#––– ❛ verse 【 breathing through corrupted lungs. 】

[fearinfected]

[ hospital ]

🐝  *  ―  𝑵𝑶𝑵-𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑳 𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑺𝑻 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺.

It had been hours, hours that felt more like days as Eddie shifted uncomfortably on the cramped guest seat beside the hospital bed, his face the picture of worry with every passing minute that Cardan didn't wake up. He was no stranger to the hospital, knowing most of the nurses by name now, but to be here as someone other than a patient left him feeling discomfited, desperate.

Eventually Eddie managed to find a relatively comfortable position, legs pulled up as he rested his cheek against the back of the chair, and somehow the events of the day caught up with him enough to drift into semi-consciousness. It couldn't have been more than ten minutes of this particular scene before a sudden stirring jolted him awake, his eyes meeting Cardan's in a panic.

"You're awake -- Shit, you're awake." The words tumbled from his lips as he struggled to right himself, rubbing at his eyes to rid them of any semblance of sleep. "How are you feeling? Do you feel cold? Hot? I'll call a nurse, hold on."

[fearinfected]

"Yeah, I know." Teeth gritted together, Eddie could only nod as she wiped at the sting, grateful that she knew what she was doing. He wondered if she remembered all of the advice he'd given when they were younger, if those memories had remained loitering in the back of her mind even after their friendship had diluted into nothing. "Keep going."

Henry. Did Scout really just say that she was staying in this shithole because of him? No fucking way. Eddie had always assumed that she'd be one of the first to get out of here, only partly because of the shit that had gone down with her brother.

"Planning on it," he replied, brows furrowed against the pain. As soon as his college acceptances came through, he was gone -- No matter what his mom said or how guilty he felt at the thought of leaving, Eddie knew that he'd die here if he didn't leave. "You come to the Barrens to clear your head?"

she winced when he'd hissed at the alcohol rubbing against his wound and felt bad for hurting him,but this had to get cleaned. she couldn't and wouldn't let him roam around with a giant gaping wound on his side.

❝ shit,sorry,eddie. i just...need to get it cleaned. ❞she dabbed a few more times before moving onto bandaged it,as carefully as she could with the gauze and tape eddie had with him,he should really be patting himself on the back for being so prepared.

❝ i don't think there's any hope for me. henry's locked up so i can't just leave him here. but you,you have a chance to get away. far away. ❞she gave him a small smile before finishing up taping his wound,proud of her work and looked up at him,glad he'd be okay after this,at least she hoped he would be.

❝ pretty fucked up short cut. i just needed some air. this is the only place i can clear my head. ❞

[darth-prequelist]

How to Become a Galactic Emperor

Isn't it interesting how Palpatine is a pivotal character in the Star Wars series and yet he somehow isn't talked about enough?

I'm 84,000~ words into this fanfiction that I am writing that is focused solely on Palpatine's younger years (of course, deviating from Legend Darth Plagueis).

Should I continue it? Would anyone enjoy reading such a thing or is it simply me? It's campy Star Wars beyond imagination. And I think I'm humorous. Not sure if anyone else agrees. It has balance with serious moments as well. I truly tried to embody Star Wars within a novel.

A little snippet (for judgement):

(It begins as a healthy relationship and it will slowly corrupt over the course of the trilogy)

Crimson splashed the walls in an eerie glow. Two shadows danced on the walls in the hazy approaching dusk. Swords built of deadly lasers, sizzled, and burned with menace. One shadow wielded two dagger-like lightsabers moving much more gracefully than the second. The second was sluggish and slashed its lightsaber in sloppy arcs.

The Sith Lord warned. “Ant serjek!” Darth Plagueis swept his foot under Palpatine who failed to dodge. He held the two dagger-like lightsabers at his apprentice’s neck.

Palpatine had learned and failed to execute a dodge whenever the Sith Lord spoke those two dreaded words. Darth Plagueis sighed deeply, extending a hand to his apprentice. Palpatine took his hand and stood up with the aid of his master.

The new apprentice’s lungs were gasping for air. His head was pounding with a headache, and his limbs were sagging.

“Again,” Palpatine breathed and wiped a bead of sweat from his face. As versed, he held a stance, igniting his lightsaber but his arms drooped, and the lightsaber seared the floor.

“No, rest, my young apprentice.” Darth Plagueis insisted.

He thumbed the off switch for both of his lightsabers and clipped them to his belt. Plagueis rooted through his knapsack that was on a ledge near a shattered window.

“Here,” Plagueis tossed his apprentice a flask of water. Palpatine caught it but fumbled with it slightly. “And take off that cloak, it looks ridiculous. Its only slowing you down,” added Plagueis.

Palpatine restrained a glare and dramatically shrugged the cloak off his shoulders to the ground before taking a swig of water. The Sith apprentice took a seat on a metal bench against the north wall. Darth Plagueis took a few moments staring out the window overlooking the Works before sweeping back to his apprentice.

Darth Plagueis stood before Palpatine and put a hand to his head. “I believe I know what the problem is.”

“Problem?” Palpatine glanced up, a bit of worry etched into his features. He tossed the flask from his left hand and to his right hand in a continuous motion.

“I’ll explain,” Plagueis motioned for Palpatine to hand him his lightsaber. Palpatine hesitated but eventually handed it over.

The crimson light bathed the two Sith in its spectral glow. Plagueis ignited it making a few graceful swoops with the sizzling blade parallel to Palpatine. The Sith Master took a few moments to respond. “Rise,” Palpatine obeyed Plagueis’ command.

Plagueis disengaged the lightsaber and handed it back to his apprentice. Palpatine followed Plagueis’ prior lesson on form. He stood with his body at a 45-degree angle facing Plagueis. Palpatine made sure he held the top of the hilt with his right hand and the bottom with his left.

“Good…very good,” Plagueis remarked on his apprentice’s form. He ignited his lightsaber. “Now attack me.”

Palpatine stood stiffly in his position and jabbed at Plagueis. Plagueis effortlessly parried the slash and moved with the momentum towards Palpatine. The Sith Lord spun around using his other lightsaber and holding it a few inches from Palpatine’s chest.

