uncles to him. Nightmare was the one to give him an education, as well as Raiden picking up a sharp tongue from him. Cross was the one to train him in combat in both physically fighting and being combat smart too. As well as dealing with Raiden’s emotional needs. (Both Nightmare and Cross may do the other’s role from time to time. E.g. Rai learning more dumb insults from Cross, or Nightmare providing a more logical emotional approach to a situation)

The way Nightmare and Cross raised Raiden is they both agreed to not push Raiden in a direction to be good or bad. Both of them would like Raiden to be a better person than them. But they know they can’t say much given how they are, especially now with how smart Raiden is, if they tried to push him to be good he’d probably use it against them. So they feel they made the right call with raising him.

Raiden was about before Dream/Nightmare made the truce, Nightmare kept Dream from knowing about Raiden, not wanting his enemy to know about his kid. But Nightmare never talked bad about Dream around Raiden, wanting Raiden to make his own opinions on Dream without his input. A year or two after the truce became a thing (around when Raiden was 14) Nightmare did tell Raiden if he wanted to go seek out his brother he could, but Raiden didn’t care too much to know him. Dream (and his group) only found out about Raiden recently.

Raiden doesn’t care too much about Dream or his group. Nor does he make much of an effort to get to know them. Finds them weird.

Who Raiden feels is his family: Nightmare: Dad (on rare occasions calls him Old Man) Cross: Pa / Pops Killer: (older brother figure) Dust: (Uncle figure) Horror: (Uncle figure) Error: (unsure but sees him as family) (will add more when I figure out more about Rai)

His magic/attacks/etc:

A lot of the magic he can preform have an ‘X’ theme to them. E.g. things like this (this being one of Arlecchino’s attacks in genshin, but I’m stealing its look for Raiden)

When his attacks aren’t ‘X’ themed they tend to look like lightning bolts (him living up to his name)

He can create a small (unseen) bubble around himself, when people enter this bubble they’re in an awake nightmare. Raiden being able to control the space within this bubble manipulating reality within this bubble as if it was a nightmare. Though this drains Raiden very quickly.

He also has blades he can summon. To most these blades appear to be shaped like lightning bolts, when in reality Raiden actually based it off of Cross’s scar. And at this point Raiden is too embarrassed to admit that to anyone.

---------

He doesn’t fully understand how to express emotions or how to understand others emotions. He struggles a bit, he still does express emotions, it’s just they may be a bit random sometimes. E.g. he’s annoyed most of the time, or may find things funny in situations he shouldn’t. He is a good person, and does have manners. It’s just he’s selective on who he decides to offer his polite side too.

Him being somewhat monotone and having a sharp tongue means he tends to upset or anger people who don’t understand how he speaks. He also doesn’t like most people, is very picky with who he decides to get along with. So even if someone can understand him there's a chance that Raiden will just be disgusted with them for no reason. He very much struggles to hold his tongue, often speaking without thinking. Which sometimes lands him in trouble.

Finds it hard to comprehend how others think, especially if they have a drastically different view to him. Will basically have a crisis thinking about how others have thoughts that he doesn’t know. (Not main character syndrome, more so people exist and have their own thoughts and feelings that I can’t understand, and I don’t like that)

He very much adores his family, and as much as he tends to insult everyone (Nightmare is the only one in the group that can escape his insults), he will apologize if he does feel like he’s actually upset one of them.

He is very much a family person, preferring to stick to his family and people they get along with over making his own friends. Doesn’t mean he won’t make his own friends, it’s just easier for him to stick to people who can understand him or explain to others how to understand him.

----------

Some info on the world/au:

In the world of this au both Nightmare’s and Dream’s group called a truce, Error and Ink also have their own separate truce between them. Basically for them not to cause any drastic positivity/negativity but both (Nightmare/Dream) allowed to step in if the balance of emotions in the multiverse gets out of whack.

The au follows more fanon interpretations of the groups, as well as my own head canons and such, I may or may not change lore as well for some characters.

[orbital-inclination]

I requested more of the scenario Molt meeting og nightmare

I'm sorry for the wait anon! For a change of pace, you get a one-shot this time! word count: 3411 general content warning for canon typical violence and angst.

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

Something grainy, like gravel and sand, crunched under the soles of his boots as he shuffled back a step. One looping tendril made contact with a roughly cut boulder behind him. The height of the stone reached his hip. Clumsily, he ran his phalanges along its surface. He stepped around it and stopped once he stood on the south side, uncertain of how to proceed from there.

It was rare that he found himself in a space so wide open without someone nearby. He’d like to think he was better at navigating now than he had been when he was younger. Yet, regardless of how much time passed, he could never seem to quite outgrow the sudden spike of anxiety he felt whenever he entered a space that seemed... empty.

 He didn’t know what he was walking towards or away from. He could be approaching a canyon for all he knew.

A steady, lonely wind howled above him. It caught the tail of his tunic and the fabric slapped against his side. Something rustled in the distance. 

The wind turned cold. 

Ley lines of magic, negative and positive, wrapped around this world in a vast net of ever-shifting ripe tides. Instinct had directed him to follow the nearest positive swell but now he felt it move again. Bending as though to make way. Just as suddenly as the air had turned cold, a well opened up, and negativity cascaded down the pit and condensed into a single point of black frost. 

A shiver ran down his spine. “Nightmare…?”

Something about Rem’s magic didn’t feel right—

“How unlike you to make the first move. Was it not enough for you to…” his brother’s voice trailed off. “You are not my brother.” 

No... no he was not. Rem’s magic felt cold, but not this cold. Though, the undercurrent of bitterness was painfully familiar. 

“… the sentiment is mutual,” Molt murmured. He steadied himself on the boulder behind him. Silently, he tried to gauge the other’s intent.

An air of suspicion and curiosity rolled underneath the cold. He had the sense he was also being appraised.

“And yet, you are Dream.”

He did not sound—did not feel happy about that.

“If it were not impossible, I would wager you were from a divergent timeline.”

“Our world had only one timeline,” Molt confirmed cautiously. His voice remained low. “… it’s tied to the multiverse itself. No resets. Just the one.”

“Ah, so you are informed,” his brother's voice mocked. “Your presence here suggests a paradox, then. For all my searching, I have never met another iteration of us who could breach the confines of their AU on their own. It seemed there was some law restricting the role of Guardian to Two.”

He nodded because that more or less described the situation back home. With a renewed sense of scrutiny, Nightmare said, “Can I assume then, that instead of your brother, you were the one who bit the apple?”

And Molt stalled. The question was so direct. It felt a bit like a verbal slap to the face. 

Nightmare hummed. “I see. That expression you’re making... It makes sense for my alternative self to have other motives if you are like this yourself.” He heard the grin in his tone, even if he could not see it. “Tell me, Dream. What do you say to adding to that collection of yours?” He— he couldn’t be serious. 

“In this multiverse, you have the opportunity to increase your power. If you collect the last apple from my brother, perhaps we can reach an agreement.”

His mouth felt suddenly dry. He had to consciously still his tentacles to keep them from lashing defensively.

“You… you want me to kill my counterpart.”

He struggled to wrap his mind around that. Less so the threat itself and more so that it was Nightmare who was asking him to do it. He felt sick.

His brother’s alternate rumbled a low laugh. “It would not be difficult for you. You dwarf him in raw power. I’m confident you could easily subdue him... Ah, but I see I cannot convince you. The thought distresses you. A pity.”

Gravel and sand crunched underfoot. The sound came quietly. “ … hmm just as I thought, you are blind.”

“...what are you doing?” 

Nightmare was amused by the question. Dread washed over him. Nightmare had been speaking to him civilly until that point, and while this mirror of his brother gave off an ambient feeling of danger, he had not taken the feeling as seriously as he should have. 

“I am considering what to do with you. Since it seems you are reluctant to cooperate. But you would be of a dull mind not to suspect that already. If you are anything like the thorn I have in my side now, I’m sure you will quickly surmise why I simply cannot let your existence go unchecked.” 

Molt slowly shuffled a step back. 

“… where do you think you will escape to? Are you even aware of what is behind you?”

Molt froze.

He sensed no one behind him but— the subtle rustle of fabric. A step was taken closer and it dawned on him that Nightmare had been trying to distract him.

Molt’s hearing was keen. It had to be. He learned to rely on it when sensing nearby emotions, and the flow of positive and negative wasn’t enough. But his haptic memory was better, and with one tentacle brushing against the boulder behind him, he knew which side he stood on and which direction he originally came from. 

He darted around the boulder, squarely placing it between himself and Nightmare. His brother’s alternate self stood still, contemplative and mildly surprised. 

“Hm. You cannot see, and yet you are able to pinpoint my position. Interesting.” 

Molt didn’t feel like providing a reply.

Nightmare didn’t move for a width of time that felt like years. And then, he vanished. The cold sucked out of the air in a blip of distorted space-time.

Alarm seized him. Given no time to think, he picked direction and distance at random and took a shortcut through. As he felt his bones materialize in reality again, a dense frame of cold magic solidified where he had stood seconds prior.

Displeasure radiated off of Nightmare in waves. “Come now. Don’t run. It’s unbecoming. We can discuss the terms of your departure from this world with maturity.”

Molt shivered. “Don’t. I would return to my reality if I knew how.”

“Then allow me to assist you,” Nightmare said, and the malice in his words sent needles crawling up his spine. He vanished again in a wash of cold. Molt leaped back, grasping at the nearest tide of positivity to carry him away.

He found his feet again on the sand. The sudden incline made him stumble. The seconds it took to catch his balance nearly cost him. A frustrated growl and the sensation of ice to his right was the only warning he had before a sharp object whistled past his skull. He teleported again and Nightmare followed. 

“Enough! Cease this childishness.” The burning cold struck his side. Molt tumbled to the ground. He rolled, gasping in pain, and launched himself to the side. “Stop! I don’t want to fight you.” A loud crack sounded where he’d just been. Gravel pelted his arm. 

“Then what happens next is your own fault,” His brother’s voice snarled.

