#I know you can't let this drag you down but it's maddening

[cevansbrat0007]

https://x.com/auxgod_/status/1854935706742706397?s=46

ari’s reaction if bird tried to walk out the house with this on 👀

Untitled Sweet Renegade Series Ask & Drabble

Please enjoy the Sweet Renegades Series Drabble found after the cut. Warnings include: Mature Themes, Implied Smut, Ari Being a Possessive Menace, Brat!Reader, Manhandling, Crude Language, and Cursing. Minors DNI.

Listen, Ari considers himself to be a rather progressive man. He has two sisters that he respects and adores. And a little niece that fills him with pride. He plans to teach his nephew about the importance of respecting women - of treating them with the utmost reverence and care.

However, the moment Ari laid eyes on his sweet, stubborn little Bird, it was if something in him snapped. It came from somewhere deep. Primal. And the beast in him demanded that he stake his claim. Before her, Ari had never really considered himself to be the possessive type. He just assumed that jealousy wasn't a part of his makeup.

But now? Her smile. Her laugh. Her light. Every delicate inch of her gorgeous curvy body. All of it belongs to him. In the most primal, feral sense.

And he does not like to share.

So, while he wants to encourage Bird as she continues down the path of consistent, healthy body positivity, he's also man enough to admit that that there's no way in hell he'd let her fine ass out of the house wearing a dress like that. And here's why:

"Baby..." He rasps, caging you in as he backs you against the door. "You look fucking stunning." Two thick fingers trail their way down your body, stopping once they reach the valley between your breasts. "But I'm afraid I can't let you leave. Not while you're wearin' that."

"What's wrong with it?" Your words come out as a gasp when you feel a hand wind its way into your curls, holding you still as he continues his assault. The seconds drag on as his head dips, his mouth finding yours.

"Because, sweet Bird." Ari presses, forcing you to take his delicious weight. Making your pulse spike as he grinds his increasingly hard cock against your abdomen.

"B-because?"

"Because..." He draws out the word as he wrenches your head back so that he can whisper maddening little love bites along the curve of your jaw. "This is the kinda dress you wear when you're out with your man." You have a hard time breathing as his free hand skims lower before coming to rest on the swell of your bottom.

"Oh yeah?" You continue to goad - against your better judgement.

To be honest, you'd known what you were risking when you saw the dress hanging on the rack. You had no business playing with fire. But that's part of what made all of this so fun.

"Absolutely." Ari's normally bright blue eyes darken with arousal as he watches your chest heave. Almost as if he's imagining what it might be like to slowly peel the garment off you, piece by piece. "Because these hips and that ass - they're enough to give a man ideas."

His soft lips find their way to your ear, his warm breath making you shiver.

"And when they start wantin' to entertain those ideas," he muses, more to himself than you. "I need to be there as your man to shut 'em down."

"I see." A sharp nip of teeth has you clenching your thighs together.

"Because I am the only man who's allowed to know what it's like to bury myself between those luscious thighs." Using two fingers, he tips up your chin, wordlessly demanding that he look you in the eyes. "And only I get to know what you taste like when you cum on my tongue. Which therefore makes me the only man with exclusive rights to your tight, little pussy."

"Okay Beast." You can't help the giggle that bubbles its way out of your throat. "I think you've made your point."

"Have I, little Bird?" He growls, releasing his grip on your chin to capture your wrists, trapping them above your head. "Or do I need to remind you that I'm not the sharing type?"

The steady tick in his jaw lets you know that you and your dress have once again pushed this man to the edge. But the real question was...

Just what did you plan to do about it?

Batting your lashes up at him, you decide it's time to let the brat in you win out once and for all. Go big or go home, you know?

"Eh, it's been awhile, big guy." You purr, catching your bottom lip between your teeth. "I'm thinkin' you might need to refresh my memory."

END

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[vimbry]

why is the entire world at the mercy of a handful of egotistical idiots who get to decide how society operates based on their outdated values in the interest of so-called "tradition" and their need to protect their wealth. theyre going to be here about 80 years if they're lucky and they're using that time to do everything they can to strip people's rights and keep them in poverty. I hope hell exists only so they finally face consequences.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Stick Around

~1.2k words

Jason Todd is your best friend. But sometimes you're not sure if you're his.

"Back off. I can stitch it myself." He nearly barks at you when you press the towel to his bleeding wound.

"Come on, Jason. Why can't I help?" You ask, trying to keep the worry and pleading from your voice.

"I don't want you to." He says, firm and flat as he pulls away, dragging the towel and the first aid kit with him. He doesn't go very far, but you have a sinking feeling that's more owed to the bathroom being small than him wanting to stay near you.

You shift on your feet, torn between listening– respecting his boundaries or stepping closer to help. You take a step, unable to stay away from him when his lips curl into a frown as he starts stitching his own wound.

"Let me. I know how. You taught me." You try again, careful and soft like you're the one that terrifies the worst of Gotham.

"I said no. Just give me some space." He tells you, hands working steadily to piece his skin back together. You vaugley wonder how many times he's done this alone.

Then his words register. You can't stop your face from crumbling. "You want me to leave?"

He doesn't look up, doesn't respond, too engrossed in his injury.

You nod a little, more to yourself than him as you scoot around him, avoiding brushing any part of him as you slip out the bathroom door. Hesitating, you quietly close the door behind you and linger in the hallway, unsure. How much space did he want? Was he upset with you? Did he want you to leave the apartment?

You let out a sigh and slowly head for the apartment door. You can stay at friends tonight. Stuffing down the emotions welling in your chest, you grab your jacket and start to shove your shoes on.

"Where are you going?" A sharp tone cuts you out of your self pity.

"You told me to leave?" You question, gaze snapping to him.

He stands there, hand over the gauze wrapped on his side and studies you. "No."

"No?" You echo, slowly lowering your coat.

"I only– I didn't want you to get any blood on you. Or see me like that. I don't want you to leave. Why would I ever not want to see you?” He says with a scoff, stepping closer to pull you away from the door, glaring at it like it personally offended him. “You’re the only person I want to be around, it’s maddening, I don’t know why anyone else even tries to speak to me when I can’t get my mind off of you-“

He shudders, like a huge weight has left his shoulders, words cutting off. He presses a kiss against your skin, without thinking, his mouth finding the juncture between your shoulder and your neck, pulling you tight against him. "I want you to stay here. With me." He murmurs against your skin before pulling back just enough to see your face.

"Oh." You fall quiet for a moment, looking anywhere but him as you start to speak again, fighting the heat that threatens to take over your face, "I don't mind. Blood, I mean. Not if I'm helping you."

He can't stop the smile that comes to his face, always so easy and present around you.

Jason reaches out, his fingers touching your chin, gently tapping it, to make you look at him. “Do you still think I don’t want you here? That I don’t want you around?” he asks, voice low.

You waver, eyes trailing back to his. "Well, no, I mean, I know you want me around."

"Good." He says softly, fingers lingering on your skin, on your face, on your waist. It makes you feel wanted, needed, safe.

The moment is so soft, so warm and inviting you want to lose yourself in it. But it feels like a lie to let yourself stay in it. Not when he's all you ever seem to want. When you dream of the color of his eyes and the feeling of his skin against yours. "Are you feeling dizzy? Need to sit down?" You ask, cutting the moment, the feeling that it could be something more, short.

He hums softly, like he expected your avoidance. "You don't have to run from me."

That makes you blink, surprise painting your features. "I'm not running. I'm not going anywhere."

"Oh please, there's so many things I know you've been holding out on me." He laughs a little before kissing your neck and whispering into your ear. "You wanted me way before I knew it was okay to admit wanting you. And now I'm going to make up for all that lost time." He looks at you with an intention you can feel behind his eyes. "There's nothing I won't do for you, nothing that I won't give you because you deserve the world and more." He kisses your forehead and smiles down at you softly as he sighs your name. "So don't run."

That makes your brain short circuit. And then the flood of scrambled thoughts overtake your mind. He knows you want him? Of course he does– He's one of the greatest detectives in the world, maybe even the universe. Why did you think you could hide it? How long has he known? But one thought persists above the rest. He wants you to?

Jason gently taps your hip, dragging your attention from the frantic jumble of questions in your head. "Focus on me. Not whatever's going on in your head. I don't need an answer right now. I just want you to be here." He says your name like it's precious, a treasure to keep close. "Please."

You nod slowly, trying to calm your pounding heart, to get your body to listen to you and answer him or touch him or anything.

"I could just kiss you right here. I could do that. You know, just take advantage of the situation? How you can't seem to believe that I want you. But..." he tilts his head, running his thumb along your jaw, "I want to kiss you when I know you're ready. For you to want it as badly as I do, pretty."

"What if I do?" You ask quietly, scared to break the tension building around the two of them. "What if I want to kiss you, Jason?"

"Yeah?" he whispers, his fingers finally gripping your hair, his thumb lightly caressing your neck. His eyes are locked on yours, and all the emotions that seem to be swirling around inside him right now are all concentrated on one, simple thing: keeping you.

"Yeah." You echo, just as quiet and soft as his voice.

He doesn't ask again, doesn't hesitate, just kisses you with the desperation of years of built of tension and longing glances. He kisses you like you're worth something, and you are. You're everything to him, and he now that he has you like this, he won't let a day pass without reminding you.

Your fingers curl in his shirt, his hand tightens in your hair and everything else seems to fade away when you deepen the kiss. Jason Todd is your best friend. And you're starting to believe that you're more than just that to him.

[hoshifighting]

can't stop thinking about dumbification w wonwoo....he's one cocky mf and I just KNOW he'd be so filthy😩😩

what are your thoughts??

dumbification with wonwoo WARNINGS: smut, dumbification, fingering, squirting, dirty talk.

tbh you never expected this kind of shit to happen with him, least of all. wonwoo—who barely blinks when u flirt or tease, as if he's above it all. but now, fuck, he's got you on your back, legs spread wide and trembling, fingers pressing so deep inside you that your mind is starting to blank out, and all you can think about is how good it feels. you’re already a mess, whining and squirming, trying to catch your breath while he's got that stupid smirk playing on his lips like he’s enjoying every second of watching you fall apart.

“shit, look at the mess youre making of yourself baby girl, so fucking wet f'me” he mutters, voice raspy, fingers pushing in and out of you at a slow, agonizing pace. “can’t even think straight, hm?” you try to form a response, something snarky or witty, but all that comes out is a whimper, hips lifting to meet his touch, desperate for more. he’s dragging this out on purpose, you know it. trying to push you past the point where you can keep that sharp tongue of yours and turn you into nothing but a mess beneath him.

“wonwoo,” you manage to gasp, voice catching as he curls his fingers inside you just right, brushing against that spot that makes stars explode behind your eyelids. “please—" he chuckles, deep and dark, and you can feel the heat of his breath against your neck as he leans in closer. “please, what?” he taunts, fingers slowing down to a maddening pace, just enough to keep you on the edge but not enough to push you over. “you want more? or are you already too fucked out to handle it?” you shake your head, trying to clear the haze, but it’s impossible. the heat pooling in your belly is making you splash, fever spreading through your limbs and making your mind go blank “answer me,” he commands, his free hand coming up to grip your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his. “use your words, baby. or is that too hard for you now?”

your brain is a foggy mess, but you try to focus, try to form some semblance of thought. “fuck—more, please, i—” your voice cracks, the words barely coherent, but it’s enough for him.

“good girl,” he purrs, and his fingers speed up, pumping into you harder and faster, the wet sounds of your arousal filling the air. “see? you can be good when you try.” it’s embarrassing how fast you lose yourself after that. the pleasure is too much, too intense, and all you can do is lay there, legs twitching, hips bucking, completely at his mercy. you’re babbling now, words that barely make sense falling from your lips as you beg for more, beg for him to let you come, to end this delicious torture. “you like it when i make you stupid, huh?”

you can’t respond. not in any way that matters. the only thing you manage is a broken moan, hands clutching at the sheets like a lifeline as the heat builds inside you, threatening to consume you whole. you’re so close, teetering on the edge, and he knows it. “go on,” he whispers, breath hot against your ear. “show me how dumb i can make you. show me how fucking good i can make you feel.”

t hits you all at once. your vision goes white, body convulsing as the orgasm tears through you, so intense you barely register the flood of wetness soaking his hand and the sheets beneath you. you’re shaking, gasping, unable to form a single coherent thought as the pleasure washes over you. wonwoo watches you fall apart, “fuck, that’s it,” he murmurs. “look at you. didn’t think i’d get you this messy.” u’re still trembling, still trying to catch your breath, and all you can do is nod weakly.

[lostfracturess]

wanna join me in the shower?

ღ pairing satoru gojo x female reader

ღ summary satoru gojo craves nothing more than to unwind with you in a hot, steamy shower after a long, stressful day. that's it. no more plot found.

ღ wc 1.9 k

ღ warnings/content 18+ ONLY. porn without plot, established relationship, unprotected sex, backside rubbing, penetration, fingering, kinda breeding kink, lots of cum, praising, overstimulation.

ღ author's note this idea was in my head for so long, i needed to write it down already, so here it is lol. & pls like or repost if you enjoyed, it means the world !! ♡

Steam fills the air, swirling around you as the hot water cascades down your body. The day's tensions slowly melt away, carried off by the rivulets streaming down your back.

Your eyes flutter closed and a soft moan escapes your lips as you feel him press against you from behind, his muscular body molding to yours.

"Do you know how many times I thought about you today?" he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. His hands, strong and purposeful, glide up your damp arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"Oh, is that so?" you tease.

"Yeah, you have no idea how hard I've gotten just thinking about being inside you again. I could hardly control myself all day."

His lips trail urgent kisses down your neck as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you flush against him. Your slick bodies mold together as the water rushes over you.

"Been fantasizing about having you pinned against the wall, bending you over and fucking you so deep you'll feel me for days."

You feel Satoru's throbbing erection pressing against your back, hard and insistent. He's long, thick, and already pulsing, promising to stretch and fill you in the most maddening ways.

An aching throb builds up between your thighs and you both know one thing for sure — you both need each other right now, desperately.

"I want you so fucking bad right now," he says, grinding his hips against you, letting you feel every rigid inch.

"Fuck, Satoru... don't stop." You arch your back, pushing your ass against him, seeking more friction.

"Someone's eager, huh?" He bites down on the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder, making you cry out, before spinning you around to face him.

You barely catch a glimpse of the burning intensity in his blue eyes before his mouth crashes against yours.

Your lips part automatically and his tongue plunges past them to claim your mouth, your tongues tangling together. Sharp teeth dig into your bottom lip until they're red and kiss-swollen.

Your hands roam over his slick body, tracing the sculpted contours of his abs and pecs, reveling in the way his muscles flex and ripple beneath your touch.

His hot skin scorches your palms, but you can't get enough. Your fingertips brush the trail of coarse hair leading down from his navel and you feel his cock jump against your stomach in response, throbbing and leaking.

Unable to wait any longer, Satoru breaks the kiss, grabbing your hips and roughly spinning you to face the wall. The cold tile against your chest makes you gasp.

He kicks your feet apart and pins you in place with his hips, the blunt head of his cock nestling between your ass cheeks. "Gonna show you just how good I can make you feel."

He starts trailing biting kisses along your shoulder, working his way down your spine. You moan and arch your back, silently begging him to claim you, to make you his.

Goosebumps race across your overheated skin as his teeth scrape against your skin, alternating between gentle nibbles and sharp bites.

Satoru presses his rock-hard, throbbing length between your ass cheeks, groaning at the feel of your soft skin enveloping him. He rocks his hips slowly, dragging his cock along your backside.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he rasps, his breath hot against your ear. "So fucking hot, I could come just like this."

He drags the swollen, weeping head of his cock against you, trailing it down between your legs to your dripping slit. You whimper and arch your back, granting him better access, silently begging him to stop tormenting you.

Satoru lets out a ragged moan as he grinds against you, the sound echoing off the shower walls. His hips thrust in a slow rhythm, stroking his heavy length along your folds, the rigid shaft bumping against your clit with each pass.

Satoru lets out a low, wrecked moan as he grinds against you, the lewd sound echoing off the shower walls. His hips grinding against you, stroking his heavy length along your seam, bumping against your sensitive clit with each pass.

"So fucking hot, I'm gonna lose it," he pants, lost in the sensation of grinding against you. "Gonna paint that perfect ass with my cum, get you all messy."

You moan desperately, torn between wanting exactly that and needing him buried deep inside you. And as if reading your mind, Satoru's hand finally drifts to where you need him most.

His skilled fingers part your slick folds, gliding effortlessly through your drenched sex. You cry out in relief as he strokes your slit before rubbing your clit.

"Fuck, you're absolutely soaked for me."

Without warning, two thick fingers plunge knuckle-deep inside you, curving upwards to stroke that spot that sets your nerves ablaze. Your walls clench around him as he pumps his fingers in and out.

"God, love, you're shaking already?"

"Shut up and fuck me already, Satoru," you manage to gasp out between moans, barely able to keep your footing as he fucks you with his fingers.

You can feel your orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap. But just as you're about to tumble over the edge, he withdraws his fingers, leaving you empty and aching.

"Wha—why did you stop?"

"Not so fast, love."

Before you can respond, Satoru spins you around and hoists you up effortlessly. Your back slams against the cold tile wall as he pins you there with his hips.

You wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles behind his back. Your fingers dig into the firm muscles of his shoulders, finding purchase on his slick skin.

"I want to feel you come around my cock."

His swollen tip nudges against your entrance and then with one powerful thrust, he thrusts himself fully inside you. You cry out at the sudden stretch, your walls clenching around his thick girth as he fills and spreads you almost painfully wide.

"Fuck, I've missed you so much," Satoru moans against your parted lips, his breath mingling with yours. He gives you a moment to adjust to his size before he starts to move.

The angle is perfect, deep — almost too deep — his thick cock hitting your cervix with every thrust. It's intense, overwhelming, and you can already feel your orgasm building embarrassingly fast.

"You like that? Love feeling me fill you up like this?"

"God, yes... right there, don't stop," you mewl, clawing at his back, urging him impossibly deeper.

Satoru lets out a low moan, tipping his head back to allow the water to cascade over his face and down his neck. It flows over his chiseled chest and abs, making him look like a goddamn wet dream come to life.

"Fuck, you feel so good, so fucking good, squeezing me so tight. Made to take my cock," he pants.

As the water pounds down around you, Satoru's thrusts become more frenzied, skin slapping against skin as he rails into you. His grip on your ass tightens to the point of bruising as he pulls you onto his cock harder, faster, fucking up into you.

And you just know, you'll be sore tomorrow.

Your legs tremble as Satoru pounds into you, the force of his thrusts making it nearly impossible to keep your balance. If it weren't for the bruising grip of his hands on your ass and the wall at your back, you'd have collapsed by now.

The sounds of your fucking fill the room—the wet slaps of skin against skin, the squelch of your pussy being plowed, the splashing of water, and your shared moans echoing off the tiles.

"Fuck, I wanna hear you scream my name when you come on my cock. Can you do that for me?" He yanks you impossibly closer, mashing your body against his as he thrusts into you at a truly punishing pace.

Every inch of your overheated skin is pressed flush against his, slick and slippery as the steaming water pours over you both. Your nipples drag deliciously against his hard chest and your clit grinds against his pelvis with every aggressive pump of his hips.

Your head lolls back, mouth falling open in a silent scream as your orgasm crushes over you. Every muscle seizes, your cunt clamping down on Satoru's cock.

"Fuck, love, you're gonna make me come if you keep squeezing me like that," Satoru chokes out, his rhythm faltering as your spasming walls squeeze him.

Somehow he fucks into you even harder, moaning with the effort as he chases his own release. His strokes turn sloppy, every snap of his hips bruising your cervix, but you welcome the sweet ache, crave it.

You arch into him, meeting his thrusts. "Satoru, please. I need it, need to feel you come inside me," you whimper, hazy, lost to everything but his cock pounding into you.

"Shit, gonna fucking—" Satoru's words cut off into a groan as he slams into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt. His cock throbs inside you, spilling his seed deep into you.

He pumps into you shallowly as he empties every last drop, filling you to the brim until his cum is seeping out around his still-hard length and dripping down your trembling thighs to swirl down the drain.

After catching his breath, Satoru starts thrusting into you again, his pace slow and deliberate, making sure his cum stays where it belongs — inside you.

Your body writhes in his grasp, overwhelmed as he continues to stroke your sensitive walls. Every drag of his thick cock against inside your core has you shuddering, and you're not sure if you want to push him away or pull him impossibly closer.

"Satoru, please, it's too much," you whimper, clinging to his slick shoulders.

"I know you can take it, be a good girl for me, yeah?"

Despite your whimpered protests, you can already feel another orgasm building dangerously fast. Satoru feels it too, angling his thrusts to push even deeper into you.

"Come on love, give me one more. I know you have another one in you. Be a good girl and come on my cock again."

And it doesn't take long before you orgasm all over again. With a broken cry, you shatter on his thick cock, coming undone in his arms. Satoru groans as he feels you clenching around his length.

"Hmm, that's my good girl," Satoru rasps, never letting up. He fucks you through it, drawing out your orgasm until tears are leaking from the corners of your eyes and you're weakly pushing at his chest.

"I love when you're like this—fucked stupid on my cock, all messy and mindless. So goddamn beautiful."

Eventually, exhausted and completely spent, Satoru pulls out of you, hissing at the drag of your walls against his sensitive cock. You whine as he slips free, followed by an obscene gush of his cum.

He gently lowers you to the shower floor, keeping a strong arm banded around your waist as your trembling legs threaten to give out. "You did so good for me, love."

Satoru tips your chin up and captures your lips in a sweet, lingering kiss. You melt into him, surrendering to the slow slide of his tongue as he soothes your overwrought senses.

When he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours. "That was exactly what I needed after the shit day I had. You're always exactly what I need."

© lostfracturess. all rights reserved. do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my work. thanks for reading and supporting my writing !! ♡

[dinoace2]

For @hg-aneh , this comic they made :]

Bit of a different take, this time, what if it wasn't just that he didn't talk, but he couldn't?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a shitty day.

All the days had been shitty.

Aziraphale had lost count how many there had been so far, and rain doesn't exist in Heaven. But clouds massing over Soho suggested that the newest thunderstorm was on its way, and it was going to be a big one.

Earlier...

"No, no, please, you can't do this!" Aziraphale thrashed about, trying to loose the grip of the Powers who held onto each of his arms. One on either side, holding tight to ensure he couldn't move.

Uriel sneered at him, their eyes flaring with anger. "I already told you once, Aziraphale. You ask too many questions. Supreme Archangel or not, there still remain standards that must be met. Lines that cannot be crossed."