Palpatine looked from Plagueis to the blazing lightsaber. “Do you see your error?” the Sith Lord asked.

Palpatine furrowed his brows, “I…I don’t know.”

Plagueis withdrew his two lightsabers and Palpatine withdrew his as well. “Sidious, you must never jab at someone wildly. It leaves you open for attack. Your arm is too far from your body, and you are unable to block the attack. Not to mention you are standing still. One must never stand still in a battle.” 

Plagueis took a deep breath, “You must move and flow with it. Keep the blade close to you and you must…despite how nerve wreaking it may be, be close to your opponent. You must always be in motion. If you stand still, you’re a dead man.”

Flow. Motion. Close. Palpatine repeated Plagueis’ words in his head. “Are you ready to try again?”

“Yes,” Palpatine ignited his lightsaber.

...

[fearinfected]

❛ hold still. this might sting a little. ❜ - @spookeytozier

𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓 / 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓   ♡   𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒

Breathe in... breathe out...

Eddie's teeth clenched at the other boy's words, heat radiating from the cheek that had taken the brunt of the fall from his bike. Usually he would be the one administering the First Aid, but being unable to see the wound had left that pretty impossible -- So he was trusting Edgar with his life. Sort of.

"Just do it," he urged, practically hissing the words in his impatience. "Come on."

[maleficore]

Saw a few other people do it so here's my take on an

✨Arthur Morgan playlist ✨

feat. my terribly inconsistent taste in music.

It's gonna be a long one because I'm about to ramble about each and every song, so I'm adding a cut.

If you just want to listen to it, HERE is the link :)

Behind Blue Eyes by Limp Bizkit

"No one knows what its like; To be the bad man; To be the sad man; Behind blue eyes" Come on.

She Burns by Fov Vance

This is the obligatory Mary song. Like the entirety of it. Just listen.

Their Truth by Tyto Grey

Not only is it the ultimate wanderlust song, but also "They’ll pull the shade over your eyes; And convince you to sacrifice; All of your life" Lord have mercy.

Colors by Halsey

Listen, I know this is a love song. But the theme of betrayal and abandonment feels very appropriate for Arthur's relationship with Dutch and the way it progresses throughout the game. Just keep that in mind when listening and you'll understand what I mean.

Youth by Daughter

The whole song. Literally. I have no idea why this is not considered The Arthur Morgan Song™ "And if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones; 'Cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs" Or the entire "We are the reckless, we are the wild youth; Chasing visions of our futures; One day, we'll reveal the truth; That one will die before he gets there" verse. Bro.

Blonde Hair, Black Lungs by Sorority Noise

I'll admit I mainly put this one in because of the title lmao, but also works nicely as another Mary song? Just a way more sad and less lovesick one.

I'll Be Good by James Young

I'd have to paste the entire song here. It fits that well.

It's Alright by Mother Mother

The whole song again. I really wish he could listen to this one on repeat.

Little Dark Age by MGMT

"Forgiving who you are for what you stand to gain; Just know that if you hide, it doesn't go away" :)

Wires by The Neighborhood

This one is probably more Dutch than Arthur in parts, but fits them both as a duo just as well. I'm not gonna paste the entire second verse, but it's very Arthur at the end of it all there.

Art School Wannabe by Sorority Noise

"Maybe I'm my own greatest fear Maybe I'm just scared to admit that I might not be as dark as I think Maybe I am not the person That I never wanted to be" Yeah.

Run by AWOLNATION

Well I'd say "I am a human being capable of doing terrible things" works well and the song is fire so.

Me and My Friends Are Lonely by Matt Maeson

"I was looking for a purpose, what a chance, you had some with you" gave me baby Arthur vibes. Idk what more to tell ya. ("I always figured that I'd be the one to die alone" hurts good too so...)

Oh My God by Ida Maria

"Arthur's inability to leave the gang" the song, basically.

No Roots by Alice Merton

"I build a home and wait for someone to tear it down Then pack it up in boxes, head for the next town running" no more thoughts than that. Song works well for an outlaw.

Renegades by X Ambassadors

Same thing. Outlaw song :)

Born To Die by Lana Del Rey

I saw a John & Arthur edit on TikTok so good I couldn't not add this one. Lyrics work for them so well.

Trouble by Cage The Elephant

"Trouble on my left, trouble on my right I've been facing trouble almost all my life My sweet love, won't you pull me through? Everywhere I look, I catch a glimpse of you I said it was love and I did it for life, didn't do it for you" *shrugs*

And here's a few last ones that I've added purely because The Vibes felt right:

We Might Be Dead By Tomorrow by Soko

Scar Tissue by Red Hot Chili Peppers

Alien Blues by Vundabar

Father by The Front Bottoms

East by Sleeping At Last

[fearinfected]

Rolling his eyes at Richie's quip, Eddie couldn't help but scoff and wonder if he should be taking offense at the off-handed comment. "The fuck do you mean, 'finally'? I'm fine without one, thanks." And he was -- Hey, it wasn't like girls were falling at their feet to be with him but he probably could have found a girl to like if he wanted to. He just... didn't want to, that was all.

"Just know I'm a call away. Or if you want to write me, definitely feel free to!"

The words tugged a smile onto his lips as he hummed a confirmation, sighing at the thought that their conversations were soon going to be relegated to phone calls and letters. He wouldn't be able to see Richie's expressions anymore, or shove him when he was being a dick, or physically pull his attention back towards Eddie when it started drifting.

A scary thought.

"I will. I wanna hear about all the dumb shit you're doing." Then, smile fading at the mention of packing, Eddie let out a groan and pushed himself off the bed. "Whatever. I don't even know where to start."

"I mean so was high school, but you know me- a ladies man can't be tamed," he moves to sit on eddie's bed, laying back against it. "and hey, maybe you'll find one too finally. grow out of your shell, eds. it'll be good for you." richie couldn't even admit that the thought of eddie dating someone was not his favorite thought in the world.

he shoves the thought into the back of his mind. god, he hated that he struggled with this. maybe eddie leaving and being as far away as possible from him would help his situation. " just know I'm a call away. or if you want to write me, definitely feel free to! " he almost feels desperate, a way to beg eddie to talk to him.

they wouldn't lose each other, richie would be sure of it.