He took another shortcut. Aiming north of the dense vortex of cold desperately trying to put some distance between himself and his brother’s counterpart. He needed that distance to escape this AU. If he attempted the jump too close to Nightmare he might unintentionally drag him along, or Nightmare would be able to sense where he went and this fight would never end. The temperature plummeted. In a split second, a cold tendril snapped around his middle. And then he was flung. His body hit the ground once, twice, and his skull was knocked against something hard. 

A hiss shuddered through his ribcage. Molt clenched his teeth as the world spun, attempting to swallow back the sound. 

“You brought this on yourself, Dream.” 

Gravel and sand crunched at a steady pace. Malice approached slowly. 

He struggled to push himself upright. The ground beneath him swayed dangerously. His tendrils lashed, writhing in defense of their host. But the ground beneath him lurched, his arms buckled, and the ground swung up to meet the side of his skull again. 

His soul pulsed so fast and hard in his chest, he thought he was going to be sick. 

“Poetic, isn’t it? I wonder... did the same desperation drive you?”

Cold wrapped around him and slammed his back into a hard, stone wall. 

Claws dug into his jaw, roughly pinning his skull to the stone slab behind him. A strained hiss tore from his bared teeth. He found the strength to wrestle one arm free and dug his claws into the wrist pinning his head down. Nightmare’s strength didn’t waver, but an involuntary noise rattled through him, a jolt that was close enough to a flinch to be nothing else. 

Faintly, Molt felt the phantom echo of a hot brand race up Nightmare’s arm, starting from where his claws dug into his wrist.

“W-why are you doing this? I am not from your timeline, so why?”

“The distinction is irrelevant,” the grip on his jaw tightened. “This fate, it’s the least you deserve. For everything you put me through. For every day I was left to defend myself while you selfishly basked in undeserved praise.” 

Exhaustion crept into his limbs. He felt weaker and heavier by the second.

“Would you have always resented me?” Molt gasped out. “If things had been different... If our lives had been better—”

Nightmare barked out a bitter laugh. “Even as you are now, you are naive. No. I cannot imagine a world where I did not hate you. For us, no other outcome was possible.” Molt flinched. “... you doubt me? Do you actually believe my alternate self doesn’t resent you?” 

The knife in his heart gave a sharp lurch. It would make sense... wouldn’t it. For all he hadn’t done, who wouldn’t resent him? 

“N-Night...”

“You neglected your responsibilities, Dream. You were selfish. I’ve always wondered if you had known what I stood to lose that day. If you had known what they had planned to do—” “Nightmare!” Molt snapped. He was terrified, his soul shook, and he was painfully cold. “That was my home too!” Something snapped. He felt the abrupt, quaking shift in Nightmare’s demeanor. Rage colored all rational thought. Molt didn’t know what he intended to do and he didn’t have time to think about it. That rage solidified into a single, sharp tool. Malice soaked the thing so vividly, he could almost see it. A serrated bone dagger.

Molt jerked his head to the side, the claws on his jaw slipped, and something sharp and blisteringly cold scraped the side of his skull.

He might have blacked out for a few seconds. He couldn’t be sure. One moment, his vision was black. Then it was white. He’d yanked a tentacle free in the next. A resounding crack thundered through the stone lab behind him. Nightmare’s grip on his head slipped, caught off guard. Molt kicked his shin, and as Nightmare staggered, snarling, he flash-stepped out of immediate reach. 

A safe distance away he sank to the ground. 

Head swimming, he lifted a shaky hand to the side of his skull. He felt bone. The dry, clean surface of a malar bone. The muddy, blurred shape of his palm swam in and out of focus. 

Nightmare stood very still for a long moment. His emotions felt stunted and Molt could not identify the feeling that had rendered him so still. Moments ago, Nightmare had been content to hurt him in every possible way.

“Get up,” Nightmare said. And he couldn’t identify the emotion behind that command either. It felt like anger but brittle. “I said get up!”

A tremble racked through his body. He felt a forbidden spark of anger ignite in his throat and shakily rose to his feet.

As he slowly lifted his gaze, palm still pressed to the side of his skull, he saw black tar and went still. 

It was one thing to guess the shape of the magic that had tossed him around the field like a rag doll, but it was another thing entirely, to see it.

The ground felt like it was tilting. Nightmare was taking too long to respond. And though he hid it well, he was clearly in pain. Head swimming. Pounding. Red-hot needles. Nausea pricked through his brother’s bones.

Nightmare took one step closer. Molt flinched back, and a bitter smile crawled over his brother’s teeth—

“NOT SO FAST!”

A sharp ping. His vision was eclipsed in hazy blue. Before Molt could blink, he found himself yanked to the side, several feet away.

He was released, gently at that, and stumbled once as gravity resumed its normal weight. The world erupted in a cacophony of noise. With color and light sloshing together, it was difficult to make out shape and form, but the stirring magic immediately in front of him was familiar.

“Blue?” Molt whispered, but like Nightmare his magic felt just slightly off. The hope in his soul withered. He was surrounded by strangers.

“MWEH HEH HEH FEAR NOT STRANGE INTERDIMENSIONAL CITIZEN! WE ARE HERE TO SAVE THE DAY. NIGHTMARE! YOU WILL NOT GET AWAY WITH THIS!”

Whatever his brother’s mirror said in reply it was drowned out by noise.

“Wait.”

But his voice was too low. Too quiet. And his plea went ignored.

Too much happened at once after that. The Swap Sans launched himself into the fight. Light. Movement. A flash of white. Bones summoned then shattered by the furious sweep of a black arm. Nightmare’s strength was weakening. The balance had tipped. And battling three by himself? Nightmare couldn’t keep this up for much longer.

Most of the fight happened too fast for his barely stable eyelight to track.

So he did what he always did when the world around him became too chaotic to follow. He reached for the cold pitch of his brother’s magic. 

He followed the current of cold as it funneled into a singular point. Pushed back, and back again by a burning white star. Hope. Concentration. Concern for the other, yet the courage to see his actions through to the end. The familiarity of the magic here was disconcerting. But his head already ached something awful and he didn't think his nausea could get much worse. The phantom lashes he’d endured at Nightmare’s hand still burned. But... Nightmare. He felt his twin’s exhaustion, felt the unsteady slip to his heel, and his alternate was closing in now and—

The shortcut was rough. Poorly executed. And finding his balance on the balls of his feet was not fun. He raised his arm defensively, anticipating the attack seconds before, and found his hand closing around the pole of a golden staff. It smacked into his palm with a solid clank. It hurt only a little bit. His own magic absorbed the brunt of the blow to feed itself. To lessen some of his own pain. And staring into the wide eyes of his own face was... 

Dizzying. 

Everything was dizzying. 

That startled look melted into one of fear, and it didn’t make sense. His own rib cage hitched, sharing that fear second hand and then it dawned on him how this might look. Oh. He thought. …oh.

He released his counterpart's weapon and yanked his hand back. The other skeleton flash stepped out of reach, his soul pulsing with the rhythm of a terrified rabbit.

Within the pool of frigid cold at his back, he felt a spark of something that felt suspiciously like gratitude. Nightmare struggled to stand for a moment, winded, then laughed. The sound was not pleasant. “Recklessness must be a universal trait.”

“That’s enough,” Molt rasped. “Please. Just stop…”

“You should have taken my offer when you had the chance,” Nightmare sneered, words bitting. But more than anything, they felt defensive. The darkness pinched into a small, black star, and then he was gone.

“I SEE. WAS I MISTAKEN THEN? ARE YOU AND NIGHTMARE ALLIES?” Blue had taken a defensive stance beside his teammate. His weapon was drawn, but he didn’t move yet. His soul hummed with grim focus. The suspicion hurt. 

Molt struggled to speak for several precious seconds. Unsettled. He was reeling from the fight, from everything he had learned about this reality and the cruelty of his brother's words and actions and he was trying ever so hard not to let a tremble snake its way into his voice. It was very hard... to hear someone say those awful things in Rem’s voice.

He shook his head and said softly. “We aren’t.”

Blue’s brow furrowed. “THEN, WHY DID YOU DEFEND HIM? 

The words ‘because he is my brother?’ were on the edge of his teeth but the hostile edge to Blue’s magic and tone made him pause. It was less a question and more of an accusation. And that answer wouldn’t have been exactly true besides. 

The tendril on his back coiled defensively. 

He hadn’t stopped to think before he leapt in front of Nightmare. It hadn’t been a “should I or shouldn’t I” situation in his mind. In that moment he was unable to look past the pain and hurt his brother’s mirror was experiencing. In that moment, the distinction didn’t matter. He had to put a stop to it, that’s all. He couldn’t fight his brother. In any form he took. He just couldn’t do it. It reminded him of too much. And he couldn’t stand to watch that either. 

But how could he possibly explain that? 

A step behind his teammate, Dream was trying to calm down. Blue’s presence helped but he was struggling. Molt took a step back. He was causing someone pain and distress. He didn’t want that. Blue’s stance shifted. Bracing.

That felt like betrayal too. Molt swallowed something bitter behind his teeth and tried not to think of it that way. Ignored that small part of him that hissed and felt a little bit angry. It didn’t make sense. He knew the person in front of him wasn’t his friend.

“FRIEND, I WANT TO GIVE YOU THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT BUT... YOU ARE ACTING SUSPICIOUSLY.”

“I’ll leave,” Molt said. His head was pounding, and the last thing he wanted was to be dragged into another fight. “Wait...” Dream took a breath. “You’re hurt. Stay for a minute, let’s talk.” “DREAM IS RIGHT, POTENTIAL ENEMY OR NOT, IT WOULDN’T BE RIGHT TO LEAVE YOU THIS WAY. NOT TO FEAR HOWEVER, I AM ALWAYS PREPARED!” “It’s okay. I don’t need candy,” Molt said and felt vaguely like he was reading the lines of a script. If Rem or any of the others were here, they’d be calling his bluff. “Then, what do you need?”

“Somewhere calm, with hope. That’s all.”

The two exchanged a look. Surprise, suspicion, resignation, dread. “I SEE. SO YOU ARE LIKE DREAM THEN. BUT SURELY THAT'S NOT ENOUGH. I... I CANNOT SEEM TO CHECK YOU FOR SOME REASON, BUT YOU DO NOT LOOK WELL.”

