#[ ★ ] — verse / [ king of monsters ] ... ！

[selfless-desires]

[ penny for one's thoughts ] ; for steve .

can be drunk , could be sober but still needing to just get things off of his chest ; maybe he doesn't feel comfortable with the idea of " burdening " people with what's weighing him down && is in need of fresh air , so it's upon the shore that he just talks to what he assumes is just the wind , and doesn't realize a certain radioactive monster is lurking . . .

‏‏‎ ‎ Running never made a lick of difference . It would still be there , that persevering sense of dread he's been trying to avoid since that night in November― looming like a shadow , biding its time , lurking just around the next corner no matter how often Steve would remind himself it'd be alright . ' Can't lie forever now , can you ? ' It'd be an instance like many before where the young swimmer couldn't settle for the night , body achin' from exhaustion but his mind ... it'd keep him pre-occupied . He'd toss & turn in his sleep while he dreamt of monsters without faces , sharp rows of teeth meant to scrape flesh from bone . Tall , pale figures that'd chase him through the dark tunnels with no indication of where to go . He could still hear their screams , friends he swore to place his life on the line for , kids that have grown onto him like siblings , people that have become the family he's yearned to have but knew better than to ask for . ' It was all just a nightmare , ' he'd repeat like a broken record , just another fucked up fabrication of his mind that'd haunt him throughout the days after― wouldn't be the first nor the last time , has become a strange routine of sorts where he'd find himself wandering the night alone . Following the ghostly-pale stretch of gravel would the man hum to the distant beat of radio , the only source of noise beside the occasional owl , crickets that have come out of their burrows to play their distinctive notes . It’s a surprise to him , how unsteady his Nike's felt on the ground , flask sloshing in hand while he aimlessly stumbled towards the lake . Only remembered taking a few draws on whatever the hell’s inside , though he hasn’t got much in his stomach other than that leftover pizza he's found the other night . The lake’s close , close enough to hear , to smell … been a while since he's last gone near a large body of water on his own like this , that sharp stench of chlorine now replaced by the earthy scents of nature― is it something you can walk into , or is it deep from the get-go ? A short sharp plunge , or having to wade in even when every nerve in your body is telling you not to ? Steve feels like he’s on the edge of one or the other , legs rooted in place as that familiar feeling returns : the one he's been trying to get away from all this time now returning tenfold , leaving him breathless , petrified . Harrington inhales long and hard through his nose , bracing himself . He took a step forward , then another , and there’s a soft ripple― a gleam of something shifting in the depths , causing his attention to be drawn to the murky water . He sees his reflection then , eyes worn by lack of sleep staring back at him like two orbs of the void , strands of hair standing all over the place instead of the picture-perfect state they were known for . A hand met the surface to distort the face that's been there before , a quiet hiss escaping Steve's breath due to the chilling cold ... the pain’s just a shadow of what it could be , though . Secondary to the heavy weight of his shoulders , alcohol all poison still , working its way down in his system .

" You know , I ... I never really considered myself a hero , " He'd say to no one in particular , eyes drawn to the dock near the shore . " I just ... I dunno , I thought― I thought I could be a hero , if I tried hard enough , " a pause , throat feeling tight he'd swallow . " ... I'm not― I know I'm not , " he'd say in the form of a breathless whisper , talking to himself . Look at you , even now , hesitating to do something so simple . With a frustrated shake of his head Steve tipped the flask back , downing the last of the booze while he marched down the path . Headed for the dock would he pause inches away from the edge , planks creakin' beneath his feet with every step , mocking him , legs feeling uncertain as he stared into the abyss― depths that threatened to swallow him whole . Thoughts would linger at the back of his mind , Barbara Holland vanishing without a trace right outside of his window― a world of slow-moving vertigo beyond the brilliant white & turquoise glow of the pool ... it would feel dark , sinister after learning about the beasts in the shadows . He'd remember the day they brought Will Byers' body out of the dark waters , the day he fought for his life while flesh-like vines dragged him below surface , beyond a gate between their world and one far more sinister . Heaved breaths would escape him as the jock stood frozen in place , hands shaking by his sides , legs threatening to give in beneath his weight― ' Sometimes you just ... have to let go , y'know ? ' Such words echoed in his mind like reminders , a wound still fresh , a person who's died all too soon without a proper burial . ' Let it all out , ' Steve draws in a breath with the whole of his chest and tips his head back, hands folding into fists by his sides— ' let the world hear you . ' He howls , mournful and stupid : a coyote yowling at night , a dog left on its own . It echoes off the murky surface , swallowed by the vast emptiness before ... sharp breaths escape him once his voice dies down , looking like he’s going to do it again― and he does , rougher this time , more of his voice in it , stretching louder and hoarser— like he’s trying to make it hurt— like he’s trying to get rid of something— until he’s folding at the middle with the force of it all , the cry buckling as his voice gives way . The torn-off sound rackets off the trees like a cough , gone , like it never happened . Silence replaced with the dim thump of music from the car up above would Steve heave for air , throat feelin' hoarse , abused after such extensive use ... and with a defeated sigh he'd finally give in to exhaustion , fell forth on his knees , fingers still grippin' the flask he's brought ... Maybe he could rest , if only a little ... lulled by the faint ripples of water below .