Aziraphale frowned. "It still seems quite reasonable to me to demand why! The very idea of creating Humanity, just to destroy it, it's...well, it's senseless! Sure, they've made mistakes, but they don't deserve utter annihilation for it! And they definitely don't deserve it if the only reason is 'the Almighty has grown bored of Her little social experiment'! That logic is, quite frankly, nothing short of childish and ridic- !"

One of the other angels cut him off with a knee to the stomach. He winced, letting out a huff of air as he sank to his knees.

"Thats enough!" Michael frowned. "I'm not sure what the Metatron saw in you before, but I'm glad He finally came to His senses." She leaned down, inches from his face. "I've half a mind to strike you down where you stand, traitor."

"S-surely," Aziraphale whispered, his voice hoarse. "Surely, this can't be what She wants. This can't be Her will."

“You don't have the right to suggest what She wants.” Michael scowled. “such blasphemy begs execution.”

“I think you and I both know what happened the last time you tried.” Aziraphale managed a smirk. 

“We're well aware, thank you.” She huffed. “we had to get creative this time around, I hate to say.” She waved a hand. “Uriel!”

She stepped aside as the other archangel approached, some sort of weapon in hand. They raised their arm to strike, and Aziraphale flinched, his eyes shut tight.

…

He paused. Wasn't something supposed to happen? He opened his eyes, only to find Uriel already putting their weapon away. 

What happ- he paused. His mouth had opened, his lips formed the words, but…he didn't say anything. No sound came out.

He tried again, getting the same result. Michael chuckled. “A fitting consequence for the angel who talked too much, no?” she waved to the angels on either side of him. “You know what to do.”

Aziraphale struggled in their grasp as they dragged him away, far past the point of no return.

~~~

It burns...

It's so cold, but it burns...

Aziraphale wasn't sure how long he'd been falling.

He felt infernal wind flying around him, whipping in his hair and tearing through his feathers. It was completely dark, he couldn't see anything. The only reason he knew which way was down was because thats the direction he was going.

Hellfire lashed at him as he Fell, flicking at his clothes, his skin, his wings.  Every burst of flame stung with a flash of icy, searing pain that burned deep into his soul.

He wanted to cry out, to scream, to call for something, anything, but when his mouth opened he was still trapped in the same empty, maddening silence as if he had done nothing at all.

He wondered if this was how Crowley felt when he Fell; freezing, burning, hurting...alone. Thinking through everything that led him here. Wondering if he did the right thing. Wondering if there was anything else he should have done, anything else he could have done, to possibly have changed what he now faced.

Crowley...

What would he say, when he saw Aziraphale like this? What would he do? Would he even do anything? Would he glare down at him? Say 'I told you so'? Grin and laugh? Or maybe he'd just walk away, not even dignifying a response. Aziraphale wouldn't even blame him for that, considering how he left things. Whatever Crowley decided to do, it was definitely going to be deserved.

He put a hand to his throat, realizing that, whatever happened, he wouldn't be able to say anything. Wouldn't be able to explain himself, or say anything that he wanted to, or... he paused, then hugged himself. For the rest of eternity, no matter how much he may want to, no matter how hard he'd try, he would never be able to tell Crowley those three bloody words that he'd always wanted to say. Those three blasted words that had been on the tip of his tongue for millenia. Those three damned words that he should have said before.

But...even if he said them now...there was no guarantee (or, at this point, no chance) that Crowley would accept it, surely. Not after everything he did...after everything that happened.

  He hugged himself, pulling his knees to his chest, and choked on a silent sob. Everything hurt, he felt confused and scared and ruined. All he felt he could do was fall, and wait for the crash.

~~~

Aziraphale's eyes opened. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know what he was. He felt nothing at all. But at the same time he felt everything…and it all hurt. His lungs burned and his eyes stung. A cloud of ash lingered around him, smothering the nearby air and nearly making him choke.

He wanted to curl up, to cry, to never move again. He felt like he couldn't move, yet still that he had to. His face hardly moved, his expression limp and exhausted and miserable. In all fairness, that's exactly how he felt. Nothing. 

He gathered what strength he had and pulled himself to sit up, looking around. His skin stung with burns and his eyes couldn't quite focus. His fingers curled in coarse, sharp, black sand beneath him, and waves lapped at his feet. A burnt smell came from the bubbling ‘water’. Sulfur…? It looked like some sort of…infernal beach.

He got to his feet, brushing the sand off his coat and beginning to walk. Hell's offices must not be far from here.

Sure enough, after walking for a while he made it to a dim-lit building, greenish light spilling out of the few windows. Heaven's basement, indeed.