Blue seemed to ask to Dream something silently. Concern. Suspicion. Acceptance. Dream sighed. “I know somewhere. It’ll be okay. We’ll be keeping an eye on him together, right? The place I’m thinking of is isolated so...”

“IT’S SETTLED THEN.” he finally dismissed his weapon, and Molt felt the tendrils on his back slowly lower. “SO THEN, NEW FRIEND, WHAT DO YOU SAY TO A TRUCE? WILL YOU COME WITH US?”

He gauged their intent for a moment. Rem had sometimes remarked that his empathy made him gullible. But Molt was tired, and sore, and aching. The others weren’t here. And he let them make decisions for him too much anyway. He hated to admit it but Nightmare was right. Dream wasn’t a physical threat to him. He was scared and trying so hard to be brave, and Molt was trying equally hard not to feel rattled.

“Okay,” he said.

Blue made a noise, something between acknowledgment and mild confusion. Dream offered a strained smile. He supposed they had a lot of questions.

[missmurbertime]

More day dates as requested! Go get them skellies you bone addicts!

Error: He is…surprisingly sweet. And awkward about it. Dancing around actually saying he wants to go somewhere. Hinting that he might want to. That you haven’t left the house. Or something along those lines. But he can’t take it anymore and grabs your hand, pulling out out the house with a gruff ‘𝑊𝐸 𝐴𝑅𝐸 𝐺𝑂𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝑂𝑈𝑇’. You hardly even have time to grab your shoes before you’re off. It’s a little cute the way he avoids saying where he wants to visit. But when he takes you to a modestly size candy store that makes their own chocolate, you’re not too terribly surprised. At first it seems like he dragged you out for his own addiction ‘𝐼 𝐶𝐴𝑁 𝑆𝑇𝑂𝑃 𝐴𝑁𝑌𝑇𝐼𝑀𝐸 𝐼 𝑊𝐴𝑁𝑇！’ He will always insist as he drinks his ninth cup of hot cocoa that day. But instead, he is pulling you to the pastries. Murmuring about you trying something new. Or muttering that their fudge is ‘𝑃𝐴𝑆𝑆𝐼𝑁𝐺𝐿𝑌 𝐷𝐸𝐶𝐸𝑁𝑇’ which is high praise from him indeed. So you do. You get some fudge. Some cookies. A slice of cheesecake brownie. And he leads you out. A small awning with chairs and umbrellas decorated by the shop awaits you. He nudges you into a chair and attempts to make conversation with you. Awkward as he is. Glaring at anyone who even looks close to bumping your chair. It’s…it’s nice. Sweet. And at the end of the day he takes you home with your little bag of what you didn’t eat. The last thing you remember that night is that he didn’t even get any chocolate for himself. How about that.

Nightmare: You’d almost expect him to take you to a horror movie or something if you had to guess based on appearances. But no…no it’s much much better. Taking you through a portal to Salem, Massachusetts. To a pirate museum. You find yourself blinking and looking around with wide curious eyes. Taking in everything with your hand tightly clasped in his. He guides you through. Muttering little facts as if he planned to take you and read up on it. At the end of the tour you see the actual treasure of the ship. The guide telling you that this particular pirate did all of this for the girl he loved. And one of Nightmares tentacles wraps around you. Murmuring that just maybe…love like that might be worth it. Making you resemble the cutest little tomato for the rest of the day. He takes you for ice cream. Letting you enjoy the lovely scenic town before pulling you through Portal home. When you rest later you can’t help but agree. Love really is worth it.

Horror: He can be a little slow about voicing things. He knows that but actions…oh he is good at actions. So you hardly bat a lash when he takes your hand and pulls you to the door. The last of the Christmas decor is still up. Making the streets twinkle and shine. His eye light pauses on them a few time as you walk but he keeps going. Finally you’re at his place of interest. A garden. But not just any garden. The garden of poison. A garden of the most poisonous plants in the world. Raising both brows at him, he shyly speaks. Soft and slow. ‘S’just like you…..beautiful….deadly. All kinds….of bad…..for my heart’ and you think you might have just MELTED if he hadn’t pulled you in. Walking you through. Signs everywhere Warning anyone dumb enough to not touch. To not lick. To NOT BE DUMB! It makes you laugh. Leaning against his arm through the whole walk. When you make it to the end, he somehow disappears. Making you huff because ‘How can someone the size of a grizzly bear DISAPPEAR!’ But then he is back. Arm around you again. Chin on your head. Giving you a little box. More than romanced now, you open it. And immediately flush. Inside is a gift he clearly got from the gift shop. A single flower. Belladonna. Covered in resin to preserve it and protect you. Cut in a square. Your name engraved on it. Wiping your head up just in time, you see that beautiful ultramarine flush on his skull. He mumbles your name. Soft. So full of 𝐹𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔. That you can’t find yourself saying anything. When you make it home you find an old display stand with a light and set it up on your nightstand. Looking at it every night. Falling more ever time you see it.

[monkmain2]

I figured if I were to post these pictures here I might as well include the whole thing

extremely long page of text below the cut

his idea has been rattling around in my brain like a little gremlin who just snorted five lines of coke and drank an entire can of monster energy

I was extremely reluctant to actually get this idea out there because my little autism creechur brain was 100% convinced that it was the most cringy shit ever created and i would be violently and incessantly beaten down by the very fact that i had posted something so blasphemous on the internet by my very own conscience

But at this point i feel like there’s no point in keeping it in or else it’ll just infect my brain forever and i’ll never be able to think about anything else so if it is disgustingly cringy i suppose i’ll just have to embrace the cringe and deal with it

Ok fine admittedly if it is cringe i’ll probably just disable reboots and comments on this post and adamantly deny its existence if anyone brings it up

Ok so uh it’s a concept for an alternate UTMV

God this is so fucking cringe i hate it already why am i like this

I don’t even want to keep going why is this so cringe to my gremlin brain

AHEM

So uh

It’s sorta an expansion of that “UTMV but Ink is really fucking short” idea i had a while ago

So like it’s like when Ink tried to destroy his soul it did the refusing to shatter thing for no particular reason other than i couldn’t think of a better way to cobble together an explanation for why he still has one

So it still made all his memories go away but it also reverted him back to the age in which such a mentality would be expected aka a baby

As for how he left his AU after this that’s something that i have to talk about Nightmare and Dream’s weird convoluted story in this AU for you to understand

So unlike normal Dreamtale instead of Dream being a perfect angel that everyone loves and Nightmare being jealous of him he’s a belligerent little shit with anger issues that everyone just kind of puts up with because he’s the guardian of positivity so they can’t really hate him

Nightmare isn’t jealous of him and is instead self-conscious because everyone hates him for no reason even though he’s just a shy bean who’s trying his best and he thinks something must be wrong with him

So one day some kids decide that it would be fun to climb the tree and steal an apple. Nightmare sees them doing this and climbs after them, and they get into a slight scuffle which ends with one kid falling out of the tree with a couple apples. When Nightmare goes to make sure he’s ok, the kid shoves an apple in his mouth for bullying reasons.

Nightmare does the whole explodey goop thing, but he doesn't go crazy or anything, and instead it hurts so much he accidentally thrashes his tentacles too much and levels the whole area, killing the kids and obliterating the tree.

Dream comes running and yells at Nightmare for destroying the tree and killing the kids even though it’s clearly not his fault. And then uuuh i don’t really know the other stuff about Dreamtale after the whole Nightmare eating all the apples part so bing bang boom some shit happens and now Dreamtale is uninhabitable and Dream and Nightmare decide to fuck off and go protect the multiverse instead.

Dream solves all his problems with violence and Nightmare solves his problems by either pretending to have an intent to kill or curling up on the floor and crying. (he just like me fr (i’m totally not projecting here (why would you think such a thing))) also Dream isn’t allowed to enter the Omega timeline for anger management reasons

Some bullshit happens that results in a Swap!Sans exiting his universe right as a reset happens so that’s how i shoehorn Blue into being a character

Also Error is still here by the way he’s still destroying universes and stuff nothing much is different about him

Speaking of Error, at one point he notices Ink’s AU and moseys on over to destroy it as usual. Nightmare and Blue jump in to protect the AU, but when they realize Ink is the only one there, they decide to just distract Error instead of actually fighting him while they get Ink out of there. Blue grabs Ink, and Ink uses his magic AU powers or whatever to sense the coordinates of Blue’s AU and teleports there to get away from Error. After they get Ink to the Doodlesphere, (Error can’t go the the Doodlesphere in this AU) they realise they can’t just dump him in the Omega timeline, because if he gets stressed he’ll read the coordinates of someone's AU and teleport there, and there are so many characters from so many AUs there, it’ll be unreasonably difficult to find him if he does. so they decide that the best course of action is to keep him in the Doodlesphere to protect him from Error themselves.

Oh yeah Ink is also mute for some reason

That’s pretty much it i think

Vaguely related rant time!!!!!!!!!!!

Honestly I don't think posting about this will help me stop thinking about it. In order to, like, not get bored in the undertale fandom, you have to constantly make AUs because focusing on one AU doesn't really work unless you want an extremely convoluted story that drags on forever. The only other option is to make an alternate multiverse, so you can just fuck about with no real storyline. But that gets old too after a while, and if I don't have access to drawing tools I just get lost in this one repeating storyline with stupid amounts of angst because it’s not interesting without angst. 

Being in a fandom does kind of stifle your creativity after a while, but the very fact that I'm hyperfixated on undertale makes it hard to tear myself away and try other things even if I know I should. That’s part of the reason I'm trying to get back into writing my wolf story, so I have something else to think about,. the problem with that is, it isn’t an open storyline. I know how it’ll end and what will happen next, so I can't really imagine random circumstances to chuck the characters into since that would never realistically happen in the world I created.

