#'its not my fault you look like a sleep paralysis demon'

[kaixserzz]

Ok a silly thought just came to mind. I have like this thing where I genuinely hallucinate sometimes and I was just thinking.

What if one day you're just doing whatever, and you're not expecting dottore to come home because wtv complications at work, and at midnight u see his figure inside your room (and it's pitch black) and instead of greeting him you just ignore him because you think u somehow hallucinate ur man.

But turns out he was actually there. 🧑🏻‍❤️‍💋‍🧑🏼🧑🏻‍❤️‍💋‍🧑🏼❓️❓️💪💪 (genuinely believe this interaction would happen between me and him)

HAHAHAHAH STOPP.... then he gets upset that you went back to sleep... He gets closer, up to ur face and you scream and punch him in the face out of pure genuine fear KCBCKCBCJCJC

[darewolfcreates]

run Run RUN

*lays on my stomach and kicks my feet* CMYK mono printing is fun :]

Bit of an explanation here- we had a printing assignment to put a twist on a fairy tale. I picked that one fairy tale where some guy proposes to some woman but then the woman gets turned into a bore and is killed by her betrothed and the cook finds her ring in the bore's stomach and proposes to his own love with it. IDK what it was called and I cant find it again but it may have been an Irish or a Norse folk tale- I remember having my mother read it to me in highschool when me and my sibling somehow managed to convince her to start reading us bedtime stories again. If anyone knows what I'm talking about please tell me its name. I cant find it in any of my books or online.

so the twist-

I had this one dream around the time of highschoolish that had some parallel themes that poped up in the story of the bore. So ill tell that dream to you now.

There was a realm that lived alongside our world. Like how some worlds live in our shadows, this one lived in our light. I could enter by stepping forward into the sun with my eyes closed. And when I was a child I was discovered by an organization in this realm. I was thought to be human but when I was stressed I would start to change, these changes allowed me to fly. It was discovered that I was a creature from a whole other dimension. A “Survivor”, if a Survivor’s life was threatened they would gain more and more traits that would allow them to survive even the worst apocalypse. If a survivor was pregnant while in their full survivor form for longer than a certain period of time, the baby instead of developing, would be sent to another dimension and go into the womb of something that could carry them. The child would develop with the characteristics of the species carrying them. The one who discovered me worked as an investigator for a crimes division and I had fun helping him solve his cases due to my ability to essentially: not die. Unfortunately due to my proximity with crime I was discovered by an individual who took advantage of the fact that I was not from this dimension. While there were many creatures from other dimensions I was the only Survivor that had ever existed in this one or was known by anyone who had ever lived in this dimension. Because of this there were no laws on my species about slavery or ownership. The individual in the dream ran a freak show circus of sorts and bound my soul to them so that they owned me. I didn't like that so I just left the realm, ran away and never went back. Years later I was an adult and I ended up being selected as the “average joe” in a princess-off composition in the realm of light. They wanted one randomly selected individual to take part so there could be a comparison to judge the princesses off of. It was a bit stressful since I didn't know what was happening most of the time but there was a race at one point and I realized I could just fly, there were no rules saying I couldn’t, so I ended up winning that part. At the end of the day I was going to go home but my brother wanted to come see me when I told him about the composition and he got lost in the train system. I ended up spending a lot of time out in the open tracking him down and at one point when combing through train cars I passed by the man who owned my soul. I ended up finding my brother and I took him home immediately, but the damage was done. The man followed me and the rest of the long dream consisted of me running, and running, and running, and slowly losing myself as I changed more and more. I couldn't stop. Everytime I did he would catch me and with every time it was harder to escape. So I had to just keep running. My eyes went black and my nails turned into dark claws. The dark black fur crawled up my arms and over my body. My eyes turned to bright purple and my hands turned into knifed hooves, my teeth turned into long needles, I grew a long tail, and my vision went black. I could no longer see normally but instead I could see souls. An adaptation that allowed me to avoid all forms of sentient life and I ran on and on and on. I had no more thought about my life that I had lived, I had no more thoughts about rest, or my family, or anything other than my need to RUN.

So basically the parallels were the transformation and the being hunted. But also I'm loosely twisting the "belonging" to someone being the hunter as well. I mashed these two stories together to make something new. The prints mostly just retold the dream but instead of the continual running I was subjected to the story ends like the one with the bore, an arrow delivering a final blow. The golden ring in the bore's belly became the shinning light where the arrow struck in the last piece.

[tranquilspot]

John: Examine incoming message.

You pull up to your COMPUTER. This is where you spend most of your time.

Same.

You decorated your desktop with some rather handsome WALLPAPER which you made yourself. You are really proud of it.

*sigh* like, yeah I would be proud of the stuff I make too, but like. This wallpaper is atrocious. The spookiness is here, but the colors are awful and clash with the icons.

And what with this foreground Slimer?! It looks like an action figurine, the arms seem to be able to be rotated.

This is what sleep paralysis demons look like..

Your desktop is also littered with various PROGRAMMING PROJECT FILES. You are so bad at programming sometimes you wonder why you even bother with it.

I feel you. Sometimes it's stuff you're convinced you like and try to keep going, sometimes you really like what you do but suck at it, sometimes you loose all motivation and everything you try to do in this domain sucks.

Ah yes, the three f: fuck, fuck, and of course, fuck. [Instead of fight, flight, fawn, and fornicate, there's actually 4 Fs]

The current state of the world.

Our first A word, it's not Abscond, it's Actuate.

Your PESTERCHUM application is flashing. Someone is trying to get in touch with you.

I wonder what kind of sound the notification would be. I remember Voxus using MSN messenger for all Pesterchum sound effects. It's one of the reason I hate Facebook, it's its fault that MSN became obsolete. I LOVED this chat program, dammit! Fortunately my brother saved all of his conversations and sent me a while ago the chatlogs which I'm grateful :') —>

[valpogossip]

VALPOGOSSIP TEACAP: FEBRUARY 2024

You lot sure have be busy the last few months. If I was of lesser mind or simply someone with something better to do, I would have resigned myself to my silence and let you all carry on. But business pays. And unfortunately for you, it's yours that pays me, and you're all not going to believe this.

Resident weirdo Drew Crane up and abandons his life in New York to follow everyone's sleep paralysis demon Luna Dominguez-Herrera after she ( rightfully ? ) dumped him. He claims it was because he was tricked by the leader of the unemployed, Rafael Cisneros. But Rafa couldn't talk himself out of charges, I doubt he's convincing anyone of anything. But don't worry Drew, you're not the only one who came to Chile in the pursuits of love but you do seem to be the only one who was successful. Congrats ( ? ) on winning ( ? ) Wednesday back even if you got kicked out of the apartment in the process !

The same can't be said for Nikhil Hari. Rumor has it he was catfished? I'm not buying it. Just like Drew, I think it's a fabricated story he put together to get our resident it girl, Carmen Hernandez, to not be weirded out by his showing up in her new city. Though, when it comes to girls who look like Carmen, who can fault him for being willing to cross seas, mountains, and rivers to be with her. Then, of course, maybe there's someone else who may be seeing this as well.

Omar Osei seemingly leaves his apartment for the first time in his life I guess ? This sighting was pretty week, but considering the man never has any sightings because he's a hermit who doesn't stop outside his apartment, ever, we think there's some merit in the dancing showcase him and Carmen shared. Thank god too, there had to be something beyond that DND group.

Moving on, Omar isn't the only hermit finally making his way out of the house. Gabriel Naisanga is also making his rounds ( and we do me around and around ) with Kala Kannan. The two of them fight more than Lin Wickwar only there are no winners here. And no. Not even me. It seems all Gabriel has to do is breathe oddly and Kala is ready to start a fight. I guess we can't entirely blame the girl, how long does one need to get over a wife ? We all want love don't we ? However, we do find it interesting that while Gabriel is currently only romantically ( ? ) involved with Kala ( a shame, sharing is caring ); he's not the only one she's romantically ( ? ) involved with ( good for her ! ).

Rumor wheel has it that she and Leon Amos hooked up rather quickly ( no shame ) upon his arrival. According to Leon, it doesn't take long at all to get over a wife ? fiance ? What does it matter, he learned the cardinal rule the fastest way to get over one person is to get under someone else ! And we support him on this journey. Though, maybe the journey can conclude its side quests of giving Drew weed brownies ? Just a thought. Perhaps these two were just a one and done, only time will tell. But I've heard reports the Kala has her eye set on another ( and no, it's not Gabriel ).

Adem Kartal, our beloved father. While Kala seems to be shooting heart eyes to him, sources say he's shooting heart eyes at Sariyah Carter. Guess you can claim not to be best friends as much as you want, but the similarities will always remain. Though, I guess if you ask Sariyah, she doesn't think Kala ever thought of her as a friend. Guess Sariyah can hold a grudge. They always said nothing hurts like a best friend break up, but everyone needs their best friend.

Luna and Carmen would know best, as Carmen came to swift conclusion that Jelena Lucas was after their boyfriend ( ? ) The more delusional the friends the more powerful the friendship.

Suppose Arlo Hwang would know a little bit about that as well. Using the time while his roommate, Alba Ocha, was out drooling and/or moping about their ex, Milani Lennox, he snuck Jamie Sokolov in to live with the two of them. Talk about Threes A Company.

That's all I have for now. It's not enough for me personally, so I'm advocating for you all to do even more ! Don't think you're safe just because you weren't mentioned. To Kaia, Manu, Marisa, Charlie, Aviva, Nora, Ravneer, Victor, Askel, Minnie, Itzel, Matty, Esteban, Aivryn, Leia, and Sofia; we're all still watching.

[crossbackpoke-check]

Bords fake smile is so obvious. Its that one.

a thorough investigation of thomas bordeleau’s smile so that i do not fall asleep on my breaks at work today

^^^ my sleep paralysis demon keeping me awake

research question: is thom’s fake smile crooked? is his real smile crooked? is he bad at posing in photos he himself does not take?