When Aziraphale opened the doors, all went suddenly still and silent. All eyes fell on him. The cramped crowds parted as he walked past, perhaps out of recognition, perhaps out of fear. He stopped one demon on his way, asking for directions by simply pointing a finger up.

~~~

The clouds overhead were dense and dark, nearly blotting out the natural sunlight of the late afternoon. Thunder rolled in the distance, deep and low, a promise of the storm that was to come.

A distinct ding echoed in the empty Soho street corner, and a cloud of ash spilled out onto the sidewalk.

As if to gather what dignity he had left, Aziraphale straightened his coat, straightening the wrinkles in the fabric, and approached A.Z. Fell and Co. The first raindrops of the oncoming tempest splashed against the pavement.

He hesitated as he reached for the door. The bookshop was an embassy after all. Demons aren't allowed to pass without permission...would he even be able to go inside his own- well...not his anymore - home? His fingers clasped around the doorknob and gently turned it, breathing out a sigh of relief when nothing stopped him.

The familiar chime of the doorbell was almost comforting as he stepped inside, but relief was quick to be replaced by regret.

It was dark. The lights were all out, the shades all drawn. The shop looked untouched, and while ordinarily that would be a good thing, not like this. Everything was covered in a visible layer of dust. He swiped his finger on the till counter, carving a revealed line of clean wood beneath the soft gray film. Not just untouched, but abandoned.

You poor thing...wasn't Muriel supposed to look after you?

Among the stagnant, silent scenery, a mop of long red hair was draped across a table. The body slumped beneath it stirred at the sound of the doorbell. Golden eyes blinked slowly, adjusting to the shift in lighting.

Aziraphale stood still, saying nothing, doing nothing. What happened to you? How long was I gone? How long have you been alone? His mind raced with questions that he couldn't voice.

Once he noticed the figure in front of him, Crowley was quick to sit upright, eyes wide. "Oh..." Frantic emotions of all natures flashed across his expression as he tried to determine whether the sight before him was really and truly there.

"Oh!"

He got to his feet, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well! Look who bothered to show up!" A sharp grin took over his face as he sauntered up to the visitor. "The Supreme Asshat of Heaven, dirtying his clean little shoes to come and laugh  at the pitiful, sad demon." His voice came out as a hiss, laced with bitter sarcasm and poorly-disguised sadness. Aziraphale didn't move, didn't respond. He couldn't.

I'm so sorry, dear…is that what you think ive been feeling? What I've been up to? Why would I ever mock you, I could never-

Crowley put his hands up and spoke in a mocking tone. “‘Ooh, poor Crowley, he must be feeling so pathetic, all alone’.” He grinned wider, his arms flat at his sides. “Well. The joke's on you. I'm better than ever on my own. Just me. A team of Myself.” He stepped forward once more, blinking away tears. “I don't need you!”

Aziraphale just looked at him, part of his mind wondering if this new form could cry.

Inches away from his face, Crowley nearly shouted, “So tell me, Angel, why did you come back?! Why are you here, Aziraphale?!”

With a shaky breath and a whoosh of feathers, Aziraphale answered his question. It…seemed the easiest way to communicate, considering the circumstances. Thunder cracked outside, a flash of light through the windows highlighting the jet-black wings from behind. He could do nothing but watch, as the color drained from Crowley's face.

“You….you-” he was still for a moment, quiet and shaky. His anger seemed to shift, still present but no longer directed at Aziraphale. “You idiot!” He launched forward and grabbed Aziraphale by his jacket’s lapels. “Why, Aziraphale?! Why did you leave?! Why did you go back?! Why?” He finally choked on a sob, collapsing against Aziraphale's chest. “Why, Angel…why…why…” He dissolved into broken cries, sinking to his knees as he begged for answers.

Oh, Crowley…

They sat in silence for a long while, Aziraphale unsure of what to do. He certainly couldn't say anything.

When Crowley's sobs slowed to soft whimpers, the angel stepped back. Crowley looked up at him, confusion in his gaze.

Aziraphale took a breath, then recited the simple, memorized steps in his head. Stepped forward with one hand up and the other on his hip, kicked his leg back and lifted his arms, spun around on one foot, and ended in a bow. You were right, you were right, I was wrong, you were right. He sunk down on the bow, propping himself on one knee and keeping his head low.

Crowley was silent, his jaw slack as he processed what just happened. 

“...Angel-”

He reached up, gently holding Aziraphale's cheek with one hand. Aziraphale closed his eyes, leaning into the demon's touch.

“...say something…please…” He whispered, leaning closer.

‘I can't,’ Aziraphale mouthed, trying to gesture to his neck. ‘I'm sorry.’

Crowley paused, nodding slightly. He seemed to understand. He pulled him close, pressing their foreheads together. “...Heaven took it from you…didn't they.” It was more of a statement than a question. When Aziraphale nodded, he sighed. “Those angels and their ‘poetic justice’, huh? They…they think they have the right to take everything…I get it. I've been there. Though I'm sure you know that already, heh.” He smiled weakly, and he felt a silent chuckle shake in Aziraphale's chest.

“...im glad you came back,” Crowley whispered. “I…im sorry how I acted…what I said, when you left…a-and…the…the kiss, i…im so sorry…I wish it had happened under better circumstances…or…maybe even just…never at all, I…I just…you…” his rambling trailed off, as Aziraphale cupped his face in both hands, gently lifting his chin.

The little space between them closed, their lips falling together as both demons desperately clung to one another, their only lifeline in an otherwise empty world. This wasn't like the last one. The last one was a plea to stay…this one was a promise. 

Tears finally fell down Aziraphale's cheeks, stinging his skin as he pulled Crowley closer still. He pressed kisses to his lips, his cheek, along his jaw, anywhere he could reach. He mouthed what he couldn't say against Crowley's skin, three words over and over, whispered silently wherever he touched. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Crowley pulled away, if only to breathe for a moment. “Aziraphale…” He wiped at the tears on his cheeks with his thumbs.

He hugged him, pulling him into a tight embrace. “my offer still stands, you know…our side…together. Just us…if- if you're interested, I mean. I…I know, it…sounds lonely…but…nothin’ wrong with being lonely together, is there?” He offered a weak smile. 

Aziraphale smiled, a real, true smile for the first time since getting on that bloody elevator oh-so-long ago, nodding as he clung tightly to his other half.

Together. Our side. As long as we have each other.

~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading! :]

[sugar-omi]

I THINK I FINALLY GOT IT TO WORK.... jfc anywayz this is nasty n i love it. so fellow monster freaks, this is for you my loves!!!! <333

DAY FOUR — MONSTER FUCKING

*kinktober masterlist | *ao3

tags : NSFW, fem/afab reader, dub-con just bc y'all are so outta it, (mentioned/implied) dom/sub space, mermaid!cove x human!reader, soft to mean dom cove, biting, scratching, stomach bulging, knotting ment, ignore the kinda scary mer pregnancy bit okay

synopsis : cove finally lets you spend his heat with him, and your mermaid boyfriend is so much different than you had thought...

maybe you should have listened to cove when he said humans couldn't handle a mermaids heat. at least not without fighting for their life.

mermaids are naturally rough during their heats, biting and fighting for dominance over the other.. not to mention the sheer size of them.

cove is bigger than the average merman, "standing" at 12 feet tall.

which is something you should have factored in along with the sharp teeth and claws. because now, you're in a isolated underwater cove, with a horny, giant mermaid who is currently rearranging your guts.

"cove-!" you cry, pushing against his chest. it's fruitless, and you're just asking for more assertiveness, more pain

"stay still." cove growls, his sharp eyes striking through you, urging you to stay still and take it. you whine, your eyes rolling back. you know cove is trying to be gentle, but his mind is clouded.

"i-i can't take more!" you whimper. even though he's proportional for a merman of his size, it's too much for you. you couldn't possibly take all of his dick. "it won't fit-" you drawl, the words straining through gritted teeth.

cove kisses your cheek, licking your tears. "it's okay, it's okay..." he comforts, panting from the effort to control himself. "you can take it... i've prepared you for this.."

you whine when he moves again, the prominent ridges on the underside of his dick stretching you open.

he really did try to prepare you, gifting you a toy roughly the size of his dick and some smaller ones to work up to his size. cove even ate you out beforehand, his fingers slowly stretching you open and making sure you would come out as unscathed as possible.

cove kisses you, swallowing your whines and moans and trading it for his long tapered tongue.

you kiss back, letting cove consume your senses and take away all your burdens.

bitten, bruised, and sore, it's so worth it. to be connected with cove on this level.. it's maddening.

"are.. you okay?" cove pants into your ear, his fingers flexing around your waist as he tries to keep restraint.

you swallow, drool pooling in your mouth. "yes, yes, please move…"

cove fixes his grip on your body to move you the way he wants, his hands are so big they easily wrap around your waist and the heat coming from cove makes you feel like you're burning…

"ah-!" you drape yourself over cove. wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. he's moving your body so easily..

you know you're much smaller than cove, so his strength shouldn't be a surprise. but the way he's moving your body up and down on his cock like you're his personal cock sleeve drives you crazy.

"covee~" you drawl, your eyes rolling back. fuck you're losing your mind.

every part of your body and mind is consumed with pleasure, any thoughts you have melt and reform to think about nothing but cove and his dick.

cove's nails dig into your skin, pearls of blood coming to the surface and washing away with the movements of your hips.

the scratches should hurt, cove's claws aren't for decoration afterall, but it seems that medicine cove gave you helps with the pain you are sure to endure during his heat.

cove groans, "fuck.. you're so tight…"

you pang, blinking away your fucked out haze. "you're… you're just too- ohh fuck- too big!"

cove's laugh is cut off by your twitching cunt tightening around him, "jesus christ, y/n… stop tightening up.." cove growls.

you whine, dragging your nails down cove's scaled shoulders. "i'm-i'm trying.." you whine, "it feels so good."

cove drags his teeth over the exposed column of your throat. his lips trail down to your shoulder, and with much care that most mermaids wouldn't afford, he bites down hard enough to leave evidence of his teeth, and he runs his tongue over it soothingly.

you huff, squirming in cove's hold. "please, please cove! faster!"

cove peeks at you, stopping his assault on your neck and collarbone. "...can you handle it?"

you huff irritably, rolling your eyes. "i'm taking your dick right now aren't i? i'm not going to break."

cove glares, "it took you a week to get up to the toy that was only 2nd to my true size, you shook and cried that you couldn't take it."

his voice is booming, and maybe it should scare you, but something about cove reminding you how you pathetically ran to him to help you with the toy… it turns you on.

"you've trained your pathetic human cunt to take my dick and you still cried that it wouldn't fit." cove stares down at you, his height and gaze making you still and a fire is burning in your stomach.

"if i give you more than you can take, you'll break. aren't you worried about me hurting you?" cove inquires and his gaze is a mix of intrigue and confusion at your eager negative shake of your head.

"as if, you can't hurt a fly." you're testing him, he's already holding back for you and yet you can't help but want to push him over the edge…

cove growls, a sound that rumbles deep in his chest and his gills flare.

he doesn't say anything else, you've said enough after all and if it's more you want, it's more you get.

cove hugs you, one arm around your back and the other under your butt, and uses the power of his lower body to thrust up into you.

you yell, your nails scratching down his scales and to his back, surely scratching off skin if cove's hiss is anything to go by.

with the change of pace, the last couple inches of cove's dick forces itself into you. you can't even catch your breath since with every rearing of his hips, the knot at the base of his dick pop in-and-out of you.

"cove!" you slap his shoulder, shaking at the stimulation.

cove nips at your shoulder and chest, leaving small marks where he pleases. "you wanted more. don't blame me if you end up becoming my pathetic cock sleeve."

you whine, drool slipping past the corner of your lips.

he's really fucking you dumb, leaving you no choice but to think about nothing but his dick.

his fat tip keeps bumping against your cervix, hitting that lovely spot between your womb and your gummy walls.

"ah! ohh fuck!" you cry, cove has taken your nipple in his mouth, swirling his long tongue around the bud and teasing it with his teeth, your other breast in his hands, rolling the bud between his fingers.

you whimper and moan, shaking your hips in return. the sensation is so good, especially since he's keeping you from running with his arm around your waist, forcing you to take the pleasure he's giving you.

as if you would want to run anyway. you've become way too addicted to this now.

sure you and cove have been intimate before, but this is the most you've ever taken of his ridiculously large mer dick and this is the roughest he's ever been with you.

usually he’s the one holding your hips to keep you from sinking any further on his length. but now he's fucking you with reckless abandon, giving into your pleas after all this time…

it doesn't take much to succumb to the pleasure that you've been craving this whole time.

“cove!” you cry, your legs shaking.”i’m gonna, i’m gonna make a mess!”

cove growls, picking up pace, purposefully angling his tip to slam against your g-spot.

a couple solid thrusts is all it takes to have you shaking, your legs wrapped around cove as you squirt.

you're seeing white, your legs shaking and toes curling. you can barely process the groan that comes deep from cove's throat because of your convulsing cunt, you're wrapped so tightly around him that his cock drags against your walls when he tries to pull back.

you whine and shake, feeling sensitive after such an intention orgasm.

"cove…" you weakly call, pulling yourself up by his shoulders to try and get off his dick, that spongy spot inside your walls too tender from the abuse.

"don't pull away from me.." cove grunts, wrapping his arms around your waist tighter.

you pant, blinking and trying to keep consciousness.

you barely register that you're slipping into sub space, you've completely surrendered yourself to cove and obediently swallow the pearls he presses to your lips.

"mm, what.. what was that?" you ask, swallowing several times at the after taste. you know one of them was for breathing underwater, but you've never seen the other before..

"it's a contraceptive."

in this position you feel really small to cove, his body leaning over yours, completely trapping you between him and his nest.

combine that with his feral grin and sharp eyes… you're stuck and absolutely hypnotized.

"merfolk are very fertile, remember?" cove leans down to whisper in your ear. his voice deep and it penetrates your soul.

"we have a lot left to do before i impregnate you with my seed."

you shiver, looking at him with wide eyes. the thought doesn't terrify you, although maybe it should with what you know…

most humans don't survive it. and that's typically because they're not mated… something about DNA and special pheromones to relax and aid you in pregnancy and birth.

cove kisses your cheek, grinding his the tip of his dick near your womb. "don't worry… i know hoe to make it easier, don't be scared."

you nod mindlessly, trusting him.

"fuck!" you curse, the power of cove's thrust nearly burying you in his nest.

you cling onto his shoulders for dear life, your leg kicking out, allowing him to go even deeper.

"cove!"

"shhh, it's okay. just a bit more.." cove soothes, "i'm gonna cum soon…"

he groans, removing himself from your thoroughly marred neck to hold your legs and spreading them open, allowing him to piston into your weeping cunt.

you howl, throwing your head back and fisting the organized mess of blankets and materials of cove's nest, arching your back.

the movement just forces his dick deeper inside you, making you whine loudly.

you flip over, although not without much shaking, whimpering, and cove's nails digging into your skin.

although now that you've made it onto your stomach, weakly trying to escape the onslaught of pleasure, cove tugs your hips back and easily manhandled you.

he presses you against his chest with his hand, the other on your stomach, which he brings something interesting to your attention…

"fuck.. you see that?"

it takes you a minute to respond, too long because cove grabs you by your chin and tilts your head down, and shows you your stomach.

you moan lowly at the sight.

with every deep thrust you can see cove's dick protrude from your stomach, popping up right below your belly button.

cove lifts your head back up, his hand under your jaw, and he can't help but laugh at the tears running down your face.

"look at you, you've become a brainless slut."

you moan at cove's degrading comment. fuck you didn't think he had it in you but he does and you are losing it.

"maybe i'll keep you to myself forever. merfolk already have a bad reputation because of sirens.." cove growls in your ear, "wanna be my cute lil' cock sleeve, y/n?"

all you can do is beg and squirm for more.

"please.." you whimper, feeling cove's knot catching on your entrance. you want to be filled, you need him to cum inside..

cove laughs at your plea and kisses your lips, grinning a sharp toothed, wolfish smirk. "good girl, i'll take care of you…"

[blue-sadie]

Save Him

Moon System x Ex Reader

Summary: he thought he could save you but leaving you was the worst thing he ever did

Warning: pet death, dog name = buddy

Yn/3rd person pov

I groaned out in pain as I dragged my battered body across my floor crawling over to my fur baby "buddy" I chocked as I finally reached him I felt my eyes glaze over with tears as I looked over his wounded body "buddy".

My hands trembled as they went to touch him "no no no" I cried and slowly cradled him into my body "please stay with me please" I kissed his snot "p-please don't leave me".

The tears fell from my cheeks onto his fur dampening it I screamed out hoping someone would come help me "someone please" the tears flowed down my cheeks like a river and my lips quivered.

I let my eyes wonder over the recked apartment searching for anything that could help me my eyes locked on my phone I threw at the intruders "come on" I cried and slowly clawed my way to it still holding buddy tightly in my arms.

"Fuck" I coughed seeing a small splatter of blood land on the floor infront of me as I reached out for my phone screaming out as it damaged my wounds more.

I opened the phone as fast as my bloodied finger tips let me going straight to contacts my heart froze I didn't have anyone to call and for the life of me I couldn't remember the emergency number 'why can't they all be 911'.

I scrolled through my contacts knowing if I couldn't get a hold of anyone soon it would be the end for me, my hand stopped as I came to his number he was the only one in this area that could help me.

We didn't end on good terms so would he help me anyways I sighed in pain and pressed call it rang for a few minutes before being sent into voice mail "fuck" I cried and hit call again "please please pick up" I pleaded.

It went to voice mail again "m-marc, please I-I don't have anyone else to call, they broke in and I'm wounded buddy is hurt please.... I need you" my voice wavered as I spoke the last words.

My thumb hesitantly pressed the hung up bottom and it was like the whole world fell into a maddening silence except for the sound of my short breathes.

I placed the phone down beside me and sat myself up against the flipped over couch keeping buddy close to my chest hugging him tightly because I was afraid he'll disappear.

The minutes that passed felt like ours it was funny how when your in pain time almost slowed down into a complete stop, with each passing minute breathing started becoming harder and my vision started to darken.

I looked towards the door praying for something to happen and that's when I heard it the thundering foots coming down the corridor and the familiar voice I once loved "yn" he sounded breathless as he banged on the door.

I watched as the door flung open to reveal a very freaked out marc who rushed towards me "s-save him" I choked trying to pass buddy to marc but I didn't have the strength "shh I got to help you" marc whispered and gently took him from my arms and layed him beside.

I tried pushing his hands away from me "save him, save him please" I sob and tried to get out of his arms as he picked me up to get back to buddy's side "he'll want me to take care of you yn" marc tried calming me down but I just pushed my head into his neck trying to convince him to go back but all my words were landing on deaf ears.

He gently layed me in the back of the car and rushed to the driver's seat and as soon as the door closed I could see him change "t-take me back jake" I whimpered my throat tightening as I started to cough "I'm sorry mi amor" was all he said before driving towards the hospital but all I remember was rounding the first corner before sleep took me.

Jakes pov

I paced back and forth in the waiting room as steven frantically tried to calm himself down while marc didn't speak at all "this is all our fault" I stared at Steven in the mirror that was to the side of me "we did this to her they did this to her because of us".

We just listened to him because we knew he was right "Mr Lockley" I snapped turning towards the lady calling out to me "any news" I asked and walked to her swiftly she shook her head "she is still in surgery but I think it's best you head home we have your number for any updates on your friend".

My heart stung as she called yn our friend, I looked towards the mirror again and saw marc watching me with puffy eyes "ok gracius" I murmured and slowly walked out the door to my car "why are we abandoning her" steven shouted but I just ignored him and got in.

The drive was almost silent, Steven's shouts had turned into mutters and whispers, I was on autopilot I've driven there so many times I could do it blind folded "what are we doing here jake" marc spoke up for the first time "the least we can do is clean up the mess we caused" i muttered I closed my eyes and let steven take control.

Steven pov

I climbed up the stairs and with step getting closer my heart felt more shattered, I paused outside the broken door taking a long breath before pushing it open, I looked over all her ruined belongings "what have we done" I whispered and with shakey legs went inside.

My eyes locked on buddy's unmoving body I slowly went to sit close to him but not touch him, a single tear ran down my face as I stared at his blood covered fur I covered my face as the tears got worse "we could have saved them" my breathes quickened as I cried.

"If we just came earlier" I sunk further into myself with each word I spoke flashes of all the good memories we had filled my mind "she didn't deserve this" I whispered into my hands, "steven" I ignored marc and didn't even bother to look up "Steven" this time it was jake.

"What" I whispered my breath catching as I looked up "buddy" I asked causing the small dog to bark I looked around the apartment to see if this was a joke but no one else was there "buddy" I cried out in joy and brought the dog into my arms he squirmed in my arms and licked my face barking in excitement.

"H-how" I frowned my brows in confusion I looked behind me once more to see khonsu there "she is what we protect" he spoke calmly "she is the light no one shell extinguish" "thank you khonsu" I murmured and gently put buddy down.

My sadness felt lifted "let's fix this place up shell we" I smiled petting buddy one last time before standing up I sighed out and looked around the room "let's get to work" I murmured, I just did the basics like picking up all the broken pieces of her gadgets and shards of glass and putting back all her furniture back and when I was done with that I just felt like to do extra.

I washed all of her dirty clothes that were all over her bathroom floor, changed her bed sheets, I did the dishes sorted out her fridge and pantry even decided to vacuum and mop all her floors in till the place was spotless "good days work" I smiled admiring all of my hard work but suddenly a yawn escaped my lips "a quick nap won't hurt" I murmured and slowly collapsed onto her comfy couch.

Marc's pov

I stared at the familiar ceiling for I don't know how long its been about 5 days since the break in, I was stuck in my head for most of it, my hands softly petted buddy as he layed on my stomach I thought of many different ways we could have prevented this from happening or how I could stop this from happening in the future "we should go see her" steven murmured but I just sighed and moved buddy carefully off of me "she doesn't want to see us steven" I said and rubbed my face.

I looked towards the door as I heard nearing footsteps to the door the person knocked lightly and spoke "ms yn, it's the adoption agency" I tilted my head I confusion as I got up and opened the door "oh your not ms yn" the woman murmured looking down at her clip board in confusion "I'm her... friend im house sitting for a while may I help you with something" I sighed crossing my arms she nodded eagerly and brought out a cage that was behind her.

"Um this is her cat she has the food and everything the last time I check" the lady rambled and pushed the cage into my hands I nodded lifted the cage up to look in, my eyes softened as I saw the kitten we talked about adopting a few months perier "does he have a name yet" i asked "yes let's see here" she dragged her finger down the page "uh khonsau chandu I can't say that" the lady huffed and showed me the paper I laughed "khonsu" I whispered.

The lady nodded "here please sign here and here" I gently placed the cage inside and signed the paper "ok have a good day" the lady walked off hurriedly I closed the door quietly and slowly opened the cage so I didn't frighten it "come on little guy" I smiled to see the little kitten shyly walk out it looked around its surroundings his gaze landing on buddy who just sat patiently staring at him with curiosity I smiled fondly at the two.

My phone started to vibrate in my pocket and I took it out and answered it "hello" I murmured "hi Mr lockley, this is the hospital phoning to let you know ms yn is being released now and is being taken home I'm sure it would be easier if your there as well" I confirmed with the caller that I was already here "that is all thank you" the caller said before hanging up I popped my phone back into my pocket and took a deep breath "everything is going to be ok".

Yn pov

I stared out the window, he didn't come visit once maybe he hates me more now and just saved me out of guilt "we're almost there" the driver smiled back at me through the review mirror I gave him a forced smile back, I didn't want to go back and deal with the whole mess and... buddy I bit my lip I have to stay strong, my body trembled as the car came to a stop I felt weak and just wanted to srivel up and disappear "here we go ms" the driver opened up the door for me and helped me out.

"Do you need me to walk you u-" "I got it from here thanks" my eyes snapped to Marc's as he stepped out from my building the driver looked at me for confirmation I nodded slowly "ok have a nice day ms" the driver said before getting back in his car and driving off, I just stared at Marc not knowing what to saw "hi" he said nervously, I let out a shakey breathe "I'm sorry for getting you involved" I murmured making him frown his eyes in confusion "you don't have to apologize for that yn it wasn't your fault" he reassured walking up to me.

He wrapped his arm around me carefully "now come on we have a surprise for you" he smiled and helped me into the building "I swear Marc if you stuffed my dog I will chop of your balls" I murmured half jokingly, for some reason it almost feels like we're back to normal he chuckled and shook his head and urged me first into my apartment I hesitated for a minute "it's ok" he whispered rubbing his hand comfortly up and down my back I let out a sigh and opened up the door my eyes instantly widening.

"H-how" it was like time has been rewinded "buddy" I squealed out and caught the dog as he leaped into my arms I stumbled a bit but marc caught me "and look over there" he murmured his hands still around me as he pointed I looked over to see the cat I adopted slowly walking towards us I placed buddy and watched in aw as the two played, i glanced at marc to see him already staring at me, I felt my heart full once again "thank you guys" I smiled and leaned up onto my tip toes and layed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

He blushed and dark red his hands tighten around me keeping me close to him "I'm sorry yn" he whispered making me shake my head "you were only trying to protect me" I murmured "but that almost got you killed" I could see the tears welling up in his eyes I gently raised my hands to his face and caressed his cheeks "you did even though you ignored me the first time" I squinted my eyes playfully at him making him chuckle "you protect everyone every single day so you can protect me" I murmured and pecked his lips.

"I will always protect you, I thought I was by leaving you but it just shows me how much I need you and I'll never miss up like this again I promise you"

Tag.List

@sweetirilly @greekgods15 @neteyamyawne

[littlemarianah]

Now after this post you have to write a smut of Peeta and Katniss fucking in nature.