The moral of the story is my school better fix the weird restrictions on every single decent drawing website in existence or I might explode

My god this entire thing spans two and a half pages of a google doc i had to make a new one just to write this without it lagging

[orange-artblog]

fnk week day 1 - crossover!!!!

its my new favourite game. with my old favourite game. yay!!!! (splatoon and undertale)

(Shiver!)Nightmare by Jokublog

(Frye!)Killer by rahafwabas

(Big Man!)Ccino by black-nyanko (?)

fluffynightkiller week by @help-im-a-gay-fish

hmmmmm………… just a small ramble:

I did base their designs mostly off of Deep Cut as I am working on a crossover too. it‘s been a month now and my understanding of Splatoon has been widened so I have some more ideas I didn‘t add into this original image :p

-Nm‘s clothes are metal/leather-type machinery built in to mimic his aura and emotion-enhancing abilities (of sorts? this was my original idea for it); he Could have them naturally but I thought having speakers and all on his design instead to enhance his voice and by that influence would be nice (I. would go into more detail but not rn XD)

-Despite Big Man being a manta ray, I made Ccino an inkling too, as I thought it would fit more into the group and all

-Yes, Nm is based off Shiver who did not work in the arms like (Marina!)Dream would have, but I have two crossovers and I (make the rules) believe he was an elite. Now, elites have the start of their tentacles typically be black, but I did see in official arts too that that could depend on the ink infused with them? it never happened in game so this is more of a headcanon now, but the start of the tentacles are black, just not for this image

-Killer just got some special ink to get his hair like that, inklings can‘t be elites since that‘s specifically just an octarian rank :3

-i made their fingers be dyed in their colours just like the Deep Cut (Nm -> Killer -> Ccino and then back around)

and also the full image (its just a few pixels more)

[forestglade]

Had to get this idea out of my brain. You know how in those 'Feral Skelebro's on an Island' fics there's never Nightmare and his gang? I wrote a prologue to a fic where Dream and Ink trap them on an island to avoid killing them. It's under the cut and anyone can do whatever they want with it (if you copy it word for word for an actual fic I'd like credit though)

-‐-------------------------------------------------------------------

Dream really didn't like this idea. Sure, it would certainly keep his brother and his gang from causing trouble, but it just... Really didn't feel right. Even the reassurances from Ink and Blue didn't do much to sway him into agreeing with this idea. However... The destruction and the casualties of bystanders were waying on him. With each encounter, more and more humans and monsters were getting hurt. More death, more destruction, all to those who were none the wiser to he and his brothers ongoing war. If he could put aside his morals, just this once... They had a chance to finally stop the suffering and random attacks on innocent AU's.

The preparation would take weeks, and a lot of Dream's energy, but he hoped it would be worth the trouble. He had to find an AU that was overwhelmingly positive, and then foster even more positivity. He couldn't let his brother get any strength from the AU around him for this to work. Then, it was Ink's turn. An island out in the remote area of the ocean they could find, as far from land and any human or monster as possible. He didn't want to risk anyone coming across his brother's group. Once the strenuous preparations were done, the Stars had to actually capture their enemies.

******************************************

Nightmare had a good feeling at the start of their current mission, but as soon as his brother showed up his good mood soured. This wasn't unusual, of course, howevee... This time it felt off. His brother was much more stiff in his movements and nearly even stumbled a few times. It would have been funny if the strange feeling in the back of his skull wasn't there. Dream was also being much more aggressive than usual despite his strange movements, which really didn't sit well with him.

Really, it was his own fault for letting himself get cornered by Dream. He had been much too focused on his brother when he really should have been focusing on the fact that they were getting farther and farther from the others. He really should have been able to notice Ink had gone missing fairly soon into their fight as well, and he was kicking himself even as the sharp pain of... Something pierced his Soul. It wasn't anything that would kill him, of course. It hadn't had that sting of positivity that came with Dream's attacks, but anything sharp hitting his Soul still hurt like a bitch.

He cursed and snarled even as he felt himself start sinking to the ground, darkness starting to ebb into the edges of his vision. The tentacles behind him lashed out until his vision faded, slowly lowering to the ground around him. He hated that the last thing he saw was a look of pitty on his brother's face, a tentacle twitching with the urge to lash out at the other before his vision finally faded away.

The first thing Nightmare felt when he woke up was an overwhelming, oppressive positivity. At least, oppressive to him. It grated on his corruption and made him feel much too warm. It didn't help that the sun was beating down on him, and the sand beneath him felt like it was burning. He winced as he pushed himself to sit up before setting his face in his usual angry frown. He was quick to glance around, finding himself on a beach. With so much positivity he wouldn't be able to pinpoint if Dream was there, but for the moment it seemed it was just him and his boys.

He was quick to stand, brushing off the sand as he took in where they had been dumped. He knew they were in a different AU, but he had no way of telling which one. The pure positivity he could feel radiating around him kept him from being able to reach out and feel anything farther than the island they were on. He huffed, walking over to where his men lay in the sand, grabbing each with a tentacle before lifting and shaking them awake.

Nightmare snarled as he woke them up, then dropped them. He ignored their shenannigans, watching as Killer started running around to bother Dust and Horror. Normally he would stop it, but the irritation coming from them was a relief. He examined the area just a bit closer, noticing some sort of barrier. It seemed to circle the island, going above it as well. He hummed, snatching Killer by a leg before flinging him. He watched as the skeleton smacked into the barrier a minute or so later before falling down into the water.

He let out an irritated growl, turning the give Dust and Horror the order to start exploring for any clues on how they got there, or any possible ways to escape. He went on his own way to try and figure out what was going on, aiming to find the source of the positivity on the island. If he could get rid of that barrier, then he and his gang could go cause some chaos. At least enough that he could get them out of this AU.

It would take days for him to find what seemed to be the source of that barrier, a large cavern full of bright, yellow crystals. He was quick to wrap a tentacle around one, ignoring the burn as he started to pump it full of negativity. He grinned as it slowly, slowly started darkening. He knew it would take... A very long time. He was certain the other three would be able to manage without him while he worked. Out here in the middle of nowhere they could fight and destroy as much as they wanted.

The first time Horror had trapped something, it was strange to him. It looked like a normal deer, and it tasted like a normal deer, however... The blood was an inky black. It didn't hurt him to eat though, and it was full of magic, which was good. Apparently, the barrier was very good at surpressing their magic, but he hadn't noticed. He didn't have much magic left anyway, but he could tell Killer and Dust were getting irritated and pent up. He could even see the physical effects of them being unable to use their magic.

Horns, sharp tails and claws, fangs, and they were even becoming more aggressive with each other. It didn't help that he hadn't seen Nightmare since the first day, even if he could feel that he was still there... Somewhere.

It would be months before the final crystal turned dark, and Nightmare was exhausted. He grinned as he made his way back out of the cave before frowning. He could see that the barrier was still there, and as strong as ever. It seemed the only thing that had happened was that all the plants seemed... Wilted, and barely surviving.

He snarled as his tentacles lashed angrily behind him. He paced, his claws twitching and digging at his good socket. He really had no idea what to do next.

Months went by, then turned to years. Every so often a human or monster would get tossed onto their island to keep them busy. They would be lucky to end up in Horror's territory. He would at least make their death quick.

The worst would be if they managed to survive until making it to the base of the mountain. Nightmare had ended up taking over that area, the shadows seemingly alive. Anyone that made it there would be caught in the shadows and dragged up to the cavern, their screams ringing out for days as Nightmare attempted to get as much negativity from them as possible before finally killing them.

[shadowgast-recs-weekly]

Older Favourites: A Shadowgast Rec List

This week, we have a recurring theme to cap out the first month of the new year- Older Favourites! Check under the cut for 11 fics that are over a year old, and don't forget to comment and kudos if you like them!

Fundamental Forces Other Than Gravity by mllekurtz (TheKnittingJedi) (40676, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

A sweet collage AU one-shot where they are both a bit vulnerable and the m9 is its usual chaotic self.

Reccer says: I liked it!

Hold Me Close (But Not Too Sweet) by AnaliseGrey (5312, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Choose Not to Warn

Dom Caleb gets Essek out of his head with ear clamps and oral sex.

Reccer says: I liked it!

multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the distance by mousecookie (10003, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek and Caleb end up on the opposite side of Resonant Echo in a dangerous place.

Reccer says: Fascinating concept and interestingly written

only code it knows is rote survival by Chrome (12637, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

In a world where Trent makes it back to Eiselcross before the Nein do, Essek spends a night under the effects of the Feeblemind spell. Caleb undertakes a duty of care, and the Nein learn how Essek feels about them beneath everything.

Reccer says: Always love Feeblemind!Essek and this one is lovely in all the care the rest of the group gives

(perhaps i may) elaborate by demonstration by marsastronomica (10057, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Aeor flirting, flirting, flirting, and smut. Funny but loving.

Reccer says: This is one of my favs of all time. The characterization is great. A rare confident Essek. Tons of great lines too and the Nein are perfect.

we never do go over (we always gotta go through) by Chrome (17169, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

after a final battle with the Tombtakers, Five times Essek woke up with level(s) of exhaustion and one time he didn't.

Reccer says: It's so tender! An interesting take on a possible end to the arc and a wonderful demonstration for (the consequences of) Essek's power

Lay Your Bones by ladyorpheus (53587, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

The M9 rescue Essek, meet his brother, and muse on family.

Reccer says: One of the very first fics I read in this fandom and it's always stuck with me. A real ensemble M9 piece with shadowgast at its heart.

Like darkness to a dying flame by Sangreal (, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb Widogast, arcanist in the service of His Excellency, Prime Magister Ludinus Da’leth, and antiquarian at large, travels to the ancient city of Ghor Dranas in search of a powerful drowic vestige that he believes can help him turn back time. He finds his vestige... and something more.

Reccer says: So. This fic. It is a fever dream, a fantasy-warped nightmare. Art in text. Heavy like lead in your mouth. Fucked up and absolutely gorgeously written. I think about it like once a week still. (Eldritch horror-Essek and Caleb succumbing to obsession and tentacles.)

shrimp vision by nevenne (5662, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Humans can’t see in the dark. They see well in sunlight, however, and their eyes are exceptional for distinguishing color and depth. Drow can see at night, but more importantly, they can see in complete darkness as their eyes have accustomed to tracking the invisible heat radiating off objects and living flesh. There is a series of unfortunate complications to co-existing with a human arising from these facts.

Reccer says: It's funny and hot and there's some great drow biology in it!

Troublemaker by SaltCore (1309, General) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Kittens, while precious, do tend to cause problems on purpose. Good thing Essek is already smitten.