1. we are starting with photos of thom i already have on my phone, the number of which is probably going to be embarrassing but i can only have 10 on a post at a time. hopefully i don’t have more than that

this was easier than i thought because i forgot i had video of thom being giggly & embarrassed by podcast hosts—for sure a real smile, for sure real crooked. woof ✊😔

however i feel like this is cheating because the original smile in question was photographed, which leads me to:

2. more photos of borde on my phone

are you only showing half your mouth because the other half is crooked? this is the start of the evidence that borde is incredibly particular about angles & very aware of what he looks like on camera

real hot girls have italian summer boyfriends 😜 crooked smile is in full display but we don’t get the full eye crinkle—obviously a posed photo but likely caught in the middle of actually smiling and being happy, so the pearly whites are out [also: real wh*res wear their necklaces so that the pendant sits in the divot of their collarbone. speaking from experience bords i’m gonna ki** you]

more italian summer boyfriend posting, increasingly more photo op posed, evidenced by the closed mouth smile. this is the most relatable picture of him i have ever seen because i too am gay and do not know how to pose without throwing up a ✌️and awkwardly smiling without my teeth when forced to take a picture. unfortunately i don’t have an italian summer boyfriend wearing little white short shorts to gently touch elbows with :(

this is not a smile but it’s still crooked and i’m mad about it, and i also am 99% sure i saved this for matty looking good in the background before i even cared about thom but now that i’m unhinged this is good arm tattoo content (have been wondering about the little one on his left arm, clearly says “faith” here) and nose scar? scratch? freckle? it’s endearing 😡

3. this is still just more photos from my phone but i can’t have a list with two things on it so we’re all pretending like this is a valid bullet point

blanks my adopted blorbo 🥺🥺 this is a photo caught in motion of bords really smiling, unaware of the camera, which i’m using as evidence to say that thom real smiles w/ teeth. he looks overjoyed to see blanks & i can’t fault him (we are not discussing the kj tag now)

4. I THOUGHT OF SOMETHING TO GOOGLE SO I CAN STOP SCROLLING THROUGH MY CAMERA ROLL

thom looks like he inherited half of his mouth from his dad and half of it from his mom split down the middle (please see the chart)

assuming that this is baby thom, the smile has forever been tilted which is possibly even worse than the formation of a habit or a slant caused by injury or like. dip lip. nooooo borde has ALWAYS been like this

to conclude: i forgot what the question was but now you have a ??? masterpost ??? of borde’s crooked mouth 🤧

[aceofshitposts]

I saw that you like CATS the musical. What are your thoughts on the movie?

AAAAH AHHAHA oh man oh boy y'all should BUCKLE IN cuz it's a ride

my simple thoughts? it's entertaining if only because it butchered the stage show so badly in an attempt to idk modernize it? Well, modernization is one part of it I think. The other part I'll go into below lol. I don't necessarily hate some of the more modern renditions of the songs (mostly the ensemble sets like Jellicle Song for Jellicle Cats) but then others are just... so poorly done it's insulting.

I've said this at the end of this whole rant too but I'm gonna put it up here in case people don't (justifiably) wanna see me go on and on about it:

The movie wasn't made for fans of the musical. It was made to make money and I believe they choose, at least partially, to do that through making it the weirdest and worst possible adaptation they could so that people would want to go see the train wreck. Which, really, worked! It was all people could talk about for a good while so like... Goal achieved, I guess.

A MUCH MORE COMPREHENSIVE ANALYSIS UNDER THE CUT cuz i don't wanna. flood your dash with... this

ALRIGHT SO. Most of my friends know I'm actually a huge fan of new adaptations of things. I love remakes (provided the people making it are coming at it with some form of heart and not just... cash grabbing which is more often the case) I love seeing other peoples interpretations of characters, or changing settings. It's one of the reasons I like American comics so much, getting to see different writers takes is fascinating.

I think musical movies can be wonderful ways to introduce people to a stage show that might have been unavailable to them otherwise! Chicago, for example, is one of the BEST musical to movie adaptations in my opinion. It kept the heart of the show, it's funny and the song numbers are done really well.

There are of course other famous examples, such as Grease or Bye Bye Birdie. Hairspray was also a wonderful take. These are simply off the top of my head, there are of course more.

CATS in particular has a history. If you go through my CATS tag you may see a few posts from @catsnonreplica which posts photos from non broadway productions of CATS! It's a fascinating read and I love, love, love looking at the other interpretations of the characters! CATS is a musical full of fun and wonderful characters if you take the time to see past the ridiculousness haha and the Korean and Japanese runs of CATS especially have some of my favourites.

How does this relate to the movie, I hear you say well. As you might has noticed the movie's interpretations of the characters is........ lackluster at best and downright uncanny valley at best.

CATS is, at its core, a ridiculous thing. I will fully admit that! But it's fun, it's entertaining and if you pay a little attention you can actually get the plot. (Honestly I don't understand when people complain it has no plot but that's a whole other rant for another day)

The movie was... obsessed with this idea of like... semi realism? Like obviously, as a fan, I think they should have leaned into the over the top character designs but instead we got...w ell:

Bombalurina:

Demeter left and Bomba right. Demeter was actually cut! From the movie which is. upsetting lmao.

Macavity is one of the worst offenders for me:

Macavity was... I wish I could know what the hell they were thinking there cuz it's even in his song? Ginger cat??? THAT IS NOT... A GINGER CAT...... but I digress. I would show more examples but I think you get the point.

So. We've butchered the characters appearances. Okay that's fine but what about their personalities?

ALSO BUTCHERED.

There's... there's a lot to unpack here. Just for context: the Jellicle Ball happens once a year and the Jellicle leader chooses a single cat to be reborn into a new life. In the stage play all the cats who are nominated for this honour are on the older side (Jenny-Any-Dots, Bustopher Jones, Skimbleshanks, Gus The Theatre Cat, and eventually Grizzabella) AND are always nominated by another cat. Not themself, unlike the movie where they all seem to nominate themselves.

Jenny-Any-Dots went from a doting grandmother figure who's celebrated for her selfless volunteering and tireless work into a conceited, vain younger cat who is obsessed with fame.

It's an incredibly strange dichotomy. I don't doubt some of it isn't the result of the uh people playing the characters honestly. I do think some of them did the best they could! I don't really blame Jason Derulo, for example, for Tugger. And honestly, Tugger was probably closest to his stage version (while being a trouble maker, he's shown to show Deuteronomy an immense amount of respect)

Speaking of Tugger! This will bring us to one of the biggest grievances with the movie and that is how they handled Mr Mistoffelees.

So... Ugh. So. We have Victoria as the pov character, which imo is like whatever in the grand scheme of things, and then we have Misto who they have decided will be get live interest cuz... Of course. Misto is shown throughout the musical to be awkward, unsure of himself and well. Really, kinda incompetent. Which is Wild cuz in the stage show he might be aloof but he's fairly confident in his powers.

So, Old Deuts gets kidnapped. In the stage show Tugger is the one to bring Misto forward! It's really quite sweet, imo, and I'm showing myself as a Tuggoffelees shipper here, but again Tugger is previously shown to be pretty conceited but then here he is boosting and hyping up Misto to bring Deuteronomy back. My friends and I have lovingly dubbed this the boyfriend hype song.

SOMEHOW. The movie manages to make this, easily, the MOST BORING number in the whole thing. Which, again, WILD. Misto awkwardly stumbles through his whole song, which again is... Boasting of his supreme magical powers which movie Misto clearly. Does not have or believe to have. The song, to me, feels super awkward and unnecessarily drawn out in the movie which sucks cuz it's one of my favourites in the show.

The declawing (heh) of Mr Mistoffelees actually reminds me strongly of how they changed Gaston in the live action Beauty and the Beast movie. He's gone from a beloved figure in the animated movie to someone so disliked in the town that Le Fou has to pay people off to say nice things about him. It's just. Wild character choices were made!!

Skimbleshanks the Railway Cat is probably my favourite in movie non ensemble number. It feels the most... Genuine? Compared to the other nomination songs.

Other problems include but are not limited to:

The inconsistent size scale of the CATS which throws me off constantly.

The weirdly overt sexual overtones added to MANY of the songs (Jenny and Bustopher being the worst)

This is just a personal gripe and opinion but I don't like that they used the UK version of Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer. The American version is both better known and tbh way more fun. Teazer's giggle? Adds ten years to my life every time.

Victoria's added solo song, Beautiful Ghosts, while I like the song as a song it doesn't fit the style of message of the musical. In the movie she's singing directly to Grizzabella who's being an outcast for years that she should be grateful she even has memories of being part of the tribe?? What?? But I know they had to add an original song to be able to be nominated for awards in like the Grammys n shit (which is why all musical movies will have an original song, fun fact!!) kinda funny they went to the effort though considering........... I don't think anyone could have genuinely believed CATS 2019 was gonna win anything but golden rhaspberries.

Movie Mr Mistoffelees has made repeated appearances as my sleep paralysis demon

The various cut characters, shout outs to Jemima, Demeter and Jellylorum especially

Bombalurina being a henchman to Macavity rubs me the wrong way

God I've written... So much. You probably get it by now haha. Like I said at the beginning, I try to go into any adaptation with an open mind but... Let's be honest, this movie wasn't marketed to people who are fans of the musical.

It was marketed, and made, to make money. And they choose to do that through, I think, intentionally making the worst possible version ever. Bad press is still press and the more outrageous people said the movie was the more people wanted to go see exactly what kind of train wreck it was.

Which is a disservice to the stage show, honestly, and all the people who've worked on it over the years.

But what can we do, right?

And besides all that, I do... Still own the movie version and I do still rewatch it on occasion. It is entertaining even if it's in a train wreck kind of way. I usually end up watching the 1998 version, then 2019 and then various tour runs that are on YouTube. (I highly recommend the 2016 tour, it's very good)

So in conclusion. It's fun (?) to watch. I enjoy picking things apart and doing analysis (if you couldn't tell!) so like... I don't hate it?

It did what it set out to do, I guess, and I can't fault it for that but. It's not a fair metre with which to judge the stage show imo. But I know it's not everyone's cup of tea, haha.

Jazz hands. I'm more than happy to elaborate or just chat about CATS if anyone wants! I grew up listening to the Broadway CD since I was a toddler so it's been! A very long standing obsession haha. Probably the only other thing on par with CATS is my obsession with Jurassic Park which I've also been a fan of since I was 3 (but that's a whole story in and of itself)

[bonny-kookoo]

Nightlight (PJM x Reader) 💜☁️⚠️🔞👹  Chapter 1

Pairing: Demon!Park Jimin x Reader

Genre: Demon!AU, Angst, Possibly triggering content, Fluff/Romance, smut

Warnings: graphic description of violence, panic attacks, graphic description of certain fears and phobias, nightmares, blood, insects, accidents, death, it’s kinda messed up really, mild stalking, demon jimminie be kinda creepy ngl, confused jimin, intercourse with a demon (duh), restriction of movement, sleep paralysis, slight somnophilia, big dick!Jimin but wbk, marking, biting, scratching, Dom!Jimin, Sub!Reader, y’all I’m gonna go to hell for this smh, more to add as the story progresses

Summary: The nightlight he once gave you with a smile always kept the nightly terrors of his pale and lifeless face at bay, giving you at least mild comfort in a time spend without his soothing touch. But when you’re admitted to the hospital due to an accident, there is no light to keep your thoughts safe from terror. Luckily for you, the demon responsible for your vacation between hand sanitizer and itchy sheets actually feels bad for once; and decides to help you out.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part ?

Watching the clock tick away as every second passed didn't seem like a good hobby- yet it had become your main source of distraction nowadays.

Every moment you'd look at the clock, eyes focused on the small pointer going round after round was a reminder that the world didn't stop spinning even for a moment. That the world didn't care about someone's misery or happiness.

At his funeral, the sun had been shining too. The weather had been disgustingly nice, making birds sing their songs of gratitude in their trees, and children run in their home's yards, laughing away, unknowing of the tragedy that befell you and him. You remembered how hot it had been, how angry you've been- how could the world just continue on without any form of sadness for him?