in response to this post.

Alright then, we all know that everlark is wild and raw! So I'll do it.

I lay down on the sand listening to the sound of lake water in my ear. On this sunny summer afternoon, after eating all those wild fruits we found on the way here. Everything seemed perfect. I spread my body on the warm sand and relax.

I hear Peeta start to draw on the paper, those rough chalks on the smooth sheet of paper. He puts the picnic blanket on the floor and sat down next to me. He doesn't like lying in the ground with nothing in between his butt from the dirt. It's silly, I laugh.

"What is it?" he asks, looking at me with his blond eyelashes shining in the sunlight. He looks so handsome today, his forehead is sweaty from the summer heat. There's only one thing that can make this afternoon better.

"I want you to kiss me." I say.

"Okay then." Peeta puts down the sheets of paper and leans over my body, giving me a peck on the lips, still tasting like wild strawberries.

"No, Peet. Give me a real kiss." I beg. He smiles, pleased to see me beg, but I don't care. He kisses me again, with a soft mouth this time, letting me use my tongue. When his hands touch my neck and his fingers tangle in my hair I feel such a strong heat in my stomach that I lose my breath. The feeling grows and spreads throughout my body making my face burn. My hands cup his cheeks and I bring him closer, if that's even possible. I want him with everything in my body. I want to devour him. I want more.

My hands go up to his hair, the more his lips move on mine, the more I feel like it's impossible not to have him for me right now. I lift my sundress up to the middle of my stomach, Peeta glances over and looks surprised. "Oh, love." he says breathlessly. "Do you really want to do this in the sand?”

"Please, Peeta." I say sighing.

He purses his lips, taking courage and wipes his hand on his shirt for a considerable time. He touches me through the fabric of my panties. It's enough to make my eyes soften and my head fall back. His eyes shine on mine and he kisses me again. This time, fiercely. With his hands running circles over my clitoris. It's not wonderful, but it's the spark I need to go crazy. I suck his lips with mine, I let my voice come out without any shame. We are in the middle of the forest, who could hear us?

My feet sink into the sand the more my body moves in pleasure. I take my hands to the hem of Peeta's pants and try undo his belt. I'm a little too dizzy to do this alone, so he helps me. It seems to me that he is also eager to have me because it takes him a little too long to get his pants down.

"You always catch me off guard." he says. I dig my fingers into the sand as he drags my underwear out. I open my legs and he lies between them. My lips tremble in anticipation of what is to come. I can't look away from his blue eyes.

He slides inside me and he lets out a moan so deep that it makes my belly burn. His voice sounds so good in my ears. I feel the difference there is when he doesn't put his fingers in first. He opens me up and I tighten around him. It's maddening. My body is so weak, that my arms can barely wrap around his neck. My eyes close. I lose my breath, my chest starts rises and falls so fast it feels like I'm hyperventilating.

I open my eyes again, and see him looking at me, just as stun as I am. His eyes don't leave mine for a second, blue and bright, wanting me so fiercely that it sends a shiver down my spine. Peeta pushes my leg open, being able to go a little deeper. I don't want to look into his eyes anymore, my moans are louder and more acute than I would like them to be, following my trembling breath.

“Katniss... is it good like that? ." Peeta whispers, I give an angry growl at his question. As if I wasn't already acting completely crazy under him. I refuse to answer. His lips come and touch mine, they crush each other. Gasps come out of his mouth and his tongue vibrates with his moans. "Tell me if it's good." he repeats the question.

I take a deep breath and hug his neck. "Obviously it's good." I moan.

That's it, guys. I let your imagination flow now. 🫣🤧 I'm tired lol Maybe one day I'll finish it and put it on Ao3

[jumpywhumpywriter]

"I Want You to Scream" -- Hero Tortured by Villain, Intimate Whumper part 4

Warnings: betrayal, PTSD, chains/restraints, severe torture, blood, cauterization, iron rod branding, knives, intimate whump, etc.

The poll I posted asking which of my stories people wanted me to continue most is over, and this was the #1 most wanted continuation!! So as promised, here's a new chapter for it! I'm always open to continuing other stories too if requested.

Hero woke up screaming. His whole body was on fire with agony, there was something stuck to his face, and several sharp things buried in his arms. He started clawing frantically at the thing on his face, hyperventilating because he couldn't breathe right -- but strong hands grabbed his wrists and kept them down.

"It's okay, it's just an oxygen mask," a soothing voice said, but it sounded too far away, hard to hear over the blood roaring in his ears, his own terrified, skittering pulse. And his vision was blurry, all he could make out was the dark silhouette of a person looming over him.

Where am I? WHERE AM I?! Hero fought hard against the firm hold, a ragged wail escaping him as another wave of pain washed over him.

"Can't you do something?!" The voice hovering over him said.

"I'm working on it! He wasn't supposed to wake up so fast!" A second unknown voice barked.

Hero panicked, thrashing and struggling as much as his ravaged body would allow, maddening screams filling the room as several pairs of hands grabbed his limbs, pinning him down. Vaguely familiar voices were talking all around him, but he couldn't figure out where he knew them from.

An animalistic, primal fear reared up inside him, the desperation to get away and escape -- but there were too many enemies, too many hands subduing him. Amidst his weak flailing, something sharp pricked him in the shoulder, and he felt a cold liquid flood into his veins. A needle. What was he being injected with?? What was this some new form of torture?!

His struggles were lessening, his heartbeat slowing against his will despite the adrenaline pounding through him. He tried to scream again as another agonizing muscle spasm ripped through him, he really did, but the sound only ended in a high whine.

Someone's fingers were running soothingly through his hair, gently massaging his scalp. At first Hero flinched, throwing his head to the side to escape the contact -- but then he focused on the feeling, using it to distract himself. It felt good, he admitted, and he was desperate to cling on to any sensation that wasn't more blinding pain.

Hero instinctively leaned into the soft touch with a pathetic whimper, craving even the most basic touches of kindness.

"It's okay to let go, let it all slip away..." a voice murmured.

But Hero was terrified of the darkness closing in on him, dragging him back. The edges of the world were turning an awful shade of black, sapping his sight away.

It's okay to let go...

It's okay to let go...

It's okay.... to let go...

He latched on to the words, the echoing thoughts slowly dying out in his mind... until the empty void that awaited him swallowed him completely.

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

The crawl back to consciousness was much harder this time, like wading through thick mud. The first thing Hero noticed is that he wasn't in searing agony like before -- the pain was still there, sharp and insistent, but lessened to a throbbing ache. But even so, his anxiety climbed. He still didn't know where he was, what was happening. Had Villain taken him back to her lair to torture him further? The hands that had pinned him earlier... who knows how long ago it was... did they belong to her henchmen?

He could hear a quiet beeping noise that kicked up a notch in speed, beeping faster, and through his delirious mind he somehow recognized it as a heart monitor. But if that was the case, was he in a hospital? Villain would never give him medical luxuries like this.

"His heart rate's spiking too fast." A gruff voice made him jump in his skin, heart springing to his throat with fear. "I'm gonna have to knock him out again before it climbs too high."

"Wait, let me try something first." A new voice, right next to where Hero was laying. "Hero? Can you hear me? Are you awake?"

Hero hesitated, then twitched his hand in acknowledgment -- he hardly had the strength for anything more. His pulse calmed a little at the genuine concern lacing the voice -- concern for him meant he wouldn't be hurt, he reasoned.

It took a gargantuan amount of effort, but Hero managed to slowly crack his eyes open, blinking dizzily until his vision focused on the face looming over him.

"...Sidekick?" He whispered hoarsely in disbelief, his voice barely more than a raspy breath of air from all the screaming.

A choked sob, and then someone was hugging him, arms wrapping tight around his torso in an awkward embrace on the medical bed. At first Hero recoiled, but relaxed a second later at the familiar presence. He was safe. He didn't know how, but he was at the hero headquarters in the medical bay, he was sure of it now. How else would Sidekick be here? And the first voice -- it must have been Medic's.

"What... happened?" Hero croaked, noticing how dry and parched his mouth was. How long had he been out...?

Sidekick's gaze dropped to the floor, his demeanor turning uneasy and tense. "Our team tracked you down just in time to get the drop on Villain," he started. "But it was bad. We thought we were too late, there was so much blood everywhere..." Sidekick grimaced. "Half of us thought you'd die on the way here... you needed a lot of work from Medic and a bunch of transfusions to save you."

"And Villain...?" Hero trailed off expectantly, but his stomach twisted with fear and nausea at the brief pause that followed his words.

"...She got away," Sidekick mumbled.

Hero's chest seized, it was hard to breathe. "...How?" His voice came out in a racking cough that shook his whole body.

"We barged in and thought we got the drop on her, but she had everything planned out from the start, Hero. She was already five, no, ten steps ahead. The instant we kicked down the door she jumped out the window and fled. And she even left a note. She knew we'd find you like that. She wanted us to." Sidekick's lip curled with disgust and hatred.

Hero wet his lips uncomfortably, apprehensive with sudden fear as he remembered the one thing he hadn't brought up yet. "Sidekick -- about those pictures of me on the bed--"

Sidekick raised a hand to cut him off, and Hero's mouth instantly clicked shut.

"You don't have to worry about any of that, the whole team knows you'd never agree to something like that of your own free will. Villain tried to create a trust rift between us, but failed. We believe in you, Hero. You've done nothing wrong."

Maybe not this time... but I did do something wrong in the past. So terribly wrong, Hero though miserably. A rattling breath wheezed out of his lungs as he sighed. Then he stiffened, remembering.

"Sidekick, about Villain..." He chewed the inside of his cheek, mulling over his words before speaking. "Villain isn't just another criminal... she's Old Hero."

Even the heart monitors themselves seemed to go quiet at that in shock.

"She... what?" Sidekick sputtered, then whirled to face Medic, who had been watching things unfold without saying a word. "Just how much pain meds did you give him?!"

"I'm not that high," Hero rasped indignantly. "And I'm serious. Villain is Old Hero. The same hero thought to have been killed by the citizens after I revealed her affair with a villain. Everything that's happening right now... it's all my fault. I shouldn't have gone sticking my nose into other heroes' business. If I'd just kept quiet when I learned about what Old Hero was spending her free time doing--" his breath hitched, and he swallowed dryly.

"So that's how Villain's stayed so many steps ahead of our team," Sidekick breathed with dawning realization. "It's because she knows us. Our strengths, our weaknesses, our tells in a fight... no wonder we haven't caught her yet! Because she used to be one of us." His voice came out in a hiss, eyes huge as he started pacing anxiously next to the medical bed.

"So that's why--the note she left--" Sidekick shook his head grimly, talking to himself.

"...What did the note say?" Hero hesitantly asked. He wasn't completely sure he wanted the answer.

Sidekick's alarmed eyes flicked up to meet his, and he reluctantly pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket to read aloud. "It says... 'Say hi to (Superhero's real name) for me, she's next on the list. P.S, Hero might need therapy'. And then... a smiley winking face emoji?"

Hero snorted a humorless laugh. "Yup, sounds like Old Hero all right."

Sidekick's face was ashen. "You weren't lying... Villain really is Old Hero. How could we have not seen it sooner..."

"Villain played her masks well," Hero admitted grimly. "That's why she was the best undercover spy in our hero team. She can don a dozen different personalities on a whim." His heart sank to his stomach, and he sat himself up with a grunt, carefully pulling out IV lines from his arms, white gauze shifting with his movements. "I need to talk to the other heroes, after I get cleaned up. We need to make a plan, and fast, before Villain makes her move. Knowing her, she'll use the ripples of shock she created by torturing me to slip inside our base of operations unseen while everyone's busy worrying over me."

Sidekick suddenly looked nervous, fidgeting with the edge of his shirt. Suspicious. "Oh, uh, I don't think you should be moving just yet--"

"Sidekick."

"You must be exhausted after your ordeal, why don't you just take it eas--"

"Sidekick." Hero said it more firmly this time, his voice shaky but stern. "Why don't you want me to get up yet?"

Sidekick's gaze dropped to the floor, filled with guilt and sorrow, two emotions Hero hadn't expected. "Ah, it's... it's your wounds, I--" he glanced over at Medic for help. "C-Can you tell him instead?" He squeaked.

Medic quickly raised his hands, scooting his chair back. "I'd rather not. I'm the one who spent hours patching Hero up, that should earn me a break."

Sidekick's shoulders drooped, his face crumpling as he turned back to Hero. "It's hard to explain... it might be better if I show you instead..." His voice was a strained whisper. Why was everyone so uneasy about Hero's wounds? It wasn't like they hadn't seen vicious battle wounds before.

Hero's stomach churned with unease at how cryptic Sidekick's words were, but he nodded, sliding over the edge of the medical bed to try out his legs -- and promptly collapsed. Not even the strong painkillers in his system could override the blasting agony that streaked up his whole back and shoulders. The intensity stole his breath away, leaving him drowning in air -- before arms caught him, holding him up so he didn't hit the floor.

Hero instinctively jerked away from the hands with a terrified shout, because for one second he was back with Villain, at her mercy as she cut into him again and again -- for one second, he could feel the hands disguised as help turn right back into hurt.

"Hero! It's me! Calm down!" Hero snapped back to himself, head swimming as a low whine escaped parted lips. He hadn't realized he was shaking so hard, trembling violently as Sidekick held him to his chest. He sucked in shallow, uneven breaths, trying to calm his racing heartbeat.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to spook you," Sidekick hastily apologized. "I didn't think about how you'd react, given what you've been through..."

Hero felt cold fingers on his wrist, and realized that Medic had appeared right next to Sidekick, checking his pulse with worried eyes.

"I'm f-fine," Hero snapped a little less-than-convincingly, shoving Medic's hand away. Medic let it happen, and shared a glance with Sidekick before backing off.

"Come on, let's get you to a washroom," Sidekick muttered, and slung one of Hero's arms across his shoulders, pulling him up.

Hero gasped at the pain that speared him, but it was a little more bearable now that he'd braced himself for it. He leaned heavily against Sidekick for support as Sidekick guided him out of the medical wing.

But Sidekick hesitated once they reached the bathroom door. Hero was the one who took the first step in, taking his arm off Sidekick and limping on his own until he reached the sinks, a giant mirror mounted above them.

"Hero, you might want to wait before you--" Sidekick started to speak, but Hero was already ripping his shirt off, tugging at the gauze and bandages wrapped around him. He winced and flinched in pain at every small movement, and soon he felt Sidekick's presence standing right behind him, and could see his friend's reflection in the mirror as he wordlessly helped remove the medical dressings one by one without comment.

Hero froze when the last of it was discarded, leaving his torso bare. He gaped in horror at the mirror, shocked at the extent of the damage.

On the front of his shoulder a large emblem was emblazoned into angry red flesh, charred and blistered around the edges. Villain's mark from when she was Old Hero. It was perfect, too perfect, clear that Villain had taken great care to make it last and make sure the shape was pristine. A permanent brand from his torturer. Every time he ever saw himself again, he'd be forced to remember her. For the rest of his life.

Hero swallowed the bile in his throat as he angled himself to see his back, and had to force himself not to gag and vomit on the spot. His back was practically shredded, long lines of dried red criss-crossed over his skin. It made a pattern -- an intricate form of art, and what was worse was that it was his own hero emblem. A star with a triangle in the middle. The same sign engraved into every piece of the hero suit he wore to battle, the emblem that gave people hope when they saw it.

Seeing the wounds like that hurt Hero on a deeper level. And that was exactly what Villain had intended, he knew. Villain was one who always went right for the heart above all else.

'The best way to break someone is to leave something behind that will last an eternity,' she'd once told him. 'Physical pain is temporary. It hurts and then it's gone. But invisible pain? That stuff will stay with you... forever.' Hero had found the words odd at the time, spoken by Old Hero as she sat with him on the roof of a skyscraper drinking wine over the latest victory thanks to her skills. The irony was revolting.

"...Hero?" Sidekick's worried voice brought him back from the haunting memories, and he realized he had a white-knuckled grip on the sink ledge.

His stomach lurched violently, nausea rushing up his throat, and he couldn't stop himself from retching, heaving the last feeding tube-fed meal into the sink. His body was shaking when it was finally over, and he spat a last mouthful of bile and stomach acid out before wiping his mouth with a towel.

He felt like crying, like shouting, like screaming at the ceiling how unfair it was. All his anger, the excruciating pain he was in both inside and out… it was too much to handle. But Sidekick was here with him. And he didn't want to fall apart in front of his teammate. He wanted to cling to that last shred of dignity that hadn't been stripped away by Villain.

So he forced down that agony in the place where hope goes to die, pulling the broken pieces of himself together into a man-shaped figure and composed himself, dissociating. He didn't have time to break down. Villain… Villain was on the loose. And he had to find a way to stop her with his team, before she found another victim to claim.

But the hollow void in him ached with something dark and twisted as he caught another glimpse of his ruined and violated body in the mirror, shaking his resolve.

Hero shook his head with a shiver, gritting his teeth. “We have to talk to the team,” he forced out. “Put a plan together.”

“But don't you want some time to yourself to recov–”

“NO!” Hero cut Sidekick off a little harsher than he meant to, and Sidekick's eyes widened.

“No,” Hero repeated, softer this time. “I can do this. I have to. Villain needs to be stopped… no matter the cost.”

⏪️ Back

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal

[icycoldninja]

Degrading (Genesis x Reader angst)

"Your degradation is getting worse, Gen."

"You think I haven't noticed?"

"You need to take it easy."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Genesis huffed a sigh, crossing his legs on the sofa the two of you were sitting on.

"I just can't. There are things I must do." You frowned at that, taking his arm, which was wrapped in a tattered, fading leather sleeve, and lifted it into your lap, twining your fingers with his.

"You have to slow down and relax. You're not getting any better. Look at you," You reached up and brushed some of his grayish-auburn hair out of his face. "You're paler than the dead, your skin is literally peeling off your face, you haven't eaten in days, and you look like you haven't slept for weeks." Gensis sighed again, resting his cheek on his palm.

"I have unfinished business to attend to, darling, people that must be removed from existence. I can't afford to relax, or else--"

"But you're dying!" You interrupted, louder than you meant to. "You're literally crumbling away into dust, you dumbass!"

"Yes, I know," Genesis sighed, reaching up and massaging his prematurely wrinkling forehead. "Please stop reminding me."

"How can I when it's literally etched on your face?!"

"It won't be that way for long. Hollander has a cure, I must only help him and wait--he will restore me to normal."

"Wait? For how long?"

"I..." Genesis paused; he didn't know the answer to that question himself. After drawing in a weak, shaking breath, he admitted his ignorance. "I'm afraid...I don't know."

Silence fell upon the both of you, dragging out each minute like a knife across flesh. The sound of nothingness was maddening and infuriating, all at the same time. Your nerves were already tense before, but now, they felt like they were going to snap. Judging by the expression on Genesis's face, so were his. After a long, long while of noiselessness, you spoke.

"You don't know?"

"No. I...do not." Genesis let out a great sigh and began to tiredly massage his eyes. You squeezed his hand gently, scared to put too much force into it because you could feel how bony and fragile it was now. Once again, silence filled the air; the only audiable sounds being those of your breathing. Eventually, Genesis tore his hand away from yours and covered his face with it.

"What do I know?" He mumbled, muffled voice starting to sound grated and forced. "Nothing. I'm placing my life in the hands of someone I don't even trust. I...I'm going to die."

By the time you realized the weight of what you'd done by initiating this conversation, it was too late. Genesis had turned away, his face buried in his decaying hands, quietly weeping over the armrest of your couch; his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe in between sobs.

"Gen, hey," You mumbled, reaching out and grabbing his shoulder, your face burning with embarssment and regret. "Don't cry...you're not going to die." Genesis refused to answer you and instead curled up against the armrest tighter, his entire body shaking violently. "Come on, don't be like that," You urged, "You're going to be fine...you just need to...relax....and take it easy..."

If you hadn't felt warm, wet droplets slide off your cheeks and splatter on your clothes, you wouldn't have known you were crying too.

"Don't lie to yourself," Genesis finally croaked, still refusing to look you in the eyes. "Or me. You and I know the truth." Neither of you spoke another word, mostly because there was nothing else to say. No matter how hard you wanted to believe that it wasn't true, no matter how badly you tried to take care of him, facts were facts. The Grim Reaper was waiting at your doorstep, ready to take Genesis's soul.

[desires-of-chain]

Desperate

hello hello! It is I, wizard anon, back from the depths! Apologies for my absence, autumn kicked my ass and currently winter is also kicking my ass, but I finally got the urge to continue writing some good good smut hehe - starting off with the long promised trans Time fic <3 No clue if this new fic is a one off or if I'm finally back in my groove, but nonetheless I hope you enjoy!

I also have some older stuff I never submitted (because it's all afab reader x warriors and I didn't want to submit not gn stuff and for only one character over and over again fjdjsh) so I shall probably also finally send them in.

With that out of the way, on with the show!

- wizard anon

Content: amab reader(gn pronouns), transmasc Time, dirty talk, breeding kink(no ment of pregnancy), one line of cum eating, creampie. Word count: 1345

You have him pinned to the wall. You're shorter than him, but Time has never once doubted your strength - it turns him on how easily you can push him around. The others see him as the strongest, Biggoron Sword in hand and plate heavy upon his back, but he knows the truth: you're the one in charge, here.

They’ve all finally found a suitable place to bed down for the night - Lon Lon Ranch, Talon out in town and Malon far too fond of his gaggle of trouble makers to ever let them stay out and camp in her view. And she apparently saw the same thing in your eyes that has been boring against the back of his head for the past three days, because she got everyone else distracted with outdoor work and told the two of you to go set up the spare rooms on your own. Giving you some much needed privacy to finally do… this.

“I wanna fuck you so bad,” you pepper kisses and nibbles against his neck, “I need you, baby, I need to fill you up. Stuff you full, fuck…”

He doesn't know what’s gotten into you. You’re insatiable, absolutely ravenous. He had to shoot you down last night with a proposal of sneaking off from watch to fuck in the woods, and the way your face fell into moping as he explained it was incredibly unwise to do so almost had him going back on rationality. And from then to now, it seems your urges have only built up even more.

You slide your hand into his trousers and immediately begin rubbing his clit. His head falls against the wall, choked groan on his lips.

“You're so gorgeous, let me fill you up? We’re alone and there's a bed. There’s no better time than now, handsome.”

In all honesty, he doesn’t care to wait much longer either. As much as he loves them, since getting into a relationship with you he has become rather sour at times at the other Links’ near constant presence. Whenever it seems he finally gets a moment alone with you, someone will turn up. Some privacy to indulge in human needs more often would be nice. Perhaps that’s why you’re so worked up - you finally reached your breaking point. He might have, too.

“Yes, please, let’s do it.”

You pull your fingers out from his trousers, and he can't help but buck his hips at the sudden lack of stimulation. Then you're dragging him over to the bed by the tunic, and he follows like a lost puppy. You really are very strong - he’s pushed down onto the bed easily, boots and trousers almost ripped off by your hand. You don’t bother with taking his tunic off, simply pushing it up until it’s bunched up at his neck, chest exposed. Your hungry look as your eyes roam across his breasts and stomach is maddening.

“I wanna breed you so bad…”

Oh, what that does to his brain. He spreads his legs for you immediately, giving you full access to begin opening him up with your fingers - which you get to swiftly, two fingers all the way in and curling just the way he likes.

“You're so wet, you want me so bad, want me to fuck you good, milking my fingers already.” Time moans, your words frying his brain in tandem with how you pump your fingers - three now, pressing against his walls and making embarrassingly hot noises. He’s so worked up already, desperate, and everything that comes tumbling out of your mouth only makes it worse.

A tantalising idea pops into his head.

“Can I ride you?”

The fingers inside him still, before carefully pulling out. You bring your fingers to your lips and clean them up, and Time’s mouth drops open.

“Of course you can.”

He shuffles about on the bed, perching on the corner as you flop down to replace him and hastily pull off your own boots and trousers. He takes the moment to pull his tunic over his head so it's no longer sitting awkwardly around his shoulders and breasts. Now completely bare, he watches you watch him as you pull your cock out of the confines of your underwear, pumping yourself slowly and spreading your precum as a makeshift lubricant. Despite himself, he flusters at your undivided attention while putting on such an erotic display, ears red and pinning up. You catch his eye and smirk.

“Well, come here, handsome. Grab the lube first though.”

Time dives over for their bags, fishing out the jar of lubricant quickly and returning to the bed. You fetch it out of his hand and prepare yourself just as quickly, then he's climbing onto your lap and lining himself up. Your hands rest against his hips, firm and sure.

Time gasps as he begins to sink down on your cock. His chest heaves, pressure and pleasure and heat mixing into an almost addictive cocktail in his head, dizzy and cloying. The way you gaze up at him certainly doesn’t help.

Your hands squeeze his hips, urging him down further, and soon enough he’s taking you in all the way.

He pants. His thighs squeeze against your hips as he adjusts to the feeling of being so full. Every nerve in his body is on fire with pleasure - your hands against him, your cock inside him. He was desperate for this, needed this, for so long. Just as long as you did. And now he has it, it feels addicting.

When you buck your hips into him he moans. He knows you're both supposed to be quiet, but he can't help it. He rises on his knees until just the tip is inside him still, then sinks down onto you again slowly. Repeats this, a few times, until you get impatient and are fucking up into him again. Time picks up the pace after that, bouncing on your cock and letting all manner of noises spill out of his mouth.

You squeeze his hips, shifting your own in tandem with how he rides you. “Gorgeous, beautiful, handsome, I’m gonna fill you up good, breed you, stuff you with my cum until you're full. You want that, right?”

Time nods his head, almost delirious, chasing his pleasure feverishly. He’s close - taken to the edge so quickly, a mix of how long it's been since the last time you've both done this, and how your endless stream of compliments and dirty talk send his head spinning. He chases his orgasm desperately.

