#Hellish limbo

[princeinsomniavoid]

I can't even think right now man I've just curled up into a ball and It hurts

[hxneylavendxr]

i need to stop fucking saying "LET'S GOOOOOO"

[greyias]

At last, I was finally able to get the objective master for one season. My long grind on Star Forge is over (until next season). Now I'm just debating if I have to max out the reputation track during the actual season in order to get the final achievement.

[eggs-can-draw]

About the scooped byakuya art: i think the robots realized he sucked and just left a bit early so he isn't as badly decomposed as michael would be. But he's still Very Not Alive but Not Quite Dead.

very fun way of saying he isnt bald/j they're all inside and realize "oh shit.....Oh Shiiiiit this is the wrong guy isnt it"

[lenskij]

Dreamt that I got a B for this class. Unfortunately I woke up to a reality where the exam isn't even written yet.

[knifeslidez]

anyone else's anxiety make their whole body feel dead cold or is it just me

[aza-trash-can]

Awake enough to want to do smth

Tired enough to have no brain power to do anything

[strialternatives]

third semester!akechi is in a hellish limbo-schrödinger's-cat-psychological-horror situation while akira is still living in a urban fantasy enemies to lovers romance and i just think that dynamics v-unhinged,

[giorno-plays-piano]

Safe Haven

Pairing: Mr. Crawling x reader

Warnings: canon-typical violence and gore (only a few mentions), pure fluff, Mr. Crawling being a cutie pie.

Words: 1k

Summary: Despite the horrors you saw in the other dimension, bringing one of them home actually seems like a good idea.

P.S. To all of you who love soft!yanderes, I recommend playing Homichiper IMMEDIATELY

_________

"I'm home. "

You turn the lock on the door, smiling from ear to ear when you hear hurried steps paired with a "clack" of a cane. Goodness, he's getting faster with every day, you think as you watch a walking giant wrapped into a fuzzy white bathrobe emerge from the corridor. His impossibly long hair is loose and a little damp, and for a second, it feels he came straight from a horror movie. It makes you laugh.

"Dear!"

He almost runs into you, his cane clicking aggressively against the floor, and you giggle like a schoolgirl on her first date. His embrace feels so warm, his gentle hands rubbing your back as he kisses the top of your head.

Everything about him feels like home.

"I cooked a potato soup," he breathes out, excited to share his little news, "and baked a meat pie! And then I read a book. And then me take bath..."

He gets a little red when he realizes his old speech patterns are getting back, but you're quick to divert his attention, dropping a kiss to his nose. Poor man gets even redder and kisses you, too, immediately helping you take off your coat and giggling with embarrassment. He's one weird gentleman but a gentleman, nonetheless.

"I'm glad you had a good day," you wink at him, picking up your grocery bag. Today, you bought his favorite tea, and you know how excited he will get to brew it himself.

When you escape a hollow, depraved world, even the simplest of things will make you weep. Once you have returned to your apartment, barely alive and scared to your wits' end, making a cup of tea felt like a miracle. It's hard to imagine how bizarre the whole concept seemed to poor Mr. Crawling, who probably ate nothing but human or monster remains for as long as he was there.

You no longer speak of what happened in the monster realm. Needless to say, it took some time to come to terms with your little adventure and its outcome being a giant skinny monster now inhabiting your apartment. Not that you were all that bothered with the latter... Especially when you realized Mr. Crawling was not, in fact, a monster.

When you think of it now, it seems kinda stupid on your part. You were turning into one of those creatures yourself the longer you stayed there, and yet, somehow, it didn't click your lovely monster partner was human once. That he, too, had been a lonely soul who got stuck in that hellish limbo and had to transform to survive.

It was a huge surprise when he actually started speaking human language after of couple of days at your place. You first thought you misheard him.

Of course, it took him a long time to remember what it's like to be human: you've spent months gently nudging him in that direction, talking to him like to a child, showing him books and cartoons, turning on music and doing pretty much anything to help him turn back into his older self. Mind you, you also had to keep working to sustain the both of you, given you had no other income, and do the chores because Mr Crawling was absolutely clueless what to do. He was more of an in-house cat than a person at the time.

Still, it felt liberating when your monster partner finally started regaining his human memories and habits. You probably won't ever forget when he crawled to you, reaching out shyly to squeeze your hands in his, and mumbled, "M-me think... me think me called Gabriel..."

"Enough salt?" He nudges you gently, and you blink, coming back to your senses. His meat pie is so good it's really not the time to be reminiscing of the past.

You cover his large pale hand with yours as you smile, "It's perfect."

Embarrassed, he nods, looking into his own plate as you take another bite, wondering how lucky you got. Who else could have not only left another dimension filled with unspeakable horrors but also dragged the cutest of them with you?

Fed up with you stalling, he bends over to you and drops a kiss to your nose once more, letting out a high-pitched giggle. His black hair close around you like a curtain: you didn't have the heart to tell him to cut it. Now that he has become almost completely human, you somehow miss his monster appearance.

"I love you," you say all of a sudden, unable to keep it to yourself. Enveloping him in a hug, you press your face into his chest, listening to the subtle beating of his heart he had lost once. His bathrobe feels fuzzy and warm on your skin.

He says nothing at all, but in a second, he gently lifts you up from the kitchen chair only to put you down on his lap: despite turning human, he still remains ridiculously tall and strong. Not that you complain, melting in his embrace as he rubs his nose against your temple, his tender hand on your back. Against all odds, there's nothing you dislike about him. Even putting aside all his heroic acts to protect you in the other world, he seems like a pure, gentle soul who would always prioritize your safety and comfort above all else. You can't understand why he chose to help you the moment he saw you, but you don't feel like it's important. All these months, your only mission was to give him home, to pay him back for everything he's done for your sake.

Yet, somehow, it feels like both of you found home in each other.

[kedsandtubesocks]

Prisonic Fairytale

Pyramid Head!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: You’re looking for someone… what you find here in the fog instead has you staring into the abyss - and you discover it stares back (& wears the face of someone terrifyingly handsome)

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI. dark themes. Silent Hill AU blended with TLOU canon (major spoilers for TLOU2), monsterfucking, distorted reality, limbo world & dreamlike states, sex pollen, dubcon, fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, feelings & themes of dread/terror/hopelessness, angst, monstrous!Joel, moments of violence, death mentions, blood imagery, protective!Joel, possessive!Joel, Joel lifts reader multiple times with scary monster strength, scary guard dog Joel vibes, ambiguous happy ending (?)

word count: 5.7k

a/n: please be aware of the warnings - this fic I know won’t be everyone’s cup of tea & I kindly ask if it isn’t please just scroll away… if you haven’t played Silent Hill or don’t even know what it is know this was written for anyone to jump in & read! Big thank you @pedgito for beta reading ily forever, and to you, if you’re reading this know i truly appreciate it & thank you too ♡ divider credit to the ever talented @saradika-graphics

This town, this possible pocket of a morbid nightmare, holds a plethora of ghastly creatures that stalk your very soul. Contorted bodies on the floor, lying fiends crawling as if straight from a hellish pit, all chase after you. Twitching infected, now distorted demons, also plague the streets.

But the monster enclosed in the large metal pyramid shaped device, who drags a sword the size of a small tree, terrifies you most of all.

You’ve seen the pyramid headed creature lurking through the thicket of the town, unwavering in his journey, almost even patrolling at times.

The body appears like that of a man. Broad shoulders sturdy, aged with thick veiny arms effortlessly pulling along the terrifying blade.

You think of the woman you met in the cemetery and what she said: “There’s something… wrong with that town.”

You fully understand now.

In a world surviving after its destruction, you never thought you’d see another form of hell. Yet an even more sinister darkness festers within every inch of this town waiting to strike. There is no peace.

Because when you open your eyes after dozing off on the crusty couch in the home you've been taking refuge in…

You discover the pyramid headed beast now looms above you.

His form towers imposing and striking, a monster conjured from a child’s nightmare now casting his shadow over you.

You didn’t even hear this hulking behemoth walk into the house.

The time spent here continues making your mind melt.

The only refuge you’ve found came in this abandoned home along the outskirts of town.

Which is now not so safe anymore.

Communication with Maria, your late mother’s oldest friend, has gone dead silent. You feel foolish not leaving with her, but now…

The searching, the endless days, the long walks, all have brought you here. Though you can’t even fully describe where here is.

You’ve seen doomed abandoned cities, but nothing like this. The buildings stand vacant, paint chipping away like decayed remnants of a world gone. Crusted crimson coats every inch of this place as if no one but angels tread here. Or possibly ghosts, or demons.

Thick fog blankets the town like the personified angel of death, blurring your sense of direction and casting you into an abyss of dread.

The town becomes an endless maze stretching on and on. You haven’t found another person for what feels like weeks. Only whispers and chills of dread like eyes watch from the shadows. The creatures and infected prey on you, maws open wide.

Now you stare up at their god, the most terrifying beast in this macabre world.

Stunned, petrified, barely even able to breathe, you stare at the pyramid monster so frightened you can't cry in terror, numb to the horrors.

But that’s when you see it. Black ink spilling against the creature’s side.

He’s injured.

Even injured you don’t doubt he can swing his sword and attack you within seconds.

Demonic screeches suddenly howl into the air breaking this tense moment. Your eyes, panicked, dart to the kitchen. The open back door gives you a clear shot to the backyard.

Monsters, macabre and bloody, claw towards your distorted sanctuary through the decayed wooden fence of the porch.

Adrenaline, instinctive primal fear, possesses you and you bolt off the couch.

You move, grabbing your weapon, a discarded pipe and start swinging. You ward off as many of the creatures as you can.