" now c'mon, my good man! you gotta pack and I'm here to help by providing the utmost amazing moral support," he points out, winking at eddie with that usual snarky smirk that most losers liked to shove away from them.

[repulsd-a]

“Oh, bite me. Wait–don’t do that.”

Vampire Starters | ▸ Open ◂

                         Bottom lip jutted out, eyes playful as he looked down at Stan. He rest his elbows against Stan’s chest, propping his head up as he watched him. He had pushed aside the comment for a moment, lost in thought. His lips turned into a small smile. He’s glad that at least, since he was going to live for quite some time that it was with Stan. He put up with his shit well. Saved him really. Eddie would have had a stupidly short life without Stan. So he was thankful. 

He leaned up slightly more, pressing a light kiss to the tip of his nose without a word before snuggling himself into his chest. He’ll finish winding him up later or something. “Shut up, idiot.”

[jaegonsmoon]

🗡LUCEMOND PLAYLIST❤️‍🔥

A list of songs that I have on repeat because they remind me of Lucerys and Aemond. Most of them are tragic and sad, just like them and I believe it reflects on my view of their dynamic very well.

(I have them on my spotify but it squeaks me to share it so I will share this with YT links here and I’ll update the list as I add more to mine)

Playlist:

1. Youth - Daughter

verse: “And if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones. ‘Cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs. Setting fire to our insides for fun, collecting names of the lovers that went wrong.”

2. Love and War - Fleurie

verse: “Lover, hunter, friend and enemy. You will always be every one of these. Nothing's fair in love and war.”

3. Atlantis - Seafret

verse: “I can't save us, my Atlantis, we fall. We built this town on shaky ground.”

4. My Blood - Ellie Goulding

verse: “The color of my blood is all I see on the rocks, as you sail from me.”

5. Cardigan - Taylor Swift

verse: “You drew stars around my scars. But now I'm bleeding.”

6. Flares - The Script

verse: “Did you lose what won't return? Did you love but never learn? The fire's out but still it burns. And no one cares, there's no one there.”

7. Nervous - The Neighbourhood

verse: “Maybe I shouldn't try to be perfect. I confess, I'm obsessed with the surface. In the end, if I fall or if I get it all. I just hope that it's worth it.”

8. Beautiful Crime - Tamer

verse: “We fight every night for something. When the sun sets, we're both the same. Half in the shadows, half burned in flames.”

9. Always - Gavin James

verse: “I'd rather choke on my bad decisions than just carry them to my grave. You're in my head. Always.”

10. Flawless - The Neighbourhood

verse: “You’re a doll, you’re flawless. But I just can’t wait for love to destroy us.”

[introloves]

— demon! satori + corruption + extreme sacrilege + back shots + hair pulling + overstimulation + creampie + f! reader

— wc; 1k

“i saw you crying in the chapel”

he thinks you’re beautiful.

morning light breaking into a hundred peices against your skin, catching in your hair- running down with each drop.

it’s the smell of you that brings him out, the sweetness of your tears falling against the floor.

he walks toward you, soft footfalls echoing into the cold and empty chapel.

“its a shame, isnt it?” he calls to you, watching your head lift from the safety of your hands, peering at him with wide and glossy eyes. he can see the remnants of your pain, of your despair- of all the unanswered prayers leaking down your palms, running down your arms and face.

“they never answer.”

even he sounds sad, a stark contrast to the way his lips have curled into a small smile. you might think it’s for comfort, but it’s mocking. silently challenging a higher power to stop him from taking you.

and of course, they won’t.

the words have died in your mouth long ago- nothing tumbles from your lips as he nears, not with the way he leans down and offers you a hand, despite the pain and desperation still pooled in every crease of your palm.

head tilted down to offer a sense of comfort, letting you know he wasnt there to hurt you, lulling you into a false sense of security. it didnt seem to take much to convince you, he supposes its why he liked picking the ones on the cusp of hopelessness.

hands meet and you dont catch the way his already vibrant hair seems to catch every refraction of light pouring through the stained glass.

there’s a smell of smoke permeating the air, it’s faint, but it makes you want more- gentle tugging brings you close to him.

with glazed eyes, you look up at him, captivated in how beautiful the color is. you don’t see or hear his lips move as he recites scripture over and over. looking down at you still caught in the same stupefied manner- lust and hunger lurking behind his actions.

“ye shall overthrow their altars.” he prays all the while releasing your hand, capturing your chin instead- tipping your head up to look at the concaved ceiling.

“and break their pillars.” his hand crawls up your neck, curling around your pulse points, tips of his fingers finding purchase in the hook of your jaw.

“and burn their groves with fire.” the gentle lull of his voice keeps you silent and still, even as he squeezes. even as he leans down and clasps his lips around your throat, a tongue much too thin and wet to be considered normal laving up, up and up.

the taste of him is heavy, something like ash and it nearly burns, it’s pure heat being exhaled into your lungs and it makes you dizzy.

gentle and shaky hands come up to hold onto his shoulders, a contrast to how he takes your mouth. pure lust and want make you crumble against him, eyes closed in the feeling of something wet swiping against your lips.

it’s not a tongue, not a tongue by human standards, but it doesn’t scare you, not even when he curls it into your waiting mouth, swiping against your teeth.

you’re good, he thinks as you’re pulling him in closer. not afraid, unwavering as he tugs your body against his.

an unholy being like him shakes as you cry out a plea- turning to him in solace. it’s what he feeds off, makes his skin tingle, fire inside him stroked as you settle your hips against his own.

“give me your name.” he whispers, pulling away from the sweetness of your mouth.

“y/n.” it’s uttered almost too easily, he knows you know there’s something off about him, but you still give it to him.

it makes him tip his head back. the moment you speak your name- he moans out into the chapel- it seems to vibrate off the walls, deepening as it echoes, all before it returns back to your ears in the form of a growl. he whispers your name again and again, the hands holding onto your thighs sink in deeper each time.

he brings you down, palms roaming up your legs, up your side- to rest at either sides of your neck once more.