Reccer says: Amazingly sweet domestic fluff

learning all the old things by hanap (1353, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek cooks a meal for Caleb and himself.

Reccer says: It's super sweet and domestic

Aeor is for Lovers is an 18+ Shadowgast Discord server. The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. All fics, unless otherwise specified, will primarily feature Shadowgast. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ! Next week, we’ll be back with non-penetrative sex!

[forgettingcrowbin]

Haha here's an excerpt on the first draft of the Unclemare au I'm working on! It gets worse before it gets better haha :) (tw: violence, blood)

(Palette is running away from Nightmare's gang in a forest and just tripped.)

Before Palette could even think about running away again, sharp bones ripped through his clothing. It pinned his arm and scarf against the tree. He screamed out in pain when he felt one bone pierce next to his femur. His mind was racing too fast. He almost felt sick. Nausea circled his ribcage as his skull spun and he slammed into the trunk of the tree behind him.

Blue attacks slipped through his bones and he gasped at the feeling of the magic attack. He couldn’t move an inch lest he hurt himself any further. His panic surely could not have spiked any further until he heard a voice call out through the trees.

“We got him boss! Little sucker was all alone~!” a voice sang out with what Palette assumed was malicious intent. He noticed the skeletons come into view, all versions of Sans that held an air of negativity around them. Piercing spikes of fear lanced through his body as he looked around at the Sans'.

The one throwing knives had a smiling face with pitch black tears that consistently dripped from his skull, he recalled what his father had told him and narrowed him down to Killer. He could tell the giant skeleton was Horror, from the giant red eye light and gaping hole in his head. Colorful paint was splashed on his face from the attack that Palette had done while running, and it made the monster look a little less intimidating than he expected. The last one was in a hoodie that completely covered any indicators to what his face looked like, except for an eye light that glowed red and blue. It mixed into a cacophony of swirls that created dark indigo and dull purple spikes of magic. He assumed this monster was the last of the gang, Dust. Tears ran down his face when he faced reality. He was totally caught now.

Although nothing could have prepared him to come face to face with the Lord of negativity lurking beyond the trees. His breath locked up when a branch got snapped away with a sharp tentacle. It cut through the young tree like butter, leaving the branches and leaves beginning to crumble away in darkness. He felt something awful and suffocating circle around them all and knew it was the negative aura he had sensed.

The calamitous figure was tall and covered by an oily tar that dragged down every surface of his body. His one eye light held an eerie cyan glow that illuminated the shadows of the sludge that clung to the dying wildlife around him. His cloak draped around him which showed his impeccable posture, and the silver circlet that spiked upwards in the middle gleamed with the cyan glow of his eye. In all his negative glory was his uncle, Nightmare.

“Well, well, well… What do we have here? Little Palette, was it? The little pest I've been searching for all these years. My, look how tall you've grown since the last I've seen you!" His uncle crouched down to his level, his tentacles that once were waving around predatorial were carefully lowered to the ground. His smile was wicked, a grin that stretched across his skull showing off his bright canines. His sharp phalanges reached out and Palette flinched away in fear of what his uncle had in store. The hand reached out again and was confused when he was met with the frigid hand softly landing on his cranium.

Palette was shivering in confusion when he stuttered out any response that he could get out. “U-uncle Nightmare! This was a huge mistake, I didn’t mean to get in your... uh... way! I just came here to take a little breather and then I was going to return home.” 

Nightmare smiled, his grin causing shivers to rise up Palette’s vertebrae. “Well great job on choosing the au we were planning to attack next-!” Killer sang out in joy as Dust slapped the back of his skull to shut him up. Nightmare chose to ignore his lackeys behind him and began to slowly turn Palette's skull to observe every inch of his face.

“Well, dearest Nephew, we were hoping to seize some good subsistence from this au, but it seems like we’ve caught something even more refreshing.” Nightmare’s tentacles suddenly snapped up and grabbed Palette at any inch they could. They ripped him up through the blue attacks causing a scream to escape from Palette’s mouth. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks and he tried to breathe and failed. “Let’s have some fun dear nephew, that incompetent father of yours kept you from me for far too long.” The last thing that Palette managed to see before he slipped into unconsciousness was the cruel expression that graced upon his kin’s face.

[amandacanwrite]

The Violet Thread of Fate ||

Reluctant Mentor Gale x Unskilled Wizard F!Tav

Length || About 4,000 Words

POV || Dual Narration, Third Person

Warnings || Descriptions of viscera, age gap (about ten years, both adults)

Summary || After waking up on the craggy shoreline of the sword coast, Elinna and Gale reunite with a new common ground.

A/n || I am feeling sort of on the fence about Gale's eagerness in his attraction to Elinna, but I also feel like it's still at least somewhat in character for him--after all in any playthrough you can wind up being blindsided by his feelings for you since he is usually so subtle about his affections. I also just think it's so fun to get the internal narration of Gale's attraction. He always seems so put together, polite and proper. I just love to see a man precariously balancing his carnal desires with his conscience and desire to be a good man. I hope you like it, I know things feel a little slow right now, but I'm planning on taking some creative liberties in the next couple parts. Please also lemme know what you think if you read it! I am absolutely tinkerbell and need the dopamine to live

Chapter Two: A Nightmare, An Awakening

Read Part One Here • Join Tag List Here

A Nightmare

Elinna thought she had died; thought the disintegration of her bodily form was the end of her short, unremarkable life. Much to her surprise, though when her vision once again returned to her she realized she had merely been spirited away somehow.

It took a few moments for her eyes to properly focus. When they finally did, she almost wished that the contact with the tentacle had killed her. It would have been far preferable to where she had wound up.

She found herself locked in a great chitinous pod, looking through smeared membranous glass at what she could only suppose was the nautiloid she had tried to escape from. 

Yes…death would have been a far preferable fate to becoming a mindless thrall on a mindflayer ship. As she squinted through the clear panel in front of her and saw what appeared to be a brain walking on four spindly limbs, she realized that her fate could be even worse than regular enthrallment. 

The minutes she spent entrapped in the pod felt like hours. A miserable limbo of wondering what would be coming next for her. What if she was already marked for turning into an intellect devourer? What if the enthrallment had already been put in place and she could simply be ordered to do something whenever a mindflayer so wished it?

She couldn’t just stay here. She had to move.

She tried, in vain, to wrench her arms free of the fleshy brindings within the pod. The sinuous tendrils only tightened more and more, leaving her fingertips throbbing and tingling from the blood flow being cut off. She tried to move her feet next and her boots sloshed in some sort of viscera at the base of the pod. She did her best not to vomit as the viscera eked some ichorous fluid into the fibers of her clothing and through the porous leather of her soft-soled shoes. 

The last thing she needed in addition to all of this was to be covered in the contents of her own stomach–empty as it was.

The shock of panic cinched tight around her ribcage, making it hard to breathe. And as she struggled to get her lungs to fill, she also struggled to think. 

“Calm down, Elinna,” she told herself. “Think about what you’ve read. Think about what you know.”

What did she know about Illithids? They were hivemind organisms. They required high-moisture, high-humidity environments to protect the mucosal membranes of their skin. They primarily fed on the brains of their prey and used psionic energy not only to fight but to control their biomechanical machinery. 

She craned her head forward to look for some sort of control panel–something that could get her out of this cocoon of horror. 

As she did, a valve-like door opened on the far side of the room, revealing a dizzying network of corridors. And…and one of them. A mind flayer. 

Elinna went dizzy as her heart thumped in her temples. She watched in horror and sickly anticipation as it levitated toward something in the center of the room; a cistern of sorts from what she could see. It waved a four-fingered hand and the vessel opened, revealing a golden, glowing brine pool that may have been beautiful if Elinna didn’t know precisely what it was. 

The mindflayer coaxed one of those disgusting tadpoles out of the amber liquid and levitated over to Elinna’s pod. She recoiled away from it as the pod opened, turning her face away from the creature and squeezing her eyes shut. She knew exactly how mindflayers reproduced, and she was not interested in getting a first hand experience with ceremorphosis. 

She didn’t have much of a choice, though. Even without the parasite, the illithid was able to compel her to stillness. 

It was an atrocious violation of her agency; surreal and nightmarish in the worst ways. Her mind was fully intact as the creature made her muscles release the tension they held and coerced her eyes to open. Her body was still and calm, but her heart was racing like a trapped rabbit’s. She watched uselessly as the tiny creature floated closer to her. She cried to cry out as it latched onto the orb of her eye and started to wriggle and squirm until it could find purchase beneath her eyelid. 

She was silent. Infuriatingly, horribly silent as the creature continued to burrow its way into her skull. 

Her pulse hammered in her ears as she screamed inside her own body, begging herself to fight, to tear her own eye out rather than let the process of ceremorphosis take place. 

But her body was still as the tiny parasite worked its way into her eye socket and back into her brain. 

Elinna lost consciousness as she felt the unsettling pressure of her brain matter being displaced to accommodate her unwelcome guest. 

When she awoke next, she didn’t immediately know where she was. She only knew that it was loud and it was cold. The sound of air ripping past her pointed ears is what brought her back into full consciousness, and though her eyes were open, she wasn’t actually seeing at first. 

There was a vast expanse of stars above her, the smell of salty air, the lingering cling of something far more acrid–like the smell of burnt sulfur woven into her clothes. 

She tried to parse what was going on, it felt like she was sinking into the ocean–but if that were the case, shouldn’t she not be able to breathe? 

Then she saw the burning wreckage of the Nautiloid and everything came back to her. 

The travel to Waterdeep, the encounter with Mr. Dekarios, the parasite and…

And she was falling through the sky! 

“Not again!” she cried as she stared at the ground rising to meet her with startling velocity. “No, no, no! I will not–This is not how I die!”

It didn’t go very well the last time, but it wasn’t as if she had any other ideas of what to do. She scoped out the approaching shoreline, selecting one spot and earmarking it. After choosing a point on a craggy cliffside, she shut her eyes and tried to gulp in a breath before it was whipped out of her mouth. 

“Inveniam Viam!” she shouted. 