He wasn't supposed to die so soon. You both just moved in together into a small apartment he'd rented after his work had given him a promotion, talked about maybe adopting a cat together, and started to think about settling down. Yet destiny had been cruel, taking him away from you just because it could. It had been two horrible changes of seasons since the day you had to watch him get buried six foot deep.

And you haven't been the same since.

Barely talking at all, simply existing as you buried yourself under the covers of your once shared bed, desperately trying to hold onto every scent, every trace that he'd been alive, but soon enough his body was just a mere memory, fading away like the scent on his shirts you wore at night to keep you sane.

The nightlight he'd bought you to help you with your insomnia and nightly terrors helped you a little- it felt like a small glimpse of hope in the corner of your room, no matter how childish it may seemed to the people around you. You'd long cut ties with former friends anyways, not wanting to be seen by anyone anymore.

You just wanted to be left alone.

Tiredly walking towards the stairs to get yourself a glass of water, you failed to notice the figure standing in your kitchen, eyeing the furniture and unwashed dishes in the sink with not much interest. He studied your form, pale and sad, as you simply shoved the ceramic plates a bit to make space so you could fill your glass up, uncaring of anything.

He was interested.

Humans like you, so broken and consumed by tragedy most of the time had the most delicious dreams he could think of- the deeply scarring emotions drowning your soul in heart wrenching thoughts and visions. He truly loved these- even though he preferred dreams of fear and terror.

As he followed you upstairs, silently, something inside him made him raise his eyebrow. He stopped at your bedroom door, hesitant, as if something was holding him back. Memories of a young couple playfully fighting played in front of him, two lovers falling into the bed, getting tangled in the sheets with feelings of euphoria- and he suddenly found himself at your bedside, watching you.

Your eyes suddenly opened, as you saw a figure looming over you, dark and menacing, its presence making the room feel stuffy and tight, as you could only watch, not move. Your body was frozen, not reacting to anything you told it, as the figure stepped closer, hands slowly creeping around your neck, increasing pressure as you heard it sigh out in pleasure. You could feel your fingers start to tingle, oxygen unable to enter your lungs, before you could suddenly breath again.

The figure yelped as if burned, falling back and pushing down the clock from your bedside table, breaking the glass front of it. You finally got up, scrambling out of bed in a hurry, tripping over your charging cable for your phone, before you stared at the shadowy figure in your room, breathing heavily.

It was hunched over, gasping for air itself as you slowly found a speck of pity in your heart, making you reach out your hand, as if to prove yourself that it was real.

Everything after was a blur, scenes happening too quickly to comprehend them properly inside your head.

A Hand pushed against your chest, the body moving, forcing you to walk backwards until he pushed with another boost of force- successfully making the glass of your window shatter, your body flying out of it, right into the rosebushes beneath your window, planted by your landlady to 'brighten up the visual appearance of the complex'.

The only thing you remembered after that was the pain and the shadow, making you close your eyes.

"Miss, are you awake?" The nurse asked, soft voice making you open your eyes. "Welcome back miss. You took quite the fall. Good thing someone found you." She said, checking your vitals as you simply stared ahead.

You weren't dead.

It should be something good, it should please you to know that you survived, but instead, it made your mouth taste stale, and your throat clog up. The nurse carried on, leaving the room after a moment. You knew she didn't care. She was only doing her job.

A look to the side told you that it was late- only some lights of other rooms of the hospital lighting up the outside, curtains pulled shut. It was dark in your room.

Too dark.

Your breathing increased as the shadows started to morph into heads, animals, and monsters; anything your mind could come up with. You could feel the bile raising in your throat, sour taste on your tongue making you swallow desperately, head whipping from left to right to find something to light the room up, but finding nothing. Your whimpers seemed to echo inside the room, making you feel awfully pathetic as you could only watch as the monsters- dissipated?

They vanished as a gentle glow flooded the room, originating from a figure behind the hospital curtains, shadow showing a seemingly male figure clad in unknown robes. You swallowed.

"Ah, the daughter of eve fears the dark?" He sing-songed, almost mockingly as the curtains moved a bit with the fresh air flowing into the room. You stared at him or more like his silhouette, as you whispered in a wavering voice.

"What are you?"

He chuckled, a breathy sound that didn't feel threatening. "Ah, she is smart however. She knows I am of a different kind." He said, voice low and rumbly, yet with an almost feminine tune to it. It reminded you of your lover, in a sense- yet his voice sounded nothing like his at the same time. "I am the fourth son of Rosier, a former Angel now residing in what you humans call hell." He stated, as if he was simply telling you how nice the weather would be tomorrow. So if he was the son of a fallen angel, was he-

"So you're.. a demon?" You asked, voice still almost only a whisper. He chuckled at your voice.

"Not quite, but it serves as a good definition for your kind. My heritage is quite.. difficult to explain, I'll admit." He mumbled, moving his head a little to the side. You couldn't make out his features at all, the only thing serving as a hint to his physique being the light accentuating his shadow.

"Why.. why are you here?" You asked, and he moved his arms a little, the sound of fabric moving the only noise for a moment.

"Ah, you really are smart. I usually hear the question of what I desire from someone- yet there is not really anything a human could offer to me I could have use of." He said with a humored undertone. He continued as you stayed silent. "I believe there has been an.. incident that should not have happened, and I am the one at fault."

"So you came to.. apologize?"

He clapped his hands, making you jump a little. "My my, why do you sound so surprised?" He asked, voice growing a bit more hostile. "I am not an angel full of itself because of its purity. My kind may be known to be quite tumultuous and.. unconventional, yet we do have our standards and pride." He said, leaning against the wall next to the window.

"I see." You simply said, and he didn't answer for a moment. You felt like you were being watched, observed even. You cleared your throat before asking. "Why.. why did you, you know.. throw me?"

He sighed. "I was not born with a body like your kind is. I have to.. lend or take one for myself." He said, and you nodded, unknowing if he could see you properly. It seemed like he did, because he took your gesture as a silent way of telling him to continue. "I have only recently acquired this body. For your standards of time, at least.Your planet spins faster in a year than my own world would consider a full change of seasons." He said.

"So you.. know what happened to him? Like.. the body's actual owner, I mean."

Running a hand through his hair, he answered you, though with mild hesitation in his tone. “Sometimes.. memories remain. What we do with them is up to us.” He said lowly, his voice so familiar, yet also nothing like a voice you’ve heard before in your lifetime. "He left this world with quite a dramatic final, I admit. I do not know details, however. He is.. keeping them from me. Which is fair, considering I did take without asking." Whoever was hiding behind those hospital curtains made your head spin in confusion, as you tried to pin point what exactly was happening.

There was a demon in your hospital room. Not only that, but this demon was drowning the entire room in a soft and gentle glow, prohibiting the natural shadows of all the furniture and items placed on their respective spots to turn into terrifying monsters ready to haunt your time of rest and healing. But for some reason his presence made your blood flow calmly in your veins, soft noises from the opened window making your eyelids close.

You could feel him come closer, notice how the mattress dipped a bit where he leaned to loom over you. “Rest. I’ll keep them away from you.” He murmured, a cool hand touching your forehead as you drifted off, not being able to catch the confused and frustrated face of the demon who was watching you.

How strong must this man have felt for you if even after his death he harbored those emotions inside those veins he’d decided to possess and claim as his own? His soul has long left this body, yet it seemed like pieces of him still remained, forcing its claws between his will, and leading him down a path he'd rather not take.

Sitting on a bench, only light a streetlamp illuminating the park around you, you finally felt alone. It may sound like this should be an upsetting feeling, but after a week of constant hovering of others, nurses and patients alike, it finally felt like you could breathe again. That was, until you felt a presence behind you.

"Do not lift your gaze." He said, as he walked around the bench to sit beside you, the only visible thing now his shoes up to his thighs, decorative and expensive robes in silvery and dark colors, accentuated with thin golden patterns. You admittedly expected something more.. cliche. Like a black suit, maybe. "You have yet to recover fully." He murmured, crossing his legs before resting his arms on the backrest of the bench. "Why did you leave?" He questioned, referring to your decision to leave the hospital against doctors advice.

You fiddled with your fingers, before sighing. "I couldn't take the lies and masks around me." You said, and he hummed.

"Ah, yes." he chuckled before he continued. "That nurse was quite.. envious of your bodily features, I've noticed. And one of the male patients had been quite fond of you as well." He said, and you raised your eyebrows, scoffing. He looked down at you, amused. "What? My kind cannot lie, if it makes my words more trustful for you." He said, and you chuckled.

"Well.." You started, before stretching your legs a little bit in front of you. "I'm not much to look at." You said, and he clicked his tongue.

"Hm.. Who is speaking untruthful now?" He said with humor in his tone. "You are quite visually pleasing to look at, if I may say so. I cannot imagine what you may look like without the draining burden of sorrow and hurt." He spoke, a hand carefully tracing a stray strand of hair, before you chuckled. The sound was good, he decided. He would make you laugh more.

"Thank you." You said, and he simply hummed a reply.

It was quiet for a moment, before you told him your name. He, again, only hummed a wordless reply.

"I'm afraid I cannot give you mine in exchange." He said, and you nodded, understanding.

You didn't need it anyways.

He slowly started to become a regular guest at your home. You had started to move away your lover's things as summer passed outside your windows, trying to mend your broken self together piece by piece with the Demon's help here and there. He distracted you when things got overwhelming, spending time with you and keeping you in touch with the world outside your walls. You had also started to work again. A simple job at a restaurant, washing dishes, nothing special. But it paid the bills, and it gave you something to do during the day.

A distraction, if you will.

This time when you came home however, his eyes widened at how you immediately fell to your knees, crying desperate tears into your hands. He didn't ask what happened, simply walking over to you, putting a hand on your head- a gesture he'd learned during his time with humans, a simple touch that was meant to bring comfort. Yet it also helped him to look into your thoughts, and see the situation that had occurred during your day at work, making his blood buzz inside his veins.

He could see how you were working, not participating in the chatter of the cooks and waitresses around you, until they started to make fun of you. Calling you names, laughing about your job, your clothing, your stand in society he guessed. It all went as far as to the simple moment a waitress let a plate fall, giggling at your desperate try to catch it before it could hit the floor. She did it again and again, plate after plate, until a chef made her stop, chuckling himself as he led her away, leaving you to clean up the mess, and deal with the harsh words of your boss that night.

Carrying you upstairs he laid you down on your bed, pulling the sheets over your body before vanishing in a simply cloud of black smoke.

Oh, this would be fun.

He was getting quite hungry anyways.

He watched from afar, as the waitress in question walked past her bedroom window before shutting down the lights, most likely preparing for sleep. That was his moment.

Fear was an interesting thing to him. Not only because he fed off of it like most Demons did, but because he loved how fears told him almost everything he needed to know about a specific person. The simple instinct that tormented humans during their time of rest told him stories of their deepest desires and secrets-giving him all the power he needed to rule over them during the night.