“what would you give me, if i could take all your pain away?” satori breathes onto your lips, slithering his ‘tongue’ up the trail of still wet tears, cold atop the warmth of your cheeks.

his eyes widen slightly when you turn around silently, untangling yourself from his being, pushing the sweet little sunday dress up and over the curve of you, leaning over to rest your palms against the cold and ungiving wood of a pew.

he cant think of the last time he was ever rendered speechless or surprised, to think a little, broken, soft human like you was the one to stop all thoughts makes him shiver, head tipping back to chuckle freely.

it doesnt take long for him to sink into you, hand clasping up to entangle long fingers in your hair, pulling you up to hear him- words branded onto your naked skin with each thrust. nails scrape the lacquer off the wood, held tightly in your hands as he takes you.

you’ve never felt this good, there’s pure pleasure crawling up your back, traveling along your spine and down each limb. screams leave your drooling mouth freely, hoping, wanting someone to come see what this... man is doing to you.

he fucks the wetness out of you, splattering it against his feet, it runs down your legs and your orgasm brings more tears- the smell of it twisting in with the cum still pouring out of your battered pussy. he brings you to a point of overstimulation that might be too much, body slumping against his hold, kept upright by only the entanglement of his fingers in your tresses and the hold planted firmly onto your neck.

he starts the prayer once more, wanting to see the verse through- he thinks the words are real pretty, likes the way he can feel the eyes of holy beings drill into the back of his head while he takes you.

“ye shall hew down the graven images of their gods.” satori pants directly into your ear, not stopping despite the way you thrash against him, this was the price you had to pay- a small exchange of your own essence in order for him to truly heal you.

how could anyone think that a being of pure carnal lust- born from sin couldn’t do a better job of repairing the soul of a dirty and inherently sinful human?

he would take it- take you and break you down, orgasm by orgasm, bring you on the cusp of unconsciousness- before truly mending the pain and hurt.

he begins the tugging of your hair once more, moving your head to look directly ahead- blurry eyes focus on the sad image of a cross.

“and destroy the names of them out of that place.” he finishes, pushing into you with the final thrust, cumming inside you with a ferocity that has it squirt from where you’re connected.

it joins your own, puddles of it coagulating in clumps as it drops down from your cunt.

“say my name-” satori whispers, and despite not uttering it once, you know it.

“satori.” it leaves you with ease, it sounds like honey and it rumbles in the walls around you.

his body shakes behind you, and you whimper with the way his hold tightens.

“you’re mine.” he barks, hysterical and loud, facing directly at the altar- smiling wickedly when the chapel seems to bend, twist, and shake... all before settling back down.

you sound so sweet, crying out his name in reverence, seeking the warmth of his being- the warmth he could provide.

claiming you, keeping your soul in his filthy hands was the best thing he’s done in a while, and all because:

“he saw you crying in the chapel.”

[fearinfected]

Brows knotted at her response, uncertain whether to laugh or simply ignore the statement, a bolt of nervousness running through him. Slurpees did look like poison, sure, but Eddie wasn't dumb enough to think that they were -- Not in the real sense of the word anyway. But... cleaning liquid?

"Well... yeah, no shit." The light snort of a laugh that left his lips lacked any sort of humour. "I'm not gonna drink fucking bleach. That's, like, the nastiest way to go."

Veronica nodded. She figured that he must have been the type to have just brought in his own lunch rather than eat in the cafeteria. She couldn't really blame him. The cafeteria food did suck sometimes and she had gone through many a meal that she couldn't stand and just chucked away.

"They do not look like poison." She laughed and rolled her eyes. "It's cleaning liquid and things like that that look like they could be poison. And probably would be poison too."

[littlemisspascal]

Ezra’s Journal Entries #4-6

Fandom: Prospect / Pedro Pascal

Pairing: Ezra x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1,133

Summary:  I don’t deserve you, little love of mine. Not one damn piece of you.

Warnings: angsty fluff, night terrors, PTSD, Ezra dealing with the aftermath of the Green, language, 1st person POV (Ezra), dialogue in italics because that’s just how I chose to do it, overuse of space metaphors, no beta so all mistakes are mine

Author Note: As always, thank you readers for your support! All the love to each one of you! Hope you like these new segments 💖

Entries #1-3 #7-9

Cross-posted on AO3

Look for additional notes at the bottom.

I feel a little less torn after speaking with Cee, hearing her voice crackling across the radio regale me with details of her current studies at Cero Tol, the latest novel she’s devouring, the daytrip she made to Lao to collect shells for an art project—it reminds me there was a sliver of profound goodness to come out of my otherwise disastrous journey to the Green. She rambles and babbles and laughs at her tongue’s inability to keep up with all she has to share. Her soul has found exactly what it has always yearned for: a life of her own making.

For all that she lost on the Green, she has adapted to her new path and overcome every obstacle with the same bullheaded determination a helianthus possesses. Never losing sight of her goals just as the flower never loses sight of the sun. 

I must admit I’d been reluctant to split ways with her after our perilous escape from the Green—after all, nothing bonds people together faster than the collaboration of slicing off an arm and creaming the gaping wound shut, then immediately engaging in a bloody conflict with heavily armed mercs—but she deserved better than to live a floater’s life tainted by a lack of morals and the uncertainty of not knowing if she would survive from one sunrise to the next.

She deserved to live a life amongst her own peers. To rouse that spark of creativity her father tried to extinguish. To turn gold in all the ways I cannot. 

Sending her to school was worth every point and credit we managed to scrape together. Still, I remember how bittersweet it felt watching that little bird, ever so fearless in the face of sudden change, march right up the ramp of the freighter at the Pug, determined to make me and you proud by excelling at the academy. Standing amongst the sea of parents waving goodbye to their children, I wrapped my arm around your waist, rested my head atop yours, and forced myself to swallow a harsh pill of truth.

With or without me in her life, Cee is going to be just fine.

I remember how you swung our linked hands as we walked back to our ship, your sweet voice a soothing balm easing the ache of my melancholic heart. Ezra, she’s fierce and bold and strong. That little golden child is going to have her name written in the stars one day.