That strange, surreal feeling of not moving, yet being in a different place came again, only this time it was followed very quickly by the feeling smashing into the ground beneath her, square onto her back. It wasn’t a far drop, perhaps only a few feet, but it was enough to hurt her. She blinked up at the sky above her, the glow of the stars somewhat dampened by the flaming wreckage of the nautiloid as it loudly crashed into the earth just a few moments after her.

She ached as she stood and looked out over the cliffside she’d misty stepped to, seeing the vast expanse of an unfamiliar coast crawling with intellect devourers and the blazing with fires choking out great plumes of black smoke. She dropped to her knees, feeling utterly defeated. 

She had no idea where she was. She had no money. No food. Not even a change of clothes with her. She didn’t even know where she was–and she knew she was more than a little directionally challenged. 

Her keepers at The Scribes Nest had told her not to leave; had warned her that there were dangers in the world. That she couldn’t hope to survive on the knowledge she’d amassed from books alone. That the lives of wizards often ended in folly. 

She knew this, of course. She’d read extensively about every wizard she could find and more than half of them were done in by their own curiosity. 

But the ones who hadn’t been rendered themselves undone…they were amazing. Elminster and Blackstaff. Lorroikan and Sammaster. Karsus and Dekarios.

Wait….

Gale Dekarios–he’d been touched by the tentacles, too!

And if she hadn’t died, then that meant he probably hadn’t either. If she could find him, if she could just appeal to him for one favor…maybe he could help her get back to Waterdeep. Maybe she would have an opportunity to prove to him that she could be a good apprentice; that she was worth the trouble of taking on as a student. Maybe he would know how to get rid of the tadpole squirming in her brain. 

But none of that would happen if she just sat there on her knees and despaired. 

She would need to get back up and put one bloody boot in front of the other. 

She would have to be brave and she would have to trust that Mystra would guide her to what came next. 

An Awakening

Hells…it just had to be a pocket dimension that saved him, didn’t it?

They were tricky little things–a slice of wild magic that functioned like an oubliette; a place to put things to be forgotten, or to be summoned at a different point in time. He’d used a few in his time, but never for more than storage during travel or to hide the occasional failed potion. He’d thought once that he might use one when it was clear that the orb would no longer be sated by the magic artifacts he consumed; discussed the idea with Tara before she requested not to speak of it until necessary. 

“I don’t like think of that eventuality, Mr. Dekarios,” Tara had said to him. “I know I tend to be pragmatic…but it makes me far too sad.”

“Focus,” he scolded himself as he looked around the darkened pocket. He needed to find an opening–or at least find a way to make one, failing that. 

It was a mistake that he’d even ended up in one in the first place. A mistake that stemmed from the first mistake when he’d tried to help that girl. 

If he’d had any sense, he would have let her run and gone straight to help his mother and make sure Tara would be okay. He could only hope that they were still safely nestled at his childhood home in Waterdeep. At least he’d not seen either of them during his wanderings about the ship. 

But then the spelljammer had lurched and started falling out of the sky, and he’d grabbed onto the strongest strand of weave he could find and followed it here. The unfortunate side of that, of course, was that the strength of that thread is precisely what made this particular pocket realm exceedingly hard to get out of. And the parasite so rudely deposited into his brain was not doing wonders for his ability to concentrate. 

He held his hands up and closed his eyes, attempting to feel out the strands of weave in this darkened place. Wherever he’d been transported to, it felt very far away from Mystra indeed. Like whatever reality he’d blipped into was one almost entirely devoid of magic at all. 

He focused a bit harder, the tadpole in his head wriggling with the effort. He continued to focus, trying not to think too hard about the unnerving sensation. Finally, with some challenge, he managed to pool some magic together. It felt similar to trying to collect enough morning dew on a leaf to drink.

There came a crackle, then a tear. Not nearly large enough to fit himself entirely through, but enough that he could get an arm out. 

Perhaps with at least one hand in Faerun, he could channel whatever remaining weave he needed to fully escape this dark corner of nothing. 

A sheen of perspiration shone on his brow as he felt around outside of the oubliette. He could feel the familiar moisture of coastal air and it sent a wave of relief through him. He wasn’t far from Waterdeep at all, then. Or at least he’d hoped as much. 

Perhaps he could just appear on the main road and hurry straight to his mother to make sure that she and Tara were alright. 

He was trying to grasp onto the weave when he suddenly felt the soft, almost tentative brush of fingertips on the palm of his hand. 

A person! Perfect! There was no better way to anchor a teleportation spell than to another living soul. It would be a little complex to explain that, though, and he was sure a mysterious arm poking out of wherever he could reach was more than a little unnerving so he settled for simplicity instead. 

“Hello?!” He called through the tear in the fabric of space and time. “Is anyone there? A hand? Please?”

He felt the hand withdraw for a moment, then it returned with what he assumed was the person’s other hand. One closed tightly around his fingers, the other grasped a bit higher, accompanied by the sensation of fingertips curling into the fabric of his sleeve. Small, gentle hands. Not small enough to be a child–but perhaps a woman. 

He closed his eyes once more and took a deep breath, allowing himself to feel the energy of the stranger on the other side of the opening. He tapped into it, smelling the faint, sweetly lactic scent of peaches; tasting on the tip of his tongue the light flavor of…honeyscotch candy. If Mystra’s energy was violet in color…this energy was the color of the sky during sunrise…a gradient of lilac, rose and cerulean.

Pretty… he thought to himself before slamming the heel of his hand to his brow. 

Focus you touch-starved buffoon.

“Whatever you’re doing is working wonders!” he said encouragingly. “I think if you just give me a good pull, I should come right out!”

The stranger pulled and he joined that effort by pushing himself through from the other side with what remained of that pooled bit of magic he’d gathered together. 

Finally, he flew out of the pocket realm like a cork from a bottle, regrettably landing right on top of the poor woman who had helped him. 

He was quick to shift his weight so he didn’t put the entirety of his considerable heft on the poor thing. Yet, his creaky knees slowed him down when it came to properly getting up. Then again…he couldn’t deny a certain reluctance to rise. He hated to admit it, and if anyone ever asked him he would deny it to the grave…but it was pleasant to feel the soft curves of a woman against him. A year was such a long time to be without it, and to feel warmth beneath him again…

It was a lascivious thought not becoming of a gentleman, he remembered, but one that occurred almost automatically much to his chagrin. 

“Hells,” he said. “Forgive me miss. I’m usually much better at this–and usually not so long sedentary that my limbs can’t keep up with my manners. Allow me to–”

He lifted himself up onto his elbows and finally laid eyes on his savior. 

It was the girl from before. What was the name? Elinna Inklynn. 

She stared up at him with wide eyes and a face flushed with exertion. How hard had she needed to work to pull him out of that portal? Seeing her so close now, he picked up on some of the qualities he’d missed in the dim light of the Waterdhavian evening. 

A constellation of mauve-tinged freckles dusted across her flushed nose and cheeks. In the daylight, her skin was almost pale pink. The soft swell of her lips sat slightly parted with a look of surprise. And her eyes…my those eyes were something to behold. Verdant as a sprig of mint and flecked with gold as if she had a vein of ore curling through the irises of her eyes. 

“A-allow me to help you up,” he finally stammered. “You’re not hurt are you?”

“Not by you,” she said somewhat breathlessly. 

He grunted slightly as he got back onto his feet, now allowing himself to think of the way her soft curves shifted beneath him. He reached a hand down and helped her back up to her feet as well, dusting off her theadbare apron and her slightly puffed sleeves. She was still flushed–perhaps dehydration or fever…or…

“You haven’t happened to have been on the receiving end of a rather unwelcome insertion in the ocular region, have you?” he asked. 

The flush could be a sign of the beginning stages of ceremorphosis. 

“I couldn’t have phrased it more repellently myself,” Elinna replied. 

“No use sugarcoating it, is there?” he asked with a smirk. “I don’t suppose you know what these little passengers will cause if left to their own devices?”

“Ceremorphosis,” she answered without missing a beat. “At least–if we don’t get it handled in a few days…”

Well, color him surprised. 

It wasn’t very often that ceremorphosis was talked about among the common man–it was even hard to find books detailing the finer details of the process. The girl may have been a poor magician, but she was clearly learned.

“Suffice to say, it is a process that should be avoided,” he said. 

“Agreed,” she said. 

It occurred to him that she was behaving…a bit stiff; almost aloof. The young woman he’d encountered in front of his tower had a bit more fire to her than this one did. Then again, they’d just gone through quite the harrowing experience. Both of them were covered in mysterious viscera, they’d been taken hostage on a mindflayer ship and well–the poor girl did just have a strange older man on top of her. 

The girl bit down on her lower lip and he found his eyes unconscionably glued to her mouth. She released her lower lip and he watched as the pale pink color returned to it, wondering idly what it would feel like to–

“Are we just—are we just going to pretend that I didn’t beg you to take me on as an apprentice and that you quite sumerilly told me to bugger off?” she asked. “Are we just going to be compatriots now?”

He blinked down at her, his mind catching up with her words. 

Good gods, he really was behaving like a lech. He didn’t know where this was coming from. Perhaps it was an undocumented symptom of ceremorphosis–this…uncommon desire he was feeling. 

Or maybe he was just, well, desperate. 

“Well, I take umbrage with that analysis. I don’t believe I told you to bugger off…At least not verbatim. I do try to not be a miserable ass,” Gale said a bit sheepishly. “But I hasten to point out that we do have a shared problem now–some common ground we didn’t have before. It seems wasteful to part ways at a juncture such as this, don’t you think?”

He looked around in the early morning daylight and frowned realizing that he didn’t recognize anything. “I certainly don’t know the area after all, and judging by the history you disclosed with me, you likely don’t either.”

“Well…no, I don’t. Aside from Waterdeep I’ve not been anywhere other than the Moonshae Islands.” she said. 

“And you seem to not have a very strong sense of location judging by our time in the alleyways,” he pointed out. 

“That’s true…so then… does that mean you’ll do it?” she asked. “You’ll take me on as your student?”

He grimmaced.

“No,” he said with not a moment’s hesitation. “Not a student–an ally. An equal. It’s best that we tackle this issue together, don’t you think? It makes no sense to travel separately when our searching will likely lead us to the same places. And besides that…”

Besides that, if he started to change into a mindflayer, he wanted to be sure he had someone nearby who could…put him out of his misery and get his body somewhere safe before it leveled a city. 