But this time, he didn't care about that.

He'd observed her already, knowing how narcissistic she was. The small vanity full of expensive makeup showed him her insecurity of her visual image towards others- a truly childish fear in his opinion. Yet it did give him enough to play with already.

Diving into her sleep, she didn't notice his intentions at all, simply watching him as he'd sat down in the corner of her room, casually lounging in her chair placed on that spot. She smirked, as if he was her property, and he smiled back, yet with a vicious intend behind his eyes, hidden from her sight, her instincts clouded by her own desires. "Ah, jesus, haven't had a dream like that in a while." She said, getting up to sit on his lap, making him smirk at her. He knew the effect he had on humans- the body he'd chosen quite attractive already, yet his own natural aura enhanced its beauty even more, giving him a tempting charm. It worked on her just as well as it did on others, and maybe that was why he'd been hiding his face from your gaze all along. This young woman was.. basic in every way he could think of. Nothing about her peaked his interest as it did with you- a fact that should be worrying him. Yet he decided to eat first.

She started to rudely push her hands in between the fabric of his robes, making him grasp her wrists with a predatory grin. If she noticed that something was off, she didn't mention it, as she grew even more happy at the fact he was trying to control her. Humans were so fond and protective of their dreams, loving the way that they thought they had full control over everything that happened. It made nightmares the more terrifying for them. "Feisty. Love that." She murmured, and he placed his hand on her cheek, making her raise her eyebrows.

"Oh how ugly you are."

He sang with a voice playful and mocking, as she widened her eyes, trying to get off of him. "Ah-ah, where do you wanna go now? You chose your seat, yet now you want to take back your decision?" He said, gripping her waist as she gasped in pain, heart rate surely increasing as she began to sweat. His smile widened as his hands dug into her skin, surely leaving bruises as she whined out, not yet where he wanted her yet. "Feisty- love that." He mused impishly, his eyes slowly drowning in black, oozing out shadows as his pupils glowed a vibrant red, a fire behind them it seemed.

The young woman squirmed on his lap, desperation calling out to her in her veins, making her try and scratch him- yet instead of blood, she only found black ink on her hands, making her wipe them furiously as she noticed ants crawling up her legs. She began to breath heavily, eyes widening, as he laughed at her pathetic attempt to push away, his hand now gripping her jaw. "what do you think, whore?" He mused, voice distorted by an unknown force she didn't want to understand, her eyes leaking tears to no end as she realized how this was out of her control. "Ah, she is empty already. How boring." He said, letting her fall onto her back, coughing violently as she ran to her bedside table, trying to find something in it. Yet he was already behind her, forcing her body in front of her vanity mirror as he had her hair in his fist, forcefully pulling on it as if it was a handle to use, her eyes closed as she chanted to wake up. He laughed, before he spoke his words. "Look ahead, stupid child. Do you still think your disgusting words make you more appealing?" He said, as she opened her eyes;

waking up screaming louder than she'd ever did before.

With bruises ever so present.

The demon was in a good mood these days.

Maybe you just imagined things, but he felt more carefree around you, simply lounging on your couch as if he owned the place- and you didn't mind him doing that at all. He was nice company after all.

He joked around with you, asked you things, and seemed genuinely interested in you as a person; you felt as if you both got closer the more you conversed.

He noticed your dreams, yet never interfered to this night, as the nightlight broke in your room, darkness drowning your dreams in terror and war. You sobbed in your sleep, and his nonexistent heart clenched at the sight- the force inside his veins however didn't have anything to do with him joining your dreams, however. No, this was all his own decision this time.

Your dreams were.. a feast, to be exact. For him, it felt like he was at a buffet, ready to pack his plate until he was filled to the brim- yet the curled up form of your body, tormented by shadows and fiends, he sighed. He couldn't feed off of you. His own pride didn't allow it.

He considered you something humans called a 'friend', yet the desire he'd started to develop speaking different words, his own fantasies not so saint as yours.

But for now, he pushed these rabid thoughts away from his mind, crouching down next to you, embracing you into his arms for the first time, your sobs dying down as you noticed who it was shielding the darkness. Your hands grabbed onto the expensive looking fabrics he wore, trying to get even closer to him than you already were, while you calmed down, whispers and shouts around you slowly dying down, leaving nothing but comfortable white noise.

You slowly detached yourself from his form, eyes widening at the way he seemed to be emitting black smoke all around you two. Yet he also seemed to glow, just like he did back in your hospital room, a source of light without clear form. Just like a shadow, you knew what he looked like- yet you couldn't tell for sure. His face was completely blank, making you feel uneasy.

"You cannot dream of something you haven't seen yet." He said, voice low and humming, mildly distorted by some unknown force around you two. You nodded at that, his words making sense to you. Yet it made you feel a bit sad, knowing that you'll probably never see him either way. "Have you hoped to catch a glimpse of my features in your dreams, hm?" He playfully asked, brushing some hair away from your face, and you liked to imagine his face gentle and soft. "How sweet of you." He mused, before he leaned in, his features not distinguishable for your own eyes- it was as if you could see them, but forgot about them immediately. It hurt to know that you could see him, yet you couldn't hold onto the memory of it. Like your own mind was mocking you for not having the courage to go against his rule of not raising your gaze enough to study his face properly when you were awake.

Yet his kiss felt as real as it could get.

It was confident, knowing in the mere fact that you had developed feelings for the unknown being following you around these days, even though it seemed stupid to the both of you. It felt like you found something missing again, yet at the same time it was way too foreign to be something that had happened to you before. You were a shy being, way too gentle to ever find someone who would drown you in a kiss like this; fiery and demanding, yet also giving and utterly bewitching.

But didn't he say that you couldn't dream of something you haven't experienced before?

[ajokeformur-ray]

So I guess I should mention my anxiety and depression, they go up and down, so it’s not always bad. But when it gets bad, it’s pretty bad. I haven’t really had anyone to help me before. I have reoccurring nightmares and paralysis about my past relationship so I’d probably want him to know. Protective hyena over her man eater for sure 💚 but also I want to be protected, so depends on the situation really. Horny as fuck for him lmao very touchy and lovey. I’m already pierced meat so...

I haven’t written for Hannibal in the longest time (almost a year; barring the exception of that piece I wrote you about a month ago), so I might be a bit rusty, but I really wanted to gift @jokerslilhyena​ with a matchup for you and for Hannibal. I hope that you enjoy this, darling! Hanni and I both love you so much and we’re so so proud of you!💖

NSFW within.

Word count: 1, 924.

So I just want to start off by saying that Hannibal adores you. He is immediately intrigued by you; those intense chocolate eyes, your hair and the way it gently moves in the breeze, and upon deeper inspection, Hannibal realises that you are more than what you seem to be. Your fate is sealed with this realisation, though you don’t know it yet. Hannibal decides that he wants to get to know you on a more personal level and it's only too easy for him to tell that you have multiple demons, all of whom he wants to discover, too, and he thusly decides to introduce himself to you as a psychiatrist. In giving you this opening to be one of his patients, Hannibal is able to set into motion the plan to make you wholly dependent on him. Your life begins to change for the the better with Hannibal's presence and he quickly realises that you are someone who wants to be taken care of. You are strong and brave, and you can look after your own self, but, oh,  how you have suffered, and for this reason he wants to take care of you. You are so young but exquisitely damaged, he thinks, he can smell the terrors in your past on you, and he longs to uncover the as yet incomplete tapestry which is Lilith. He savours every uncovered piece and in return does he reveal to you one of his.

Hannibal makes it so that you don't think that you can ever survive without him again. It isn't that he doesn't care for you, but it's in his own way. His love language is a complex one, but once you’re fluent, you come to understand just how loud it is. It’s in the smallest of things; the way he cooks you your favourite meals wordlessly when you have had a bad day, the way he allows you to cling to him in the middle of the day... Hannibal would truly be devastated if he ever lost you, though he also knows that nothing will ever come between the two of you because he will do anything to keep that from happening. You are his and he looks after you. It increases your dependence on him, which is what he wants, and the moment you stop loving him is the moment he no longer has a need for you. He doesn't worry about that, though, because he knows that what you have together is real and true. You haven't ever had anyone help you with your anxiety, BPD and depression, and you manage yourself well. Anyone who doesn't know what to look for will miss it, but he is a professional psychiatrist and Hannibal sees you. He sees all of you and he finds himself wanting to help you with no ulterior motive. You may be wounded and you may limp, but you are a Hyena and they have a nasty bite. Hannibal teaches you to find yourself, he nurtures you and helps you to bare your teeth without fear of being punished, and he takes the best care of you that he possibly can every single day. Why, he knows not, but Hannibal doesn't much care for reasoning. He cares only for the action and its consequence: a slow relationship which blossoms beautifully with his nurturing, your desire for him, and the love which comes to grow between you remains evergreen. 

He takes time to get to know you, knowing that if he moves too fast you may run off; a wild animal are you. At first, you are merely psychiatrist and patient, but then one late afternoon, Hannibal asks you if you have eaten yet and you say no. Hannibal thus remarks that it is important to eat three meals a day, and he invites you to dinner. There is no escape now but even if it was presented to you on the silver platters which Hannibal so favours at his dinner parties, you wouldn't take it. Why would you, when everything you have ever needed or wanted is right there if you simply ask for it? You find yourself entangled in his web before you know it... by the time you realise it, it’ll be too late, but you don’t care. You love him and Hannibal comes to love you, too. During one session with Hannibal, you revealed to him the terrors of your past. You cried and you shook but that didn't stop you, and for that, Hannibal admired your strength. It was unusual in one so young, but so telling was it. He was angry, and rightly so, but Hannibal resolved to do all that he could to help you. Of everyone he had ever met, you were the one most worthy and the most deserving of kindness and of goodness, which told him that you were also the one who would want to receive his rare gift. By the time that you were wholly in love with him, he had already started to fall.

It was only a few months before Hannibal invited you to stay for the night, and within just a few hours did he come to learn of your nightmares and sleep paralysis. "What has the world done to you, my love?", he murmured in an attempt to soothe you. He relied on his training and what he knew of you to help you that night, and within a few nights had he fully mastered all the ways to help you. He was everything that you needed him to be even before you knew what you needed, so well does he know you. "It was not your fault, Lilith, and you did not deserve such abhorrent treatment. Were he not dead, I would kill him myself as an anniversary present." You laughed, but your heart wasn't in it. Not really, but all the same did you appreciate the sentiment. Your protective nature and your want to be protected are both circumstantial and Hannibal fulfills both. He always knows what you need before you need it and he knows how you need it, and in this way does he make sure that you do not stray from his side. Depending on the situation, you are strong but you are also capable of voicing when you want to be helped. You have gone through so much more than anyone should ever have to goes through but you carry yourself with dignity. Even people close to you are not fully aware of your struggles, but one look and Hannibal knows. 