Kevva do I hope I live to see your vision come true.

First thing I remember noticing about you was your eyes. Remember how I caught you staring at me from across the bar? You looked at me like I was your North Star pointing you home, like I was something shiny and special. You scared the fuck out of me. It’s the worst thing I ever thought, but it’s true. I would have fled the scene if your gaze hadn’t anchored my soul. 

You introduced yourself, and I knew goodbye would never be a word exchanged between us. No, we became a pair of binary stars, constantly orbiting each other round and round, hello again and see you soon. Falling in love with you was inevitable. The Currents designed you perfect for me. Designed you with meteorite in your bones and sunlight on your lips and all the constellations sparkling in your eyes. There is no grander form of paradise than to feel you beneath my hand. There is no comparison. No second place contender. Just you, your tender heart, and the galaxies you contain. 

Sometimes, late at night when you’re asleep and my thoughts are too loud for my head, I stare at the ceiling and speculate about alternate verses. Verses starring another me and another you crisscrossing each other’s paths as we’re pulled across the galaxy by our heartstrings. Somewhere, there is another me who never escapes the ruthlessness of the Green and breathes my last with Inumon’s knife in my lungs. Another me who will never know the emotional and physical anguish that accompanies the loss of a limb. Another me who pulls the thrower’s trigger without hesitation, firing a shot between the wide eyes of an innocent girl. Another me who ignores the temptation of harvesting aurelac in hopes of making a reputable name for myself. 

Somewhere, there is another me who ran away from another you.

And it pains me to wonder if perhaps you’re happier never knowing me.

I speculate about those two most of all.

I woke up to screaming. My mind was a tangled mess, caught between the thin barriers separating reality from dreamscape, and I was truly convinced my head would explode from the noise. Inumon wouldn’t stop screaming no matter how hard I squeezed my fingers, no matter how much of my bulk I pressed down upon her. It’s me! She wailed like an animal in a trap, sensing impending doom but unable to flee from it. It’s me, it’s me, it’s me! Please, Ezra!

A thought crossed my mind, as sudden and blinding as a shooting star streaking through the midnight sky, and I found myself incapable of ignoring it. How does she know my name? I had cloaked my identity using a dead man’s name. It wasn’t feasible for her to know the truth or for the sound of my name coming out of her mouth to set my skin aflame. 

There aren’t words to describe the horror which consumed me when I looked down upon your tear-stained face. 

My mama once told me everybody’s a sinner. We have wickedness embedded in our cells from womb to tomb. It buries its roots deep, resistant to our attempts to rid ourselves of its corruption, and waits for the precise moment to inflict pain upon those we love most. Those who choose to love us despite the warning signs.

In the aftermath, when my fucking fingerprints were smudged across your throat blue and purple, you held me like I was a human and not a monster or a vexation or a broken thing to toss aside. I couldn’t stop trembling, couldn’t stop my mind from conjuring a torturous loop of what ifs. 

What if I hadn’t stopped myself? What if you hadn’t broken the nightmare’s spell? What if your last word had been my name? 

Hush, you whispered. My tremors worsened upon hearing the raspy quality of your voice and you pressed your lips to my forehead. An undeserved benediction. I’m here. You haven’t lost me. 

I don’t deserve you, little love of mine. Not one damn piece of you. If I could I’d give you the whole galaxy, but I only have one hand and it terrifies me to risk letting you go. Forgive me, please, for asking you to stay with me.

Forgive me for how much I dearly love you.

Notes:

Cero Tol is a made up academy based on Cerro Tololo Inter-American Observatory located in Chile. 

Lao is an island planet(?) mentioned in Prospect. Damon tells Cee she was born there.

Helianthus is the genus for sunflowers. I liked the fanciness of it 🙂

Points were referenced in Prospect as a type of currency. Credits are a Star Wars form of currency that I thought would also be fitting to use.

Binary Stars =  a system of two stars in which one star revolves around the other or both revolve around a common center.

I like to think there are alternate realities or a multiverse. It’s fun to imagine all the different possibilities another me is experiencing. 

I don’t think I’ll ever understand why guns in Prospect are called throwers, but that’s what the creators decided so that’s the terminology I’ll use too.

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[10millionyearsdungeon]

Acts of Contrition

A/N: Heeeey, it’s been a while. Like...a long time while. Shaking the rust off, this is for @chiwhorei​ and their Heavenly Bodies collab (*see here*). No beta, we die like everyone else. Per the theme, and as a send off to my fellow fallen saint and recovering Catholic, it’s a kind of riff on a prayer? Not my best Shindou, but it’s Shindou all the same. Really need to revisit this guy. ANYWAYS--

TW: Sacrilegious themes, Oral (giving/receiving), Dacryphilia, Spit, Corruption, implied monster fucking (because why not?), mild exhibitionism, squirting, mild cockwarming ================================================

Your whole life, you always tried so hard to be everything your parish priest and father wanted you to be; pious, virtuous, radiant-- the epitome of the girl-next-door with a rosary tucked between your breasts and a prayer on your lips. It was your wholesome, squeaky-clean image that initially drew his attention and had you malingering on your knees with your mouth gaping and drooling into the carpet bristles of your parish confession booth.

"Got something to confess, sweetheart?" Shindou grinned in the darkness as you gazed up at him from your knees, nose pressed into the curling pubic hair tickling your mouth as he twitched down your throat. He held you there until your eyes began to roll back and tears threatened to break free from your waterline in trails of smudged ink down your flushing cheeks. You could taste his disappointment when they didn't fall, and he curled his thick fingers into your hair to rip you from his length. Incense and shame burned down your throat and into your lungs as you gasped for reprieve. His smirk was a gleaming scythe, all but signaling the beginning of your end.