“But I could be more helpful if you teach me,” she pleaded. “I’d just be a liability without your help.”

“I have seen your magic,” Gale said with a bit of a teasing gaze. “And I don’t know if there is much I can do for someone who casts Misty Step with their eyes closed. It seems you’d be more of a liability with the magic than without.”

She blinked up at him like he’d grown a second head. 

“Oh, please,” he said. “You must know that it’s a spell that requires a clear line of sight.”

She shrank a bit. “I…didn’t know. No,” she said. 

“How could you not know such a thing? You must have read a scroll to learn the incantation,” he said. 

“I mean this with the utmost respect, but when is the last time you’ve read a scroll, Mr. Dekarios?”

He inhaled, lifting an index finger. Then he closed his mouth and looked off to the side. 

When was the last time? It must have been ages. 

“Well,” she said without waiting for his answer. “Most spell scrolls assume a certain basis of classical training, or at minimum an innate understanding of how to channel the weave.”

“I see,” he said. “I’m to assume you’re not a sorceress then?”

“Not to my knowledge,” she said with a sigh.

He clenched his jaw as he looked down at the younger woman. Gods, she really did need a teacher. Maybe he could at least talk to her about theory–or give her a few simple exercises for manipulating the–

No. No. 

He had more than enough on his plate without adding a poorly self-taught mage to it.

“Elinna,” he said. “Tell you what. I have a deal to offer–a concession if your like. If we make it through this and…make it out of wherever we are and back to Waterdeep, I promise I will introduce you to some colleagues that will help you get your start as a novice wizard. How does that sound? Fair?”

To his great surprise, she still looked disappointed by that answer. The girl really was an ambitious thing–coming right to his tower to seek his tutelage and no one else's? The poor girl had no idea what she was trying to sign herself up for; a depressed, anti-social, explosive wizard. A depressed, anti-social, explosive and impatient wizard. As far as teachers went, he was not the best candidate for the job.  

“Alright,” she finally said. “Let’s see if we can go find a healer together…or maybe some other survivors…of a bath.”

“Oh, to find a bath,” Gale agreed. “Ah, but–before you think you’re journeying with most ill mannered a man–”

Gale gave the young woman a slight bow. “Thank you for pulling me out of that stone.”

When he stood up to his full height again, the young woman was smiling at him, her pretty viridian eyes crinkling at the edges. She tucked a pale copper strand of hair behind one of her delicately pointed ears and looked a bit sheepishly down the craggy shore. 

“Ah–it’s almost a dead end over here–I think there might be more ground to cover if we cross through the wreckage…but I didn’t want to do that on my own,” she said. 

“A wise choice, I think,” Gale said. “No telling what you would have run into. Not to imply that you can’t hold your own, of course–”

“No, you’re right,” she said, looking away from him a little timidly. “I’ll feel better with you there–it’s nice to have a friend.”

He huffed a soft breath and found himself smiling at how willing she was to call him her friend.  Even after all the ways he had been a bit of an oaf to her, he felt in her he had found a bit of a kindred spirit. Someone else who sought camaraderie in perhaps…unworthy places.

 She looked up at him and bit the swell of her lower lip again. “Shall we go then?” she asked him. 

He gestured to the road ahead. “After you,” he said with a magnanimous smile. “Consider me your ever faithful guard dog, ready at the first sign of trouble.”

She snorted a little laugh and shook her head. 

And as he followed after her, for the first time in the last year, he hoped the pang in his chest was because of the orb.

Taglist || @auroraesmeraldarose @thoughts-of-bear @cherifrog @puckprimrose @drabblesandimagines

[derangedanomaly]

As a celebration to New Year, I decided to mush this thing up in a matter of...few minutes?? Don't know how long this took me.

I'm still working on your requests, but I thought I'd get a break and do this for a change! I can't thank you enough for your support! I love writing, and seeing you guys liking my stories is very heartwarming, thank you!

Enjoy this silly story :)

NEW YEAR's KISS

UNDERTALE AU's x Reader

"GUYS! IT'S GONNA BE NEW YEAR SOON!" You kicked open the door, going towards everyone in the, exclusively large, living room. "Wow, I can't believe it's 2024 already." Ink exclaimed, taking a sip of his drink. "Yeah! Y/n, come on, let's get some drinks!" Swap flashed you his famous smile as you went towards him.

You hosted a big party for the New Year, and everyone arrived! There was Dream, Ink, Swap, Sans, Fell, Killer, Horror, Dust, Cross, Error, Fresh, Dance, Epic, Science, Berry, Reaper, even NIGHTMARE came. And that's saying a lot.

You really don't know how you all can fit inside your living room, but it's better to not question it...

As you and Swap went to retrieve drinks, Fell and the others were cooking up a plan of their own...

Fell went in the middle of the room. "ALRIGHT YOU LOSERS, TONIGHT..I. FELL WILL KISS Y/N!" There's a long silence until everyone started yelling

"WHAT?!" "No way! You won't!" "Not on my watch!" "SHUT UP!" And so on, until Classic shut everyone's mouths.

"EVERYONE! EVERYONE! Calm down." Everyone very soon became silent. No one wanted to go against Classic, seeing as he's the original Sans...

"There's no need for us to make such a ruckus... Y/n invited us all because of their great personality..." Classic spoke once more, until Killer interrupted. "Yeah.. I know what, 'Personality' you mean.." Science looks at Killer's blushing face, and immediately swats him. "HEY!" "Don't talk like that about them." He sternly told him, before focusing his attention at Classic, yet again.

"-And I'm just saying, they probably don't expect to be kissing anyone." There's a long silence as everyone shamefully looks at the floor. "The only one they'll be kissing is me." Classic finishes his speech, making the others argue. Again.

"And what makes you think they'll kiss you??" Ink pointed at Classic. "Yeah. Maybe... they'll go for a more mysterious skeleton." Dust spoke next, making the others turn to him with a questionable look. Berry erupted into laughter. "MWAHAHAHA! YOU?! Nah, with yo emo ass.. they would rather much like someone like me!" Nightmare scoffed. "Yeah. Right." Berry looked at Nightmare, offended. "Like you're any better." Nightmare suddenly smirked. "Yeah. I have tentacles.." his cheeks gained color, as he blushed deep turquoise. They all just looked at him confused, until it hit them. "Ew, gross! Why would anyone be into that?" Killer made a yuck noise. "Stop kink shaming." Reaper gave him a smirk, as Killer grimaced.

The boys fell silent when they saw you and Swap enter the room with smiling faces. "Hey guys! We're finally back, everyone grab a drink and pour yourself some! It's gonna start soon~!" They all did what they were told.

Epic went up to you with a blushy face. "H-Hey...ahem. Hey brah! I wanted to ask-" he didn't finished his sentence as he was pushed away by Error. "Go away! Hey Y-Y/n.." you only blinked. "Yeah?" ... Silence. There was nothing, he was about to speak, but was kicked away by Cross. "That's for my best friend! And...uhh..hi Y/n! Enjoying yourself?" You nodded. "Yeah! I'm glad to be spending New Year's with my friends!" He suddenly froze, which Dream got a good advantage of. "Y/n!-" Not even a few words in and he was pushed aside by Science. "Y/n! Iwannaaskifyouwanna-" you cut him off, not understanding a word he's saying. "Sci, sci...calm down. Or you might get a stroke. Heh.." you pat his head walking away. "...." "Gosh darn it..." He swore, looking down.

You gasped, seeing the screen. "This is it guys! 10....9..." You all counted as the numbers kept going down. The others couldn't help but feel disappointed. None of them could mange to ask for a kiss.... "5...4...3..." It was disappointing, really.. "3...2...1! HAPPY NEW YEAR!" You all shouted.

You suddenly sprinted towards Swap and Horror. They all watched curiously. What could you possibly want from them? They all stared with shock as you kissed Swap, and then Horror. Leaving red marks on their skulls, from your lipstick. (A/N: REMEMBER! ANYONE CAN WEAR LIPSTICK! LIPSTICK DOESN'T HAVE GENDER)

They both have a very dizzy expressions on their faces, as you grinned, then went towards the couch.

Turns out, that Horror actually disappeared while everyone was arguing. He went to help you and Swap out, since that conversation was boring him. There, he witnessed Swap asking you that sacred question, then he decided to also ask.

This was a very tragic New Year for them all. Except Swap and Horror. ;)

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! :D

[burrowkit]

Alright, chasing metaphorical(?) personal demons and throwing them into a story. Wish me luck.

I don't think I'll finish it/post it anywhere, but I'm hoping it'll help me feel better about my past.

It was... a strange dream last night, with no ending. So I kind of want to write it out so I can see the end so I know things are okay?

Like, I walked into my 6th grade class, and every guy that bullied me (but one) in grades 8-9 (10-12 ish too) was there. And it was cause the one that wasn't there turned into a supernatural being and decided he wanted to turn us all into supernatural beings (thinking he could control us?) as a way to get back at us all.

Supposedly, the rest of them cut him off, I think? And I was his favourite victim I guess...

Anyways, it was weird.

The plus sides were that I was a vamp werewolf siren mash up and that was kind of cool, unlocking different supernatural sides. Not so fun was being stung by a jellyfish (and the tentacle stringer turned into a fish hook somehow).

I'm clearly not over stuff from over a decade ago, but anyways, hopefully that means progress is being made??? idk.

I don't think I could post it anywhere because it actually involves real people who I am actually still afraid of.

As I said, the best part of the nightmare was that I was unlocking different abilities and having fun with that.

Edit to clarify, in this, I'm obviously changing names because it's too weird to make them continue to exist as real people, but anyways

[arahusk]

Courtesy of the Chef Characters/Pairing: Alastor/Husk, Sir Pentious Word count: 2276 Ao3 mirror: [here]

-

When Husk opened the hotel’s kitchen door in the afternoon, he didn’t really expect to find Alastor already there, cooking at the stove with a jaunty tune and an odd spring to his step.

He also hadn’t expected the numerous amount of weird shadow tentacles to be streaming out from his boss’s back, all of them holding some sort of ingredient or cooking utensil.