That’s when you realize the pyramid head beast hasn’t chased after you. So you continue swatting away the monsters long enough until you can barricade the opening shut with discarded lawn chairs.

Heading back inside, there, the pyramid monster waits.

In this barbaric wasteland, it unnerves you seeing this creature simply standing in the middle of the dimly lit living room. You’re grateful this home had matches and candles that brought some illumination.

It’s just you and the metal monster now.

Dark liquid, rusted ink like blood, spills down his arms and across his body.

The monstrosity does bleed.

It feels like a standoff, you staring at this tremendous wounded beast.

Through the rusted metal you hear it - heaved breathes, heavy wheezing.

This creature is wounded and hurting.

Too many thoughts buzz rapid and angry in your brain. You’re worried this monster man at any minute will chase and attack you. He already blocks your exit out the front door, possibly dooming you.

But some sort of scabbing human pity wells in you. If you were this injured and alone, you pray someone would spare you, help and save you with a grace filled hand of salvation.

So viewing this beast like a cornered animal, you slowly walk back into the kitchen. You grab a pack of kitchen towels, old and covered in cobwebs, but still the most you could manage as wrappings.

Back in the living room, you cautiously place the items on the couch near the pyramid head man.

He doesn’t move.

Keeping your focus on him and tiptoeing within the edges of terror, you head back to the kitchen. If he does decide to attack you can at least try running out the back door. It might be swifter than trying to dodge his great sword.

Patiently, you sit waiting, too stunned to sleep.

It’s simply you and the pyramid headed monster. He never once enters your space.

You don’t even know how much time has passed or if any time has passed at all.

Daybreak soon leaks into the kitchen. The sunlight hitting your face wakes you, electrifying your heart.

You fell asleep.

Rapidly you rush into the living room.

He’s gone. The creature is gone.

That’s when you notice the wide open porch door, the source of the light that woke you. Hesitantly you peer outside.

The bulking monster towers on the porch, faintly statuesque. His back is back to you. His rusting metal sword stands at the ready.

The pyramid headed creature turns to face you.

You feel cornered, a small prey within the eyes of a demonic god waiting to feel its wrath. The rusted pyramid head simply stands still.

The wound isn’t bleeding anymore, but his dark ink like blood stains his clothing.

The creature picks up the great dreaded sword. Instantly your body coils like a rabid ready to spring and run for the door…

Until the pyramid head moves and walks away.

The sight stuns you. You even wait expecting him to return.

He doesn’t.

The rush of emotions barrels into your body, causing you to hold onto the banister of the porch.

Three things bounce rabidly in your mind.

First, the pyramid head creature didn’t kill you, didn’t even once attack you even while you slept.

Second, it might possibly be the lack of human contact or the absence of cohesive reality in this town, but if you didn’t know better…it looked like the beast stood on the porch keeping watch.

And third -

The pyramid head man wore a broken watch.

Strangely enough, that thought sticks with you most of all.

—

Fear shakes your hands while you shake open door after door trying to find sanctuary. Night approaches. You’ve learned night unleashes the worst of this town, a catalytic shift. Now an unforgiving storm with thick wailing winds threatens to blow you away. You knew you wandered too far again to head back to your makeshift home.

You have to find shelter.

The mist thickens, a sinister soup. The scratching of claws, the clicking of infected, seem to come from all around. You’re on the verge of tears trying another door.

Eventually you find sanctuary in the bar.

With the storm raging outside this will be your rest stop for the night. You begin scavenging around.

Various notes, journal scraps, even receipts, scatter across the town like fallen leaves among the debris. You’ve been gathering them curious to what they entail.

The crunched up book entries become vital fast when you discover many hold information about the creatures residing in this molding disaster.

Here you find one with a simple pyramid drawing on it etched out in dried blood.

Below the drawing is a note. The scribble handwriting paints the pyramid head monster as a hunter, unstoppable in his rampage and the hand of destruction itself.

“Born from the most human yet selfish desires that ravages a soul. It brings him to the edge of losing his humanity. Or maybe it is because he cares too much that this darkness consumed him…whatever it is, that is what created this creature. This once man, who stole the candidate is”

Blood stains the rest of the journal scrap, like the town refuses to let you know the name of this creature.

You pray you don’t run into the pyramid head again.

Tired and not wanting to sleep on the disgusting floor, you pull up a seat at the bar top folding your arms to rest upon them.

The wind howls. Muffled creaks of the creatures still wandering around are unsettling. But your eyes finally close all the same.

You swear you now hear the soft tunes of an old country song, and someone whispering your name.

Delicate fingers, warm and callous, brush against your forehead. Wearily you open your eyes.

The bar has been transformed. Instead of the boarded up abandoned shell of a building, it’s incredibly cozy. Lights are strung up. Gentle music floats all around.

“Y’wanna drink, sweetheart?”

The voice is smooth, accented and twanged beautifully. It feels like it’s been so long since you even spoke to another person much less heard one.

Scrambling up, you discover the voice comes from a man behind the bar.

There stands the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. And yet what sadness clouds around him. An aged rugged grace paints him like some country romance love interest. Brown eyes as dark as earthen caverns beg you to get lost in.

The bar is beautiful, and he’s beautiful.

“You’ve been fightin hard.” He says, pouring out a drink for you.

You’re stunned, can’t process what’s even happening.

“Where are we?” You ask stunned.

“A museum,” he dully replies, but you can tell he’s joking.

The sip of the drink tastes heavenly, warms you up and settles you down.

“Ya seem tired.” He adds, and you exhale feeling the weight of this world seep into your bones.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asks gently.

So you spill your heart to him. How Maria, the closest person you’ve had left to family, vanished into the wind. How you don’t know what’s even going on anymore.

“And now I’m here.” You sigh.

“Maybe you’re here for a reason.” The bartender suggests. “This town…it knows more than we realize.”

You don’t know how to reply. So all you can do is take a quiet sip.

A quiet thump comes, and you glance up. The man behind the bar with darts in his hand now tries throwing them at the target across the wall.

The second dart he throws barely lands on the bullseye.

“Wow, you kinda suck.” You snort.

He scoffs looking at you. “Think you’d be any better?”

So that’s how you end up behind the bar now, trying to throw darts in competition with this beautiful older man. He smirks at how pissed you get seeing one of your darts just miss the target.

A vague familiarity swirls around this man, as if something at the back of your mind claws to get out.

You dream of him and this bar often, like your mind slips into this space to escape the horrors clamoring for your flesh.

Your favorite handsome bartender refuses to give you his name, no matter how many times you’ve tried weaseling it out of him.

“My name’s not important.” He tells you, and it only draws a cold ache in your chest.

Then, the nightmares of this town squash your peaceful dreams.

The decayed buildings wither away more and more into desolation the further you travel into the town.

Butterflied fungal growths sprout over certain buildings, crawling over the cracks and branching over the surface of anything they touch. You were worried they too carried the infection.

“Don’t touch fungus shit.” A note written on an old receipt had warned you about the vines and flora of this town.

But it’s getting hard heeding that warning. The monsters rage more bloodthirsty, ruthless and violent in their attacks.

The apartments you’re running through are hard to navigate. Walls crumble and the dark corridors make it difficult to see which way is which. You’re reminded of a twisted diabolical version of wonderland.

Turning a corner, one of the creatures emerges from the darkness screeching and swinging at you. Scrambling away you collide hard against the wall and a puff of dust clogs your senses.

You try not inhaling and swing your metal pipe until it makes contact, stopping the attack.

But what had you run into?

Your heart drops seeing one of the vines cracked open and the faint dust like spores dancing in the air.

Panic rages in your chest.

You flee, fast as you can, running through familiar spaces until you’re out of the apartment hallway. You need to get back to the safe house you’ve been hiding in.

But the wind outside whips feral, screaming with a blustering force that you can barely step outside.

Then your hands start shaking and suddenly heat floods over your body.

The spores, you realize, unleashed a sudden sickness because it feels like you got hit with a sudden fever. Dread spreads in you. You know these aren’t the typical symptoms of the cordyceps infection, but you can’t risk it.

So you wait inside the apartment complex’s entrance office.

No sensation of twitching.

Instead, your mouth dries out and a slickness pools between your legs.

Shit.

What kind of reaction did these vines cause?

Your body drifts between a sensation of being weighed down by an anchor to almost floating through the air until you stumble down onto the floor.

The clothes you wear now scratch your skin, and your mind slowly fogs up more. So you slip out of your pants.

You’re aware that you’re on the floor of the abandoned receptionist office and hope this will provide you enough cover as your fingers dip into your soaking core.

The orgasmic release clumsily comes, but it’s like unleashing a dam.

Your body twitches wishing for more. Unsatisfied, hungry, everything feels empty.

Please, your mind whispers out, please someone… help.

Slipping your fingers inside, the loud wet squelch of your arousal makes your cheeks burn. It’s almost sacrilegious hearing this debauched erotic sound among such a decayed morbid wasteland.

You’re lost in the sensation, trying to fight through this heat. Your eyes even haze over as the pleasure bubbles more.

Aloud clang collides against the door, snapping your attention forward. Towering above you again is the pyramid head man.

You don’t even scream. It gets logged in your throat instead transforming into a twisted moan.

In this small space, the metal covered demon looms larger than ever. The pyramid prisoned monster stays focused solely on you.

Slowly, he lumbers closer. You can’t even find the strength to move, scramble with some dignity and leave. If anything your legs move like jello shifting as you take in the sight of his strong thick arms, his broad shoulders.

You wonder what he looks like under the helm.

A low rumble vibrates through the room. Wearily your eyes drift down and spot the obvious bulge straining against his pants.

“Please.” The word croaks out of you before you can stop it. You don’t know if this will even help, or if this is even real.