"Please, more," you begged, scrambling to clutch his parted knees and nudge his cock closer to your waiting mouth. "More." His hum vibrated the dust lingering in the cramped space, as if he needed time to carefully consider what was originally his idea. "Shindou, yo--"

Gagged by his fingers, your tongue laved over his thick digits and your voice rose into unintelligible moaning. Your saliva ran down his wrist and your chin in thin rivers to the carpet digging into your knees. "Ah, ah. I asked for your confession, not for your begging. Perhaps I need to keep this pretty mouth busy while you take your penance." Eager to please, you nodded furiously into his hand, gagging and spluttering over his fingers as he twisted your body in half. The humble pleated skirt draped over your ass like a dainty envelope, the flash of white cotton panties plastered with slick against your pussy an invitation he couldn't deny-- he tore away the flimsy fabric with his teeth and whistled low at the silvery strings of slick still binding you to your underwear. You always forgot how strong Shindou was when he had a goal set before him.

"Mm, let's begin," he purred into your cunt, the sudden lash of his tongue against your neglected clit nearly tipping you into exaltation.

"H-hewl mwwwree fughlo gwssss," you babbled over his fingers as they dug almost painfully into your tongue. Cheek pressed hard into his knee, you heaved into his skin as your eyes rolled back into your skull with another skillful swipe of his tongue teasing your spasming whole. "Haaorrtsswiffee."

"C'mon, sweetness, you can do better than that. Really enunciate. It doesn't count if He can't understand you." Your toes curled in your knee socks as another wave of ecstacy washed over you with a flick of his sinner's tongue against your swelling clit. With a bend of his wrist, he tickled down your throat and dug his teeth into the swell of your ass when you gagged around them. "So tight. Do better. You know you want to. You asked for this, sweetheart." He retracted his fingers from your panting mouth, tracing the slick, bruised skin of your lips before he gave your hair a gentle pet.

"H-hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee…" you began again trembling over every word earning another vicious bite to your inner thigh. Shindou moaned into your scent tracing his tongue over the darkening bruise.

"Y'know, I'm feeling like a Hail Mary isn’t good enough. Let's try again," Shindou hoisted you into his lap, chest pressed firmly into your back as he lined the head of his cock, glistening with dewy precum, with the touch-starved maw of your cunt aching to stretch around him. Ever the tease, he tapped at your entrance, grinning at the sticky slapping of flesh on flesh as you squirmed to better accommodate him in the booth.

"Oh, my God!" You nearly screamed, sheathing him within you in one turbulent bounce. He barked out a laugh, dark eyes glittering in the shadows as he lifted your hips again with his teeth on your neck. "I-i-i'm heart-heartily so-sorry for haaah-ving offend..fuck, offended thee…" His pace was an idle one, but the vicious gnashing of his teeth burying into your neck made the aching around his cock pale in comparison. He needed you shamed, broken and sobbing out for release before he'd taste satisfaction.

"And I de-detest all my sins moh-ost s-sincerely because they d-disp-please thee." Pried open for him to abuse, Shindou let his hands wander beneath the carefully starched collared shirt and loosened tie to tease your pert, overly sensitive nipples through the fabric of your simple bra. He searched your face as he thrust up into you, knowing it wouldn't be long before those tears would begin to fall. "My God!" you gasped.

"Keep going," he groaned, tugging your blouse open and shoving your bra out of the way. He devoured the full-body shudder of your exposure, dragging his tongue up along your ear with a sigh. "You're so gorgeous when you break," he whispered, earning a hiccuping whine and the bubble of sobs he had waited so patiently for. Gyrating onto his cock, you couldn't stop the tears staining your cheeks with mascara as he rutted into you. Glancing down at where your bodies fused into one, you whimpered out the next verse as your cream dribbled down his balls.

"M-my God, who art so-oh deserving of all my love…"

"All your love, princess?"

"Ah-ah-ah!" He busied his free hand between your spread legs, rubbing tight circles on your clit. With a jump, you keened back into him and sobbed out wordlessly. Shindou ran his tongue to capture a stray tear from your hairline and moaned into the taste as he redoubled his efforts. "All my love f-for thy infinite good-fuck-goodness and--"

"And what? C'mon, finish like a good girl." Every thrust into your clenching heat had your body tensing like piano wire tuned by a master. His pulse vibrated through your core, loosening your tongue as he continued to tease and tug at your darkening nipples. “Most ah-amiable perfections…” He smirked into your hair, breath condensing on your neck like incense cloaking you in his scent. “I firmly pu-purpose by Thy Holy Grace never more--” Eyes rolling back, you stuttered and bucked fitfully back into the hardened planes of his lap. Your voice rose, cutting through the confessional booth and earning a satisfied grunt from the two-faced demon splaying your cunt wide for the congregation to observe if anyone dare open the door. “Never more,” you cried. Shindou paused, content to flex his length into your warmth while you sobbed out another broken, “Never more.” He dug his nails into your breasts, roughing your tender flesh to coax another wave of shuddering sobs and glistening tears from your weeping eyes. He sighed into your skin, dragging his lips along the moistened trails of shame and relief running down your jaw and cheek. “Please,” you whispered, rocking your hips fruitlessly to your own end. He hushed you as if silencing a toddler and stilled your hips with a single stroke. “Ah ah ah. Good girls finish their prayers.” With the head of his cock just kissing the gummy ring of your cervix, you grinded against him and cried out again, much to his annoyance. “Figures. Couldn’t be a good, pious little shit. Had to be a filthy, needy, broken little whore like the others.” “I’m broken. More, please give me more!” He scoffed at your pleading, content to have you writhe and wring yourself out on his heavy cock. Breasts bouncing and the unmistakable sounds of flesh penetrating flesh to defile that most sacred space, the sights and sounds of you coming undone for him proved all too tempting to ignore. He could taste it on you-- the rhythmic spasming of your cunt around his cock, the wobble in your legs, the uneven cadence of your breathing when he finally fucked back into your eager hole, all of it signaled your end. “Finish your prayers, sweetheart.” With two thrusts you let out a long, piercing moan, drawing the attention from those outside of the booth. Carelessly, you thrashed against him, milking his tumescence as if it would be enough to grant you divine forgiveness. “Finish like a good girl.” Shindou’s hand wandered between your trembling thighs as he rutted into you, his fingers dancing over your swollen clit despite your body bucking and fighting against him. The pressure in your belly was indescribable under his constant attention. “Finish for me.” Your body was his to play, to abuse to his delight. Shindou reveled in your shame as your squirt painted the door and carpet, shadows playing sinister tricks on your eyes as you searched the space for his face over your shoulder. “I firmly purpose by Thy Holy grace never more to offend Thee,” you whispered, coming down from your high with dripping thighs and shame staining your features. The door creaked open on its ancient hinges. Candles flickered in the chapel like whispering witnesses to a most capital crime. Tangled in the remnants of your uniform, your eyes glazed over and stared past the nuns exclaiming over your ruined state. You could feel his fingers ghosting over your exposed buds, taste his sweat and preek over your tongue. Your cunt throbbed around the memory of him, empty and hungry for his approval. His devil’s mark ached on your throat, a bruise you hazily hoped wouldn’t fade before his return. Captivated by the spectre of his presence, you melted into the tweed cushioned seat as far removed from the shouting and outrage of your audience as one could be. He’d be back for the rest of you and leave a more permanent mark. There were more pretty, pious words to pry past your lips, more tears to taste on your road to damnation, and he would be remiss  to miss out.