“Baby, I’m close…” You pull Time’s hips flush with yours, grinding up into him. He whines, hole full and body tense, on the edge of his orgasm but not quite pushed over the precipice - just a little more, please, that's all he needs…

One of your hands snakes down to play with his clit again, and he’s shuddering around you as his orgasm rips through his body. That’s all it takes for you to reach your end, too - filling him up with your cum, his hole milking your cock as he shakes through the aftershocks of his pleasure.

Time flops down on top of you, burying his face into your shoulder and breathing out a long, exhausted exhale.

“It was too long since we last did this…” He mutters. Your arms circle his back comfortingly.

“I think I nearly went insane,” you chuckle, “Thank god it didn't go any longer, or I would've actually had to drag you out into the woods and fuck you up against a tree.”

Time pushes himself against you even more, this time out of embarrassment. “Let's not plan on doing anything where we can get caught, please - no matter how desperate we get, we cannot traumatise the boys.”

“If they didn’t hear you just now,” you respond, entirely too much cheek in your voice. “There might’ve been a few knocks on the door, but I was too busy with you milking me dry to get up and check.”

Time groans. Absolutely no privacy at all…

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

🧙 ANON, BACK AT IT AGAIN!

also hi, lovely, it been a while 🥺 i hope you're doing okay!

[umbral-archives]

Kinktober 2024: Day 8 | Boot Worship Breeding + Murdock

Rating: NSFW MINORS DNI

AFAB!Reader/Femme

Pairing: Murdock (Markiplier CU) x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Breeding Kink, Eldritch Anatomy, Tentacles, Pet Names, Risk/Intent Kink, Helplesssness Kink, Risky Sex, Dirty Talk, Dubcon to Hell and back your honor, Murdock is just a nasty fucker ok

I can't write boot worship worth a shit so we're doin this. Also be aware that this is my brand of breeding kink. No, nothing happens. My brand.

My brand! i have speshul eyes 👁👁

Word Count: 916

Ragged, gasping breaths and desperate noises scatter into the air, puffs of condensed steam mingling together before fading into the twilight. Autumn chill nips at your bare skin, but the human-shaped space heater beneath you more than makes up for the cooler weather.

So focused you are on your pleasure, you barely register the cold now.

Murdock fucks up into you ruthlessly, wantonly–an overwhelming need meeting the desperate cant of your hips down onto his cock. Each thrust–god you can practically feel him in your throat–knocks the wind out of you, scattering your already hair-thin self control and tipping the scales in his favor yet again.

Greedy bastard.

This had all started out in a rare instance of you initiating, riding him–trying to regulate the encounter on your terms. Controlling the speed, the depth, teasing him–trying to get him to cum first.

A tall order with his stamina, but you’re no quitter.

Oh, but then you had to go and get cocky at a particularly uncharacteristic noise he made, reeling from an adrenaline high. You’d made some offhand comment, grinding down on his cock languidly–and the look he shot you when you stopped…

Murdock is never one to let hubris go unpunished.

And here you are. Forced to cum on his cock again and again, your mind systematically turned to mush, leaking out of your ears with the rest of your self control. Lost to sensation, to his sinful words and the inevitable end of your encounter–

Which is coming much sooner than you realize.

Murdock’s thrusts intensify, dragging you down onto his cock, jolting an incoherent cry from deep in your chest. Your hands splay across his bare chest as you try to reclaim some sort of balance but he doesn’t let you, firmly gripping your hips and fucking up into you with abandon. Practiced, intentional–he knows exactly what pace to take, which angle has you at your weakest.

Pliant for him.

You can feel yet another orgasm rushing up to meet you, that abused coil tightening up yet again, breath catching as you struggle to fight it. It almost feels wrong to do so, so attuned you are to his desires–but you started this, you want to end it on your terms.

So you struggle power from him the only way you know how: denial.

“N-No-” you choke out, trying to squirm out of his grip.

Murdock doesn’t stop, eyes glinting with a dangerous light as he slows down just enough to grind up into you. Forcing your clit against his pubic bone, delighting in the little squeaks each maddening swirl earns him.

“No?” he echoes mockingly, leaning up from his seat. You look absolutely wrecked and it does nothing but inflate his ego further. “Since when are you into edging, Sweetheart?”

You shake your head, pushing at his chest, trying and failing to get up out of his lap. “D-Don’t w-wanna cum-”

And that’s when he understands–at least his version of understanding. Your little helplessness kink, denial on the grounds of dubcon. Resistance.

Too bad he’s not into games, not when he’s this close.

Murdock smiles cruelly. Something small, devious and black flickers into existence by your hip. The newly manifested tentacle attacks your clit at the same time Murdock begins his pace anew–and every conceived plan of yours falls to threads in your mind.

Each thrust drags you closer and closer to that inevitable cliff, every twitch of that little bastard tentacle forcing you much faster than you thought possible. Within seconds, you’re curling up over him, mouth caught in a soundless scream, all but begging him for more and–

Then it all stops.

Murdock stops. Leaves you wailing, twitching, right on that blissful edge of oblivion, dragging you off his cock just as easily as you sank down upon it. You collapse onto his chest, squirming, incoherent pleas caught in your throat, desperation taking over and it burns.

That kind of denial always burns–

The world tilts suddenly and you’re on something soft–warm leather and the scent of pine, Murdock’s coat beneath you–before a heavy presence behind you brings you back to reality. Murdock’s hand around your throat, forcing you face down, ass up as he practically mounts you.

Balls deep before you can think, a languid thrust that forces all thought from your head, the breath form your lungs. Pressing your face into the soft fabric of his coat, muffling your incoherent sounds.

Your arms and legs tremble as you squirm, try to regain control enough to push back- but then there’s the familiar sensation of tendrils winding up your arms, pulling them behind your back and securing them there.

Shit– hell, where did this come from–

“There we go,” he rumbles from above you, breathless and hungry in his own right. Open-mouthed kisses against your shoulder, his warm breath against your ear. “Pretty little thing… you can’t expect me to deny you this, can you?”

“M-Murdock, wait-” you gasp out, cut off when another full-body thrust jolts you forward, a tentacle wound around your hips dragging you back into it. Hitting deep. Right where you need him.

“Especially with what day it is-”

Shit– Fuck– Oh god wait– Yesyesyesyes–

A shameful thrill shudders up your spine and he feels you clench around him, all the indicator he needs to resume that bone-rattling pace, fucking you into the back seat of his Challenger.

“M-Murdock!”

“That’s it, Sweetheart, fuck–keep saying my name. Missed this greedy little cunt-held off for a while, know how much you need it. We’re gonna make sure it takes this time.”

[gemsofgreece]

https://fortune.com/europe/2024/07/09/mayor-of-athens-overtourism-greece-not-viable-visitor-tourism-economy/

Nothing new but the Greek government should really invest on other aspects except from tourism. Like yes it's profitable but it can't be the only source of income alongside with agriculture.

OH MY GOD yes! Kudos to Haris Dukas for saying this, I suppose it's still a very unpopular and brave opinion among the politicians, who are known to care only for the short-term non-viable benefits.

I have a lot of feelings and thoughts regarding overtourism, given that I started this blog exactly because I am interested in the tourist industry, in touristic promotion in general.

A few days ago I scrolled through an article which was saying that some smaller country in Europe is getting more and more tourists and aspires to reach Greece's numbers by also competing with us over our tourists for a similar tourist product (beaches and sun) and there was this tinge of annoyance I felt because it's a cool country and I have been there but I have an opinion on this, so I was like somewhere between "bitch please" and "why, are we doing something wrong?". I mean, I wish the best for them but the annoyance was about kind of targeting tourists interested in Greece with cheaper offers and also because I am interested in this, the travel promotion of Greece, even as a hobby, so you know it sort of affects me, lol . But as I was scrolling down the article, I saw the other Greek comments and they were like "Good, let them go there and leave us in peace".

This gave me such a pause. It was one of the few times I found the comments shaking me towards their direction instead of making me angry or sad. I paused and thought, shit, they are actually right.

Let's be real, Greece does suffer from overtourism. Not only this but its overtourism is very disproportionately distributed in the country. Greece's travel product is also badly, old-fashionedly promoted (still the sun-and-beaches of the 70s which was only targeting Northern Europeans). All these create those masses of tourists following blindly the horrible itineraries of poorly informed, outdated travel agencies. Half of these people have no idea why they are coming and what they are supposed to be seeing and doing in every place.

I will go back to the notorious example of "Santorini is overrated and Greece has no trees" that you will hear a few of them say. You have people boarding a plane from the other side of the world to visit and stay on a half-submerged volcano crater and they are wondering where the forests are! People really have no idea where they are going and what for. Now this is a type of tourism we resolutely do not need. If you have to explain to someone what Santorini is AFTER they have gone there, everything was entirely lost on them, it was doomed from the beginning.

One of the most maddening videos I have ever watched was an American woman doing a travel video. She followed the AmericanTM tourist plan: she found a resort and just stayed there locked until the day of her return came. She also had just become a mother and she was dragging the baby in a different continent, only to walk it around the resort over and over. For some reason she made a youtube video for this. She didn't say anything negative but obviously if I knew nothing about Greece and I watched this, I would be like "wow what a boring place Greece is, you can't go anywhere, it's just a resort and a small market nearby". Is there really a need to overbuild the country with such massive resorts only to accommodate people who have no idea why they are coming and what they are supposed to do once they come?

Ultimately, tourism must NEVER be the main product of a country's economy. NEVER. It is very unsteady, unreliable business and when it starts doing too good, it means it will very soon ruin the country. The tourism industry must always remain steady, balanced and viable. There should be a predetermined viable percentage of area and investment that should be dedicated to tourism in every region and NEVER surpass those limits. In short, tourism should be only a side business for a country's economy and not the main thing. Even as a side thing it can become destructive. Look at how the Spanish and the Italians have started taking wild measures against tourism. There are literally protests in Barcelona with people asking tourists to leave to their face. We don't have this in Greece yet because for us it is our main industry so we still prioritise the financial need but it will soon happen here as well.

There is urgency to boost the first and especially the dead second sector in Greece. There is just no other solution. There is no light in the end of the tunnel. The first sector should not expand a lot (because its shrinkage the last decades led to the improvement of the once overexploited ecosystems, we do not want to undo this) but we should boost our produce's quality and its prestige in exports. Is there any Greek who hasn't discussed with their family that the local produce often tasted better than the imported one? Literally all of us. Greece can not produce in quantities but it can produce in quality. One example, I don't know if you know it; Greece sells olive oil to Italy and Italy rebrands it as Italian olive oil (which so far is more well known worldwide) and exports it internationally. This is an agreement between the two countries from which Greece gets fast and sure money and Italy covers deficits in the quantities required by its importers. All is well but Greece is once again getting the short end of the stick, because in the long term consumers who buy this olive oil and like it will form an affinity for what they think is the Italian olive oil and not the Greek one. Greece loses from the prestige it could perhaps have gained and it loses the chance to sell Greek olive oil more competitively for what it really is. Like, every choice we do as a state is a shot in our face. I don't know how we do it. It's a talent.

(BTW no bad feels to Italian friends, this is only critical of the Greek exporters' choices, both Greek and Italian olive oil rock but I am sure if the roles were switched and Italian olive oil was sold internationally as Greek, you would too maybe feel a little awkward about it.)

I won't even go to the second sector, I won't even go there. I will just say, whoever had PITSOS electric devices in their house in the early 90s ... is probably still having the very same devices right now as we speak. I know my parents do. PITSOS devices are what we call in Greek "bad dogs". They just don't ever break. At least not in the first 30 years of usage. Fortunately PITSOS re-opened but it will take ages for them to regain all the lost ground and even try to compete now with the foreign brands, even on a local level. And they have been so ruined that I can't tell their new products will be of an equal quality as the old ones. Greece had a lot of industries. It even had good fashion industries. It's crazy that it was much better self-sustained pre-EU. By the way, I am not blaming the EU or the tourists above. No, I am blaming the Greeks for getting worse and worse and worse at managing themselves.

Should I go to the merchant navy? Let's have a laugh. Greece is still miraculously the world leader in merchant navy with Greeks owning the 25% of commercial ships in the world. Of course, a few decades ago it was the 50% but we would certainly do our best to lose that. The problem is that most of the tycoons have left the country and have their bases in the UK and other countries due to a better tax system and they sail under different flags. The funny thing is that I was reading some articles and the president of the Greek tycoons was saying that they come constantly in contact with the Greek state to discuss all this, there is interest on their side to come back, to work things out but it's always to no avail. At this point, even the TYCOONS can't work in Greece!!! XD Top that. By the way, I am not concerned about how the ship owners will get by, trust me, but these businesses are always two-way relations. Imagine all the bases, all the shipyards, all the ship making, all the jobs in ship making and in the commercial navy. Imagine owning 25% of world's ships and NOT being an international leader in shipmaking. Plus, Greeks have historically and traditionally been seafarers, this is a quality of ours we should keep cultivating, even as part of our heritage, even for the heck of it.

We have destroyed all this and have thrown all our efforts to a badly planned, unstructured mass tourism. We are running towards self-destruction head first in every possible way. There are so many foreigners who are totally sold on the stereotype "Greece has no economy, never made anything". It wasn't like that. We had and still have fine produce. This is why Greek food is considered tasty. It's not having super complex, surprising recipes. It's the quality of the produce that makes Greek cuisine famed for being both tasty and healthy. We used to have good or at least very decent industries. I think apart from cars we were pretty self-sustained on most other things. And we used to have balanced, healthy tourism with travellers who knew why they came and they often came back again and again and even stayed for life after pension because they knew why they did it.

So, I am not against tourism, I will never be but it needs to become quality tourism again and a SIDE thing for us as well. When I say quality tourism, I do not mean luxe / expensive tourism because I hate the idea of a place being inaccessible to someone who truly desires to visit it, unless they are a millionaire (let alone that luxe tourism would also stop locals from travelling inland, which already is happening) but tourism needs to become intentional again. Meaning, a tourist should be a traveller, an explorer. They should understand what they come for and take their time to explore the country properly, with respect and genuine well-meaning interest to the best of their ability. By the way, this should apply for every country. And this is honestly the safest way you can have an authentically good experience in a new country.

As for those smaller countries which try to reach Greece's numbers, well, good luck for the five years until your country gets utterly ruined.

[charcubed]

Listen. I'm going FUCKING. INSANE. because it seems like almost no one on the internet gives a shit about Shy Baldwin/Reggie Harris from The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, which boggles my mind because like ???? they're in love?????? and their relationship is so compelling??

And what we see of what becomes of Shy's story is so tragic obviously but to me it also hints at potential for him and Reggie to maybe someday get out of showbiz and be together. And from what I can tell, no one in fandom TALKED ABOUT THISSSS when season 4 came out!!! What the fuck!!!!! This is maddening!!!

So. I'm making this post mostly to get this off my chest and as a yell into the void. Because maybe somewhere, someday, someone else will ALSO be searching tumblr to see even a glimpse of content about these 2 exceedingly compelling characters, and I will write this so that I save that person the despair of coming up empty-handed like I am.

I'm also gonna drag other people down with me if anyone who hasn't seen this show happens to be curious enough to read this, so in that vein, I will cover some basics to outline this. Because I want to TALK ABOUT THEM despite most of this being obvious and no one giving a shit, Goddammit!!

(Spoilers or whatever I guess but who cares)

This is Shy Baldwin. He's a singer (clearly) and canonically a Black gay man who (obviously) has to hide his sexuality because this is set in the 60s.

This is Reggie Harris, Shy's manager and longtime best friend.

This is how Reggie introduces himself:

Let me tell you what kind of manager I am, Susie Myerson and Associates. I've been looking after Shy since we were kids tossing rocks in vacant lots. We was running numbers for Stephanie St. Clair before we were ten. When he found his singing, I collected the money, kept him out of trouble, kept people from bumping him. I'll be at his side when he draws his last breath unless I get there first. I would lay down my life for him. That's what's going on here. You hear me?

–3x02, "It's the Sixties, Man!"

In episode 3, they casually sing "Is You Is or Is You Ain’t My Baby" together just for fun.

INSANE harmonies. And their flirty banter in this whole 1 minute long scene makes me want to eat my own arm.

Anyway... hold those thoughts.

So, Midge Maisel (the titular character) is the opener for Shy on tour with her comedy act in season 3. The show reveals in episode 3x06 that Shy is gay, in a scene where Midge finds him bruised and bleeding because he hooked up with a guy and it went sideways. Shy comes out to her as part of his explanation, and she helps cover up the bruises on his face with makeup so he can get on stage that night.

That leads to him doing a sitting "stool set" with slower songs because his ribs are fucked so he can't stand/dance, and the unsubtle song the show has him sing is "No One Has To Know."

The clip isn't even on Youtube, which is indicative of how much I'm suffering with how under-appreciated Shy's storyline is, but you can listen to the song here or on Spotify.

No one else can tell I think you're beautiful No one else can tell You're my favorite view Let the world all think what they will I'll wait until they're through 'Cause no one has to know I need you No one but you

^^^ Literally the whole song is like this / about being gay but that's a piece of it.

Shy looks at Reggie as he sings.

Thankfully Tumblr user microclown made several GIFs. Here are two.

KILLL MEEEE

Clearly, obviously, this is deliberately not subtle. Everything telegraphs that Shy is in love with Reggie.

Now, considering wider context of Shy hooking up with a random man etc., one could be forgiven for thinking it's meant to be seen as unrequited love... but I really don't think that's the case. I think there's a delicious undercurrent of angst that ties into how Reggie tells Susie (Midge's manager) at various times throughout the season that their job is to make the hard decisions on behalf of their clients, and Reggie references making hard decisions on Shy's behalf or for Shy, because his job is to do what's best for Shy even at the times Shy doesn't like it. So... are they in love and Reggie tries to keep them from properly being Together to protect Shy? And/or does Shy think his love is unrequited at this point? Lots of room to play there.

So now comes the part that no one's talking about!

More explanation: season 3 ends with Midge being very straight and very white as she does a comedy routine in which she makes way too many cheeky references that out Shy as gay on stage if you know gay-related coding/lingo. There are Reasons why she sort of panics and does this, and the audience loves her jokes, but that is very much Not The Point. She's fired from the rest of the tour as a result–rightfully so.

In season 4, it's announced that Shy is suddenly getting married to his longtime girlfriend and it's totally a publicity stunt 🙃 Midge and Susie are invited to the wedding... but not by Shy; by the team of straight white dude management who stepped in to control Shy's every move in the name of "helping him to stay on the straight and narrow" to keep his career on the rails. Midge's fuck up gave them the opportunity they needed to control him. (Shy and Midge end up reuniting in a bathroom at the reception but we won't be unpacking that conversation and how I disagree with how Midge leaves things between them).

So the suits invite Midge and Susie to the wedding so they can escort them to a side room and have a meeting with them, and they try to pay them off to sign an NDA. (Midge declines for them both, saying she will keep her silence for the sake of Shy, not for the suits.) Come to find out that that management team also forced Shy to pay off / fire his entire band–who were shown to be like family to him throughout the tour in season 3–and also forced him to pay off / fire Reggie.

LOU: Look, he's a good guy, Reggie. I like him. But he's too close with Shy to control him. There's too much history.

...

SUSIE: Reggie got Shy to where he is now. You realize that?

LOU: Reggie's taken care of. Big severance. We threw him some publishing. He's buying a house in Westchester. Everybody's happy.

SUSIE: Oh, I bet. 'Cause when you think Reggie, you think Westchester.

–4x05, "How to Chew Quietly and Influence"

Here's the obvious thing: Shy and Reggie clearly had no choice in this matter.

There's no way in hell that Reggie would have left Shy willingly. Absolutely no Goddamn way in hell. Whether he's in love with him or not, Shy is "his boy" (his words, repeatedly) and he said "I'll be at his side when he draws his last breath unless I get there first." That was his character introduction! Holy shit!

But here's my hot take: I DO think Reggie is in love with Shy, and I do think he intends to keep that promise of being by his side as much as possible. And I'll tell you why.

At the wedding, Shy sings a short excerpt from his new single to his new wife:

Come close to me, baby Cool as the river When you're here in my arms Manhattan's getting dimmer I know it sparkles, too But city lights don't shine as bright as you

Once again the clip is not on Youtube and I am suffering.

There are a few more lines from the song in that episode referencing Paris and Rome (where Shy and Reggie and the band went on tour in season 3...), but it's a piece of a longer song. We thankfully have the song in full, here or on Spotify:

And in the episode, Shy says on stage that the song was written by Reggie.

"You just heard a little of my new single. And it's a special one because the lyrics were written by my boy Reggie Harris. Which is fitting because that man's been putting words in my mouth since we were kids begging his grandmom to buy us ice cream.

–4x05, "How to Chew Quietly and Influence"

This makes me FUCKING FERAL.

Especially because of the lyrics in the full version of the song... which, as it turns out, is all about giving up fame and the spotlight to be with the one you love.

There are hidden lyrics in the full track that are meant to actually be in between the shortened ones we hear in the episode. The lyrics from the full version that Shy doesn't sing at his wedding are as follows:

I’ve had the spotlight Been bewitched by wealth and fame But I’d give up that hot light Just to hear one special someone Call my name

...

I could search the world over Go as far as a man can roam But nothing I’d see Would mean nothing to me Like the vision of you when I’m coming back home Baby, you are my home

Buildings may rise And reach for the skies They twinkle and flash But they won’t ever last Like the beauty in your eyes

Whatever they may do Those city lights won’t shine as bright as you

Reggie wrote this song for Shy. He literally wrote this song for Shy. Shy says it himself! And Reggie's not in attendance at Shy's publicity stunt wedding because the suits are keeping them apart for now, but he's in Shy's heart, and Shy chooses to sing this song and share that backstory about the lyrics because they're each others' home in secret.

I can't handle it! I can't FUCKING handle it!!!!!

Like are you SERIOUS!!!! And in the episode where the suits say Reggie took his severance pay and went and bought a fancy house? BITCH. If he even actually did that (and didn't just claim he was doing it to fly under the radar), then he bought a house so Shy could one day join him there because ???? "You are my home." Ohhhh myyyy Goddddd ;___; A song about giving up the spotlight to be with the one you love........ I have connected the dots. Just wow.

So yeah I'm literally going insane. I LOVE them. I've been thinking about this for like 2 weeks and no one gives a shit but I love them! They are important to me and every part of their subplot is so compelling and makes me so emotional!

There is fic about all this that's in my brain and outlined in my google docs and if I ever write it I will post it on AO3 for the maybe 2 people who will care someday. But yeah.

WHERE is their spinoff!!!!!!!! Jk I don't want it because I don't trust they'd be handled properly. However, I am manifesting even a crumb of information about them in season 5 because Shy Baldwin is my son and I would like any kind of hint he and Reggie manage to eventually orchestrate their happiness <3

If you actually read this post, thank you so much for indulging me. I had to get this off my chest, okay, I'm losing it.

I love them and they're in love. That is all.

[defensivelee]

Alien Alien: Then I the Mark of Ingratitude Stand

I didn't know if I should post this but I wanted to feed y'all because I haven't been able to write a single thing since the....Shit that has Gone Down. It turns out it's hard to write Six Lives, a story about fascists, on the side of the fascists kek

So! Have this, a rather unusual story I've gone with here in Alien Alien focusing on the sole human of this verse, the Earl of Marlborough. He's now brought back to favor and is in charge of the Duke of Gloucester, a sickly hybrid much like the King himself! He may be just a bit out of his depth, however, when he's faced with a vision of what is supposedly the boy's glorious future.

CW: objectification, dehumanization, implied/referenced sexual assault, violence, descriptions of gore, child death.

Something had changed in the sound of the King’s walk. It had been a long time since the change had begun, but it drove Marlborough mad now as it drove him mad then, as he listened to the King approaching.

There was a great inconsistency to the walk of four limbs, with sharp boots at the back and thick claws at the front. One hand, as it came down, sounded harsh and scraping, and the other sounded lighter, with a more graceful cling! as it hit the floor. That was the hand that so ached now; that was the hand that had been equipped with narrow claws made of metal that appeared to Marlborough more like those of an eagle than of a natural Defender of the Faith. They dragged along the floor as the King stalked forward, as he let out a heavy sigh through his nose like an exhausted horse.

Marlborough turned around to face him. When he had first met William, he was the same size he was now; oh, certainly taller than a human, of course, but he seemed to take little space up in the galaxy even as he would arch his back and hiss at any perceived slight or threat. He was still the smallest full-grown Asterothiriot Marlborough had ever encountered.

He had grown no larger, and yet as he walked past Marlborough could suddenly see why this one believed he ruled the stars themselves. Perhaps it was the age that now showed on his face, or the stiffness of his tail, or even the slitted pupils, but now it seemed he was almost deserving of calling himself a king like the ones that had come before him. He was just almost a full tendril-tooth.