Quickly he crouches down and large firm hands grasp your legs, dragging you across the floor. The movement makes your body twitch, and your eyes shut bracing for pain.

Instead you're gingerly placed on the edge of a table in the receptionist room.

Hesitantly your eyes open. All you see is rusted archaic metal. A sound rips into the air, the tearing of clothes, your underwear specifically. Your core feels colder, yet the cool breeze melts into unbearable flames as the air hits your bare skin.

Gentle fingers twitch moving across your thighs and you moan, almost want to sob. How long has it been since someone’s last touched you? And so reverently?

The low rumbling sound rattles all around you, mixing with your own moans. Everything heightens when his fingers slip inside you.

Thick, his fingers are so damn thick making your hips fidget to feel more of him.

This creature, this monster that’s ripped apart bodies and bathed itself in blood, now fully devotes itself to your pleasure. You feel drunk on that knowledge.

But your release runs away further from you now, hiding just out of reach making you whine frustrated and almost feral.

More, more, you need more.

“Inside.” You manage to croak to the beast. “Need more…inside.”

It’s as if this nightmare world has slipped under your skin, becoming a part of your bloodstream allowing you to transmute the terror into terrible pleasure.

The twitch of the monster’s large cock drags across your bare thighs. The sensation jolts you awake, aware and hyper focused. His grimey blood crusted hands rapidly grab onto your soft hips. You don’t even care if they were inside you, touching you.

Especially when your mind melts as the creature slips inside.

He’s thick, knocking your breathless. It’s delicious feeling so full that you swear you almost feel him in your ribs. It makes the skin melt off your bones.

The monster relentlessly pounds into you, shaking the table unabashedly loud mixing with your delirious moans.

Your legs twist around his strong waist, locking him into you tighter. The pyramid headed beast rumbles louder in this closer position. More distorted groans mix with yours as his hands run up your body, tracing every inch of you.

You should be frightened. This creature sent from hell has you at its mercy. But instead the sensations flooding your body make you’re hungrier for him.

“More, more.” You whine loud and unrelenting.

And he gives.

Your climax is beautifully fierce. Your screams blend into the white void swallowing you whole. Your legs thrash. Your eyes roll back as your fingers dig into the creature’s cold arms. This, you believe, might be the last taste of heaven you’ll ever find in this hell pit.

Exhaustion crashed in immediately. You feel like a ragdoll on the table while this monster continues thrusting into you sloppy and messy, broken growls distorting your mind.

Teetering between bliss and dreams, your hands move up, slowly trade up to the rusting metal.

Tenderly, you wonder what would be like if you could free this creature -

Your hands tracing across the rusting metal containing this pyramid headed monster does something to him. He roars, distorted and hellish, and suddenly spills into you.

You don’t even care he came inside. You thought you had been stated before, now it’s like floating into a new realm of pleasure. You moan now in tandem with him.

Full, you’ve never felt this full. A thick hand affectionate and soft rest against your lower belly. You think it almost aches of a revenant tenderness.

But you’re barely awake now, barely process what’s going on. All you sense are arms cradling you while you fade in and out.

Then you wake up wondering if it was all a dream.

Because instead of the corroded apartment complex you were in, you’re resting back in bed of the home you’ve been staying at.

Did that monster carry you back all the way here?

You don’t know. For a moment you don’t even know if that fuck in the apartments was real, until you stand up and the ache that rips across your body says otherwise.

So you stay resting in this hollow soul of a home. After gaining some rest you start snooping around.

There’s so many photos of a bright young girl with warm sparkling intelligent eyes. Her playing soccer, her roofing showing off her school achievements. She's with two other men.

One is a handsome younger man, a relative from how easy you can see the similarities in their warm smiles.

The other man in any photo… his face is missing.

Either scratched out or simply ripped from the photo.

You heartaches thinking of this family preserved here in the grief of it all, frozen after the world ended and now in this pocket of macabre.

You fall back asleep in the large main bedroom you first woke up in. The faintest hints of pine and sandalwood strangely still cling in the sheets.

It pulls you into the softest dream.

This time you dream of this home you're in now full alive, warm and inviting.

A man stands at the kitchen, his sturdy beautifully broad back to you, dressed in that familiar green plaid. He catches your presence, hears your footsteps and turns.

In the soft morning light, he’s painted ethereal. A rugged whisper of a man out of reach yet so close. Then as a gentle grin tugs his lips, you feel like you already do know him.

You and him settle into a soft morning, simply preparing breakfast. Then thick strong arms slide around you from behind, and the smell of pine and sandalwood washes over you.

Your bartender hums a deep sigh while burying his face against your shoulder.

“Wanna taste ya. Can I taste y’honey?” He mutters letting his words roll out a soft seductive purr.

Something firm already pokes against you and when he grinds into you, everything in you molds into him.

Kissing this man, finally tasting his lips clashing into you, is akin to unleashing a great beast, a creature laying dormant that now consumes unrelenting.

His teeth nip and dig at your skin, trying to devour you whole. But it’s with a fierce devotion that almost brings tears to your eyes when he kisses you again.

Then he says your name…

His voice is like a beautiful country twang wrapped in the delicacy of a moth’s wing. The tenderness of his fingers running across your face, holding you in his grasp - it’s drenched in the deepest affection you’ve ever experienced.

He tastes of something sweet, a promise of home.

And then he fucks you wild from behind pressed up against the counter.

His mouth is again all over your neck, biting licking any inch of you he can.

“God damn baby,” he moans with a slurp as he sucks on your skin. “Wanted this, wanted to taste ya for so long. Was losin’ my mind before.”

Before?

Even among the delicious haze that catches you off guard slightly.

But then all worry drifts away when his fingers slide down to your clit.

“You’re m’fucking baby, yeah? All fucking mine?” He growls and the rumble sounds familiar, like a creature you’ve heard prowling in the dark.

“Yes.” You sob, nodding best as you can.

The way he pounds into you, carves a new universe into you. You feel like you’re completely tied to him. Something inside you whispers maybe you always have been.

His hand curls around your throat, possessive but tender.

It’s wonderful for a dream.

But dreams here don’t last long. You realize that now.

After you finish, and after he spills into you, he pulls himself away from leaving you empty and stunned.

There’s a composed wilderness clouding his eyes. He moves to clean you up and it’s quiet, thick with choking tension.

“This town…” his voice cuts clipped as he shakes his head. He sounds worried, strained and panicked. After you and him compose yourselves, he quickly moves to a drawer to pull out a simple pistol.

Determined and unwavering, he loads it then places it in your hand.

You even tear up.

“Next time I see ya I don’t know what’ll happen. Don’t know if I’ll be able to get to ya in time.” He mutters.

Next time?

“Stay safe…” this man whispers, then leans forward to place a sweet kiss against your forehead.

A chittering growl, the static hiss of one of the monsters, echoes outside the window. Fear clutches at your heart overshadowing the warmth.

You scramble to glance outside trying to spot the demon in the mist.

Thankfully the creature doesn’t spot you, only shuffles further down the street, clicking and twisting its body.

Sighing you turn back to the man -

And no one is there.

Now the warm kitchen stands with the corroded wood, matted cobwebs and an empty space. The kitchen stares back desolate and mocking.

Yet a real gun still sits in your hand.

Was this even a dream? Were you awake this entire time?

A hand comes over your mouth to silence the sob and stop the bleeding panic of realizing this distorted reality is possibly infecting you whole.

—

The next dream you have, another man greets you. This man also seems familiar. You’ve seen in the photos, warm eyes and a handsome youthful charming smile.

Brother to your lover, you can’t explain how but those two you just know are brothers.

He’s working the bar now.

“Where’s…” you feel foolish not being able to say the name of the man you long for.

“Out.” The current bartender say with a familiar twang. “He’s… on patrol.”

Those words hang ominous.

“Y’know…a town like this used to be our paradise.” He explains.

You can see remnants of that wherever you go, whispers of peace corrupted and overrun by the darkness.

“But this town… it knows.” He adds.

You’re reminded of a journal scrap you came across in the main part of town.

“The town will read your heart, manifest the darkness into willpower… but it will come with a tax.”

You even read that outloud to this man. His face darkens.

“Yeah, shit that’s exactly it.” He coughs.

Then his eyes search yours.

“You’re… you know you can move on.” There’s an ache wavering in his voice that rips your heart open.

You shake your head.

You almost feel guilty. You came here looking for Maria and now chase after a ghost. But, it feels as if you’re looking for a multitude of them now. Like this one ghost will unlock them all.

“Tell me about him, about your brother.” You ask.

The handsome younger man barks a laugh.

“Stubborn as a god damn mule. Prideful at times. But… maybe the best damn man I’ve ever known.” The fondness gleams ever true in his words, brotherly love unending.

“Y’know, his birthday…it was on-”

“Outbreak day.” You finish before you even process the words.

You inhale sharp.

His birthday…

Yes. You remember. That’s right, he told you his birthday was the day the world ended.

“Love and grief are funny fuckin’ things. Might even be brothers at times.” The younger brother comments, and your throat feels dry.

You need to leave. Your skin crawls unbearable now.

Forcing yourself awake, you cough among the stale air of the hospital. The dust stings your lungs.

Tucking this dream into the corner of your heart, you wake up back to your journey.

So many bodies litter the hospital. So many bullets and abandoned guns are scatter among the floors. The place is crawling with more monsters running amuck here.

Rushing down a hallway, you stumble down the stairs. Exhaustion outweighs your adrenaline. Eventually you end up back down at the lower level parking garage of the hospital.

At least you can try to heading back home.

Then something scrapes against the concrete.