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[projectmoon-smash-or-pass]

propaganda:

✅️ "SMASH MEURSAULT because in l'etranger he literally talks about how his house is a mess and yet he's still constantly fucking marie so the dick must be crazy."

✅️ "I KNOW meursault would eat pussy like a champ. can you imagine his tdick. powerful"

✅️ "our aroallo king tht we deserve. i want him to crush my head in his tits"

✅️ "he loves boobs. in l'etranger he like, constantly talks about marie's breasts. and they fuck!! multiple times!"

✅️ "remember how he said he was searching for life’s pleasures when he talked about going to the club. imagine how fucking crazy his sex life must be. he’s had to have tried the craziest bdsm shit he’s a freak and a slut i KNOW it.

he’s the ultimate verse switch with a monster cock and/or deep dish pussy he can do literally anything you want he hell fuck you stupid or take a pounded from 12 inches he’s perfect

DO NOT GET ME STARTED ON HIS VOICE. ITS SO FUCKING HOT!!!! ROSESPANNER AND N CORP MEURSAULTS ESPECIALLY. IM CRAZY I NEED RO BEND HIM OVER AND FUCK HIM STUPID"

✅️ "This is not a propaganda, but I just want to tell a story. There was this one time I had a dream where Meursault is eating me alive, like start slicing open my thighs with a knife. And let me tell you my dude, I have never seen cannibalism as a fetish before, but that was one of the hottest dreams I've ever had."

✅️ "★★♥︎♥︎♥︎"

✅️ "HOW CAN YOU NOT SMASH THE BIG TITTY FRENCHMAN? He's tall, he's handsome, he has the biggest hongabalongas on the bus (bar Rodya and maybe Faust), and that man is without a doubt great in the sack, okay? Sex God Meursault. Peak Service Top material. A fat chunk of the novel is him fucking Marie and she's very, very eager each and every time. He loves titties and he PROVIDES HIS OWN FAT TITTIES. A true believer in making sure his partner is as pleased as he is. It's equality. Equalititty, even. His cock is probably massive. We should all aspire to smash Meursault."

❌ "I could never smash Mersault. He's tall and quiet and thoughtful, and I get the appeal, but if you put some coke bottle glasses and a baggy sweatshirt on him he's basically my father. I don't have that many daddy issues. I just wanna give him a model train and a plate of orange slices."

[selfless-desires]

[ food chain ] ; for johnny

one proclaimed predator who thinks himself the top of the food chain now meets something that truly is the top of the food chain , and now realizes what it is like to be small fry ; perhaps johnny sees the eye of the beast from the top back window of family house as godzilla peers in .

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Particles of dust danced within the soft afternoon glow , heavenly light seared through the window to paint a picture that'd almost feel ethereal . What one might not know were the terrors such house could behold , floors painted in gore of the fallen just a couple feets below … it was all too easy to forget about up here , if only for a moment . The stench of death would be masked beneath the musty air in the room , bones would be seen in the forms of lamps & other decorations rather than piles on the floor . It was almost peaceful up there … almost .

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Seated atop one of the cardboard boxes scattered about was none other than the youngest of Slaughters— a cannibal , just like the rest of 'em , though he'd choose to steer clear of family reunions . Earlier that week his dear ' sister ' came home from her adventures , something that'd need to be celebrated— or at least that's what they've come up with for a reason to feast at the dinner table . Johnny was expected to show , he was sure , though that wouldn't stop him from going against their wishes— his mother's wishes . It hasn't for a long time now , a loathful sentiment he'd cling to now he had the power to say no .

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Rays of light illuminated swirling tendrils of smoke , casting ephemeral patterns before they'd vanish once and for all . Wouldn't be the first nor the last time Johnny'd be found here , cherishing the peace of solitude . Haunched with an elbow resting on his right thigh did the man choose to smoke , savouring every inhale longer than usual … there was an itch at the back of his mind , the calm before the storm , a hunch he tried his best to ignore with every drag of tobacco . He should've known better , rarely did his intuition lead him astray— though one thing was sure : nothing could've prepared him for what would happen as for most it'd be beyond imaginable .

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There'd be weak tremors at first , soft clatter of chimes & bones , though it wouldn't be long before the whole house would move with it all . Dazed eyes would blink to consciousness as debris fell from the weathered walls , each quake causin' the floorboards to creak , the lights to flicker— an earthquake , it had to be , there was no other explanation for such degree of discordance … none that was logical . Just when he was about to dash for the door did a strong tremor cause his legs to wobble & nearly lose his balance— on uncertain feet would Johnny try to advance , teeth clenched , fingers grasping at the wall as he'd try to find purchase , something to lean against …

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That'd be the least of his concerns once he bothered to find out why the loft was casted in a veil of darkness , though .

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Just as quick as the earthquake came did it seem to settle , though there'd be no time for repose . Disoriented would the cannibal seek answers only to be met with a sight that'd cause him to pause , limbs to tense , his breath to catch in his throat . Like a deer in headlights would Johnny stand there , frozen in place , staring out through the window only to be met with a piercing glare from a sole , radiant eye … every cell in his being told him to run but he couldn't find it within himself to move , a feeling that should've been unknown if not unfamiliar to someone who prided themself for their fortitude— their strength . It shouldn't have been like this , he shouldn't feel like this ,

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Petrified in the face of something that made him feel all the things he was meant to raise within others— whether they be victim or foe .

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