When people get too close to you or to Hannibal, the other person is quick to angle their body in a protective manner. You often go out together, to see the Opera or simply to take in the sights of the city, and you are always touching in one way or another. Hannibal likes to keep his hand on the small of your back, so that he can touch as much of you as he can all at the same time, and the heat of his hand seeps through the baggy clothes which you favour. He grounds you and makes you feel safe, always. You are always his greatest priority and a matter of life and death. It is his loudest love confession but only you have ever stopped to listen. Your protective nature is amusing to Hannibal but he wouldn't want you any other way, for it is proof that you care as deeply as you say that you do. Words are cheap but actions are reliable and in this way does Hannibal understand that you are the perfect recipient for his rare gift, which no other has ever wanted. He appreciates it and he appreciates you and he does what he can to repay the favour in small ways. This includes cooking your favourite breakfast meal without being asked, buying you clothes which fit you perfectly and are your preferred style and aesthetic, and protecting you just as fiercely as you protect him. To Hannibal's thinking, you deserve the world and he wants to give it to you. For someone who has so deeply been hurt in her life, for someone who has so deeply gotten to know this rare gift bestowed upon them and wanted it, Hannibal is forever loyal and he will protect you until the day he dies.

You are unashamed when it comes to physically expressing yourself. There is nothing that you wouldn't allow Hannibal to do to you, and with everything that you have ever gone through, Hannibal takes it as a true mark of devotion and trust. He will not break it, he will not break you, but instead does he replace your marks of violence and your horrific scars, your traumas and your pains with love. He is tender and compassionate, impassioned, and if anyone can keep up with your sexual appetite, it's Hannibal. On the nights when you cannot or will not sleep, kept awake are you by nightmares, sleep paralysis, or stress, Hannibal will use his body to put your own to the test. Physical exhaustion most often wins out over these things, especially after three to four rounds of the same. Always will he coax multiple orgasms out of you. "You taste positively divine, dearest." and he laps at you like you are the first and only meal of the day. If you are not into that, then Hannibal will be able to derive the way that you taste from the way that you smell; for all five senses are engaged when one eats. You’re also very loving and very affectionate, and Hannibal can read you like a book. He knows when you want cuddles, he knows when and how you want to be kissed, and he always knows what you want even before you do; you are his open book, his Lilith, his Hyena, his One, and there is nothing he wouldn’t do for you. Many a crime scene stands as testament to that unspoken vow.

You are extremely creative, skilled both with words and artistically, and Hannibal supports you in this as in everything. He is an artist too, and one of the ways in which he tells you that he loves you is to leave sketches of you in places that he knows you will find. You work hard academically, and you are under more stress than someone your age should be. As such, Hannibal does what he can to help you, to guide your way, and he handles your finances; he lets you pay for nothing, not that he tells you that. You know, of course you do, but it is yet another unspoken thing between you. You do many things for the other without saying a word, such is the nature of your relationship, and it isn't unusual for one of you to suddenly whisper a "thank you" to the other, but no "you're welcome" comes; it's all in the way you're tightly gripped onto, the way you both nuzzle into each other, the way you become each other as naturally does Hannibal slip both within your psyche and within your body; so completely do you love him that he brings all of your trashed and scattered pieces back together as naturally as he breathes. You give him ample reason to not be caught, to keep his freedom, and in return, he lives for you. You are meant to be, dearheart, and only a fool would question it.

[shardminds]

Night Terrors (oneshot)

Pairing: Emma Swan/Killian Jones Rating: M  Warnings: Angst, Sleep Paralysis, Nightmares, Vampirism, General Horror-ish themes at the start... just really bad dreams and a big vampire friend. Words: 1329

Emma can't sleep at night and Killian wants to help. Difficult choices aren't made.

Also available on AO3!

It starts before she can stop it.

Hands, claws, everywhere. Her legs, her chest, her waist, her neck. They’re insistent, seeing purchase on her flesh. They’re not real, they’re not, but she can feel them, tearing at her skin as they seek what lies beneath. Emma can’t move, can’t speak, can’t scream, can’t even open her eyes. She wouldn’t want to, even if she could. The sight of talons raking over her strikes fear into her like nothing else could. She loses all agency like this, left prone to their whims until they fade with the rise of the sun. Each day, the sun appears, spears of light rousing her from her paralysis and eradicating the intrusive demons within seconds.

The sun or Him. On the nights when He comes, they scatter like scared mice, fleeing from a greater threat.

It’s a dream.

A nightmare.

They rip open her chest, cracking open her ribs in pairs, curling sharp digits around her heart until her breath comes in short, painful pants. She can’t see it, eyes screwed shut to avoid the vision of shrivelled fingers pulling her to pieces. She’d managed to look once, a grave mistake, before the darkness had swallowed her whole, dragging her further into the hallucination. She’d awoken hours later shaking and truly terrified, clinging to her comforter as if that alone could keep the monsters at bay. It had taken her weeks to fall back to sleep after that.

Fear is a powerful thing.

It’s nothing but an annoyance now.

They’ll be gone in the morning, She thinks, frantically trying to turn her mind to something other than the phantom grip tightening around her throat. They’ll be gone and I’ll be fine and I’ll have a shower and eat pancakes and get coffee and go to work and— and nothing.

Emma opens her eyes.

Instead of being met with the gruesome visions that had plagued her mind’s eye, He’s stood at the end of her bed; tall, dark and brooding, a concerned frown across his brow as his dark dishevelled hair flutters in the breeze from her open window.

“Killian, we’ve talked about this.” She groans, exasperated, trying to hide the relief that floods her system at finally being in control again. All evidence of the nightmare is gone; there’s a distinct lack of marks littering her arms where she swore she’d felt tiny incisions not minutes earlier, her heart, ribs and chest are still intact, her breath still comes with difficulty but thankfully the pressure on her windpipe is gone.

“Aye,” He nods, frown still firmly in place but there’s a softness to it that she hates, something not too far between pity and worry. “but it’s not my fault I can hear the damned things plaguing you from all the way across town.”

With a familiarity she wishes wasn’t there, he sits back on the edge of her mattress, careful not to displace her. The moonlight washes him in an ethereal glow, catching the edge of a smile, the darkness in his eyes, the glint of fangs and the red in his stubble. She tries not to think about how that red got there. “Maybe you should reevaluate my offer.”

She’d do a lot of things to be rid of the night terrors. His offer is not one of them. “Hard pass.”

“Emma–” He reaches to take her hand, probably to stroke soothing circles into it like he always does but she shoves it away. Now is not the time for that.

“End of conversation.” She snaps, unable to tether her emotions any longer. Frustration bubbles to the surface beneath her skin and she knows he can feel it without even touching her. She knows because he’s there, the furrow in his brow growing deeper. He doesn’t argue.

He sits and waits as Emma pulls herself up, sat cross legged on the opposite side of the bed. The distance is a must. She can tell from the dark bags under his eyes and the twitch in his jaw that he’s fighting off hunger and, as curious as she is about what that would entail, she’s had enough supernatural beings piercing her for one night, corporeal or otherwise. He also wouldn’t take advantage of her like that. Killian is a lot of things, dishonourable is not one of them.

As annoying as he is, she can’t deny that she’s thankful for his presence. It’s not like she can tell Mary Margaret that every night she’s torn to shreds by unknown hands that belong to something from her nightmares. That’s not the kind of conversation you can have over coffee and breakfast. Especially with anyone like Mary Margaret Blanchard who tends to let little things like ‘my housemate is totally crazy’ slip in casual conversation. Not in, like, a rude way. In an ‘I’m trying my best to be a good friend but I don’t know how to help’ way.

Therapy doesn’t work, medication only makes it harder to wake up, and all the holistic bullcrap she’d managed to get her hands on just made her room smell like lavender and old people. Nothing works as well as Killian’s presence, lying by her side flicking through whatever the literary flavour of the week is. Last week it was Tennyson. The best thing about having Killian around is that he doesn’t ask questions, not when he already has the answers.

Apparently, being a mind reader has its perks.

The hardwood floor must be incredibly interesting from the way he’s staring holes into it.

“They’re getting worse.” He says, softly, still staring into space. It’s not a question or an observation. It’s a fact. He can sense them too, after all.

“I know.” Emma nods, solemnly.

He ducks his head, rubbing the brace of his prosthesis with his other hand. She’d always wondered about it but never had the courage to ask. “I know you don’t want to risk the change but–”

“Killian–”

“No, Emma. Let me speak.” He looks at her then, and he looks tired. Tired and hurt. She hadn’t really considered that the assault of her own demons might be affecting him too. He’s a vampire, for fuck’s sake, Emma. Of course, they’re not affecting him.

“I can hear them, you know, even now. They’re getting stronger and I fear how long it will be before–” His voice cracks and he’s pale, paler than she’s ever seen him, the moon causing him to almost glow. Her stomach drops. She knew that he could hear them while she slept, while they attacked, but now?

What the hell is going on?

“It’s not my intention to scare you, love, but we’re running out of options, lest we share a bed for the rest of our lives. I don’t know about you but normally, I prefer to do other more enjoyable activities with a woman on her back.” The last part comes with a smirk, not all the way to the eyes but enough to coax a slow smile out of her. He can be quite charming, which is why seeing him worry like this is so out of place. So she appreciates the humour while it lasts, the jokes that soften the blow of the choice she has to make.

Emma doesn’t want to die.

The tears come before she can stop them, just as the dream had.

His arms are around her, strong and all encompassing, before the first sob escapes. Leather and iron and salt. She leans into it, selfishly, knowing how her proximity must be affecting him and choosing to ignore it. She can’t bring herself to say the words she wants to say out loud. Luckily, with Killian, she doesn’t have to.

“Nothing’s going to hurt you, my Swan.” His voice is deep, barely a whisper, a solid threat to whatever entity may be listening, and when he presses a kiss to her crown she relaxes into it.

She believes him.

A/N: the inspo for this came from that exact dream. it sucks. i do not have a big vampire friend to help me out. 

[escapingreality1992]

Strange Impressions Ch. 9

Trigger Warning: There is moment where Stephen Strange can’t move and is played with without his consent by a villain. I do not condone this but it’s necessary to move the story along. Sophie trusts and loves him enough to know he wouldn’t cheat on her, hearing everything from the next room. She also makes sure he’s okay before moving forward with her movements in their heated moment. If this bothers you, please don’t read.          

“Do you really need to leave tomorrow? I’d rather you stay here with me,” Stephen complained. We were sitting on a couch in the living room, his arms around me; we often snuggled like this, my legs draped over his lap and with him holding me super close to his body.

           “Yes, I do. I have my other belongings there and there’s training that needs to be done. I know, I want to stay with you too, but we both have our responsibilities. That still doesn’t change the fact that I’ve gotten comfortable here and it’s only been two days,” I told him. I looked up at him to capture his lips in a kiss.

           “Well, what if you were to move in with me? There’s plenty of room and we could always go over to the compound for training if need be,” he asked me.