“You.” A distorted voice growls demonic. Behind you is another monster, this one sounds like a woman and you can see distinct features, echoes of this woman, among the monstrous.

“This is what he did to us.” The creature screeches at you with angered venom.

“It’s all his fault, he brought the end of the world with him, was born to bring destruction. He takes…All he does is take! We had salvation in our hands and he took it from us! He took Ellie!”

Ellie…

The name flashes to your mind bringing a warm familiar laugh of a young girl telling you a bad dad joke, the image of her so close yet still out of reach has you blinking back tears.

Then the monster’s screech rattles the walls, singing of ancient pain that makes your legs weak.

She fights with so much power. There’s only so much hiding and your pistol can do.

Trying to flee from her attacks, you stumble and fall onto the floor.

It’s over. This has to be the end.

“He can’t save you now.” The creature cackles gleeful.

A sob escapes you.

“Joel.”

You whisper the name, feeling it scramble and scratch at your throat. Why it suddenly came to you now, you don’t know. But it feels as if it’s been hiding this entire time, simply waiting for you to call upon it.

Suddenly distorted violent scratching comes, and your body freezes. Something loud collides hard and fast against the metal.

The swing of the terrible executioner’s sword comes first. Then, the rust of metal follows.

The pyramid head creature emerges from the darkness.

He is every bit the destroyer you once feared. Yet now he stands solely between you and the other monster, protecting you.

She screeches loud seeing her new opponent.

The two battle, ferocious beast unchained, and you stare petrified.

That’s when you catch the glimpse of the pyramid head’s arm again.

The watch. The broken watch.

The same watch you’re realizing your bartender wore, the one you know so fondly.

And now that you fully stare at the great sword, you’re reminded of a pocket knife a man you loved once used.

“Joel.” You say again.

The pyramid head turns to you, like a guard dog being called back and waiting for your command.

It’s him underneath it. It really is him…

Everything clicks into place.

The realization unfolds soft, steady and quiet.

This town, the grief but ultimately the love he held turned him into this.

The town knighted him as both executioner and protector.

Within the eternal welded metal, he’s punished to stay locked up from ever tasting true blissful peace. The grief of losing his daughter, of trying to save another, feeling like he’s never been able to protect or bring any goodness into this world only for him to lose it - all layered and sealed itself around him.

Now he’s here…

Here to protect you like he has been this entire time.

Joel with every might swings his sword, powerful and true. He lands hit after hit to the creature roaring unholy, powerful and fierce.

This baptism in his wrath, the comfort in knowing the bloodshed comes because he’s protecting you brings a laugh from your chest.

It’s a laugh freeing and loud. It bounces off the walls, mixes with the gurgles of blood and the ripping of flesh.

Your Joel won’t lose.

The demonic screeches of the woman come to a crescendo and then she falls deadly silent. Before you realize it, a soft hand is against your face. The shadow of the pyramid rusted metal falls over you like the shade of angel wings.

“Joel.” You whisper his name reverent.

Gingerly, like you’re something precious, you’re gathered into his arms. Soft pur rumbles are the last thing you hear before the darkness pulls you under.

You wake up in a med clinic. You can’t tell if this is a dream or not.

“Finally made it… took ya a while.” The voice, gentle and comforting, makes you bolt up from bed.

Maria sits beside you with soft eyes and a kind smile.

“You’re here.” You sob relieved.

“Knew you’d find us.” She nods.

A knock arrives cutting Maria off. Inside steps the familiar younger brother who beams comfortingly.

“Tommy.” You effortlessly greet him, like the name has been with you all along.

“Knew you’d figure it out.” He grins, familiar and sweet.

“Come on.” Maria says with a knowing look. “We should let her rest some more.”

“But wait…” you say and they both pause, turning to you. “What…”

What had happened? What’s really going on? You can even gather your thoughts, put them into words.

Then all that worry dies out when another drawl of a voice pierces the room.

“Alright, leave her alone.”

Joel.

Maria sighs, playfully exhausted. While Tommy turns to you with a wink. They both slide out of the door while Joel instead rushes in. Tommy makes playfully kissing noises. Joel shots him a look before he then quickly moves to the side of your bed.

Your hand finds his immediately.

“You’re here.” You croak and he nods.

“Ain’t leaving you, honey.” It sounds like a promise, ever true. You don’t ever want to leave him now, or here…

“Let’s go home.” You nod.

Without another word Joel gathers you into his arms, kisses the top of your head and steps out of the door.

The fog greets you soft and wispy. A chill runs up your spine from the cold air, but Joel curls you tighter in his arms. All of the monsters and creatures in the streets now scurry away in fear.

This man… the memories flutter in hazy now.

There was a time where you left looking for Maria and ran into a man with that special headstrong girl. A love grew for the two of them and you ending up in the safety of a town… a heaven on earth. You made a home with that man. Watched that girl grow up.

But then that man you loved died, and so did your world.

Then you woke up here at the edge of this town in the graveyard… Did the grief send you here?

You don’t even know anymore. Especially because all of that seems like another world now.

You’re here now. That’s what matters.

“Joel, you deserve love,” you whisper into his chest. “You did what your heart told you…that’s why I’m here. I’ll remind you everyday that you’re a good man. I’m your baby, remember?”

Your hand reaches up to softly stroke the metal pyramid encasing. He rumbles soft, familiar, the most comforting sound.

You think of how lucky you are to find love in the devil’s arms and discover peace within his hell.

In the arms of your man, your monster, you happily enter the fog embracing it all around.

[anyamaris]

Title: Call Me Monster

Pairing: Monster!Jungkook x Medical Examiner Assistant!F!reader

Summary: A secret experiment hidden within a morgue is uncovered by someone who should never have stumbled upon it. What she awakens will change her life forever.

Word Count: 3569

Trope: Supernatural AU/Smut-Horror

Rating-M for Mature. Very mature.

Warnings: Graphic language, graphic violence (not towards reader), blood, gore, body mutilation, body horror, death/murder, choking(nonsexual), Jungkook is not a corpse at any point (not explained in the fic but he's never been dead), Jungkook has stitches and sutures, unprotected sex, MALE POV, minors DNI 18+ PLEASE BEWARE ALL THESE WARNINGS. It is labeled HORROR.

A/N: This is for @lapydiaries annual spring event by @sanjoongie Sad Boys Club! I really enjoyed doing this male POV and my song for this is Monster by Exo. I was inspired by the lyrics. Thank you to @pars-ley for reading and encouraging me through this whole process as well as the fucking gorgeous banner!

@sanjoongie I hope I did you justice, my muse. As always, @cafekitsune for the dividers! I hope everyone enjoys and once more...read the warnings please.

His very first thought is a gentle caress that gives voice to his meaningless existence.

What ... .is…that…?

The obsidian sea that he’s suspended in is suddenly filled with an intoxicating fragrance that rouses something within him.

Within…me…?

Who...what…am I?

Answers elude him, his mind sluggish as he tries to comprehend the new senses that seem to be awakening within him.

The delightful aroma is suddenly ripped from him as a pungent sting assaults him.

No, no!

Come back!

His mind fights against the disruption before he’s sent back into the perpetual black void.

Hurts.

Hurts!

Searing pain rends his cold flesh as his mind explodes into fragments, agonizingly endless and he longs to be returned to his painless oblivion.

Despite his wordless protests, the torment persists time and again to pluck him from the blissful refuge of his painless vacuum.

Sensation arouses him once more, yet this time a tender caress soothes along the former afflictions mixed with that tantalizing scent. 

This gentle warmth and rich fragrance contrasts the agonized suffering that it has him struggling to…

To what?

More…

Don’t stop…

Must…

Before he can fathom what it is he wants, the sensation is taken from him.

NO!

NO!

Stay-

Sparks ignite within his lethargic brain and travels the expanse of his large body as he grapples against the return to the hellish purgatory of nothingness.

Ages pass as he reaches out with his mind, searching, searching for that divine touch.

Just…

Again…

Please…

His thoughts are disjointed as he pushes…stretching…yearning.

Tingles sizzle through his limbs as he forces his awareness outwards, a dull ache lingering in the wake of the burn.  

Something catches his attention, a muffled reverberation as another sense awakens.

A grating thrum assaults his sanity before a soft, lilting series of notes lulls his anguish.

Much as the soothing caress dispelled the agonizing pain, this melodic tone has him straining towards it.

Before long, he can distinguish them from one another as sounds begin to make sense in his mind.

“Doctor, I-”

“-worry about that, just-”

“-say so, sir-”

“-alright, then you can-”

The sensation of movement jolts his body before the voices are cut off from him again.

No, no, no-!

Deep within a cold metal drawer, his body twitches then goes still once more.

Ages pass as he floats in the limbo between consciousness, motion and metallic clamoring yanking him from his mindless suspension.

Pain.

Agony.

That horrible grating tone.

Then the sporadic lull of that hypnotically mesmerizing voice…

Never enough.

He longs for the gentle touch that can alleviate his painful wounds, that intoxicating aroma to awaken these unknown desires, yet they never come.

Words begin to permeate his mind as the stinging prick of something sharp repeatedly stabs into him, then a drawn out tugging sensation precedes yet another…

“-the last of my creation.  Perhaps I shall fail once again, but I have an inkling that this time around, something is much different in you.  ‘Jungkook’, this part still has its toe tag, how amusing!  Ah and here I’ve been calling you ‘Monster’. Would you prefer a real name, hmm?”

A deep chuckle echoes within his mind as that grating sound irritates his ears, each word cutting through his haze as the steady piercing pricks and tugs continue.

A distant chiming sounds and the unpleasant laughter coming from this being halts abruptly, and he mutters curses under his breath.