Almost. The power behind his leap up towards the window reminded Marlborough of who had truly raised the hybrid prince. The six suspicious eyes blinked at him, one by one, as their owner sat back with his tail curled in front of his arms in a manner that reminded Marlborough of the cats on Forte Solaria.

What does he want? He waited for William to say something before giving him a hesitant curtsy. His face never failed to flush as he did so.

“Do you know why you're here?” William asked.

“No,” Marlborough said. Sarah had seen something, of course, and she had said that nothing bad could come from this audience, but that was all he knew. It was the Princess Anne's powers who were stronger, but she hadn't brought up anything important, either.

“Oh, perfect,” William said with an uncharacteristic purr. “I get to surprise you.”

“How thrilling,” Marlborough said dryly. “Did you want me to be your exhibition here instead? I would prefer it; nobody passes through as much.” He started stepping away. “Though I can't see why that would warrant such privacy.”

“Stay,” William snapped, and Marlborough froze. “It isn’t that. Quite the opposite, actually.” He lowered his head, his antennae twitching as if he'd just sensed something that displeased him. “Do you remember how it maddened the tendril-tooths here to see a human become an earl upon my arrival?”

Marlborough couldn't help but laugh. “Yes, as it did you.”

“Hardly.” William flicked his tail dismissively. “Why should I care about the species of my subjects? As long as they don't belong to those vicious, drooling fortune-tellers, then I don't—”

“I'll remind you that my family is made up of said fortune-tellers,” Marlborough said coolly. “And so is your government now. It has been more than a decade; are you still not used to it?” He blinked innocently up at William, who looked up and growled.

“That doesn't mean I have to like it,” he said. “One step can't cover seven steps. I would always rather work with humans and robots than with those conniving beasts who think they rule the universe.”

“Do we still talk of the same species?”

“You are a human, my lord, you would do well to remember that!” William leapt down from the window, and Marlborough drew back as the King began to circle him. “That’s the only reason I still tolerate you. Otherwise I would have—” He raked his claws across the floor. “Killed you myself.”

“And you expect me to be honored,” Marlborough said.

“Yes.” William nodded once. He stood up fully so that he was taller than the human, the spikes on his tail slicking back with a sharp rattle. “You know, I never liked the practice of...human art. ‘Tis frivolous and obsolete, especially when I’ve found a far better use for you. No, even after what you did...” He twitched one antennae to the side. “I never liked it. Truly, I would have preferred killing you.”

Marlborough had heard it all by now; he’d heard about how the King so hated to use his body as artwork, to keep him there as decoration while he spoke to his ministers, and how unnecessary he thought the whole practice, but that he was driven to it by expectation. Expectation! What William had refused to follow since the very day he’d arrived here!

No, he knew that while William derived little enjoyment from gazing upon his body, he still wanted some way to remind a human of his status here. William must have known that he knew, but as they stared at each other, they remained silent, both daring the other to speak.

“Maybe you should have,” Marlborough said at length. He didn’t truly mean it, not really, but with every passing day he’d stood there, death had seemed more appealing than the endless weight of, ironically, what little he wore.

“No. There’s still one last thing I need you for.” William tilted his head to the side. “Well, a few things. I couldn’t have kept you there forever.”

You might have been happy to, Marlborough thought, but he listened intently as the King spoke.

“The heart-eaters are spreading like a virus,” he said, “even through this peace. For how long do you think a sickness can be suppressed?” He shook himself as if the thought unnerved him. “I need your eyes to see them, and the rest of you to defeat them if— when King Louis becomes hungry again.”

“I can’t do that now,” Marlborough said with a growing amusement. “Not without—”

William interrupted him with a hiss. “I know, I know.” He took a deep breath, then said, “The late Queen left me with this knowledge, and she is not the only tendril-tooth here who is now aware of your value. So you must return to your command. And then you and I can put this whole mess behind us.” He flexed his false claws. “But this is not forgiveness.”

“I wouldn’t think so,” Marlborough said. “I could die without it.”

“You could stand to be a little grateful, human.” William stepped closer until Marlborough could smell the blood of unfortunate prey on his breath. His eyes seemed to be focused on being unfocused, with an appearance that Marlborough had only seen in starving wolves.

“In a sense, I am,” he replied. “But I’d been expecting this.”

“So you did know!” William bared his teeth accusingly.

“Not through the visions of my wife,” Marlborough rushed to assure him. “Nor did I expect it today. But I thought that you would realize that your preferred human can only take you so far.” Keppel was a fine, clever creature, as he’d been when Marlborough had first found him, but even William must have known that his future lay elsewhere.

“Enough.” William let out a rumbling growl. “How far do you think you can take me?” He turned away, the tip of his tail brushing against Marlborough’s shoulder. “There is one more thing, my lord.”

Marlborough straightened up at the address. “Yes?”

“I ask- I command you to take up another position you may not be used to,” William said. “That of the Duke of Gloucester’s governor.” Seeing Marlborough’s confusion, he added, “I know a tendril-tooth might have been more logical, but I wouldn’t like him to be ruled by those monsters from the very beginning.” He flicked his antennae in the Earl’s direction. “Besides, the Princess trusts you more than she trusts any Asterothiriot, save for your wife.”

“You want a human to— pardon me saying this, but you want a human to guide an animal into its adulthood.”

The sentence had hardly left his lips when William lunged at him with a snarl, throwing him back against the floor. Marlborough winced as his head hit the ground, as he felt the King’s claws dig into his shoulders. This he’d been expecting as well; it only surprised him that it took so long.

“An animal?!” William snapped his jaws in Marlborough’s face. “Is that what we are to you?”

“Well, you’re not human.” Marlborough turned his head away as he spoke, staring blankly to the side. “I was merely stating a fact. The little prince deserves better, someone who can teach him to hunt and fight the way his species knows.”

“Oh, he does, doesn’t he?” William sneered and stepped off of him. “But he already has me. Having you will only be his first disappointment.” He waited for a moment, then snapped his jaws again. “Stand!”

Marlborough obeyed, and William continued. “Truth be told, I want you to give him a taste for blood.”

You could have done that yourself, Marlborough thought, staring at the claws that had just been held so close to his neck. Even if he knew that William wouldn’t kill him, even if his presence commanded little fear, he had never gotten used to it.

“In the prophecies the Queen left me before she died,” William said, “you seem to appear more frequently the closer that I get to joining her.”

“She told you when you would die?” Marlborough asked, startled.

William nodded slowly. “But that doesn’t concern you. Show that boy a fraction of the boldness you have shown me, and I know he will survive.”

“Your Majesty, I—”

“He will survive,” William repeated, silencing Marlborough with a wave of his tail. “And you will be there to see it.”

✭✭✭

He had played with the Duke of Gloucester before, entertaining him with a laser pointer or a squeaking toy, and he had observed how little energy the child had as compared to Marlborough’s own. Oh, he could run as swiftly as his mother, and bark as loudly as his father, but it tired him quickly, so that he preferred curling up to sleep in between unsuspecting tails.

“So you are telling me the human is mine now?” Gloucester was bounding about William’s feet, swatting at the lashing tail. He was quite a sight, his appearance being mostly of his mother’s species, save for his blank eyes and the lack of protective spikes at his belly. His tail, too, was shorter, and as of now, he only had two horns.

“More accurately, you are the human’s,” Anne said, her eyes glinting with amusement. “But you must show my Lord Marlborough the same respect as you do everyone else.”

“Your Highness,” Marlborough greeted the little prince, who now stared at him with wide eyes.

“Marlborough!” Gloucester stood up, his tail wagging. He was very nearly Marlborough’s height already. “Does this mean I get to see Lord Churchill more often? Will he come and teach me more of his battle moves?”

“I think he can teach you more than just that,” Marlborough said. “But yes, he will be here, as your Master of the Horse.” He knew his son would be pleased with that news as well; he was already quite faithful to the little prince.

“Master of the Horse,” Gloucester repeated with shining eyes. “What does he know about those mechanical creatures?”

“Well, he will learn at your side—”

“You, my lord, you can ride real horses!” Gloucester bounded back towards his mother on all fours. “So can I, I’m almost his exact weight! It would be possible, right?”

“You can, but you shouldn’t,” William replied before Anne could say anything. “The body of a Bocca della Verità is designed to run at a speed far greater than any horse could achieve. Besides, I can’t imagine it would be too comfortable.” He bowed his head to lick the prince in between his erect ears.

“You know, on my planet, Your Highness, they would hunt on those very horses,” Marlborough said. “They would ride on in after a fox— do you know that creature, the fox?”

“You mean to tell me that foxes are real as well?” Anne’s eyes widened, matching the awe of her son’s face.

“Yes, but they were nowhere near as cunning as the stories say they are,” Marlborough said with a chuckle. “They would always run, and they were the noisiest animals I’d ever encountered.” Save for your kind, he added silently, though with no malice behind the thought.

“But we are not on your planet, my lord.” William flicked his antennae back.

“Neither are we on yours.”

The spikes on the King’s tail began to shake, but Gloucester seemed to break the spell with an excited bark. “Oh, I want to show you how I’ve been hunting! I- I learned a new trick the other day from your son.” He began to bounce excitedly on his talons, unsteady as they slid across the floor. “I’ve never missed a mouse since.”

So the first thing Marlborough did with his new charge was watch him hunt. He had always hated joining the Asterothiriots when they were hunting, be it tendril-tooth or Defender or Canis magnetar— he could never do anything but watch. Worse than that, he had no idea how to carry himself like the hunters did, so silently and effortlessly across the forest floor without ever alerting their prey. He, though smaller than them, always managed to break a twig or rustle leaves, and the prey would run off before his companions could catch it. It was as if they had a sense he did not have, as if they knew what lay after every corner.

And perhaps, for the tendril-tooths, such was the case. Certainly not for little Gloucester, however. There was a silent understanding among them all that, like William, as a hybrid he would be unable to ever receive visions. He had long passed the age when the powers normally revealed themselves.

Still, his hunting was worthy of praise. Marlborough watched him from his place high in a tree, where he would not disturb Gloucester. The prince was stalking quietly, if a little clumsily, through the plants, keeping his body low to the ground. His tail lashed behind him as he paused and opened his mouth wide to drink in the scent of the air. Curiously enough, he had been born with the tusks of a female member of his species rather than the open, outward teeth of a male, but Marlborough wouldn’t have liked to imagine him with them, anyway.

Gloucester crouched down low, tensing before pouncing forward. Marlborough sat up as the boy leaped in the air, then suddenly his talons fell beneath him awkwardly, eliciting a yelp from him. There was a squeak up ahead, presumably the mouse scurrying away. Gloucester seemed unable to push himself up on his legs to catch it.

“Damn!” Marlborough hissed under his breath. He jumped from the tree and ran over to Gloucester, kneeling down at his side. “Your Highness?”

“I let it get away!” Gloucester growled, his ears flopping to the side. “Forgive me, I lost my balance—”

“There are more mice in the forest than you could ever hope to catch in a lifetime,” Marlborough said. “There’ll be another chance.”

“I will hunt them all!” Gloucester declared suddenly, throwing Marlborough off of him. “You see the King cough all the time, and he’s hailed as one of the best hunters in the galaxy!”

“And so will you be,” Marlborough said. “But he cares little for his health. You must, or your mother will for the rest of your life.”

Gloucester hummed thoughtfully. “Is it bad that I want her to?”

“Trust me, you won’t for much longer.”

“Maybe that is how it works for humans.” He sat back, puffing out his chest and rattling the spikes on his back. “Not I, sir. I will honor and love my mother for as long as I have left.”

The odd phrase sent a chill down Marlborough’s back, but he had no time to reply before he heard steps from up ahead. He tensed for a moment, his hand reaching for his sword, relaxing only when the animal showed its brilliant, delighted face.

“Did you miss a mouse, John?” Godolphin let out a chirp of laughter before he set the strange animal down, larger and with scales as compared to the mice Marlborough had known throughout his youth.

“You know I didn’t,” he answered. Beside him, Gloucester sprung at the mouse’s body, sniffing it so loudly that it was difficult to concentrate on Godolphin’s subsequent words.

“We ought to combine your way of hunting with ours one day,” he said. “You can ride me to flush out the stag-rabbit.”

“I- I have done so once,” Marlborough said hurriedly. “And once was enough, thank you.”

Godolphin cocked his head to the side, and Marlborough remembered too late that his species could smell fear. Though he did not remark upon it, Gloucester did.

“Show me what you did, sir, I can still smell the mouse’s fear!” he cried. “How is this?” He crouched back down in the same manner he had before, his tail wagging with excitement.

Marlborough looked expectantly at Godolphin, but he only laughed and nudged him with his tail. “You must show him. You’ve seen us hunt before.”

“Aye, and picked up nothing.”

“You must not think so.” Godolphin butted his head against his friend’s shoulder. “Just because you cannot join doesn’t mean that you were never there.”

Marlborough hesitated, then stepped forward and caught Gloucester’s tail in the air. “First of all, you already alert your prey, in particular the birds above, that you are here when you move your tail so. They sense a change in the wind even before they hear the whipping about. So keep it stiffly up in the air.”

“Like this?” Gloucester stuck his little tail out, and Marlborough nodded.

“Very good. Besides that, it also helps you keep your balance when you jump. It may not be enough to halt your condition,” he added delicately, “but it never did any harm. Now, also, keep your head up so that your tusks don’t brush along the ground.” He placed his shoe under the prince’s chin and lifted it up. “And your ears erect and still.”

Gloucester winced a little but obeyed. “Then the crouch is perfected?”

“Not yet,” Marlborough said. “Your swiftness is impressive, but you would be swifter still if you raised your body slightly from the ground. You only lower yourself when you are about to pounce.”

“And then?” “Then step forward. Be careful where you put your feet.” He walked past Godolphin and stood some distance away. “Pretend I am the prey.”

Gloucester nodded and began to stalk towards Marlborough. He was very careful, indeed, though he still lurched a little from side to side every time he paused. Marlborough turned to Godolphin, pretending to be distracted.

“A fine mouse you caught there. Did you give it a soldier’s death?”

“What?” Godolphin blurted. “You mean, did I ask God to accept it into Heaven?”

“Of course, so that you may hunt it again in death. Then you’ll have plenty to eat when you get there.” He patted Godolphin on the tail, and the tendril-tooth barked out a laugh.

Just in time, Marlborough looked to the side to see Gloucester leap towards him, throwing him against the ground. He couldn’t help but let out a sharp gasp when he landed, the prince’s weight full on his chest.

“Well done, Highness!” Godolphin said after a moment of Marlborough’s heavy breathing, evidently realizing that he couldn’t speak. “I didn’t even hear you coming.”

“Churchill taught me that pounce,” Gloucester said as he stepped off of Marlborough. “And now his father has taught me the stalking part of it. Thank you, my lord.” He dipped his head for a moment before scrambling up ahead, his tail knocking into a tree when he turned sharply into a clearing.

Godolphin rushed to help Marlborough back up with his horns. “Can you breathe now?”

“Y-Yes, I just- I felt the strength of that pounce,” he managed, resting a hand on his chest. “He’ll be a vicious king.”

“With your help, no doubt.”

They followed Gloucester out into the clearing, where he lifted himself up onto a boulder and lay contentedly. The sun bathed him in red, causing his growing mane to blaze like fire and the perpetual glow of his eyes to dim. His pose was like that of a portrait of the King that Marlborough had seen once or twice, where he lay with his tail curled closely inwards and his gaze fixed upon the viewer, illuminated by a candle beside him.

I hope William IV will be kinder to me, Marlborough thought. The boy was already popular with the people, and he could only imagine that he would continue on that path.

He was startled by a sudden hiss from Godolphin beside him. “Look at him!” he said. “Covered in red!”

“‘Tis only the sun.”

“The mother star is calling to him,” Godolphin went on with wide eyes, ignoring the remark. “At once every Bocca della Verità must see this as well— their heir wading through a sea of his enemies’ blood!”

✭✭✭

The Earl of Portland was now back in France, though he had gone willingly this time, on embassy for his master. Heaven knew how the creature had reacted when he found out he had to return to the place that had caused him so much pain, as Lord Albemarle told it, but at least the heart-eaters now knew what exactly would come from their twisted games. And he would not be made a subject of them any longer.

So it was the said Albemarle, the beautiful Arnold van Keppel, who spent every waking hour at the King’s side. It seemed to content them both, for every time Marlborough saw them together they were purring, though it was Keppel who outdid William in sheer volume.

But that was merely every waking hour; in the unholy hours of the night, Keppel spent time in what should have been his quarters, but were more like a small, yet winding, laboratory where the body parts of robots hung from every surface. They gleamed unnaturally under the fluorescent lights, which were far and few in between, leaving Keppel shrouded in darkness as he worked.

“Do you ever sleep?” Marlborough asked as he entered the room. It always smelled of burning metal here, a foul scent that would give him a headache if he stayed for too long.

“Ah, my lord!” Keppel looked up from his desk, miraculously having abandoned all the robots for tonight in favor of whatever he happened to be writing. “Took you long enough. How was the Duke of Gloucester today?”

“He goes very well in his studies and training,” Marlborough said, “though he oft reminds me of the King with how the sun tempts him to sleep. ‘Tis a curious thing, for there is not a drop of Defender blood in him at all.” He shrugged and leaned back on a table, where a disembodied android’s arm seemed to reach towards him. “But I have seen naught but dedication from him, from the very moment I began as his governor.”

“So you like him.”

“I am not displeased with my post.”

“And you have me to thank for it,” Keppel said, a sly smile growing on his face. “Well, a few others, too. But mostly me. I finally told the King about our history on Forte Solaria.”

Marlborough winced. “Oh. What did he say?”

“It was hilarious, by the stars,” Keppel said hurriedly. “He was so mad— oh, it was kind of hot. But like, mad at you, too.”

“For having saved you?” Marlborough rolled his eyes. He would never please this one!

“Yes! Well, mad that you were the one who did so, anyway.” Keppel laughed. “But it must have done something, because a few days later he made you the governor and a Lord Justice and everything was great again. Right?” His eyes widened slightly. “Things are better now?” “Very much so,” Marlborough said, though he failed to hide the irritation on his face. “But it’s not that easy. You must have told him— I was trained as a soldier there, not a whore!”

“And I was trained as a whore, not a soldier,” Keppel said, stepping up beside Marlborough to swing his hips against him. “Yet look at us now! The Asterothiriots have quite changed our destinies, haven’t they?”

“Not always for the better.”

“Trust me, it’ll only get better from here,” Keppel said, “if you don’t fuck this up. I mean, look, you have a future king in your care! God knows if you’ll live long enough to see him on the throne, but as he grows, I’m sure he’ll find ways to appreciate you. But seriously—” He stepped closer all of a sudden, raising his head so that his gaze was equal upon that of Marlborough. “Do not fuck it up again.”

“I’ll fuck up whatever I think needs fucking up,” Marlborough said, though for once he realized he’d long exhausted his disdain for the King. Whatever would be, would be, and it was all decided under William’s torn and bloodstained claws. He was not malicious, Marlborough decided, just a nearsighted fool.

“As for you, Keppel,” he said, changing the subject, “what do you do in here?”

“Me? I’ve started work on my future bride,” Keppel said with some measure of dismissal, though Marlborough could tell he could hardly contain his excitement. Had he found a match already?

He decided to fall into the trap. “Who is the woman on your mind?”

“Oh, her name is Geertruid and she is as beautiful as I am and endlessly clever,” Keppel blurted. “And very strong, too! I can introduce her to you, actually.” He took Marlborough’s hand and led him to the back of the room, where a large blueprint was pinned to the wall, displaying what would eventually be a full, lovely woman.

“Who is also a robot, of course,” Marlborough muttered. Turning to Keppel, he said, “Are you seriously going to marry her?”

“I hope so,” Keppel said, his eyes shining. “If she falls in love with me once she’s finished. I’ll give her some time, but I really hope she does. She’s going to be perfect.”

“You know half-ass deserves a failure,” Marlborough said. “So I would trust you to make her, as you say, perfect.” At the praise, Keppel grinned. “But that’s not what I was asking. Has a robot ever married a biological Asterothiriot before?”

“No, but why shouldn’t she?” Keppel patted the concept of his wife on the head. “They make devoted partners, much like yourself. See, I thought you could get by that.”

“I could,” Marlborough said. “I just didn’t think you would be so open to the idea considering my Lord Portland. I didn’t like androids before, and now I never will.”

“Oh, but he’s very easy to shut up these days,” Keppel said with a shrug. “I don’t know. I think I could grow to like him, honestly. I think I already have.” He walked over to his desk, where he had left a letter unfinished. “I was just writing to him.”

“You grow so close to him that- that you send him letters?” Marlborough picked up the paper cautiously. Now that was truly unexpected; if Keppel wanted to scold him quickly, he would have sent a message through Portland’s communications system. But a letter meant something else.

“W-Well, it’s not wise to send messages directly to him,” Keppel said, his face beginning to flush. “That’s never secure. Neither are letters, sure, but nobody would think that a robot’s letters are anything of importance.”

“I do hope that the heart-eaters have begged for your forgiveness already,” Marlborough read a passage out loud, “though I know that such humility is below them and their King. They owe you much, however, for though they’ll not say it out loud, you have rid them of a heavy weight on their tails, that of the late King James. Much as they laud him, I am certain that they wanted him gone, too. Still, I know that these are memories that you keep purposely away from your core, so I will stop speaking to you of them and instead remind you of my devotion—”

“Alright, that’s enough! Give it here!” Keppel lunged at Marlborough, who laughed and turned away, holding the letter high above his head to continue reading.

“—and I would that I was there with you, to be at your side before you must face those hated creatures, and tell you that you are always loved—”

“My lord!” Keppel climbed up onto the table, but Marlborough turned around again and clutched the paper closely.

“—as I am sure the Countess with you shall never let you forget. As for myself, I can only say that—”

At this Keppel sunk his teeth into Marlborough’s shoulder, prompting Marlborough to drop the letter with a yelp. Keppel leapt forward and took the letter, placing it back on the desk and glaring at Marlborough. He blushed a deep red, down to his snarling lips.

“I think you miss him,” Marlborough unhelpfully observed as he rubbed at his shoulder.

“You know what I miss, my lord?” Now Keppel smiled. “Your silence. Shut the fuck up.” He turned to sit back down, and Marlborough came up behind him, watching him dip his claw in ink again.

“I see you mentioned the Countess.”

“So I did. I like her very much.” Keppel didn’t look up.

“Why? Because she takes care of him like you would have, if you were in her place?” Marlborough leaned in. “Did you always know it was impossible, this dream of yours?”

Keppel paused, at last lifting his head. “My lord, there was a time when I thought this here would be impossible for me.” He gestured at the letter with a sad laugh. “And now I write this...long, romantic bullshit, and it fools him. He forgets that I’m not from here, but he’ll never forget what I’ve taken from him.” He sighed. “So, nothing, then, must be impossible. Much less my dreams.”

Marlborough placed his hand in between Keppel’s antennae. Perhaps he had taught that terrified boy more than he had intended to, but what he told weren’t entirely lies, either.

✭✭✭

There was a grunting roar from up ahead, a vicious, but high sound that betrayed the youth of the attacker. Marlborough ducked his head and watched, hidden by the branches above him, but never, he knew, out of scent range for the boys.

The one who had roared was his son, who appeared almost like a full tendril-tooth save for his smaller ears and lack of horns. But he fought perfectly, possibly even better because he knew that he had fewer easy targets on his body than his pure-blooded counterparts. It seemed to Marlborough that everyday in the army he had seen torn, bloodied ears and chipped horns.

One day, perhaps Gloucester would see such injuries, and even experience a few himself. But for now, he was safe in the knowledge that his fight with John was only pretend.

He took it very seriously, however. He rolled swiftly to the side as John lunged forward, narrowly missing the prince as he landed on the grass. He scrambled back up to meet Gloucester’s claws in the air just before they came down on his head. The two batted at each other for a moment before Gloucester bowed his head, butting it against John’s chest. John cried out as he was flung onto the ground, where Gloucester pounced on him, nipping him in the neck.

“There, I won!” he announced. “If that had been a real fight, you would be dead.”

“Indeed,” Marlborough said, finally coming out of his hiding spot. “And why would that be?”

“Because he butted his head against my chest,” John said. He pushed himself easily out from under Gloucester. “An adult Bocca della Verità has very sharp, very large horns, which, if positioned correctly, could kill a man.”

“Correct,” Marlborough said. “And?”

“And then I bit him,” Gloucester replied. “We have venom in our mouths, so any bite could be fatal, but to the neck it is nearly instant!”

“Very good, the both of you,” Marlborough said, dipping his head towards the prince. “You may also think of your tusks as being especially deadly. Their length is unusual; God knows what it will be when you are king!”

“Oh, then I’ll have long, long tusks, just like the Queen.” Gloucester weaved excitedly about Marlborough, his tail wagging all the while. “I recall she had them even longer than Mama! It scared me at first, but she never bit me once.”

“I never saw her bite anyone,” Marlborough said. He searched the prince’s face for a hint of sorrow, but his eyes only seemed to gleam further with pride.

“If I could be as kind as her,” he said, “yet still command respect— that is all I desire.” He twitched one ear dismissively and sat back. “Alas, I know not how much respect this body of mine commands.”

“But you will grow, Highness!” John twined his tail around Gloucester’s.

“As large as your father and as fierce as your mother,” Marlborough added. He recalled Godolphin’s earlier half-formed vision; indeed, every tendril-tooth had seen the same, including Sarah. She claimed that it was less of a true vision and more of a sensation, a deep, sudden understanding of something no one but her husband and Godolphin had seen. To Marlborough, the matter was incomprehensible.

“John!” There she called him now. He looked up as she rushed towards him, leaving a startled Abigail Hill behind her. She was pretty the same way a statue was, and any personality she might have had was overshadowed by the presence of Sarah. It was always probable, of course, that she didn’t have one at all.

“What is it, my soul?” He laughed as Sarah stopped beside him, bowing low so that she could look him in the eyes

“By the stars, you let them play too roughly!” She tapped her sharp tail against his chest. “What will the Princess say if she finds out her son tore a claw or landed too hard on the ground? You know very well how fragile his health is.”