[fearinfected]

babe, you gotta fake it til you make it. ( life advice from the snek boi )

the tortured poets department.

Brows furrowed at the 'advice' offered, lips quirking slightly as he battled a confused grin in response. It was one of those moments where Eddie didn't know whether to laugh or snap -- Instead he simply waited for further explanation, clearing his throat when nothing was offered.

"Wait, what am I supposed to be faking?"

[fearinfected]

A beat passed as Eddie stared incredulously at the boy before him, one brow raised as lips parted in almost comical shock. He should've laughed. Because what was this if not a dumb prank?

"What, is this supposed to be a joke? 'Cause I'm not gonna lie, I don't think its all that funny, so... cut it the fuck out."

"um..." Blair giggles softly, looking down at his hands for a moment as if much more interested in them than in Eddie. And then he looks up again, his eyes flashing once more against the streetlamp's light, and he shrugs.

"so you've never seen shadow magic before? that's crazy. i thought everyone had seen it before."

Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss.

[thebigoblin]

(because for some reason asks wasn’t on)

@fairytales-and-folklore asked:

Ohhh for the WIP ask game, I'd love to know more about:

5. Twisted Alphas - character study on Nemeton

6. You Haven’t Connected Shit - Sterek

10. Fallen - Sterek

and

@greyhavenisback asked:

I don't seem to be able to send you an ask! But I'd love to hear more about "you haven't connected shit"

Since this was asked twice, I’ll start with this one!

You Haven’t Connected Shit

I was talking with Kaite (on the very long reblog-chain-post 😂) and I wrote something like, Stiles and Derek communicating through Morse Code while Derek is perched on Stiles’ roof and poof! A new WIP was born. 

My opening scene idea (I haven’t written anything substantial down for this yet) is basically canon divergent from the pool episode, where Derek is checking in on Stiles later in the night and he is shivering, and he wants to be comfortable like Stiles is inside his blanket. He taps that wish out, and Stiles who is not asleep hears it clearly, and then after being surprised (because why is Derek here?) lets Derek come in to cuddle. Because Huddling for warmth lmao. And I want to continue this with them just talking to each other like this throughout the seasons, (in case I make this canon compliant) or through whatever ends up happening in this ‘verse. They may not use their words, but they do talk. 

Twisted Alphas

This was inspired by one of the prompts from @haleoweentw “twisted alphas” -- hence the current title (i need to come up with one). 

In this, I explore the reasons behind the Nemeton’s power. Was it just a normal tree that has since been endowed with power, or has it always been filled with power? 

I decided to explore a little bit of both! lol. Below is a small snippet:

*

They wondered, some days. Who were they? Why were they so different than the other trees? They could think, their friends could not. They had magic, their friends did not. The answers came slower than they'd like, but at least they did come.

They, too, had a Spark. Someday, somehow, they'd been given this gift, and they'd nurtured the Spark enough for it to be further gifted to others—like the Hales. The Gajos. And countless others. But oh, they loved none other as much as they loved the Hales.

They loved them all, every single one of them, until the day they pitied them instead.

*

The fic is a Nemeton POV, wherein its powers amplify when Cameron Hale -- an Omega and his wife -- leave when she is about to go into labor, and with no midwives available here, they leave to go to another town. The son, Theoderic Hale, is the first Hale Alpha.  I’ll add another snippet:

*

The power in them had hummed, a sugary sweet softness falling over the forest even as the silence had been pierced by a set of very powerful lungs. They'd reached out with their branches, slowly, and when neither Cameron nor Beatrice had stopped them, they'd curled themselves around the baby boy, reveled in the breath of fresh life. When they'd parted, a small piece had broken off of them—their power had divided itself, but as years would teach them, their power had actually multiplied themselves.

"Theoderic Hale," Beatrice announced, once Cameron had stopped sobbing tears of happiness, "Ruler of people. Our son," and she'd looked at them then, gratitude shining in her eyes.

Cameron's earth-colored beta eyes had never looked shinier than they did the moment the baby boy's blood-red alpha eyes demanded them forward. The first Hale Alpha.

And that was how the Hale Spark came to be, their most revered possession—at least until it was corrupted.

*

And so on and so forth. I play with the time-period, jumping from the beginning to going through the seasons in just as small snippets (The Fire, Void, The cutting down of the Nemeton, Peter, Laura’s death, Derek as the Alpha etc.). I’m not entirely sure where I’m going with this, but yeah, this is basically a Character Study on the Nemeton (and unintentionally on the other actual characters).

Fallen

This is a fall fic! (Ik the title is cliche. Shut up 😂) This is basically me writing an established Hale Pack + established Sterek fic with the extra, extra descriptions of Fall. Literally, that’s it. 

This is everything I have written:

*

The leaves turn red and orange and yellow, and they fall from their precarious perch, down and down and down, only to be crunched over by shoes and boots and heels. Old mixes with new, old becomes new; It’s a new beginning, but before that, it is an end.

There’s laughter in the air, a calmness in the sea of a thunderous realization that this is their last year together.  