“Patience, my friend, and I’ll have you stitched up and whole in no time.”

Want…

Need…

Soft shuffling fades as silence returns as each new wound slowly numbs and he begins to fade back into-

That familiar fragrance wraps around his senses as his entire body thrums with excitement.

Here…

Please-

“Doctor?” 

The sweet aria of that one simple word washes over him and he strains to beckon it closer.

Soft steps approach as he strains to reach out to it, vibrations beginning within various parts of him.

“What in the world-?” 

His mind reels as suddenly he’s given the gift of that sublime caress.

A soft flutter sounds before the voice is purifying him once again.

“Jungkook? Why are you still here, you should have been-”

The melodic voice is cut off by a low keening noise, the harsh din of objects falling seeming to startle the poor creature.  

“Oh my god, are you-?”

The keening sound grows until he realizes it’s coming from within himself.

Please-

Don’t-go-

Unlike before, the presence doesn’t retreat; this gentle lingering touch presses firmly into his neck before the glorious sensation is stroking over various parts of him.

Yes-

More-

“You’re breathing, oh my god, how is this even possible-?”

MORE-

Awareness snaps into place as the once atrophied muscles within him stir, his eyelids peeling back slowly to reveal the source of all of his longing.

He takes in a hitching breath, then another as everything coalesces into one focal point.

The soothing caress, the sublime melody, the intoxicating scent.

This creature…

You…

“What are you doing here?” 

The booming disruption once more wars with that beautiful voice, stirring up a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions he’s trying to comprehend.

“Doctor! This man, he’s not dead, he’s-”

“Move aside-”

The comforting touch is replaced by agonizing prodding, and he longs to rail against the interruption of his blissful moment.  

“Doctor, sir, he-”

“He is of no concern to you. Get out before I-” 

“You’re right, Doctor, I’ll go let someone know-”

The meaty hands halt their pawing, and the man on the table's large dark eyes flick over to the being they extend from.  

“Wait.”

The tone from that one word sends a primal sense of alarm through him as the doctor’s hands withdraw and bunch into fists.

“Doctor, we don’t know how long he’s been like this, he needs to be-”

“You really shouldn’t have come here today.” 

Each movement sends a dull ache into his muscles and nerve endings as he attempts to turn his head, a harsh rattling leaving his throat as he watches the doctor approaching you.

Unsuspecting.

Innocent.

His mind rages against his uncooperative limbs, not knowing why he needs to move, only that he MUST.

In slow motion, he can only struggle against himself as your eyes lock onto the approaching form, widening in fear as those horrific hands clamp around your fragile neck.

No!

Don’t-touch-!

Your once harmonious voice is cut off by a strangled cry, then your face is contorting in agony as the doctor forces you from the door into the wall.

The sight of your suffering finally tips him over the edge and his ungainly body begins to obey.

Your distressed gaze flicks over at the sight of him rising from the table as you claw at the murderous hands attempting to snuff the life from you.

“What-?”

The sheet covering him slips off as he finally gets to his feet, awkwardly lurching towards you as he reaches out to grab the offensive being touching you.

A low wheezing leaves his throat as he forces sound out, trying to enunciate his thoughts.

“No-”

The doctor’s eyes bulge as he looks up at the towering creature approaching him, his hands loosening on your neck as his monster reaches out for him.

“Stop! I’m your creator, you don’t-!”

Those are his last words as he grips the doctor’s lower jaw and yanks, tearing it from his face in a sickening wet snap.  

You drop to the floor as the doctor’s hands slacken, your poor rasping attempts at breath making Jungkook’s rage flare up as he takes in the red marks on your throat.

Pain flashes in his jaw as it tightens, every slumbering muscle fiber in his body tensing as he turns his wrath on his so-called “creator”.

Jets of hot crimson paint the sterile room as he digs his fingers into the soft pliable flesh, rending and tearing at the vile man until he’s unrecognizable.

The soft sound of your gasping finally cuts through his murderous fog, and he feels his fury recede as he turns his large dark eyes upon you.

“Please…don’t hurt me…” You whisper.

The sight of you cowering on the floor only causes his once atrophied heart to ache, and he falls to his knees before you.  

“Hurt…?” He forces out, his stiff vocal chords raspy and harsh to his ears.

You tremble before him, but he shakes his head as he holds his bloodied hands out to you, palms up in supplication.

“No…won’t…hurt…you…” He finally manages.

Of course he won’t hurt you.

He would never.

Could never.

The coppery air is thick and pungent, a fine mist of scarlet settling upon your delicate skin.

The fear in your wide eyes as you study him has him longing to comfort you, but his mind is overwhelmed with too many senses.

He winces as the tang of iron assaults his senses, and he can barely smell the intoxicating fragrance he’s come to associate you with.

It’s there, but it’s as if it’s buried beneath far too many layers of rotten refuge.

He lets out a soft whine as he looks down at his hands, tacky from the drying crimson as he flexes his fingers.

“You…you really don’t want to hurt me?” 

Your voice has him snapping his attention back on you, and he crawls forward so that his face is mere inches from yours.

His big dark eyes study you, and he inhales deeply, finding your scent and a calm washes over his face as his lashes flutter shut.

There-

Yes-

You repeat your question, and he finally opens his eyes to gaze upon you, his head tilting back and forth as he finds himself longing to get even closer.

Yet your palms are pressing against his bare shoulders, your gaze drawn to the numerous sutures and stitches adorning his flesh.  

“No…won’t…hurt…” he finally manages to grind out, his voice trembling oddly from his withered vocal tract.

You release the pressure of your palms against him, the warmth of your skin like a balm to him as they hover over the various incisions.

He reaches out to touch the red marks on your throat from the hands that threatened to take you from him.

“He-hurt-” His voice grinds out, yet this time it’s not from disuse, but a burning rage still simmering inside of him that reignites.

 Jungkook’s eyes darken, his jaw clenching as his teeth flash, then he’s spinning around to focus on the source of your pain.

You can only watch as he sets upon the doctor’s corpse once more, his fury manifesting into beating the dead flesh into pulp. 

“Stop-” 

“Please…he’s gone-”

“Jungkook-”

The sound of his name washes over him like a lullaby and his aching fists drop to his sides, his head turning towards you.

His dark eyes melt from murderous agitation, widening as he looks at you with innocence and longing.

“Jungkook?” You say once more, and his heart stirs at the sound.

“Me…?” He asks, a tiny smile curling his lips as his face lights up at your voice.  

His entire world trembles as you return the smile, your face taking on a radiance that he can’t help but react to.

“Yes…you…you’re such a mess.  Can…can I clean you up?” You hold out your hand to beckon him over.

He immediately scrambles over to you, rising to his full height as he takes your offering.

“Oh…my goodness.” You whisper as your gaze rakes over his full form.

Jungkook can only beam at you as you study his naked form, though his senses still war with the foul stench of the vile human’s entrails.

His nose wrinkles at the odor and you seem to notice, pursing your lips as you take his hands and look at the mess he’s made.

“You did this for me?” You ask softly, your eyes locking onto his and he nods quickly before reaching out to try to touch your face.

Your skin looks so warm, calling to him to touch and caress every inch-

“Come with me.” You command and he is but a slave to your every desire.

You lead him into an adjoining room, and the overpowering scent of the mutilated viscera fades as he watches you turn on a faucet to let warm jets of water flow out.  

“I’m going to wash you, okay, Jungkook?” You tell him and his eyes follow your every move as you discard the now stained white medical coat and turn back to him.

“Yes.” He says, his voice slowly becoming less pained as he does his best to speak more.

It’s hard to formulate words and thoughts as his senses are assaulted with so much input, everything feels so familiar yet so brand new.

He wanders forward, blood caked hands seeking the cleansing flow of water, letting out a surprised gasp as he watches the red matter coalesce and rinse from his palms.

“Warm…” he hums, fascinated by the soothing sounds raining down upon him as he steps beneath the cascade of water.

“Does it feel nice?” 

His skin prickles as the soft tone, then your tender hands are skimming along his arm.

He shivers as he turns his face up into the water before turning to look upon you.

You are lathering up a sponge as your eyes rake over his full form, stepping closer to start washing the filth from his chest.

He freezes as he takes you in, now completely nude as you stand before him, the rush of the shower drenching every glorious inch of your bare skin.

His lips part as his body reacts in so many unfamiliar ways to your beauty, his eyes tracing every curve and dip of your supple flesh and his mouth waters as he begins to pick up even more of your intoxicating scent.

His breath hitches as his lower region aches and engorges, his hand automatically rushing to press against his stiffening erection.

“Oh..my...I guess you aren’t dead after all-” you quip, and his eyes flick to your face, then he follows your gaze to where his hand is palming at himself.

A low whine escapes his throat as he closes the small distance between you, his eyes consuming the sight of your sumptuous body as he backs you into the tiled walls. 

“Smells…good-” He whimpers, burying his face into your neck as he grabs your thighs and begins to rut against you.  

“Oh my god-um…wow…you really are a monster-” You gasp out as he groans into your neck sucking and licking along your throat.

“Jungkook.” He whimpers, pulling back to give you a wide eyed stare.

“Yes, yes, Jungkook, I didn’t mean-oh fuck right there-” 

His lips close around your nipple, his hand cupping the supple flesh, lifting it as the nub pebbles in his mouth and he explores the unique texture with his tongue.

Your voice is soft and lilting, your gasps and moans ringing through his mind like the most sacred hymn.

Though he doesn’t know what all these thoughts mean, he knows that he must have you.

He just doesn’t know what it is he is aching for, only that you possess the ability to give it to him.

He lets your nipple pop out of his mouth as his hips continue to move with a mind of their own, his cock swollen and throbbing for a release he doesn’t understand.