           “Move in with you? I didn’t think we were to that point yet. Are you sure it’s what you want?” I asked him, surprised at his suggestion.

           “I…”

           “Aww. Look at the cute couple. I’d love to see what they taste like,” a male voice echoed throughout the room.

           “What is that?” Stephen asked, trying to pinpoint where it came from.

           “More importantly, who is that? Also, where is it?”

           I dropped my legs to the floor, ready to strike if it came to that.

           “A sorcerer supreme who isn’t ugly. I wonder how he feels inside someone,” another voice, this time female, stated.

           “I have a feeling what or whomever we’re dealing with is invisible,” Stephen commented, getting off the couch and commanding the cloak of levitation to attach to his shoulders, his tunic appearing through magic. I flared my fire, the flames engulfing my fists and pressed my back against Stephen’s.

           “Any way you can light them up?”

           “I don’t know. It’d be risky. I might accidentally set the room ablaze if I miscalculated. You don’t know a spell to reveal them do you?”

           “A few, but I wouldn’t know which one would work best. We don’t know if they’re human, demon or something else entirely,” Stephen responded.

           “Okay, so it’s either burning down the room or a failed spell. Isn’t that lovely? I think we’re at an impasse here,” I noted, trying not to let my fear show.

           “Mm. I can smell their fear. It smells so good, like candy. Gummy, juicy candy,” the male voice commented. So much for not showing it, apparently it’s oozing from our pores.

           “If we could somehow lure…” Stephen began saying, cut off by a whistling sound and something piercing his skin with a thwack sound.

           “What…” he questioned, pulling a miniature dart from his neck. He fell to his knees and sprawled out on the floor unconscious.

           “Stephen! Hey, wake up! Stephen. Damn it, you’ve been tranquilized,” I shouted, kneeling down to try and rouse him from his current state.

           ‘Time for you to sleep as well, my dear,” the female informed me. I turned in the direction I thought the voice came from only to be met with the same dart.

           “Damn,” I managed to say before collapsing beside Stephen. I saw a pair of shoes and hooved claws, the world turning black shortly after.

              I gasped aloud when I woke, unable to move. I diverted my gaze downward to see my hands and feet shackled to the floor. Looking around, I found I was alone in a dimly lit room, Stephen nowhere to be found. I pulled against the restraints to see if they’d give any but unfortunately they were extremely tight around my ankles and wrists.

           As I tried to figure out a way to escape my bonds, a loud groan echoed in my ears from a room next to mine.

           “It’s no use to scream. My venom paralyzes you. You’ll be a delicious treat sorcerer,” the same male voice from before stated, the sound permeating the walls of my room. Oh no, Stephen. What are they going to do to you? I thought. Silence followed and then another groan echoed again. Once more I pulled against my bonds coming to the conclusion fire was the only option to free myself. Though painful, it became a way to get to him, to stop what was happening to him.

  Stephen’s POV

           When I opened my eyes and tried to sit up, I realized I couldn’t move. Pain burned in my abdomen but I couldn’t move my head to see the damage.

           “Hello, sorcerer. Arlen is going to have a juicy treat. Your skin will taste divine in Arlen’s belly,” a male voice stated. The voice that spoke happened to be the same one from the Sanctum this morning.

           A figure appeared over me; a demon with a putrid yellow color for skin, hooved claws for feet and hooked claws for fingers. It straddled me; fluttering its claws before cutting into my body, pain shooting through every nerve of my skin. I groaned, clenching my teeth as best as I could.

           “Arlen knows how to paint a picture in blood, how to flay skin slowly so the treat lasts longer,” it said. Great, it’s talking in third person, I thought to myself. I groaned again uttering ‘stop’ in a muffled voice.

           “It’s no use to scream. My venom paralyzes you. You’ll be a delicious treat, sorcerer,” it said. It hooked a claw under the layer of skin it carved out, leaning down to bite it off my stomach. I groaned again, the pain excruciating.

           “How nice. You’ve left him naked for me. I’ve always wondered how a sorcerer supreme feels. He’s got an impressive size for one. I think I’d like to play with him a little,” a female voice comments. She appears before me, human unlike her companion and wearing an olive green tank top and jeans. She’s also barefoot, the slap of her feet alerting me to her approach.

           “Arlen asks for you to wait just a minute. Arlen wants another piece before he slides to the side,” the demon responds, peeling off another layer. I hiss in pain, knowing there wasn’t anything I can do. Arlen slid off me and sits on my left, continuing his grotesque work, while the female sits on my right.

           “My name is Allura, not that it matters. I’m going to enjoy you and your girlfriend won’t be able to stop me,” she says as she reaches down to grip my cock.

           “No, please. Don’t…do this,” I mutter through gritted teeth before she starts stroking me.

           “Ooh, you’re responsive. Tell me, does she satisfy you enough?” Allura taunts, still moving her hand to get me erect. I groan from pain and slight arousal, cursing myself for responding to her touch. Sophie is the only one I love and now I’m afraid she won’t be able to come back from this. The paralysis keeps me from moving, from stopping her actions, my body responds to sensations I wished it didn’t. Tears spring to my eyes as a new scream reverberates the walls of my room.

  Sophie’s POV

           Turning my wrists so my hands face the metal, I start heating up the bonds to melt them away. I start slow, the burning not too intense to where I won’t be able to rip it from my skin. I turn up the intensity, wincing from the pain on my skin, tears springing up. As the metal begins to turn to liquid, I turn up my heat and fire to full blast screaming as it melts the metal into my skin. I pull up breaking free of the bonds that took longer than I would’ve liked. Sitting up, I rip the melted metal from my wrists, the smell of burning flesh still present in the air. I grunted in pain inspecting the damage. It won’t last long, the healing already activated; there will be scars from it but I didn’t have any other choice.

           Instead of burning through the bonds at my feet, I melt the bolts connecting them and flip over the metal itself. Finding the exit, I blast through it and burn through the rooms on either side of me, the groaning coming from my left. I burst through the room finding Stephen naked on the ground, a demon flaying the skin from his stomach and a woman stroking his cock, an erection beginning to form. I don’t fault him for this; he’s paralyzed from the venom coursing through his body, unable to push off anyone. The woman turns her attention to me, flashing a malevolent smile and I lose it.

           “Get off my boyfriend!” I shout, aiming a well- crafted fireball at her, sending her body flying into a wall. I push a wave of heat at the yellow skinned demon, careening him in the same wall. Leaping into action, I cover Stephen with my body surrounding us in a dome of fire, no one able to penetrate its thickness.

           “Oh, god. What have they done to you?” I stated, assessing the wounds to his abdomen. He moans as I lightly brush over the cuts, making me look at him with concern. His eyes are red, his face streaked from tears he shed.

           “I’m…sorry. Don’t…leave me,” he mutters through his lips, not able to move his mouth.

           “Sh, it’s all right. Everything’s fine. I’m not leaving you but I-,” I tell him, leaning over him when a loud explosion hits the room. I look behind me to see Wong, Steve, and Tony standing through a blasted wall. I glance over to the wall where the demon and the woman were flown into; they were gone or possibly went back to being invisible.

           “Uh…Soph. Your boyfriend is naked. That’s not appropriate for battle,” Tony states.

           “Thank you for pointing out the obvious. I didn’t strip him. The people who captured us did. He’s paralyzed. I think it’s temporary but I’m positive you have to kill the demon,” I comment, annoyance in my tone.

           “Behead…it,” Stephen muttered and I relayed the message to my three colleagues.

           “Be careful. They can become invisible. If the demon scratches you, you’ll be paralyzed. I’ll try my best to light them up for you. I have to protect Stephen right now,” I told them, turning my attention back to Stephen. I brought his hand to my thigh, rubbing soothing circles into the back of it.

           “You can’t find us. More treaties for me, more playthings for her,” the male voice told us.

           “What is this thing’s name?” Steve asked; a circle formed with the three heroes.

           “Arlen…the demon. Allura…the girl,” Stephen mumbled.

           “Sophie, how can we fight something we can’t see?” Tony asked.

           “Stop talking. Let me concentrate,”

           I honed in on my senses, breaking down the dome and building heat in the ground. I closed my eyes, pressing a hand into the concrete floor, feeling for differences throughout. A pulse beat against my hand; human in nature and another quicker pulse pounded my fingertips; demon in nature. Pushing past them, I pinpointed their location.

           “I’ve got you,” I stated, flaring up a row of flames in their direction; they had snuck up in front of Wong, screaming when my flames licked their heels. Wong formed a portal over the demon’s head, closing it and beheading Arlen. Allura charged Tony, who blasted her through the stomach; she dropped dead, eyes glazing over. Stephen sighed under me, moving his hands to grip my arms.

           “Sophie, I’m sorry. I couldn’t move. She touched me and my body responded. I didn’t want her to. I’m so sorry,” he apologized, more tears escaping down his cheeks.

           “Somebody find his clothes. Now,” I ordered, before turning my attention to him.

           “You’re okay. Relax. I heard everything. There’s nothing you could have done. It’s okay. You’re safe now,” I told him, leaning down to kiss him.

           “Here, Sophie. I found them in the other room. They took his sling ring and hid it in a lockbox on the floor. Sophie, look at his stomach. He’s really hurt,” Wong told me, handing me Stephen’s clothing.

           “I know. My healing won’t work on him. It could make it worse. Stephen, can you stand up?” I stated, getting off of him. He nodded, wincing as he did so. I handed him the tunic and underwear, patient as he slid them on, the cloak resting on his shoulders. I handed him his sling ring and allowed Wong to transport all of us back to the Sanctum. I helped Stephen to his room, coming back down when he removed the tunic and changed into sweatpants; he insisted on cleaning and bandaging the wounds, so I got to say goodbye to Steve and Tony.

           “How did you get free?” they asked me. I showed them the scars on my wrists, still bright red from where they were still healing.

           “I didn’t have another option,” I told them, as Steve trailed a finger over the crescent shape.

           “Sophie, can I talk to you? Alone?” Stephen’s voice asked causing me to turn towards the stairs.

           “Sure,” turning back to Steve and Tony, I gave them both hugs. “Thanks again, guys. I’ll come back in two days,” I told them, following Stephen to his room.

              Stephen closed the door and locked it before bringing me to sit down on the bed.

           “What’s wrong? It it’s about what happened with…” I asked, cut off by his lips against mine, warm and soft, the passion behind them overpowering my senses. I latched my fingers into his hair, tugging on it, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. His teeth nipped my bottom lip, slipping his tongue inside when I gasped. His strong arms pulled me into his lap as he leaned back against the pillows, his hands slipping underneath my shirt; he found his way to my bra, squeezing my breasts over the fabric. He moved the straps down, my breasts spilling over the pushed down fabric. He twisted my nipples and I moaned, his touch irresistible.

           “Wait, wait, wait. Didn’t you say you wanted to talk?” I asked, pulling back before we got carried away. My eyes met his; his pupils were dilated from our actions, breathing hard from exertion.

           “Right, I did,” he answered me, his hands still on my breasts, kneading them.