Stiles Stilinski watches from his own perch on the bench, eyes following along as people move, to and fro, in an endless haze of motion and words and energy.  

Crunch.  

Another leaf, gone; Stiles thinks wryly. “It’s months away,” he complains, and just like he’d anticipated, another leaf meets their death under Derek Hale’s eternal black boots.  

“What is?”  

Stiles doesn’t turn, simply continues watching the other students. Lydia is talking to Gracie, both of their hair caught in the fiery gaze of the sun. Where Lydia’s hair looks like fire personified, Gracie’s blonde hair shines like a halo.  

“Winter Formal. You know, the one that Peter crashed two years back? Mauled Lydia to bind himself to her so that he could come back sane- well, saner,”

Derek hums in reply, and Stiles feels Derek’s hand slip around his waist. Stiles leans into it; the sun is out, but the chill is biting at his skin, the early October wind ruffling him into an ice-doll. Derek is warm, though; he’s like bread when recently pulled out of the oven, and Stiles will take any reason to cuddle with him anyway, so.  

“I mean, I get that it’s a big thing, but does the preparation really has to start this early? I haven’t seen Lydia all week because of it. I think she is trying to avoid me. Derek. Is she? Is she avoiding me?”

Derek’s voice is a soothing whisper against Stiles’ shoulders, “How am I supposed to know?”

“You’re the Alpha. You know everything,”  

“That’s because my Emissary tells me everything.”

Stiles looks up at that. Framed between the branches of the tree behind the bench, green and yellow and red and orange leaves all form a circle around Derek’s head, and the sunlight streams through between the gaps and makes his jet-black hair look like obsidian. Derek’s lips curl into a soft smile, and Stiles is helpless to the lure of them.  

Derek’s lips are soft and warm, and Stiles feels the difference of temperature between a human and a werewolf; Derek’s lips part as Stiles’ own transfer his coldness to them, and Stiles licks into him, takes in the warmth of Derek and gives back his own love in return.  

They don’t say anything; they never do, but it doesn’t matter, because the truth is written in each of their smiles as they part.  

“It sounds like your Emissary does all your work,” Stiles teases, and Derek laughs, short but beautiful. His gorgeous eyes find Stiles’, and even as he denies the claim, Stiles reads the trust written in them.

*

And yuuupppp, that’s it! (Ik these are not very informative, but tbh I have no idea where any of these are going, I just like pretty words, okay?) 

Thanks for asking! <3<3<3

[blackwinged-silversolace]

"I haven’t been resting. I can’t sleep."

 ||Sephiroth Answers || Angst Starter Sentences || Status:Accepting || ShinRa Fugitive -Verse || 

Lying awake for hours was ritual for the ex-General, after so many years one would think they would grow accustomed to it. But, no, on the contrary; it felt torturous, so much worse since Sephiroth had left SOLDIER and sought escape from ShinRa’s treacherous web. Refuge was found far north of the insidious corruption and lies, having been left with little, and now a deserter he was lucky to find even this- shamble of a cabin nestled in a nearly abandoned mountainous village. The meager, drafty  living place he had claimed for himself did little to keep out the cold, and would do even less to distract himself from the waking nightmares. Purposeless, never able to stay in a place for long, Sephiroth’s most frequent guests were the visions and specters now, the companions he had lost haunting,  painted in blood were images of death that stained his memory, and how his mind spins through the plethora of things left unanswered... 

Even now behind his closed lids was anything but peaceful darkness, if he could Sephiroth muses that he may barter pieces of his flesh just to hear another voice again...well, that’s right, he had met someone recently. Maru, little more than an acquaintance, had been a refreshing break from the solitude... It seemed the strange man was similarly drifting-  maybe he could be trusted, perhaps they could be fr-....Hm, “Impossible.” Sephiroth laughs bitterly, finally peeling his eyes open to the dim light of the fire. That was unlikely, there was no one left Sephiroth could truly trust. Maybe there never had been.

Strangely enough, despite a substantial difference if their personalities, Sephiroth had to admit there was something familiar to be sensed in the odd man, and for the most part it felt fairly ...effortless to speak around him~

It had to be past midnight now, Sephiroth relinquishes a heavy sigh, and pulled himself up from his ‘bed’- if he could even call it that, the thick monster-hide he had acquired certainly didn’t maintain the same luxurious comforts he’d once had. However sleeping in his uniform was at least something he had often done during the war, so now it was even nostalgic ... Having just stood, he adjusts the straps on his armor, it was the same instant that a knock quietly pattered against his door and there was no hesitation. The ex Elite snapped into action, Masamune snatched up, now poised in the tight grip of his hand, and with a lunge he was upon the door, tearing the thing open to hold his blade at the uninvited visitor. Only his fiercely burning eyes narrowed upon.... What a coincidence. It was none other than that unlikely acquaintance he recently had come to admire.

 "What are you doing here?" He asks flatly, the coldblooded stare softens to wary caution, for as he scoured the other's stance, it didn't appear that he was postured for a fight. Slowly the ex Soldier is put at ease.

"I haven’t been resting...I cant sleep"

Confusion quirks a silver brow in the shorter man's direction, it was a surprising thing to hear, and the former hero wasn’t exactly sought out for these kinds of things.... In their previous interactions, had Maru  been suffering the same as he did, did Maru see it reflected in the sleepless man that now pointed a sword toward him, enough so that he felt compelled to his doorstep?

Finally, upon observing the slight embarrassment on the other's face Sephiroth breaths a soft chuckle and lowers his weapon before letting out a rather exhausted sigh... "It seems you and I share the same problem then, " Pausing to side step from the middle of the entrance, he offers the other a simple gesture with his leather-clad hand in the direction of his simple living space. "It is not much, but if you would like...you may come in."

He had never been good at this kind of thing... he wasn’t meant to any source of comfort for another. His only known purpose had been for bloodshed, but he could try ...at the very least... to learn.

Sephiroth shields the empty loneliness that dulls his eyes and casts his slitted stare toward to fire. Weakness, after all was never to be shown. Only- maybe just this once-- if only for tonight, he could trust someone again. "I would be... grateful for the company."