“Hurts-” He whimpers, looking up at you with those huge brown eyes, silently pleading for you to help him.

“Oh, baby…you’re not used to that, are you?” 

Your voice should be soothing, yet it only serves to make his already stiff member throb painfully.

He chokes out a strained grunt as your fingers encircle his engorged flesh, his hips pistoning into your tightening grip.

“Yes-! P-please-!” 

The sensation of his cock dragging against your palm as he pushes himself into your fist makes his head spin, needing to feel you ever closer to him, skin to skin-

His arms cage you against the tiled wall abruptly as he experiences the satisfying tug and drag of his dick as his thrusts become more desperate.

His breathing becomes erratic as you stare up at him, your lips parted as your sweet voice whispers encouragement and he begins to feel his balls tightening.

Furiously chasing some kind of relief, he lets out a pleading howl as he teeters right on the edge of-

He’s torn back from the brink when you quickly remove your hold on him, but before he can protest, you’re grabbing one of his hands and directing it between your legs.

He realizes that this is the source of his growing hunger; his fingers delve into the syrupy fount pooling at the apex of your thighs and he salivates as the potent aroma assaults him.

He inhales deeply as he’s overwhelmed with your scent, and he can almost taste-

Before he can finish the thought, he’s plunging his fingers through your silky folds to gather the viscous fluids along his digits, then quickly stuffing them into his mouth.

His other hand replaces the empty space, your wanton moans of pleasure encouraging him to continue his search as he slides his fingers along his tongue to taste you.

Your hand covers his larger one, guiding him to where you want him to touch.  

He learns quickly what you’re asking without a word spoken, his large doe eyes studying every minute tremble of your lips, every flutter of your lashes.

His thick thighs push against yours to open you up to him, sandwiching your supple body between his and the tiled wall as he grinds himself against you.

The pads of his drenched fingertips drag over a small swollen nub and the way you throw your head back as your eyes roll prompts him to repeat the motion once more, then again as he sucks your taste from his fingers.

“Oh my god…yes…right there…please-” You whimper and he recognizes his own need echoed in your cries.

“Right…there?” He manages as he roughly pinches and kneads the bud, shocked by the way your body jerks and writhes under his touch.  

“Fucking hell-” You gasp and he’s delighted when you grab his shoulders and wrap one of your legs around his hip.  

Instinctively, he pulls his fingers from his mouth to grab your other thigh to hoist you up off the floor.

The moment you wrap your legs around his waist, he pins you against the wall and thrusts his hips forward so the underside of his length slides along your core.

The sensation of your moisture coating him tips him into a mad frenzy as you push your hand between your bodies, guiding his next thrust into a tight, wet opening that seems to pull him deeper with each clench.

Guttural noises mix with frantic whimpers as he snaps his hips forward and up into you, and his eyes roll as your body encases him fully.

His body is driven solely by an innate primal compulsion as he drives his cock into you over and over; harder; faster-

He can barely comprehend the words spilling from your luscious lips, he knows only that the sound only urges him to chase this overwhelming need within him to bring you both to some sort of culmination of your joining.

The fragrance wafting over him from your arousal, the taste of you lingering on his tongue, the sweltering suction of your body devouring his aching cock finally overwhelms him completely as his balls constrict painfully.

“Oh god, oh fuck I’m gonna-I’m gonna come, baby boy-” 

A growl rips from his throat as your already clenching walls grip him like a vice; a hot rush of fluid floods his pistoning cock as your entire body tenses and quakes and you let out the most exquisite sound he’s ever heard.

As your nails rip through the skin of his back, raking over the taut stitches connecting his shoulders to his arms, he finally reaches the climax he’s been seeking as he surges forward one last time to bury himself deep within you.

His entire being shudders as his balls release their burden, erupting in a pulsing, torrential flood.

All the tension finally leaves his body as he pours himself into you, his gasping breaths and moans slowing as you ply his face with soft, tender kisses.

Soft breathy whispers tickle his cheeks, your gentle touches leaving him trembling and weak as his legs give out and he slowly sinks to his knees.

He whines as he holds you against him, unwilling to withdraw from you as he cradles your body in his lap.

The jets above continue to rain down upon your joined bodies as your melodic voice carries him into an almost dreamlike state.

“My monster…” your words rouse him and he pulls back to look at you.

Your lips beckon him and he presses his mouth to yours, a deep hum vibrating his throat in delight as he experiences your kiss.

“Monster…is bad…I’m -Jungkook…” he forces out, realizing that it’s becoming easier to vocalize his thoughts.

You cup his cheeks and he sighs softly at your tender touch, his long dark lashes fluttering in contentment.

“Jungkook…I happen to like monsters.” 

Your words resonate within him and he studies your face before coming to a decision.

His lips curl, elation flooding him as he gives you a radiant smile before he speaks his first full sentence.

“You…can call me monster.”

[iluminatka16]

"From beyond the stars"

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

[Chapter List]

Summary: A girl from our world finds herself in a Warhammer universe in the 30th millennium. After a not-so-pleasant awakening, she faces a confrontation with none other than the Emperor of Mankind himself.

Tags: isekai, ending up in a fictional universe, primarchxf!oc (check note in the end), found family trope

Warnings: mention of failed suicide attempt, cursing

Word count: 3340

The first thing that came to Yelena's senses was the fact that it was… strangely quiet. Sure, she could hear the humming and beeping of machines, but nothing else. No conversations, no footsteps in the corridor. For a while she even thought that her suicide attempt had succeeded and she was now in some limbo or other shithole where she would have to listen to the annoying beeping for the rest of the world for her sins. After that, in addition to her hearing, her other senses began to work. She felt that her body was being enveloped by a quilt, made of a pleasant material despite its roughness, and that she was lying on a rather firm mattress and an exceptionally soft pillow. Then came the smell, and with it the sterile scent of disinfectant. Yes, this was definitely a hospital. Just why the hell was it so quiet?

Yelena tried to open her eyes, which proved to be a very difficult task. At any attempt to move, her body seemed to stand in hellish flames, radiating the worst pain she had ever felt. It was as if she had woken up from a long coma and had to learn all over again how to control her own muscles. Then she felt fear. The most primitive fear, like that of some animal. Something was wrong. Very wrong. She had no idea what it could have been about, but her mind was going crazy. She wanted to scream, whine, scratch her eyes out, curl up to hide vital organs or, preferably, jump off that bed and look for a small, sheltered space to squeeze into. She was not safe, everything was wrong. She didn't belong here, no, she needed to take shelter, hide, escape. Feelings of terror and panic flooded her like hot lead, sealing and burning her throat, suffocating her. The beeping of the machines became more and more unbearable with each passing second, like knives digging into her mind, torturing her, an invisible hand on her chest, pressing her to-

With the opening of her eyes, everything suddenly disappeared. Panting, like a wounded animal, she slowly rose to a sitting position and looked around. The room she was in appeared like a hospital room. The machines, on the other hand? That's another story. They were just… strange. Granted, the last time she was in a hospital was about seven years ago, but it probably shouldn't look like that. Second, why the hell was it so quiet in here? She should have heard at least some footsteps, not to mention other typical hospital sounds. But there was nothing. No voices, no rustling. Nothing, just the cursed beeping of the machine. She moved her hand, wanting to lift the quilt and get up, but felt resistance.

There were leather straps around her wrists, which were connected to the bed frame by some elongated piece of elastic material. Same for her left hand.

Ohh fuck fuck fuck. She was in so deep shit.

Apparently she ended up in a mental hospital and even more so in solitary confinement. Fuck, as if it couldn't get any worse, she looked down and saw that she was dressed in a white hospital gown. Great, that means someone else had stripped her down and dressed her in the thing. She was naked, not counting the thin material, and pinned to the bed. For a few seconds she considered trying to open her bonds with her teeth, but a quick inspection showed that they were too well secured.

A hiss. The sound of footsteps.

Yelena flinched, violently pulled out of her panicked focus by an unexpected new sound. She raised her eyes to see that a man dressed in a white coat was standing in the doorway. The first thing she noticed was that it was difficult for her to determine his age. He might as well have been in his late 20s or early 40s. Dark eyes, tanned skin, handsome face, long black hair tied in a ponytail. He was quite tall, but nothing… unusual? His movements were very calm and slow, and there was a slight, warm smile on his face. It was as if he was approaching a wild animal, not another human being. Although Yelena was not much different at this point from the terrified prey, who, driven into a corner, waited until the predator finally decided to lunge at her and rip her throat out.

“I apologize for this inconvenience. While you were unconscious, you had a seizure of spasms, which made us have to tie you up so you wouldn't hurt yourself.” The man's voice was low, but at the same time very pleasant. Again, a reference to the fatherly attitude popped into Yelena's head. She tensed up as he approached her, and the man, seeing this, held out his hands in a peaceful gesture. Slowly, as if he didn't want to frighten her even more, he unbuckled her right hand. Then he rested his hand on the edge of the bed and leaned over, reaching for her left wrist, and after a moment Yelena was free. However, she didn't dare move even a millimeter until the man took a few steps away, slipping his hands back into his coat.

“Can you talk?”

It was a strange question for a doctor. In general, the man was strange. His accent was strange. Even his fucking aura was strange.

Yelena concentrated, trying to gather herself to say something. Only now did she realize how dry her throat was.

“Yes.” her voice, even as she practically whispered, was hoarse. She forced herself to swallow her saliva, in an effort to provide any hydration.

“Good. What is the last thing you remember?”

It was a very good question. If she was now in a mental hospital, chances were that it depended on him whether she could avoid spending the next few days there.