“Husker! You’re actually awake and not wasting the day away in a drunken stupor!”

Husk stared. Then, he began to back away. “You’re right. The stupor sounds good right now.”

He really should have expected one of those damn tentacles to reach out and grab him by the wrist.

“Nonsense!”

A mistake to let the situation get to him as it did. His free hand had reached out to the door jamb, embedding his claws in the wood deeply. Feet planted themselves on the floor, all while the tendril around his wrist played some good old fashioned tug of war.

But the floor was made of smooth tile, and the wood was of such cheap quality that his claws had crushed right through it to hit air. That, and the tentacle that was made of horror and nightmares was stupidly strong.

And, it was too soft. Like velvet, or silk. Husk gritted his teeth as he was forcefully slid forward to be right next to Alastor. A simmering pot boiled on the stove, smelling of spices, but Husk could hardly bring himself to care.

“You can be my taste-tester, after all. I haven’t had a poison scare in a few years but, you never know!”

“That’s stupid. And I’m not hungry.” Husk shook his wrist, but the tentacle had only coiled itself around his arm. The touch made him shiver, enough that even his voice was changing pitch. “Grr, haven’t you tied me up enough this week?!”

Alastor was still turned away, as if the only interesting thing in this entire kitchen was the pot full of whatever he was making. Another tendril hovered just by his boss’s head, clutching a bottle of cloves to sprinkle into the mysterious concoction. 

“Hm, probably needs a bit more than that.”

God dammit, this was another of his stupid little games again.

“I’m not going along with it this time, alright? So you can just—”

He cut himself off as another tendril swayed past him, holding a large butcher knife in its clutches. It had been much too close, sharp edges nicking at his fur, and Husk catching the reflection of his own bright eyes in the blade. He was still.

The knife was then gently placed in Alastor’s waiting palm, who then proceeded to cut some carrots into thin slices over a cutting board.

The game was already in play and Husk was losing, fast.

He tried not to let himself play the part of the fool anymore. Whether that’s more yelling, or struggling, or just anything that would make his boss think was so deeply amusing. Even though he was turned away, the man’s ears were sharp. They’d pick up anything.

So, Husk would just not do anything then. He’d stand there with the stupid tentacle wrapping itself around him, and be as boring as possible. Even if whatever Alastor was cooking smelled pretty good.

He winced inwardly. Come on, Husk.

But maybe, this could still work. Alastor kept his eyes on the meal he was crafting up, even letting another tendril go up to him and hold what looked like a cookbook, flipped to a certain page as Alastor hummed while he read. It was almost ludicrous to watch. Radio Demon, horror of Pentagram City, who ate other Overlords for lunch, was being so goddamn domestic and using his unexplainable powers to do the chores.

And keep Husk’s bounded soul in line.

Husk looked to his shoulder, seeing the end of the tendril edge just past it, like it was sentient. And maybe it was, for all he knew. It had been years, and even now, he still barely knew all of what made Alastor tick, what made his powers manifest, and just why he kept someone like Husk near him.

Another soft touch over fur. Husk shivered again. He didn’t want to think about times that were similar to this, not the door closing and the tendrils pulling his arms back and his voice just—

He tried to clamp his lips shut, but his body was already responding to the touch.

He can’t be doing this here. But last time he’d just been messing with Husk in the main parlor of all places. Why would this be any different?

Husk moved his arm slightly, and the tendril didn’t tighten like he feared, but it slid, and it was warm. 

Maybe this was worse actually.

“I’ve been trying a new recipe but I’m not sure if it’s working. I suppose if this is a bust, I could always just redo it.” Alastor shrugged, closing the book and then using a cooking spoon to stir the pot’s contents. “But it would be such a shame for this food to go to waste.”

Husk knew a sound was going to leave him already, and had to swallow it down. The end of the tendril pressed against a chin, slightly lifting it. Playful. Soft.

No. Whenever Alastor would pull off something like this, at least they would be somewhere private.

Husk shuddered. All he had to do was not care about it, but the tendril’s movement was like a caress. A caress that overstimulated and made him lean against the edge of the kitchen counter. His free arm reached around to grab his other one. He looked at the floor.

“Not… not in the kitchen,” Husk panted out, feeling the tendril writhe over his fur even more. “Please…”

He saw Alastor’s eyes shift to him, for a second. The smile stayed on, as sharp as a knife. Then he looked back to the pot that he continued to stir.

Husk knew now that he’d already lost this game the moment he walked through the door.

Knees buckled. He would have fallen and probably hit his head on the counter were it not for another tendril that snaked through the air for him. It wound around his waist, lifting him up slightly so that his toes just barely touched the ground. The other tendril around his arm still slowly caressed him, finding the spots that made Husk weak, that already knew from times before.

A flap of his wings, which were free and uncaged, but they didn’t do much. Just a rustle of feathers, along with a strained gasp leaving Husk’s throats as shadows embraced his body like a lover.

“Just… let’s go to my room, or yours. I don’t care. Not here where people can…” He risked a glance toward the door, slightly ajar. It couldn’t even lock now, because his claws had broken one piece of it in his desperation. “Al, please.”

He hated being this sensitive to it, a discovery that Alastor had kept using to his advantage over and over. There were some things that Husk could hardly say no to, and they were more than just booze or a chance at the card tables. He flattened his ears as one tendril slipped underneath a suspender strap, then down to his legs that shook fiercely, like they would snap off at the knees at any second.

It was embarrassing to respond like this, to beg for it while Alastor continued to cook and not even look at him.

Why did he want Alastor to look at him in the first place?

And then, a sound left his throat. A little louder than he wanted, a little more desperate. Husk clenched his fists, but he was held up in the air, limbs slowly getting stretched like some kneading massage. “Just stop. Too much.”

The soft end of the tendril that had been playing near his chin, that had been writhing and touching him, then slipped past his lips so quickly. He barely had any time to react besides a muffled gag, a breathy gasp.

“Don’t choke now,” said Alastor who was now, finally, finally , facing him.

The tendril was also so sensitive on his tongue. It didn’t taste like anything, as it never had. The shape sometimes felt like mist, moving so smoothly into his mouth that it was almost addictive. Husk closed his eyes, trying to push away the idea that his voice only sounded louder in his ears, that he was losing sense of what was up or down. But he felt hands place themselves against his knees, felt them shift up his legs until they rested over his waist, until they sat him up on the counter, all while the tendrils that streamed out from Alastor’s back kept holding him up slightly, sliding over him, and touching him, and—

The first time Husk had felt them, he had been a sobbing mess, hands and shadows engulfing his body until all of him was spent. Maybe he’d built up some tolerance since, but it still wasn’t enough. Husk bent his neck to the side, feeling the tendril move deeper through his mouth. A breath ghosted over his neck.

There was always a chance for things to go wrong. Husk still remembered the knife that had floated so near his face, that had shown the terrified look in his eyes. And that was always the game between them, to see where the balance would shift from pleasure to pain, from affection to some form of soft horror.

He hated how, deep in the recesses of his mind, further and further until he buried it away with drink, that he enjoyed the excitement of it. The panic. Like a euphoric high that he kept chasing over and over again.

Husk moaned around the tendril in his mouth, feeling the other reach into his pants to grasp at heat. And Alastor’s fingers rubbed tiny circles in his waist, watching him unravel with all the fascination of some obsessive scholar. Another deep thrust, nearly sliding down his throat—and  then that tendril slid out, making Husk gasp for air. It hung before his eyes, wet and dripping from his own saliva. 

He couldn’t even speak, already exhausted in what must have been a new record. He could only hang there, panting as Alastor looked on. It wasn’t over though. The other tendril was clutching at him beneath his pants, making his chest rise up and down. 

Husk already conceded that he lost. He still tried to swallow his moans, even as his tail swished just next to Alastor’s leg, entwining around it slightly.

Then, a hand gripped his chin, facing him as he continued to pant, as his body continued to shake.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to cut this short.”

He barely could comprehend what Alastor meant until he heard the door creak open.

Maybe it was supernatural, or just Alastor had such a keen control over things that it made Husk look like a shambling zombie in comparison. The tendril still on him slid away like smoke. Hands lifted off his face, turning him away so he faced the counter. Back on his feet, shaky as he was, his own hands placed themselves on the counter so he could stand. And Alastor was now right in front of his pot once more, where he went back to stirring like he’d never even left.

The door continued to creak, opening inward. Then came out the most irritating hiss in Husk’s memory. “Ohhh! I thought I sssmelled something good!”

Oh for Christ’s sake.

But if there was anyone who would be too stupid to pick up on what just happened, it would be Sir Pentious, failed supervillain in the making.

“Just in time, my good man! I experimented with a new twist on my jambalaya recipe! Husker helped me out with it quite nicely. Here, have a taste!”

When Husk looked out of the corner of his eyes, turning half his body away until his excitement finally wore down, he took a guess.

Alastor had definitely poisoned that pot. Maybe Pentious would die, maybe not. Either way,he’d have a nasty stomach flu for sure.

His boss liked playing games with many people, even if they were of different stakes.

“Wow! For me?” Pentious looked gleamy-eyed (hat included) as he graciously took the spoon Alastor offered. “You’ve been so kind to me lately… after all that I’ve done…”

“Yes, yes, it’s very beautiful. We’re in a hotel for redemption, after all.” Alastor waved away Pentious’ annoying grievances. “Make sure to take a big bite!”

At that, Husk cleared his throat, trying to get the feeling back in his mouth. Pentious turned, as if just now noticing he existed.

“Ah, and what did you add to the meal, my fellow peer’s minion?”

Husk, still half-turned away, wiped at his chin. He saw Alastor’s eyes from behind Pentious, a soft red, draped in shadow.

“You’ll have to find out, won’t you?” Husk answered, knowing he didn’t sound normal, knowing it would probably take half the day before his knees stopped feeling like putty. He’d only been entertainment for the chef, his sole contribution to whatever life-ending meal Sir Pentious was now gulping down.

Maybe if he hadn’t just been edged to near oblivion, Husk might have shared a little sympathy for what the snake demon would soon endure. But that was what Alastor did, exhausting him to the point he could barely care about much else.

And Alastor had always been much better at games than Husk ever was.