“Ah, but this isn't playing.” Marlborough sat down beside the prince, who jumped back in excitement. “And even if it were, such games are necessary for their development. In the wild, animals learn how to hunt and defend themselves this way.”

“Are we wild animals to you, John?” Sarah asked with a playful growl.

“Why...only you.”

“And I suppose that means you are a domesticated one, aren’t you?” she said. “You could have fooled me when I first saw you.” She sat down beside her son, licking him once on the head. “Well, then, show me what you were doing if it wasn’t playing, Johnny.”

“Nay, Mama, we were training,” John said. “His Highness is already very swift.”

“I’ll get swifter still!” Gloucester jumped onto John’s lashing tail, and John yelped, standing up and kicking a talon out. Gloucester hissed and drew back as the claws hit him in the face, and John turned around to swipe down at his head. It knocked the prince easily to the ground with a grunt.

“Did you see that?” John turned towards Sarah with shining eyes, but something bothered Marlborough in the way that Gloucester had fallen. A mere swipe from a juvenile tendril-tooth had never knocked him down.

“Your Highness,” he said, lifting himself up on his knees to examine the fallen prince beside him, “are you well?”

“Yes, my lord,” Gloucester said. Unexpectedly, he crawled forward, lifting up Marlborough’s hand with his head and then letting it rest upon his mane. “I- I’m dizzy. That’s all.”

Though they nearly matched each other in size, the prince suddenly appeared very small to Marlborough, like a child of Forte Solaria. He was not a true beast yet, after all, like his aunt or grandfather, but still a boy, who had only dreamt of battle. One day, as the vision predicted, he would be the fiercest king this planet would ever know, but for now, he was young, lacking the scent of blood in his mouth.

“Then rest for a little while,” Marlborough said. “And you, Johnny, take care not to hit his head again.”

“I can handle it!” Gloucester cried, trying to stand.

Marlborough shook his head. “Not ‘til you’re older. If we can take care to avoid another migraine, then we must.”

“What kind of prince is felled by a single swipe?” John asked, and Sarah cuffed him behind the ear.

“Shut it!” she hissed. “You’re lucky the Princess wasn’t here. What kind of subject abuses their prince so? It was you who attacked him!”

“I only obliged because he attacked first—”

“Enough of that,” Marlborough cut in. “Sarah, they were training. But you,” he went on, glowering down at his son, “must take care of what words to use before your monarch in the future. You would never say that your opponent was weak just because you were strong.”

John sat up taller, his ears pricking up. “I- I see, Papa.”

“Now, tell him you are sorry.”

Rather than simply apologizing, however, John crawled closer to Gloucester, then fell on his back, exposing his armored stomach. Gloucester dipped his head.

“I found no offense, but you’re forgiven, anyhow.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” John rolled back onto his feet and wagged his tail when he saw his father staring at him.

“By the stars, John, you would have the same look if he had just cut his head off in front of you,” Sarah said. “What is it?”

It was one of the first things he had ever observed when he had first arrived on this planet, and yet he had never gotten used to it, either— their apologies were physical. He recalled seeing the late King James, then Duke of York, falling before his grand brother, asking for forgiveness without words. And how easily it had been granted.

Marlborough shook his head. “Very good, Johnny. You learn quickly.”

His son may have, but as for himself, he knew he never would.

✭✭✭

There were few tendril-tooths that still unsettled Marlborough; even with their unnatural jaws and glowing eyes, he thought he could almost grow to love the species. Besides, it was hard not to love such features when his friends wore them well, when his children were born with the visions of the stars in their eyes and they still loved him with all their power.

And yet one Bocca della Verità he had never understood, though thankfully he was not the only one who felt this way. The Earl of Sunderland was an incomprehensible beast, a creature whose powers of foresight were nearly equal to those of the late Queen, and whose subtle movements confused everyone. When he was pleased, he would shake the spikes on his tail, and when he was angry, his tail would wag madly.

He seemed somewhat partial to Marlborough, however, which so relieved him, as under James’ rule, Sunderland had spoken fondly of the taste of human flesh. He was never the type to ask before snatching something up in his teeth, either, and William didn’t seem to mind the obvious insolence.

Presently Marlborough watched the tendril-tooth eat in front of him, his strange mouth making a mess of the cooked meat. Cooked— why was it cooked? He sat here on a chair too large for him, his eyes aching from having to narrow them against the harsh glow of Sunderland’s gaze, and still he wondered how much monster this monster was.

“I thought your species preferred raw meat,” he said.

“Well, I don’t,” Sunderland said. “I despise a bloody mess on my claws, my lord. But the thrill of the kill is not...lost on me?” He phrased it as a question, for whatever reason, his tendrils curling upwards in a grotesque grin.

“Hunting, as I understand it, is still a messy endeavour,” Marlborough said. Some hunters made it less so, but he had seen how at times the poor prey was so thoroughly dismembered that it would be shameful to bring it into the King’s presence.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Sunderland said. “Not if you kill your prey quickly and cleanly. With our strength, we can always snap the neck rather than tearing out its throat or biting it and leaving it to die later of its infected wounds.” His spikes rattled as he stood from the table. “In short, a death just the way you like it, my lord.”

Did he think he could get his way like this? Marlborough acknowledged it with a quick nod, but said nothing.

“Knowing that this food was caught...ethically, as it were, would you not like to have a bite yourself?” Sunderland came up to his side, bowing his head to sniff at Marlborough’s face. “It shames me to think that you are here, without—”

“Please, sir, I already refused once.” Marlborough turned away. “And your shame is only imagined. You know what I came here for.”

“Indeed.” Sunderland drew back. “To refuse me yet another thing— the union of my son and your daughter.”

There he went again, withdrawing into the metaphorical shell that Marlborough had dreaded, and had sought to keep him out of. His ears would relax, his tail would fall limp, every part of him became unreadable until the only emotion you would be able to gauge from him was rage. But there was no way to see how close one was to drawing his ire and venom, so from here on out Marlborough was alone.

“Forgive me, but your son is...” He trailed off. There was no way he could say this kindly.

“I know what my son is,” Sunderland said. “You, however, have said it yourself, many times before— we are still animals, are we not? Uncivilized as compared to the nobility and beauty of the human race.” He reached out to run his claws along a strand of Marlborough’s hair. “I understand why a little one like you would be afraid of seeing your very tame daughter run off with a feral creature such as Charles. But, John,” he breathed, the name sending a shudder through Marlborough, “you deny her what comes naturally to a member of our species.”

“I have denied her nothing,” Marlborough snapped, pushing the invasive talons away. “She has been allowed to grow as if her father were one of you. What I worry about is your son, not her. He is-”

Again Sunderland cut in, his claws coming around Marlborough’s chin to pull him closer until the brightness of his eyes forced the human to close his own. “He is what?”

“He- he only pretends to have inherited your power,” Marlborough said, his hand coming up to grip Sunderland’s wrist as he tried to wrench his head away. Every Asterothiriot, it seemed, would forget their strength when it came to handling him. “What has he seen but his own imagined fortune?”

“Of course, any vision to you must look imagined,” Sunderland said, letting him go. Marlborough fell back, one hand flying up to his neck, where he still felt the sting of the thorn-sharp claws. “Have you ever believed in our powers?”

“I never doubted them,” Marlborough said truthfully. “Nor you. But I am always careful to consider the source.”

“Very well,” Sunderland said. “So you believe in us.”

“Yes.”

“So you must then believe me when I say that I have foreseen a fine wedding, whatever your answer may be,” he went on. “I see you raising my son higher and higher when I am gone. I see that your loyalty to him will not bode well for you nor for your wife.”

“What loyalty?” Marlborough narrowed his eyes. “I know your visions can’t be wrong, but I hesitate to voice what the alternative might be.”

“You think I am lying.”

“There’s no other way to explain it.” Marlborough backed away. “Forgive me, but I know myself better than any vision, and I know that I’d never consent to...this.”

“You try to force your way out of your destiny?” Sunderland barked out a laugh. “You have greatness ahead of you, more than anything you could imagine! If you defy fate now, then when does it end?”

“I never thought you a Calvinist, my lord.”

“Ah, but unlike a Calvinist, I believe that you make your own fortune. Is that not so?” Sunderland dropped down to all fours. “And still the fortune of others. If you obey now, you can become the most powerful human this galaxy will ever see.”

“I don’t see how your son can help me,” Marlborough said. “He has made an enemy of nearly everyone.”

“He’s young,” Sunderland said. “Tell me who didn’t have enemies at his age. And even you now.” He turned away, his tail running under Marlborough’s chin as he did so. “It amuses me that you think you have a choice as a human. If your wife has already resolved on the marriage, then you will obey, either her or fate. But you will obey.”

“If anyone can fight fate, I trust her to do so.” Marlborough shoved Sunderland’s tail away, wincing as the spikes approached his eye. “If your son is truly as in love as you claim he is, then let him prove it to me in time. But I’ll not be shamed nor intimidated by a man who refuses to get blood on his claws even just to feed himself.”

Sunderland stopped, lifting his head, and Marlborough tensed. Was this his anger, then? He swallowed and met the brilliant pink eyes.

Come whatever may, then.

But Sunderland only sighed. “Ah, why should I force fate? You’ll be back here, my lord, whether I wish it or no. And I do.”

“If that be true, then ‘tis not for the same reason,” Marlborough said bitterly. “Is that all? Or do you have something more you wanted to discuss, since my resolution on that is final?”

Sunderland nodded. He sat down, his tail coming around Marlborough’s shoulders and pulling him closer. “I waited to tell you this, and indeed I hesitate to tell you now due to your...defiance of what you know to be true. But the Duke of Gloucester is nearly ten now.”

“That he is,” Marlborough said, though he couldn’t imagine why Sunderland brought the boy up. He had only ever looked upon him with a cold interest, and Marlborough shuddered to think what he already knew of the prince’s future.

“Your wife may have told you this,” Sunderland said, “of the vision all of us shared regarding the prince. We saw nothing that could be taken with either much joy or despair, though, for reasons that escape me, all that I spoke to rejoiced.” He snorted. “It was the most nonsense thing God could have sent us! The prince drenched in blood not his own? Why? He is naught but a child!”

“I was there when the vision was sent,” Marlborough admitted. “And I thought the same. ‘Twas only the sun that shone upon him. That you all read an omen in the stars at that moment meant nothing.”

“I did not say that it meant nothing, my lord, I only said that the meaning it did have was purposely made as confusing as possible.” Sunderland shifted on his claws. “But upon studying what I saw that day in closer detail, and looking even further ahead, I realize now that this omen was not meant for our eyes.”

“I see,” Marlborough lied.

“It was sent to all of us in the hope that one way or another, it would reach you.” Sunderland poked his tail against Marlborough’s cheek. “And so it has.”

“Sir, I- I’m very far removed from this world,” Marlborough said, stepping away and shaking himself. Every touch felt like the prick of a hedgehog’s quill.

“That doesn’t mean that you don’t appear in visions,” Sunderland said, turning to look at him. “I would venture to say that you are the one who appears most frequently in the stars as of late.”

“But a vision meant for me, my lord, that is—”

“Make of it what you will,” Sunderland snapped. “I would have you remember one thing, however.” He lifted his tail and ran his finger across a spike. A dark streak of blue appeared just under the claw, dripping down onto his wrist as he raised his talon up towards Marlborough.

“‘Tis human blood that is as red as the mother star. Not ours.”

✭✭✭

Having had his eyes shut for so long in the past, Marlborough knew well what the approach of certain Asterothiriots sounded like. This one was the easiest, with the sound of scrambling claws, heavy breaths in between— it was the Prince of Denmark.

He looked up and saw the huge Canis magnetar as he entered, licking his whiskers as he sniffed the air. “I heard we were making William’s mask today. I couldn’t miss that!”

Marlborough dipped his head in his direction. “Have you brought your own, Your Highness?”

“Ah- well, yes—” George turned around, his tail wagging slightly at the sight of his wife. She held a mask in her hands, presumably her husband’s.

“Maybe think twice of running up ahead next time,” she laughed, handing him the mask. “William, do you not think it is too soon? Your papa made his own when he was fourteen.”

Gloucester at last looked up from his place at the table. He had splinters of wood buried in his tusks and claws, and his fingers were stained with the ink that he had used to draw his design. Beside him, Bishop Burnet flipped the pages of a large book, showing the boy some of the older, more popular designs that the Canis magnetar typically liked to use for their masks. His tendrils twitched upon the entrance of the Prince and Princess as if he had just smelled something foul.

“No, Mama, the time is just right,” Gloucester replied. “Who in this galaxy has the power to defy the heart-eaters? ‘Tis the magnetar dogs! Bishop Burnet says that Papa’s species can harness their magnetic fields such that they can even control the presence of those ghosts.”

“Naturally, it depends on the person,” Burnet muttered, but Gloucester seemed no less enthusiastic. He held up the wooden mask he had been carving out. Just last year, he had started to learn how to cut and shape wood with his talons, in preparation for this very moment.

The mask, of course, was messy, and looked quite dangerous to wear in Marlborough’s opinion, but both George and Anne seemed delighted. George ran to his side and leaned over the table, his tail wagging so hard it swatted Marlborough in the face.

“Oh, ‘tis very beautiful,” he said. “How will you paint it?”

“I- I want it red and gold,” Gloucester said, his ears flicking back bashfully. “Like my Lord Marlborough’s uniform.”

“Unnatural colors!” George leapt back, nearly colliding with Marlborough in his shock. “Have you given any thought to this beforehand?”

“I can assure you that he has, Your Highness,” Marlborough said. “And he’s convinced that the design is possible. I trust him,” he added, seeing George snap his jaws in the air, “as a hybrid of the Canis magnetar and as a student of the Bishop.”

“Then I do as well,” Anne said. “George, show him your mask.” She flicked her heavy tail at Marlborough, beckoning him closer. “My lord, a word.” 

“Yes?” Marlborough looked up at her, standing almost as tall as her father. Her presence, however, relaxed him more than it exhausted him, and she never asked anything unreasonable. At least, not of him, he liked to think. With Sarah was a different matter, but she was happy enough to obey her Princess, no matter the order.

“William is but a hybrid,” she said. “And as of now, he’s had no visions. If God wills it, his powers are only delayed, but...” The spikes on her tail shook slightly. “Our King is a hybrid, whose mother was a Bocca della Verità.”

“And he has no such powers,” Marlborough finished.

“Indeed.” Anne gave him a tentative smile. “I thank God for it, but he also lacks the powers of his father. No gift of foresight, nor silk in his wrists...” Her eyes widened. “What if it is the same with my son? If he inherits neither of our powers, what then? We don’t yet know if he has the magnetic field.”

“I believe that as long as he has the same eyes as his father,” Marlborough said, “his powers will show. That is, after all, how the mask binds itself to his face and body.”

“I hope you’re right,” Anne said, glancing at Gloucester. “I wouldn’t like to have lied to him this whole time. I thank you.” She tapped her tail lightly on Marlborough’s shoulder before bounding back towards her son. He was occupied with carving out designs onto the mask, though at times his father had to use his own sharper claws to cut into the wood.

This, too, was beyond Marlborough. He watched the excited boy from some distance away, always having to move this way and that to avoid the wagging tails. It was only when Gloucester looked up at him expectantly that he approached.

“My lord,” he said, “how do you fight the heart-eaters?”

“Well, to that there are many answers—”

“No, my lord, how do you fight them?” Gloucester asked. “You’re a human, with no venom nor visions nor anything. I know you can see them, but they can’t be hurt at all, can they? Not without gamma radiation.”

“No, but there are ways to ward them off,” Marlborough explained. “For that, we need the strength of every Asterothiriot— the tendril-tooths and their visions, the magnetar dogs and their masks, and the Defenders and their hivemind. There are even heart-eaters here who want to help us, who know the weaknesses of their species well.”

“God knows there are few,” Gloucester said ruefully. “So is that how you fight them? By commanding us on the field?”

“When they have enough robots to control, yes. But we rarely fight true heart-eaters on the field.” Marlborough laughed uneasily at the thought. “Their invasions work from within, as they destroy and infect the codes of our devices.” He gestured at one of the computer screens that had taken the place of a window not too long ago, which Burnet used often for his lessons. “From there, they are even more powerful than they would be if we fought them conventionally.”

“The Sun King can eat stars, though,” Gloucester said. His tail twitched nervously. “Could he do that with our planet?”

“Oh, could he?” George’s ears pricked up.

“Of course not, you two.” Anne rolled her eyes. “There is enough nuclear energy on this planet to kill him if the foolish idea ever came to him.”

Marlborough nodded. “The most powerful repellent, after gamma radiation, is your magnetic field. So if you finish this...” He tapped the mask that Gloucester held. “You will have nothing to fear.”

“Indeed, they will fear me in turn,” Gloucester said, his eyes glittering. “The moment that I put this on, they know to hail William IV!” He placed his mask over his eyes with a fierce growl.

Though Marlborough had expected the transformation, it was still always a surprise to see a Canis magnetar activate its field. Gloucester bowed his head, his claws keeping the mask held up to his face as something like a halo appeared around his head, glowing for a moment before disappearing.

“Oh, thank God,” Anne breathed.

But her relief only lasted for so long, as Gloucester suddenly dug his claws yet deeper into the mask, his other hand reaching out to grip the table. A shudder ran from his ears to the tip of his tail, and then he tossed his head back with a shriek.

“William!” Anne cried, instantly swinging her tail around him and bringing him closer. “What is it? Does it hurt?”

It must have, Marlborough realized, for he saw that the prince’s tail was growing dusky brown fur in place of its spikes, as were his ears, though they began to flop over as if the weight were too much for them. Much like the ears upon his father’s head.

“Of course!” Burnet hissed, coming up around Gloucester. “This child appears to be nearly a pure-blooded Bocca della Verità. To put on a mask and change so drastically could very possibly break some bones.”

“Then we must stop it at once,” Anne said. She licked anxiously at her son’s face as he convulsed in her arms, his cries sounding less human to Marlborough by the moment.

“Your Highness,” Burnet said, turning to George. “You may stop this by using your own magnetic field. It is stronger than his and will allow you to pull the mask off in the midst of the transformation.”

“I- I was thinking of it,” George said hastily. He placed his mask on his face, the same halo appearing around his head for a moment. His fur became bushier and caused him to appear much larger. He curled his lip back, revealing the sharper canines and extra teeth that grew there. He fell forward with a huff and took Gloucester in his paws.

The air felt heavier around Marlborough as he observed them, as George buried his teeth into Gloucester’s mask and began to pry it off. It was surely the conflict of the two fields, binding father and son together, though Marlborough knew that there was nowhere else George would rather be, anyway.

Poor child, he thought. Anne had been right to worry; if this was to be the transformation every time, Gloucester would never inherit his father’s powers, either.

Hail William IV. Marlborough repeated the phrase to himself. He heard the prince fall silent at last, and he looked up, realizing that the beat of his heart had become almost painful.

“How is he?” he asked, stepping closer.

Gloucester rested in his father’s arms, his whole body shaking as he sniffed, wiping futilely at the tears on his face. Anne lapped soothingly at his head, squeezing his hand in her own. The boy glanced up at Marlborough and swallowed.

“If I shall inherit the kingdoms, then England is in danger, my lord,” he whispered.

“Never,” Marlborough answered in the same volume. “The King has no such powers, either, and yet the planet remains. I am a mere human, but I remain.”

“And how? How have you done it?”

At this Marlborough dropped his gaze to the floor with a rueful smile. “That, Your Highness,” he said, “I cannot say.”

✭✭✭

The Duke of Gloucester recovered well, for the wounds left afterwards were only imaginary. The King had seemed rather disappointed in his letters, though not as much in the boy as he was with Anne, for reasons Marlborough couldn’t fathom.

But he was pleased enough with everything else he had heard of Gloucester’s education, and so Marlborough kept him on the same path as before. He watched him hunt and fight from afar, listened to the intensity of Burnet’s lessons from behind the door, wore the discarded mask as Gloucester instructed, for the simple joy of seeing it used. If no otherworldly powers could affect Marlborough, then he didn’t see why he couldn’t indulge the prince on occasion.

What was curious to him was when Gloucester would drill his little army of tendril-tooth boys, fierce creatures that appeared more aggressive to Marlborough than their adult counterparts. He thought they might have liked him, but they were rather too rough and too curious for his tastes. They would nip at his fingers, sniff him everywhere, and knock him over with enthusiastic pounces, very unlike the usual care that his son would show him.

They liked him enough so that Gloucester began to use him as a sort of reward— obey me well, he said, and the human is all yours for the rest of the night. Marlborough didn’t mind this so much, for all they demanded was tales of the human galaxies and the occasional play-fight with him. What he minded more was a hint of the prince’s grandfather whenever he made such deals, and he thought again and again of what Sunderland had said to him.

Human blood is red. It had been so long since he had cared to acknowledge the scars on his thighs every time he dressed, and yet now they seemed to sting all over again. As red as the mother star.

And tendril-tooth blood is blue. As blue as the sea.

His eyes, as blue as the sea.

He was too relieved to forget this when he watched the boys train, and afterwards when he sat on the grass with them after a successful hunt. Gloucester would speak of whatever the imagined victory of the day had won them before curling up beside Marlborough, resting his head on his lap with his tail thumping the ground all the while. He said that he liked the human’s hands, that they were softer than even his father’s paws.

It was during one of these sunsets that Gloucester told Marlborough his intention to take his little troop scouting elsewhere, where they could get used to fighting in a different environment and tasting unfamiliar scents. Upon overhearing this, John shot upwards and bounded towards them.

“Will we go somewhere, Your Highness?” he asked. He was now taller than his father, and attempted to be just as stern, but the way he seemed ready to pounce at everything that moved did not convince Marlborough just yet.

“You nosy boy, you weren’t meant to hear,” he scolded him playfully, pushing back on his son’s teeth as he stepped closer. “Sit down, if you must, since you’re already here.”

John obeyed, and Gloucester lifted his head from Marlborough’s lap. “To answer your question, yes, Churchill, we shall. I know not where, though,” he added, glancing back at his governor.

“I know of a place,” Marlborough said thoughtfully. “There is an abandoned nuclear power plant not far off from here. We mustn’t go in, but there are many discarded robot parts around the place that will make it difficult to smell anything natural. ‘Tis hard to battle in such conditions, but I have done it, and so you must learn, as well.”

“A power plant?” Gloucester tilted his head to the side. “Pray tell, why would we ever abandon such a source?”

“Long before your existence was ever thought of, the planet was in civil war,” Marlborough explained. “Which, I am sure, the Bishop has taken care of to teach you.” He paused as Gloucester nodded, then continued. “Many power plants were destroyed in the process, or rendered useless by tampering or error or simply deemed unsafe after the chaos. This particular plant had nothing wrong with it, but the removal of certain software and securities in place made it susceptible to heart-eater attacks.”

“Was France not our ally then?” John asked.

“Indeed, but there are some places where we never want them to go,” Marlborough said. “So we left it as it was and it became something of a mass grave for old or defective robots.”

“So no one will bother us there,” Gloucester said, sitting up. “I have decided. We shall go there!” He wagged the tip of his tail. “But when?”

“Nay, must you make a decision now?” Marlborough laughed. He reached out to ruffle the growing mane. “I shall make you a deal, Your Highness. Your birthday comes soon, so you mustn’t wait for long— following it, I will take you there myself, just you, so you can see if it suits your purposes.”

“I doubt that it will not, my lord,” Gloucester said. “I trust you.”

“Oh, ‘tis a nasty place,” Marlborough said. “You might be surprised.”

Indeed, the prince didn’t have to wait long at all, for he was eleven years old just the following month. He was becoming a fine creature, as obstinate as his mother. He already showed, too, the beauty that befit the Stuarts, though his was less ominous and more sweet, innocent.

Still, his youth was shown more clearly to Marlborough that night, when he was surrounded by his adoring family and the curious courtiers, who all so dwarfed the prince with their magnificent horns and overgrown claws. If only William was there, to see how graciously Gloucester behaved towards them. Perhaps he could learn a thing or two.

But, as for himself, Marlborough was glad to be rid of William for the moment. Nearly every celebration at court before this had him be something of a decoration, listening in on every conversation but never welcomed by the King. Those nights were long, exhausting him more than any battle could. How strange it was to be so fearful of his own silence.

No, tonight the art was in the sky. The fireworks startled Gloucester at first, the spikes on his tail standing straight up as he ducked behind his father, but after a while he watched them with full attention. His wide, blank eyes reflected the stars.

“If hydrogen bombs were so beautiful,” he breathed, “we would all be dead, and I would blame no one.”

Afterwards, he was brought inside to dine with his guests; he was particularly proud of being the one who fed them with some of the larger animals he had caught. Marlborough watched them eat from a distance, having already done the same himself. The scent of blood reached him even from that distance.

“See him now,” Sunderland said as he came up beside him, nudging him with his nose. “The little prince so covered in red as we saw him then.”

Marlborough swallowed. Indeed, Gloucester’s face was stained with the blood of his food, though not to the concerning degree Marlborough might have imagined. Was that all the vision meant? That the prince would be as skilled a hunter as his uncle?

“Watch closely over him tonight.” Sunderland bowed his head. “For a deadly, unseen virus spreads through our planet like fire. I’d not like the King to be so incapacitated by another spell of that excessive grief of his.”

“What are you saying?” Marlborough’s eyes widened with outrage and bewilderment as he turned to face Sunderland. “Will- will he fall ill? Shall I take him somewhere?” 

A sickness that hit the prince hard enough very well had the strength to kill him; he was not yet as strong as every other boy his age. But Marlborough couldn’t imagine how or why it should happen here, when he was so happy and blissfully safe from all danger. He knew, though, that he also couldn’t afford to be blinded by the circumstances. Sickness came whenever it liked.

After the dinner he watched the Asterothiriots dance with growing unease, watching Gloucester as he weaved through the talons of dozens of guests around him. He seemed well enough, and yet—

“John, what are you doing?” Sarah bent over to nudge his cheek with her head. “You look ill. I told you that you don’t have to be here when we eat—”