“I leaned over the railing on the bridge and lost my balance. I fell over the railing and then the last thing I remember was the impending water.” Yelena was a good liar. A really good one. But something in the man's gaze made her feel as if he had just caught her at it. However, instead of confronting her story, he just smiled slightly. Again.

“How much longer are you going to pretend to be a doctor and play this game, My Lord?”

Yelena turned toward the sound and-.

oh

WHAT THE FUCK.

In the doorway stood an old man dressed in simple pale robes, looking at the “doctor” and at her with something like irritation. It was completely absurd, but the first thing she thought of was the fact that the man reminded her of a Warhammer 40k character named-.

“Malcador, I told you to…”

Yelena didn't listen further. As if burned, she jumped off the hospital bed, ignoring the pain in her muscles, and pushed it to the middle of the room, creating a barrier between herself and the two men. No, that didn't make any sense. It was some kind of joke. A hallucination. She had hit her head and now had brain damage. Or she was in a coma and just dreamed it.

“What the fuck. What the actual fuck.”

If it was a hallucination, why was the English he used so strange. Like, different sounding. She must have hit her head pretty hard. However, everything seemed so… real. She felt the cold tiles under her feet, the panic that flooded her body was as real as possible.

The pseudo doctor merely sighed, still not moving from his seat.

“I was planning to tell you a little more gently. From what I've read from your mind, our world is just a product of fiction, written on the pages of books, and believe your arrival is just as shocking to us-”

“Shut up. What the fuck are you talking about. It's just a hallucination, after all, there's no way anything like that could have happened. HE…” Yelena pointed an accusatory finger in Malcador's direction. “He…”

Wait a minute. Malcador was dead in the fortieth millennium. And he definitely did not address anyone as my lord, unless….

Neoth. The fucking Emperor of Mankind.

She just told the fucking Emperor of Mankind to shut up.

“You know one of my names. One of the many secrets you shouldn't have. And I hold no grudges for your words.”

Malcador just shook his head.

“Saying outright that you can hear her thoughts is unlikely to help the whole matter, My Lord. Look at her, she looks like, her heart is about to explode.”

Well, the old man's words were not far from the truth. Yelena felt as if her heart was indeed about to explode. Or her head. Or all at once. It didn't make the SLIGHTEST sense. NO SENSE AT ALL, ACTUALLY.

“Okay. Okay. Let's assume that you are not a product of my imagination. How the hell did I get here. And which millennium is it anyway, since Malcador is alive.” Yelena couldn't even think of using any sort of titles. Not now. She still couldn't believe what she was seeing.

“This conversation should wait until you calm down. Someone will bring you your robes right away, and in the meantime you should try to get yourself under control. I don't want to calm you down by force, so if possible, calm down, child.”

Well, doing so was not so easy. But just an hour later she was sitting in a comfortable, richly decorated armchair, wearing a soft tunic and wrapped in a fluffy blanket. In her hands was a steaming, creamy drink whose taste made her think of hot chocolate. She was told to wait here and the door was closed. So she had been waiting for the last twenty minutes, hearing hurried footsteps in the hallway. It wasn't enough time to grasp with her mind what had actually happened, but at least she managed to come to terms with the fact that it wasn't a dream. She had never seen the inside of the Imperial Palace (as it was clear from her deduction that this was where she was), and the decor of the place was completely different from what she had imagined. She had a chance to see the Custodians, and as they led her here, she passed at least three clocks along the way, and from each she could easily read the time, which matched in every clock.

That is, in short, she was fucked.

She was snapped out of her reverie by the turning of the key in the lock. After a moment, the door opened and there stood in it none other than Neoth himself. The doctor's coat had been replaced by rich robes, and long black hair flowed freely over his shoulders. However, his face, height and figure remained the same.

“I see you are slowly accepting the latest information. Good. We need to talk.” The emperor closed the door behind him and sat down in the chair on the opposite side. “You have many questions, but so do I. We'll do it like this. Once a question is asked by me, once by you.”

Yelena only nodded, not trusting her own voice.

“Good. So to answer your question, you are in the 30th millennium. And to answer your next question, which you would probably wish to ask. Yes, I have already created primarchs, but none of them have betrayed yet.” Neoth rested his hands on the armrests and looked at her with a slightly stricter gaze. “And before I ask my question, I expect you to be completely honest. You lied to me once. Don't try to repeat that mistake again. Tell me, what are you going to do with the knowledge you have?”

“I don't understand.”

“You possess knowledge about me that not even my closest friend knows. Knowledge that can harm my cause and me. What are you going to do with it. I'm not able to control your memories, so I can't just erase it.”

It was a very good question on which her life depended. Although the Emperor did not say it directly, Yelena was well aware that he was considering at that moment whether he should kill her or take the risk. She knew him too well, at least as a fictional character.

“And what should I do? Summon Tzeentch now and tell him your secrets? Or go to the cultists and give them this knowledge? I have enough knowledge of this galaxy to know how those who side with chaos end up. Xenos? The Orcs are not interested in that, and the Eldar would treat me like an animal, because I'm human. I have no one to turn to, even if I wanted to. And making an enemy in the most powerful man doesn't seem like a good idea at all.”

The emperor merely nodded. His facial expression hardly changed, except that he looked a bit more deep in thought.

“Your question.” It looked like he wasn't going to inform her so far whether he would leave her alive.

Yelena took a slightly deeper breath and put her cup down on the coffee table. What could she ask him? She had so many questions that she couldn't even formulate one.

“Why this form? I know that most of the Imperium knows you a little taller and in golden armor. I also know that neither the current one nor your official one is your true form. So why did you choose this one? You could have instantly changed into a huge man in shining golden armor and-”

“And give you a heart attack, child?” a gentle smile appeared on the Emperor's face. “The human psyche is fragile. I decided that the best choice for you would be someone less… intimidating. And warmer.”

Yelena slowly nodded, taking in this information. Well, yes, it made sense. Neoth, or whatever his real name was, was choosing for himself what form he showed himself in. Merciful on his part. A little too… merciful.

“And your question?”

“I wasn't able to get details out of your mind about heresy and the future. Maybe it's a trick of the chaos gods, maybe it's a prank of Warp, or maybe it's a merit of your mind, because I know you have quite warm feelings towards my sons.” The look the Emperor gave her, made Yelena momentarily regret that she had ever read any Warhammer fanfiction in her life. “I want you to give me the names and reasons of my sons who betrayed me."

“No."

“No?”

Yelena had no idea what she was doing. But every cell in her body was screaming not to give him this information. She saw that his gaze became stern again, and the Emperor straightened up in his chair. She was treading on very thin ice. One wrong word and her head would be separated from the rest of her body.

“I know that if I give you this, you will kill them. But if the heresy hasn't happened yet, that means there's a chance they can be saved.”

“You know who I am, and yet you're taking a risk by defying me to protect men you've never met.” Neoth tilted his head slightly. “You're an interesting person. Very interesting. And at the same time extremely brave and so kind as to be deemed foolish.”

The emperor mused for a moment, as if considering something.

“Good then. We will return to this conversation the next day. I know enough.”

Seeing that he was rising from his chair, Yelena also got up quickly, throwing off her blanket.

“Wait. What's going to happen to me? Are you going to kill me?”

Neoth stopped in place and looked at her. A slight smile spread across his face again.

“You passed my test, so for now you don't have to worry about death. In addition, it's been a long time since anyone around me disregarded all rules of ethics and royal protocol by speaking to me in such a familiar manner. That's… refreshing. I think I'm starting to like you. Come, child, I'll take you somewhere where you can rest.”

Well, yes, fucking titles. Yelena should have addressed him in a formal way, using “my lord.” However, in the turmoil of emotions she felt since she learned the truth, she didn't even think about it. Fortunately, it seemed that the Emperor didn't mind. Neoth opened the door and walked out of the small office. Yelena immediately joined him, but as soon as she looked out into the corridor, the friendly man disappeared, and in his place was a giant in armor so golden that she thought for a second that she would go blind. It seemed that that form there was reserved only for her.

The Emperor put his hands behind his back and started walking ahead, a silent command for Yelena to follow him. So she did. They walked in silence for a good few minutes before two figures she almost recognized appeared before her eyes. Much taller than any mortal could be, handsome in face and well built. Even without their powerarmor, any fool would have figured out who they were. Horus and Sanguinius. She had seen a lot of fanart depicting them, but none could even compete with what they looked like in person. The men strolled along, discussing something until The Great Angel spotted her. Almost immediately he fell silent, staring at her visibly surprised by what he saw. Horus, after a second, also looked in her direction and opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but eventually abandoned the idea.

Yelena felt her throat constrict and tears gathered in her eyes for some reason. Now she understood how much of a curse the knowledge she possessed was. Unable to withstand their gaze, nor wanting to accidentally cry, she sped up her step and drove her gaze to the floor. Fortunately, they immediately disappeared around the corner, losing sight of the two sons of the Emperor. Neoth didn't say anything upon seeing this, continuing to walk at a rather fast pace until they stopped in front of an ornate door made of dark wood.

“We are in the guest wing. You have all of it at your disposal, along with the garden, but don't go outside this area. And in particular, don't hang around my sons' chambers. You are a very curious phenomenon for them, and their curiosity is often… dangerous. You will find everything you could possibly need in your chamber. Meals will be delivered to you by the servants. Malcador will probably cuss me out for not keeping you in your cell, so for now try to stay out of his way.”