           “Stephen? What…did you want…to talk about?” I asked between moans.

           “I never answered your question from this morning. You asked me if I wanted you to move in with me. The answer is yes. I’d love that very much,” he told me. He grew frustrated with my shirt and pulled it off of me, my breasts exposed for him. He unclasped my bra, giving him more access to my flesh.

           “That’s all? Great, I’ll start packing when I go back to the compound,” I told him. I passed a hand gently over his stomach. He winced and I removed his hands from my chest.

           “Slide down. Let me take care of you,”

           He did as he was told and I pulled down his pants and boxer briefs, freeing him. I ran my finger along his shaft, stopping when he flinched.

           “Are you okay? Do you want me to stop? I don’t want to push you especially after…” I questioned, wondering if Allura traumatized him too much.

           “Don’t stop. I’m fine. I want you to touch me. Please, Sophie. Touch me all you want,” he replied.

           “All right. How about I come at this in a different way?”

           I licked the tip, his cock twitching at the contact. Smiling, I took him in my mouth and swirled my tongue over him, hollowing my cheeks to take him further in. He moaned; his hips thrust up as I bobbed up and down, bringing him slow to his orgasm. I wrapped a hand around his shaft, the other cupping his balls to fondle him, stroking him to the point where he erupted in my mouth. I swallowed, removing my lips from him. I got off the bed to take off my shorts and panties before climbing on top, straddling him. Stephen handed me a condom to slip on and once I finished, I sheathed his cock into my body, my walls adapting to his length.

           Leaning down I kissed him, slipping my tongue in and out like I was fucking him, before I started riding him. His hands flew to my back holding me close despite the pain on his stomach. I went slow, pulling his hands from my back and trapping them above his head, our fingers linked. He flipped me over, his biceps bulging as he held my hands to the pillows. He kissed me, moving his lips to my neck and down to my chest. We climaxed at the same time; sweat pouring from our limbs, breathing hard. I brushed the bandages again, a hiss passing through his lips.

           “I’m healing. Trying to grow new skin. I’m just exhausted,” he told me.

           “Exhausted huh? Are you sure? I’d say you had enough to do this with me?” I asked, arching an eyebrow. He chuckled, kissing me.

           “I’m never too tired to make love to you,” he commented, bringing a smile to my lips.

           “Just to meditate? Do you want me to help? I’ve got enough strength that I’m willing to give away,”

           “That would be nice,” he said, pulling out, so we could get dressed. I left my shorts off, so I could sit comfortably in front of him. I joined hands with him, my wrists up; he passed his thumbs over the angry scars, catching my gaze.

           “I had to melt the bonds to get free. I didn’t have a choice. I only melted the bolts at my feet because my hands were free. I ripped the metal from my skin where it melted into it. Stephen, I needed to get to you,” I told him.

           “I love you Sophie. Thank you for saving me for the second time,” he responded.

           “I love you too,”

           The rest of the afternoon was spent in silence, Stephen and I meditating to help him heal. Our breathing synced, the power flaring around us. The moment was a sweet one, our relationship shifting into the next step; moving in with the love of my life.

[topimagines]

Inferno

Limbo

Summary:  Where do people go when they die? Well, for the least lucky people in the world, hell is waiting. But what happens when these people do go to hell? And how did you end up there?     

Warning: death, hell, mentions of religion, not a really graphic death but oh well, tyler is kind of an ass, torture, cannibalism-ish?, and swearing. Big warning before this series starts, it gets fucking dark, in this people are sent to hell for committing suicide, not believing in god, and being hypocrites, so there will be a lot of trigger warnings on each. There will be starvation, torture, blood, death, fire, did i mention death? so this is my warning!

Part 1// Part 2//Part 3// Part 4// Part 5// Part 6// Part 7//

(Not my gif!!)

“Where’s your best friend, now?” You dared to ask the demon, not wanting to bring up any unhappy memories again.

“I don’t know,” he whispered bringing his knees from the back of the seat in front of him to his chest.

Please read warnings before advancing! It is not my fault if you get triggered because you did not read my warnings!

“Yes, ma, I’m having fun in my new place,” you laughed into your phone, “yes, Tom is doing very good.” You had just moved in with your long-time boyfriend, Tom, and your mother seemed so much more worried about your safety in your new place than one should be. Maybe she was right to be worried. Nah, we’re safe here, you thought.  You were sitting on your brand-new couch surrounded by an ocean of boxes that you had yet to unpack.

“I’m doing well, mum!” He exclaimed happily, leaning down from his spot next to you to give you a peck on the lips.  

“Did you hear that, ma? Yeah, that was Tom. No, we’re not done unpacking. Ma, it’s like midnight here,” you sighed, rolling your eyes lovingly at your mother, “yeah, I’ll call you in the morning. I love you, so much. Yeah, tell the dogs I love them too. Dad too. Yes, I do love you. Ma! Good night. I love you, too. Bye.”  

“Wow, she made you say it three times this time, that’s a record, and the call only lasted” he checked a watch on his wrist that was not there, “three hours.” Tom laughed. You shook your head, playfully. Your mother never seemed to stop talking unless you shut her up.

“I’m tuckered out from moving all day, want to hit the sack in our room?” You ask. You finally had a place with a real bedroom, not like the studio you lived in before you moved in with Tom. It was huge in comparison.  

“Don’t mind if I do,” Tom agreed, a wide smile on his face. He picked you up bridal style from the couch you were seated on and carried you to the room, all the while giggling along with you. He tossed you on the bed and flopped down next to you, giggling.  

“You’re so silly!” You giggled, “I love you, so much.”

“I love you too,” he sighed, you tucked yourself under the covers after readjusting yourself under the blanket, and looked over at Tom, who was still finding his spot under it, himself. Once he was finally settled in his spot, he gave you a peck on the lips and turned off his lamp, “Good night, my love.”  

“Good night, baby.”

Barely two hours later, you woke up to a crashing sound and couldn’t breathe. It felt like someone was holding your throat in their hands and squeezing. But why would they do that? You had locked your front door, or at least you thought you had. You opened your eyes but the room was too dark to see anything. You couldn't make out anything surrounding you, nor could you move. This has to be some sorta intense sleep paralysis, maybe I'm just asleep, you thought, c'mon, (y/n), wake up.  

But you weren't waking up. You remained paralyzed on your bed with some force around your neck and the feeling of your satin sheets on your back as you were pressed firmly into the it.

Tom will wake up and help me, you thought, he will save me.

But he didn’t. You were dying, and he wasn’t helping you. You felt a searing pain in your stomach, suddenly, and a liquid ran down your sides onto the sheets you paid so much money for. 

Then, the world went black.

-

When you finally awoke again, you were surrounded in red and fire. Endless amounts of it, behind you, left, right, everywhere. Except for a gate, right in front of you. It seemed way too large for its purpose, which you assumed was keeping things out, and it had a script over the top in large, shining neon letters. You recognized the last sentence, “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.” You could see the sun rising behind it, and a large rumble of thunder sounded over your head.

“I’ve been telling Brendon to change that tacky sign since I got here,” a voice said behind you. You turned and saw a man with shaggy brown hair, a white t-shirt, an unzipped white jacket, a red beanie, and black jeans, looking up at the gate, silently reading over the skript himself. His face had numerous cuts over it, and his eyes shone through red. His incisors were longer than a normal person should have, you guessed he wasn’t human, or at least was pretending not to be.

“Who are you? What kind of sick joke is this?” You asked incredulously. This had to be a prank, Tom was messing with you. He had to be, like the time you met him on set and pretended to fall off a rig during a stunt, only to rile you up and make you worried, and then revealed he was alright. You wanted to punch him in his beautiful, crooked nose that day.

“Sweetheart, I wish it was a joke,” he sighed, “welcome to hell. I’m your guide, Tyler. The big guy sent me to fetch you and lead you to him, you seem to have caught his attention.”  

“Did I- am I- am I dead?” You whimpered. You pulled and prodded at your face to see if you felt pain. You pinched yourself and winced, you definitely could feel pain. Tyler looked at you with sympathetic eyes and nodded, assuring you that, yes, you are dead. He also knew how you died, but wasn’t allowed to tell you. His boss strictly informed him that he was not to tell you how you died or that Tom had died too. Only, he wasn’t with you, he was in purgatory waiting in line to get into heaven from the lowest tier, “How?”

“Dunno. Let’s get going, we have a long trip,” Tyler said, changing the subject quickly, snapping his fingers to open the gate. Fancy trick, you thought. He led you inside and already, you heard screams of agony and saw people being attacked by an endless number of different bugs, “Keep moving, keep moving.” Tyler ushered you away when you froze in shock. He knew it was a lot to take in for someone’s first time in this part of hell, it wasn’t quite hell yet, either. He wasn’t even used to it, himself. The entirety of that part of hell was one large field with a large mountain range surrounding it to the east, south, and west, and to the north was a large bridge going over a large body of water. You were led to a bus stop and you were forced to wait in line for either the bus or a taxi. “The line is never usually this long, just my fucking luck.” A sign next to you said “River Acheron” and you didn’t understand how the bridge was built over a river that went on and on, past what the eye can see.

Hell wasn’t as scary as you were taught as a child in church, at least this part of hell. The sun was shining brightly, casting down a slightly red light that lit up the entire valley. If you were alive, you would have been worried about skin cancer, but you were dead. Do dead people get cancer? Is that a part of hell? Maybe it’s some sort of punishment somewhere around here, you thought to yourself.

“What are we waiting for?” You asked.  

“Well, we don’t want to swim in that water,” Tyler said pointing to the numerous heads and body parts floating just under the surface of the water.  

“Oh,” you muttered. A cab finally approached and people began to swarm for it. Tyler took your hand and walked in front of the entire line, he must have intimidated everyone in the line because they let you two past them with only glances to spare at Tyler’s scratched face. The man in the driver’s seat took one look at Tyler and nodded, probably knowing exactly where he wanted to go.

When you were settled and buckled in, the cab took off down the bridge. You sat in silence, trying to stare out the window, but it was just as interesting as watching paint dry. Now you wished you had your phone, or anything to listen to music with. 

“What did you do when you were alive?” He asked, trying to make at least a little small talk after noticing how bored you looked with your head bouncing slightly against the window.

“I was a forensic scientist,” you said softly, wishing the cab would move faster. You really wanted to get off the topic, or any topic about your life before this, for that matter. You missed Tom and really wanted to get this adventure, or whatever it was, done and over with, “How did you… you.. y'know?”

“How did I die? I was in an accident on my tour bus, we were driving one minute, then the next, I was upside down, there was fire, smoke, so much fucking blood, and then I closed my eyes and ended up at the gate you just walked through,” Tyler said quietly, “me and my best friend were both sent to hell for different reasons, and my wife— well I guess ex-wife now, she was sent to purgatory. I made my way through here just like you, but without a guide, and eventually found Satan’s ‘palace’. He promised to make sure my wife got to heaven from purgatory if I stayed in hell to help him. Then he made me one of his little minions, or a demon, as humans so appropriately named me.”

“Where’s your best friend, now?” You dared ask.  

“I don’t know,” he whispered bringing his knees from the back of the seat in front of him to his chest. You felt bad, you couldn’t help him in that moment. The cab stopped and Tyler waved his hands crazily as a signal to get out before the driver could pester you for a tip. You slipped out of the cab, your feet hitting what felt like pavement.  

“Welcome to hell, proper. Where sinners and wimps go once they’ve left that god forsaken world,” Tyler greets, “This is where the people who aren’t quite religious go, atheists, agnostics, and so on; aka the first circle of hell, Limbo.”  

The first ring looked like a sort of torturous barbeque, much like one you’d go to with your parents to their friend’s homes, but with more screaming and it was humans being barbequed. Why were there grills in hell? You saw so many people that it felt unreal, some people- you guessed more demons- were eating disgusting looking burgers, and some people were screaming out in pain as their flesh was cut off them and cooked. Tyler practically dragged you through the crowd of people by his tight grip on your wrist, the other demons looked terrified of the red eyed man, moving quickly out of the way of his wrath.  

“Why are they being cooked?” You asked from behind the man, turning your nose away every time you saw someone taking a bit of their human-sandwich. This has to be the shopping mall of hell, except they were not offering you perfume samples, but burgers made of human beings.  This circle was a lot like the area before, the weather was very nice, seventy degrees fahrenheit, approximately, and sunny. The sun always had a red tint, you concluded, in true hell fashion. 

“I don’t know, really, it’s something I have never questioned because it is hell,” he answered. You finally reached the end of the crowd and Tyler let go of your hand, stretching as if to loosen himself up for another round in a boxing ring, “Limbo is my least favourite part of this god forsaken land,” he grumbled, his posture going back to its original, slouching state. 

“Was that the whole ring?” You asked hesitantly.  

“Oh, no, we still have three more of those barbeques to get through before we get to the camp we’re gonna rest at, then off to the second circle.” He took you by the hand again and led you toward another barbeque.

“Why is everyone so scared of you?” you asked him after a moment of silence, scared glances still being casted your way as you passed through, humans and demons alike. 

“When I got here, I was angry and wanted vengeance,” he answered, staring straight ahead and refusing to look at you, “so I not only tortured the humans sent here, but any demons that broke the rules. Of course, Brendon loved it, he rewarded me every time I made a politician cry, but it left a permanent fear in every person and other being down here.” 

Oh, joy, you thought.

[jesusbukkake-blog]

Friends Forever

There’s a thing called a hypnagogic jerk. It’s when you’re in the twilight zone between conscious and asleep, and you awaken with a jerk. Everyone gets it, and no-one knows why for sure. It used to happen to me all the time. I ask people about this. “What were you dreaming of before you woke up? What did you sense?” ‘Falling’ is the typical answer. Either that or ‘nothing at all’. I’ve asked everyone. When I was a kid, every night, without fail, I’d have a hypnagogic jerk when I was drifting into the twilight world. My mind becomes vivid. The covers weigh heavily on my chest. Everything is pitch black. And the blackness gets thicker. I start to choke in it. It peels off my eyes and wraps itself over my face, it invades my mind, I can’t breathe, I can’t think, and I am consumed in the darkness, and just when I think I’m sucked into oblivion, I jerk awake. Every night. I used to fear it. I would toss and turn, knowing any attempt at sleep would result in meeting this devastating demon, and I’d waste the whole night in a fretful tangle of covers. I’d doze off in class, but it would still get me there, and I’d wake stricken with shock and anguish in the middle of English. I still slept, of course. I’d be too tired. I’d be determined to. Sometimes it would attack endlessly – 8 solid hours of nightmarish hypnagogic jerks. And when I did get to sleep, I’d awaken after a few hours with another evil meeting. Always the same image. Always the same phantom. My parents took me to therapists, counsellors, psychiatrists, everyone. No-one could help. They could see a shaken little boy, terrified of sleep, sucking his thumb at 10 and wetting the bed, his face coiled in anguish every night as he curled against the pillows. And as sleep crept in, without fail, he’d jolt awake, his heart pounding its way away from the entity that had enveloped him. No-one could help. Sleep paralysis, they said. My parents gave up. I’d attempt the gruelling ritual of sleep night after night, alone, with the horrors of the night time becoming embedded deeper and deeper in me. It was only when I learnt to embrace it that I became happy. I stopped worrying when it attacked. This time, I smiled. I let the blackness come into me, my mind accepted it, and we became one. It was always with me. It gave me the strength, power, and courage that I never had. It gave me a will, a philosophy, a desire to really live as I’d always dreamed. Maybe it won. Maybe I gave up, beaten by an endlessly persistent opponent. Maybe I realised I wanted it. In moments of self-doubt, I can never decide. It’s this that I’ve been carrying with me all my life. It’s never been a burden. It’s a release, it’s a valve. My guardian angel. It takes everything, my guilt, my shame, my anguish, my love, all my bogus emotions, and sucks it into its endless pit. A black hole, where not even light can escape, tearing my thoughts out and emitting positive background radiation instead. And it frees me. I can do what I want, without even me to answer to. The liberation is ecstatic. I remember when I came to terms with the horror, beaming from ear to ear as I drifted off into a decent sleep for the first time in forever. It’s there whenever I close my eyes, my imaginary friend, but more real than anything else, always guiding me through the night and into sleep. I held it to my heart, and we fused together with beautiful symmetry. And now I’m here, with only my darkness for company, stuck in solitary confinement for years. We went into a frenzy for a while, didn’t we? You’ve all I’ve ever had. Everything else has been transient. All the stuff people say life is all about means nothing to me now, and never really did. Just you, darkness, taking me on your epic voyage through life. I knew we’d always be together; I’m even sure you’ll guide my way into the afterlife. You did the first one. I remember. We’d only been together for a few days when you did it. I had never even considered the idea, but your cold fist gripped my mind and killed him. It was messy. We didn’t even have anything to do him with. We just jumped on him and I pulverised him with my fists, over and over again. I didn’t even feel the pain, but my knuckles were red and bleeding afterwards. His face was crunching, he was long knocked out, but you wanted me to beat his skull into dust, and I wanted to too. It must have been about 10 minutes later that I finally got off him and ripped up his parking ticket. I felt guilty looking at his dented, swollen skull, but you made me feel proud. You told me to put him in the boot and drop him by the waterfall, so I did. He was still alive, but barely. We watched him fall. You gave me the taste for it. It was easy. Maybe a lot of people are familiar with you. I know these prison walls are full of them; the guards, too. I think other people know the darkness too, but they’re scared of you. They see you. They know you’re around every corner, hidden like a panther. You attack them from inside and out, and when you’re attacking strongly it’s the worst moment of their life. They should just accept you. They should fill their soul with you – they know you’ll always be there, waiting for it. It’s the only way to lose the fear. Because I never liked being angry. I never knew what to do. But you showed me. There was always a way. You stopped the pain. Together, we were cold-blooded. We were happier with the bastards gone. You were very clever. I remember when that waiter made a joke about me, and was surly. You had a plan. We went outside with a straw and a coke bottle and sucked petrol out of someone’s car. It was stunningly easy to make a Molotov. And I waited with you, outside, until we saw him getting in his car. The window was down. It was too easy. I wore you as a disguise. We worked beautifully together. We had fun. It was all fun. It’s all I wanted to do in life, since I met you. I could have never done it alone. Actually, it’s your fault we’re in here, y’know.

[paranoid-0-android]

You say crazy as a means of gaslighting. A way to shut down and tear apart. Convince me none of its real so you can get your way. But I know its real. Trust me, I wish my crazy weren’t real most days.

Because when I say crazy I mean broken beer bottles raking down your forearm just to create scars.

9, 10 foot tall lanky black shadows crossing the road in front of your car as you drive home from work. Gangly arms swaying slowly at the sides of hunched over body as you do nothing but stare and pray it crosses faster.

I mean not looking in mirrors for days because what you see in them may not be real.  How do I know for sure??

I mean so entrenched in sleep paralysis you and your partner have communicated telepathically in your sleep while something sat on your chest and breathed down your sweaty neck.

There is a magic in madnesses that fit so well together

Unlocking new languages of love, new weapons of protection.

Together in dream worlds dancing between demon claws we find a new way to survive.

My crazy has always been resented, something to hide away. A monster. not anymore. My crazy is not digestible. My crazy is not a quirky Tumblr post. My crazy is not a platform for you to shame and blame and execute abuse. My crazy is power. My crazy is otherworldly. My crazy is not going anywhere and is something I learn to accept with each new day. With a frequent hand on my heart and a soft “its okay sweetheart” my madness and I fall more in love each day.

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You say too young to be sick.

The generations of trauma that rest in these bones beg to differ.

Ancient tattered soul screaming for peace,

These screams resonate through joints and muscles,

Make stomachs queasy and unable to eat for days.

Continually failed escape plans.

My hands are numb and I don’t have enough energy to text you back to argue.

“Yeah I will just check in with a doctor, I’m sure its nothing”

It’s been nothing for almost 2 years now and I’m still too tired to text you back.

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When I say depressed I mean sorry we haven’t talked in two months

Trying to not kill yourself day in and day out is exhausting.

When I say depressed I mean if you fucking tell me one more time to just have a better attitude and “only you choose how each day goes Kid! Just focus on the positive for once!” I may go through with it.

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When you say invisible we mean the same thing.

The way my needs are treated because you can’t see the way my legs feel like they are set on fire

You don’t see when I cry myself to sleep because the painsomnia is too much and you just want some goddamn sleep already its been 6 fucking nights in a row Jesus Christ.

Invisible loved ones wandering the halls of this hospital

Panic attacks in waiting rooms because I dont want to die here too.

It is questions and comments that get only blank stares.

Can we please slow down?

I don’t have insurance to see a doctor.

Can we park closer please?

My healer appointments have been too expensive for 4  months. Maybe next month.

It’s okay that you forgot (again) I know I don’t advocate for myself enough. It’s my fault.

Invisible self loathing internalized until I am consumed inside and out.

Not disabled enough

Not good enough

Can’t do enough.

Not enough.

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I’m sorry sweetheart.

That’s not your fault.

It’s ableism’s.

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Your tired eyes and weary voice are worn down from showing me what resilience looks like.

But you never stop.

When you say resilience you show me a way to love myself

You show me the end of the world is not as near as it feels.

You wipe tears away from my cheek, send me a 5am facebook message just to check in, you shoot an in between classes I love you text, leave me a voicemail because you’re driving and cant text back, you spoon me as we fall asleep to cartoons after sobbing for 4 hours.

When I say resilience I tell my body one step at a time that it’s okay,

We’re okay.

I cry in between the syllables but I know

My power and strength are unparalleled

and I WILL survive in a world that wants nothing more for me than to not.

I am resilient and I am revolutionary.

This body is revolutionary.

We will conquer this life.