Then, without a word of goodbye, the Emperor turned and walked away in the direction from which they had come. Well, it could always be worse. Taking a deep breath, Yelena opened the door and entered her new bedroom. If she had been in a better state, she would probably have been stunned by what she saw. A chamber larger than her crappy apartment where she lived in her universe. A large window with a view of the huge garden, a massive bed in the center, obscured by a canopy, a desk, a closet, a fluffy carpet, a cabinet filled with books. Everything in a style that she associated with the Baroque era. Well, not counting the strange TV on the wall. Yelena walked over to the bed, opened the curtains and sank her back on the fluffy quilt.

Oh she was so fucked.

Author's note

First of all, so far I am writing this from the perspective of oc, because I have no experience in writing x reader. However, if there is such a demand, I will try to change the style to x reader (which I can't guarantee will work, because, as I said, I have no experience in this).

Second: let me know if you want more information about Yelena because I have a lot of lore for her!

If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know in the comments.

Tag list: @beckyninja @athenaremo @justfreakynothingelse @lukarus @synfiction @thatnightlamp @pirateshippers-first-mate @amoelcafe12345

[heartshapedbubble]

Ello can I request a Norton Fools good x fem reader where she came across the blown up mines and sees Norton (in his hunter form) she’s scared at first but starts to recognise him and slowly starts to approach him reaching her hand up to cub his cheeks ( bro this man needs all the love! )

HOO BOY i agree tho... his release made me regain my interest in norton🫡🫡

[not to be a scum but i'm still open for sanrio emma comms btw😭😭]

fool's gold: imagine...⛏️

cut for length!

paying the bills has become a hellish cycle. break your back to pay off the expenses, relax for the following twenty-ish days, and be sent into frenzy again, not knowing if you're going to have a roof over your head tomorrow or not.

you found yourself hopelessly skimming through newspaper, looking for any job offer possible that would easen up the burden on your wallet. The paper was plastered with offers from bars, post offices and restaurants, but those were a always gamble. will you get your wage or not? and if you will, when? too much effort for something so high-risk.

at last, a small offer in the corner of the page caught your attention. pressed in miniscule letters, it said: MINE RESEARCH. EMPLOYEES URGENTLY NEEDED. EQUIPMENT PROVIDED. underneath the text, an attractive number: $15,000 payed off immediately after the job is done.

not only could this solve the rent for the following 3 months, you'd also have some money left for yourself! you rang the number the second you got home and successfully scored the job, due to the urgency of the situation.

it took you a day or two to start thinking about the job. what do you exactly need to know for mine research? probably at least some physical strength and stamina, you thought. surely it can't be too complex.

you arrived at the mine right on time, the sun slowly slipping back into the horizon to let the moon take center stage. to your dismay, you realized no one else applied for the job. maybe this wasn't a good idea after all? crawling through the narrow, rocky terrain all alone doesn't sound like the ideal scenario. no living being in sight, and 20 minutes have already went by.

still, that money is way too good to pass up. you picked up one of the yellow helmets piled up at the entrance, prayed to whatever god out there that your flashlight has enough power to last the following 2 hours and mindlessly rushed into the collapsing mine.

for the following 10 minutes, your sight unfocused while your mind took the lead, in front of and all around you just rocks and grime, shadows dispelled by the flashlight held by your hip like a lance. only after a good 5 minutes of running did you realize that you, in fact, have no idea what you're supposed to do. what qualifies as mine research? mining, inspecting the ores, measuring the surface?

all sweaty and breathless, the tunnel led you to a large room inside of the mine, the roof extending towards what seemed like a pitch black abyss. carts messily thrown around, bumpy and unpolished geodes laying all over the place, when was the last time a living being stepped foot into this mine? it made sense that such a large sum of money was needed to attract volunteers.

you carefully moved through the rubble, trying to avoid stepping onto pickaxes and shrapnel splayed all over the ground. since you forgot about the gloves your bare hand now held onto the unpromising terrain, the other firmly squeezing the only source of light in this limbo.

the surface grazing your hand now seems like it became... smoother? no longer does it cut and pierce your palms. it's bumpy, but at least you're not risking an infection anymore.

moving inch by inch in fear of falling, the stone below changes its form. you don't even pay attention to the fact that you're now grabbing onto cloth and that, below your palm, a steady pulse is faintly beating.

it's already too late when you realize that you're not alone, and the stone below you starts to take shape and morph until it extends towards the ceiling, now towering over you, slouched like a ragdoll.

complementing the cold shades of grey, a face emerges from the shadows. pale, with defined cheekbones, although malnourished. only his bust passes as human, as below his collarbones there's nothing but a mosaic of pebbles and boulders forming his torso, arms and legs. it - or he, perhaps - is breathing with struggle, coughs interrupting his wheezes here and there.

you feel a sense of dread overcoming you. you freeze on the spot, but he doesn't budge, either. lifeless except for the fact he's breathing and his heart ticks like a machine.

you draw back a step, and he lunges forward, seemingly still not used to this monstrous body of his. he could harm me with ease if he wanted to, a thought suddenly manifests in your mind, and with newfound bravery you inspect the cryptid like a sculpture. your hand grazes over his bumpy and unfinished hands, tugs at the remains of his clothes around his chest. he groans, in annoyance, you assume, but doesn't resist. you climb up a cart to reach his face, your fingers pinch his stubborn hairstrands, inspect the cavity in which his other eye once laid. in a moment of either stupidity or courage you roughly pinch his cheeks - they're cold to the touch, but it's funny how naturally does his intimidating face mush like a little boy's. kind of cute. after a minute of cooing to yourself two of his rocky fingers gently pinch your wrists and put them back to your sides, but his one foggy eye doesn't divert its gaze from yours.

perhaps the flashlight can last an hour more.. you've just began getting to know him, and the mystery of the mine and his origin still lay cold for you to discover.

[ohbo-ohno]

wip wednesday? gaz x reader, cw for mourning a spouse

Here are all the things you know about Kyle’s disappearance:

1: It happened early in his deployment. He’d hardly been gone for three weeks when you got the message. It came in the middle of the workday, and you’d called out sick for the next week, hadn’t bothered showing up for another two after that. John Price’s voice haunts your nightmares these days, his low rumble and we offer our deepest condolences, Mrs. Garrick playing on repeat as you hug Kyle’s pillow close and sob.

2: He’s not the only one missing. His entire ship disappeared, and all its sailors went with it. Kyle was the highest ranking man on board, apparently, and only one of the other sailors was married. His wife tried to reach out to you a few times, but you hadn’t had the energy to even attempt holding a conversation at the time.

3: He’s not dead. Or at least, there’s no body for them to bury. The distinction between KIA and MIA isn’t lost on you. (You think this is what you mean when they say it’s the hope that kills you as you’re stuck firmly and permanently in the denial phase in the months following his disappearance.)

4: There’s no attempt being made to find a body. And oh, how you had railed against John Price for that. You’d screamed yourself hoarse into your phone, then become nearly incoherent with sobs as you begged him to find your Kyle, to bring him home. He had denied you, said he couldn’t get approval from his own superiors, said I’m truly sorry, Mrs. Garrick, I swear to you I tried my best, we all miss him, too. You’d hung up on him and thrown your phone to the floor, inconsolable. You’re not sure if he ever called back, since you blocked his number.

5: It has been thirteen months since you first got the call. Had Kyle not gone missing, you’d have already picked him up at the airport and made him his favorite meal, called out of work to spend days in bed with him, maybe even booked reservations at that fancy restaurant he always talks about wanting to try someday. Instead you’re telling yourself that it’s pointless to learn how to make meals for one, just in case someday you wake up to find that this has all been a terrible nightmare.

It’s not enough. Endless questions haunt your every thought, keep you awake at night. You think that this hellish unknowing is the worst thing you could ever experience, that it’s keeping you in a sort of limbo that you can never escape. 

The idea that he suffered, that he was in pain before his death – or somehow almost worse, that he’s not dead at all. That he’s crashlanded on some sandbank, starving and sunburned, a real-life Chuck Noland with no one even bothering to look for him anymore. 

Every moment spent not thinking about him, not remembering him, feels like a betrayal, like a dismissal of the trauma you’ve imagined him experiencing.

[shyashleylaw]

Techno's background in AU: He came from the living world, but he was not a human. He inherited the voices of his ancestors, the chorus of anarchists that tormented his father. But he quieted the voices, finding family happiness.

Anarchists came straight from the hellish circle of wrath, bringing chaos to worlds, including Limbo. But their leaders were always running from their fate, violence consuming their souls and they arbitrarily ended their lives.

Technoblade was the title of the anarchist leader in Limbo, his father was also called that. He was the first leader to die in battle rather than by his own hands, essentially bringing honor back to his people.

The Patron of Chaos is the only deity that exists only in the form of voices that haunt every anarchist leader.

[renmorris]

drags my hands down my face

you know the way fandom culture completely ignores Harrier Du Bois being an SA survivor reminds me way too much of the way twin peaks fans act willfully ignorant about Dale Cooper.

even if most direct references to CSA were cut out of the s2 finale* people will genuinely agree that BOB is a creature made out of that very specific trauma, accept that for Leland and Laura and then…completely ignore the implications of BOB's obsession with possessing Cooper? like you shouldn’t need a scene that tells you how exactly Cooper was sexually abused. you should be able to fill in the gaps.

especially when Cooper spends s3 in a dissociative limbo** and is raped by his 'caregiver' in the return

and like when essays are written about Laura, Cooper is totally ignored or treated as outsider to her trauma. it’s fucking NUTS. it’s not the first time this has happened with a man's sexual abuse in Lynch's work either!

*for the better I think…the dense hellish atmosphere Lynch put in place of it is so sad and agonizing and more in line with the series tone

**btw definitely a source of inspiration for how Harry's amnesia is handled. you have these two guys stripped completely bare, utterly vulnerable to the world around them. experiencing it with fresh eyes but also totally at the mercy of an indifferent world.