“No, not that,” her husband said, looking away with a sigh. “Do you remember the vision your species had, but two years ago? About the prince.”

“Yes,” Sarah said. “Why do you think of it now?”

Marlborough hesitated. “Sunderland warned me that- that there is a virus of some sort— I know not what it is, but he seemed to tell me that the prince’s life is at risk because of it. Someone might carry it here...” He looked around. “Have you been warned of anything as of late?”

“Nothing about His Highness,” Sarah said, her ears twitching in surprise. “Nor have I heard anyone say a thing. Oh!” She straightened up. “The Princess did tell me before the fireworks began that she felt the strangest thing for a moment, that the aura of a dreadful vision had swept over her, but had disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. She knew not what it meant.”

“Well, then.” Marlborough glanced at Gloucester again. “I’d like to take him far away from here.”

“Wise,” Sarah said, “but Heaven knows if the Princess Anne will allow an end to the celebrations so early.”

“The warning came from Sunderland, so she must have reason to believe it,” Marlborough said. “I think she will.”

“Very well, then I shall tell her.” Sarah looked around for a moment before bowing her head to kiss her husband on the head. “It might displease her now, but she’ll be grateful later. You might have saved his life.”

“I hope I have,” Marlborough replied with another anxious glance at Gloucester. He was starting to feel dizzy, his head heavy. Perhaps she was right and the scent of the blood had gotten to him. He needed to get both himself and the prince out of here.

“Oh, John.” Sarah reached down to run her claws through his hair, her tail twining around his body. “Truly, what is it? I’ve never seen you worry like this, not since- since his reign. Or are you the one who is ill?” She dropped her hand down to touch it lightly against his cheek.

“N-No, my love, I only—” He leaned into the touch and sighed again. “I would that I had visions like yours. That I may protect everyone who is in need of it.”

“But look at you!” Sarah stepped back. “You never know what lies ahead of you, yet you carry on as if you did. Men would gouge out their all-seeing eyes for a fraction of your ability.” She brought his hand up to her lips, kissing it gently as she glanced to the side. “I must go speak to the Princess now. Be safe.”

She left him there alone, his body shaking slightly, feeling as exposed as if he were made to be artwork, after all. Now this was embarrassing; what a fool he was, being so frightened by something that may or may not happen, when all he had ever known was to be fearless.

Surely they all smelled what he had been told was the sickening scent of fear, but, once again, it was only Gloucester who addressed it. He trotted merrily over to Marlborough with his tail wagging.

“My lord! Does this not please you?” he asked.

“Yes,” Marlborough let out in a rush. “Yes, but it- it would please me more if— if Your Highness would remember how I promised that we would scout out the nuclear power plant after your birthday.” He bowed his head a little. “Now we shall.”

“Oh, can we? Right now?” Gloucester blinked in surprise. “Should I not tell my mama first, I’m sure—”

“I am your governor, and I say ‘tis very well,” Marlborough said. He took Gloucester’s hand in his own. “Think of this as an assessment. I will see how you track, how you hunt, perhaps even how you fight a real battle if we come across a larger animal. God willing, we shall not,” he added hastily upon seeing Gloucester lash his tail, “but it is now or never. You can take your troop there tomorrow if all goes well.”

“Tomorrow,” Gloucester repeated. He looked back at his mother, then shrugged his shoulders as if he were relieving some tension from them. “Very well. Let us go. Papa shall entertain them, he always does.”

They both waited until they were out of everyone’s sight, then hurried out while Sunderland was still the only one who watched them. Marlborough didn’t think too much about it; after all, the warning had come from him.

“‘Tis a strange time to leave,” Gloucester said as he bounded out under the stars, shaking himself. “Is something wrong, my lord? Why must we be so discreet?”

Clever boy. Marlborough fixed his gaze up ahead as he answered.

“No, but- but there might be. Worry not, however, I think we shall outrun it.”

“But if something is wrong, will my mama be safe?” Gloucester glanced behind him, then stopped in his tracks. “I will only go if you promise me she will be safe, and Papa, too.”

“With all my heart, I do swear it.” Marlborough bowed low. He prayed it would convince the prince, or he would be forced to tell him of Sunderland’s warning. And what good would it be to frighten Gloucester?

“Well...I did say that I trusted you.” Gloucester started walking again, and Marlborough followed him, relieved. “How far is this place, my lord?”

“We must go through your hunting grounds,” Marlborough said. “But we must be careful, the nocturnal beasts are more like to attack than their diurnal counterparts.”

“I will defeat them all,” Gloucester declared.

“I trust that you can, but ‘tis better to avoid an unnecessary fight.”

One moon was full, and two others had nearly caught up to it, so the prince’s eyes were thankfully not the only lanterns that lit their path. This time he seemed not at all interested in stealth as he crashed through the bushes and knocked his tail against the trees, likely scaring away any animals that may have been ahead. It must have been intentional.

It was a while before Gloucester spoke again, when the full moon had creeped ever higher above them. “I- I cannot smell as well here. Are we almost there?”

“We must be,” Marlborough said. By now he was starting to regret this; it was too dark and too late for someone the prince’s age to be out here. He might have retired to bed instead, and hide away safely under his covers, rather than run so far into unfamiliar territory like a common spy with a human as his only protection. The most extraordinary human this galaxy had ever seen, to be sure, but a human nonetheless.

You could have done this tomorrow, he scolded himself. But they were here now, and the prince seemed determined to press on now.

“I smell water nearby,” Gloucester announced after another long silence. “There is something about it, though...”

“There’s an old pond here that the tendril-tooths dug out early on,” Marlborough said, remembering just in time before Gloucester ran up ahead to see it. “At first it was clean, but it has become such a mess of parts and oil that I advise you not to approach it. Even touching it would be dangerous— the water is conductive and it has electrical currents running through it that could burn you.” He reached out to pull back on Gloucester’s tail. “So stay away from it.”

“Oh, I promise I shall! Hurry, now, I’d not like our scents to be tracked here.” Gloucester scurried under the branches, and Marlborough followed him, hearing the flutter of a startled Cryptovolans above.

They came to the said pond, surrounded by hills of robot endoskeletons and armor alike, broken limbs and spent batteries piled together and leaking their contents into the water. The moon shone unnaturally off of the metal, which reached for what looked like dozens of tail-lengths around. If the trees grew here, Marlborough would say that they had almost become part of the natural order of things, but that was not the case.

“I like it here,” Gloucester said beside him, stalking forward on all fours. “There’s a lot of space to fight. And here, too, an unwitting enemy could fall.” He gestured to the pond with his tail. “I suppose the best point would be from one of the hills, right?”

“Yes, but don’t—”

Gloucester began to climb up the many robot parts, kicking down eyeballs and fingers behind him. “You, my lord, come up here! I’ll try to beat you back. My theory is that once you’ve made it all the way up, there is nothing that can take you from this spot.”

“Why is that?” Marlborough asked. He began to climb up the same hill that Gloucester had perched upon.

“Because of this!” Gloucester turned around and kicked at the parts underneath his talons. A heavy arm tumbled down towards Marlborough, causing the bolts he stood on to slide under his feet and nearly knock him over. He jumped off before the arm could reach him, wincing at the thump it made as it landed at its final resting place on the ground. That would have hurt.

“Very good,” Marlborough called up to him. “What moves should you use from such a position?”

“A high strike!” Gloucester demonstrated it by swiping his claws downwards through the air. “Right on their faces will make them run! But if they get closer, then I can kick them with the sickle-claw, like horses do.” He bent over on his arms and kicked out both legs behind him.

“Is that what we shall practice tomorrow?”

“Yes, that is—” Gloucester paused, his ears pricking up. “Oh, I can see the power plant from here!” He began to jump back towards the ground, but his claws slid out under him and caused him to practically roll down the hill instead. He seemed unaffected as he got back up, however, if a little shaky around his tail and legs. “May we go see?”

“I don’t consider it safe,” Marlborough said. He wondered if it was high time to return yet; the body parts here unnerved him more than he cared to admit. “Are you well, Your Highness?”

“Yes, so we should go!” Gloucester hopped from side to side like an excited dog. “Please, my lord, you know that I’ve always listened to you. I’ll stay right beside you.”

“Very well,” Marlborough sighed. “But if we go see it now, then we must go back immediately after. We’ve spent too long here already.”

“By the stars, we just got here! Come, come, then!” Gloucester nudged him forward, and Marlborough laughed and obeyed his prince.

It was a longer walk than he had anticipated, and he began to notice Gloucester yawning on the way there. But he seemed to shake off all exhaustion when they arrived at the crumbling building.

“It looks endless,” he said, looking from left to right. “And- and I smell water here, too, even over everything.” He tilted his head up and opened his mouth as if he were tasting the air. “‘Tis a very strong scent.”

“Nuclear energy uses water, of course,” Marlborough said. “Both to cool the fuel rods, and to store them. But I don’t see why there should still be any of it in use here.” He stepped through the large, shattered glass doors, Gloucester following close behind, and stifled a gasp upon seeing the abandoned reactor just outside the building. It obscured the sky that would have been so splendidly visible above the collapsed walls and ceiling, and just beyond it lay the even larger cooling tower.

“Would you look at that?” Gloucester ran up the noisy metal stairs that spiralled upwards, all the way to the top of the building. “It looks glorious from up here!”

“Get down, Your Highness, you swore you would be with me!” Marlborough called after him. “And who knows how well these stairs can hold you up.” He sounded more anxious than he intended, but such were his true feelings. This place was not meant to be disturbed, he could sense it.

“The stairs continue downwards!” Gloucester cried as he hurried down the steps, Marlborough’s heart skipping a beat every time he heard the boy’s talons slide for too long. “I see something down there. Can we go?”

“Very well, but then we must go!” Marlborough joined him on the stairs, descending to the next floor, then the next, and the next.

The prince stopped abruptly in front of him, and Marlborough nearly stumbled over him. He was about to scold him, but he found himself silenced in awe when he saw the massive pool glowing in front of them. It seemed so large that it could have stored a couple of the King’s departing ships.

“So this is where it came from,” Gloucester said. He hopped onto the floor, slipping against the metal grating. Marlborough ran hastily after him. “What is this, my lord?”

“The spent fuel pool,” Marlborough answered. “I would have thought they had emptied it before they abandoned it.” He leaned over the railing, narrowing his eyes against his reflection before looking up again. There was a control station just on the other side of the pool, though the numerous screens were cracked and showed nothing but the radiation in the water.

With a pang of deep, primal fear, he realized there was a peculiar sound still coming from the station. The water was still, and thus silent, but over everything there was a sound like a dying animal, a high-pitched, brief little groan that repeated every five seconds or so. Were they the death knells of the machine?

“I don’t like it here,” he confessed to the prince, who was currently trying to reach the water with his talons. Marlborough sighed and pulled him back. “Did you hear me?”

“Yes, I—” Gloucester paused. “Do you hear that? Is it coming from the water?” He turned in the direction of the control station. “I would have heard it from the other floor. Has it only just started?”

“It comes from there.” Marlborough nodded at the cracked screens. “Did you truly not hear it before?”

“No.” Gloucester shook his head. “It sounds...like something not of this planet.”

The sound went on, impossible to make sense of in Marlborough’s mind. He might have called it beeping if it had not sounded so biological. He might have called it a humming if it did not stop so often.

“Are you ready to leave now?” he asked, turning to Gloucester.

“I- I suppose.” The prince kept his gaze on the screens, however, moving only when Marlborough nudged his shoulder. “My lord, I- there is something dripping from the cracks.”

“What?” Marlborough looked up, narrowing his eyes. He couldn’t see it from here, but he guessed that Gloucester had a sharper gaze. “How—”

“Your Highness!” A booming voice echoed throughout the room, causing even the water to ripple slightly. Marlborough instantly brought Gloucester in closer as the screens began to flicker on, making clear effort through the static and colorful, messy lines. He knew what this was— nay, who this was.

The screens buzzed and buzzed until they suddenly stopped, flashing black before dozens of red eyes appeared all over them. They blinked down at Marlborough and the prince.

“Your Majesty,” Marlborough greeted him dryly in French, bowing low.

“Your Majesty?” Gloucester repeated with a squeak.

“Oh, little prince,” King Louis said, his eyes appearing to soften. “What an offering you bring me, Monsieur Churchill. Yourself, the human who has been such a thorn in my side...and the Protestant heir.” A grin began to slowly spread across the bottom of the screen.

“He will leave now. Both of us will.” Marlborough stood up taller. “And you can forget that you saw us here. There is a peace, and I trust you will not violate it.”

“Ah, but how often I have waited for a chance such as this!” Louis cried. “Must you leave so soon? I have been dying to meet this illustrious Duke of Gloucester.” His multiple gazes darted rapidly around the room. “Have you not brought your son?”

“No,” Marlborough said. “And I never will. Good night, Your Majesty.” He turned around and began to lead the astonished Gloucester up the stairs, only for a couple of rusted nails to fall down the steps towards them. Marlborough then caught sight of a strange, misshapen android dragging itself towards them with its four arms down the stairs, complete with an old, tangled wig and a partially revealed endoskeleton. Its sharp teeth went nearly all the way around its head, and its jaws seemed to be repeated down at its belly, out of which a metal tongue dangled and hit the stairs.

It lifted its faceless head, a mess of wires with nothing recognizable save for the mouth. Marlborough backed away as the robot stood upright on its twisted legs, lurching forward in Gloucester’s direction. Gloucester yelped and hid behind Marlborough, the spikes on his tail shaking fearfully.

“What’s the matter, prince? Were you not excited to challenge me before?” The King’s voice came from both the screens and the robot, which moved the mouth on its stomach rather than the one on its face. “You want to be like him, do you not? William. My William!” His voice was becoming garbled by echoing, distorted laughs, but they stopped abruptly when he next spoke. “Once upon a time, I had him.”

“So I’ve heard,” Gloucester said with a nervous growl. “But you’ll not have me, sir.” He glanced at Marlborough, who was glaring at the screens. There was no way to fight him through those, as it seemed they were no longer functional and only served as a vessel for Louis. No, there had to be another way. Another answer that tempted him.

“Oh, Your Highness.” The robot took another step towards Gloucester. “There has never been anything in this galaxy that I wanted that I couldn’t have. Of course,” he added with a low hiss, “that doesn’t mean that your human friend here has not tried to stop me. It will be such a relief to finally have that body for myself and see what my dear brother James saw in it.”

“What is he talking about?” Gloucester bared his teeth and let out a ferocious bark. “You leave us alone! It is as my lord said; there is a peace!”

“Peace!” Louis scoffed, letting out a hideous laugh through the robot. “Tales for children. Why, should I let both of you live just to challenge me again later? There will be no peace in the universe until I rule it.” He raised the claws of the robot, wickedly curving towards the sky much like the sickle-claw of the tendril-tooths.

“Your Highness, I need you to get as far away from here as possible,” Marlborough said urgently, turning to Gloucester.

“But you-”

“Please, do not be afraid for me.” Marlborough pushed the hair from the prince’s face. “You can’t fight a heart-eater yet. When we return, I’ll teach you. But you must run, as far as you can, and never look back. There are robots up there he might be able to take control of, so you must take care to be especially swift.”

“I- I don’t—” Gloucester hesitated, and in that moment the robot lunged at him, snapping its jaws in the air right by the prince. Gloucester cried out and scurried to the side as Louis batted at his waving tail, trying to follow him up the stairs. For all the limbs the robot had, however, it seemed to have trouble crawling up them.

“Your quarrel is with me, Louis!” Marlborough spat at the screens once the prince had disappeared. “Leave the damn boy alone.”

The robot turned its great head towards him. “So it is. But it is best to kill a friend before he becomes an enemy, is that not so? You would know.”

“I’ve never once thought of killing a child,” Marlborough said. He slipped off his coat as the words rang in his head.

Killing a child. Killing a child. A deadly, unseen virus.

Sunderland and his cryptic prophecies! Virus, indeed, these heart-eaters as they devoured strings of code— but what deceit that monster played with. Had he intended to lead Marlborough to this very moment?

“What are you doing, you infernal human?” Louis’ eyes disappeared from the screen, being replaced by a huge, taunting grin. “Come to strip for me like you did for King James?”

No matter. Marlborough glared back at him as he kicked off his shoes. He was out of practice here, but at least it wouldn’t be the radiation that killed him, if anything did. He took a few deep breaths, and with the last one, the longest, he leaned over the railing and dove into the pool.

Distantly he was aware of Louis’ bewildered hisses above the surface, but he ignored them and swam deeper, fighting against the urging of the water to push him back up again and his own treacherous shaking. Though he kept his eyes shut, he tried to remember how the pool had looked before he had jumped in. The glowing had come from the very bottom, where the spent fuel rods were kept. As long as he could reach the bottom, he could find them.

He began to feel the weight of the water on him at last, pushing him down further. His ears, too, began to feel the pressure, so he lifted a hand and held his nostrils shut, attempting to exhale through them. He realized he had severely underestimated how long this would take, but at least Gloucester would have more time to get away.

He stopped when his hand hit something hard, and he could see the blue glow through his eyelids. He reached out and felt along the solid— yes, here was a rod, many of them. Perhaps there was a smaller one, though, like the ones that were used in robots rather than reactors. These were much too large to carry. He swam to the side, feeling along the rods until he came to one that ended rather abruptly. He pulled on it to break it free from the rod assembly, stifling a hiss of pain at the heat on his hands. At the very least, he knew he wouldn’t freeze here.

The rod seemed to be light enough. He pushed himself back up and began to ascend, though it was made difficult by the continual sinking of the rod in his hand. He couldn’t go up too quickly, he knew, but he only had so much time.

Oh, Your Highness, you must be very, very far away from here. He began to exhale slightly upon feeling the pressure begin to ease, and finally gasped as he threw his head out of the water, his eyes flying open.

He was met with the robot glaring down at him just over the railing, reaching out with its claws as Marlborough surfaced. They hooked onto his hair, but he merely wrenched his head away and swung as hard as he could against the robot’s face with the rod.

There was a true, inhuman shriek from Louis as he fell back, his hand coming up to hold the head that had nearly been knocked off his neck. “What- but- but how—?!” he snarled, the screens going fully red and illuminating the whole room. “I’ve heard the rumors, but you are a mere human!”

Marlborough dragged himself out of the pool, the rod clanging against the railing as he climbed over it. “Well, on the planet where I was born,” he began with what he knew was a nasty smile, “we have long learned the concept of survival of the fittest. Generations of nuclear warfare have created millions of humans like me, who don’t give a flying fuck about what you send in those fancy-ass IGBMs!” He raised the rod high above him, but the robot jumped out of the way before he could hit its face again.

“So you think you’re clever, hah?” Louis barked. “I may feel all the pain, but you can’t kill me from in here.”

“Killing two kings would be quite a feat for me,” Marlborough said. “Even I would not dare, Your Majesty.”

“‘Tis rather bold of you to take credit for that great king’s death.” The robot backed away with another loud hiss. “Did you send us Lord Portland for that reason? Just to see the Asterothiriot who raised you so high be brought so low?” He dropped down on all six of his limbs, its tongue screeching as it dragged along the floor.

“Do you think I owe him everything for that?”

“Why, yes, that is how all of this works.” Louis raised the hindquarters of the robot and then leapt forward. Marlborough ducked low and tried to roll to the side, but the teeth came down on one of his legs before he could do so.

“Ah—!” He tried to stifle any subsequent sound from his mouth as the robot shook the limb fiercely in its jaws, still speaking as it did so.

“Do you truly hold grudges for so long?” he asked. “Oh, what did he do to you? Gave you everything that you now have today? And all he asked was that you serve him like a proper human should.” He tore his head to the side, and Marlborough tossed his head back with a brief scream. The claws came up to pin one of his arms to the side, the one that held the rod. “Now, give me that.”

“No!” Marlborough sat up swiftly, ripping his arm out from under the heavy claws. He could tell he had accidentally drawn blood, and lots of it, but he was too angry to care for pain at the moment. He brought the rod down on Louis’ head again, and again, and again, hitting him harder with each time. It caused the jaws to close more securely around his leg, but once again, he couldn’t care less.

“Damned human—! Enough!” Louis at last drew away from his leg, and Marlborough took the chance to stand, though he felt as if his leg would shatter under him as he did so. The robot sat up, clawing at his waist like a lion catching its prey from behind. Marlborough then turned around and drove the rod straight through the wires on its head.

It was the King’s turn to scream, again, and Marlborough pulled the rod out with some effort, kicking the robot away with his good leg. As its head landed on the ground, Marlborough brought the rod back down into it, pinning it there. Louis screeched and thrashed, his claws digging into Marlborough’s arms, until at last he began to fall still, indeed like the dying animal he had sounded like when they had arrived.

“I never meant for Portland to kill James,” Marlborough snapped. “Let it be known that there are no favors owed simply because he did. I made my own fortune then, like I made it before, and I shall make it forever after!” He tore the rod back out and began to slam it relentlessly against the robot’s entire body instead, tears coming to his eyes as he did so. “And thus I killed him!”

The robot fell limp, and Marlborough looked up just in time to see Louis retreating into his screen, his physical form flying fearfully through the air. He glanced back with wide eyes as Marlborough swung the rod out towards the control station, throwing it with all his strength against the middle screen. It landed just where he had aimed, the end of it sticking straight out of the center and shattering the rest of the screen.

“No one will ever harm that boy!” Marlborough roared after the fleeing King, who hissed and backed away from the screen, his ghostly, monstrous body glitching in and out of existence itself with the radiation that surrounded him. “Do you hear me, Your Majesty? Leave, or you will watch me dive back into this pool here, and this time I’ll bring a rod to kill you.”

Louis flicked what were currently his four ears back, all one hundred of his eyes widening. “You are a fool, Churchill,” he breathed, and then fled up the stairs in the form of a Forte Solarian stag.

Fool? Fool yourself. Marlborough leaned back on the railing as he slipped his shoes back on, drawing his coat about himself. The blood running out of him was warm, but it still caused him to shudder as it leaked through his wet clothes. He had to get back, with Gloucester safely at his side.

Ah, of course, he had to follow Gloucester. He began to climb laboriously up the stairs, wincing at the intensifying stinging in his calf. The wound wasn’t very deep, but nowhere near shallow, either.

He limped outside, into the woods, a chill running down his spine when he saw just how dark it was without little Gloucester’s eyes. He reached one hand out and began to follow the moonlight until he could see the gleam of the abandoned robot parts up ahead. Good; from there, he knew where he was going.

“Marlborough!” His heart sank when he heard the youthful voice cry out. “Oh, you’re alive!”

“You- you were not—” Marlborough gasped as Gloucester ran into his arms, his tail coiling around the human’s body.

“Pray, forgive me, but what kind of general would I be if I abandoned one of our best men?” Gloucester gave him a hopeful smile. “And I was right not to. You reek of blood. Come, we need to get you back quickly.” He nudged Marlborough on the back with his horns.

“You were supposed to run,” Marlborough said, though too stunned to sound angry. “How- how are you feeling?”

“Dizzy, as always,” Gloucester laughed. “But you know that isn’t strange for me. Why?” He glanced down at the pond as they walked past it, twitching his ear at his reflection as if in greeting.

“Then I am not the only one who needs to get back,” Marlborough whispered. He leaned against Gloucester. They had lived, but for how long, he didn’t know.

And then came the hated sound again, right behind them. The hum, or the beep, or the squeal, whatever it was. Marlborough had already learned to hate it.

Gloucester froze beside him, and they both turned around, facing the pond again. There was a familiar red glow emitting from it, a grin forming across the surface of the water.

Louis can attack here as well, he remembered, seeing the sparks fly around the edges of the pond. Oh, yes, now he knew what a fool he had been after all, to bring Gloucester here alone, where the heart-eaters loved to rest.

“Oh, moons above!” Gloucester yelped, turning around to run. Marlborough tried to follow, but he felt something cling onto his wounded leg, something large and nearly burning him with its heat. He turned around and saw Louis crawling out of the pond with those wide smiles of his, gripping onto Marlborough and Gloucester with a singular, large hand.

“Ah, now, be not so hasty,” Louis purred as he brought the two of them closer to his face like a curious boy to an insect. “Especially you, Churchill.” He plucked Marlborough out of his fist with another hand, gripping onto his hair and eliciting a pained hiss out of him. “Sweet doll, you deserve someone better than William to fully appreciate your beauty.”

“I hate you,” Marlborough grunted out as Louis squeezed him, a finger coming up to caress his chin. He tried to hide the panic on his face, turning his head away to look at Gloucester. There was not a hint of human nor android in him— he could not gaze upon Louis so plainly.

And yet, he did, his eyes wide with awe as Louis swung him carelessly around in his hand. They were truly, dreadfully blank this time, so unlike the excited boy Marlborough was used to.

The hand that held Marlborough morphed into an impish tail, flicking the human’s cheek with the narrow point. “See here, my child,” Louis cooed at Gloucester, dropping Marlborough onto the ground and lifting his tail towards the prince. “There is a taste of human blood for you here.”

Human blood. Marlborough groaned and sat up. He held his hand up to his cheek, realizing that he was indeed bleeding there as well. The pain was fading back again, even as he held his bloodstained fingers out before him. Human blood is red.

“Do you like it?” Louis asked Gloucester, who was hungrily lapping at his tail. “Yes, there’s a good boy. Would you like more?”

Gloucester responded with a sharp hiss and a wag of his tail. He tried to crawl out of Louis’ grasp, and the Sun King laughed, placing him on the ground.

“Very well, then. Follow your nose. There is your human.”

“Your Highness,” Marlborough huffed. He shuffled away on the grass as Gloucester approached. The prince opened and closed his mouth, tasting the air as he had before, with that terrifying, beastly emptiness in his eyes. “You know me well. Please—”

Gloucester lunged at him, and Marlborough cried out, rolling to the side to shield his neck and throat from the vicious, snapping jaws. “William!” he yelled, batting his fists out blindly at the snarling boy. “Look- look at me!” His body jolted as he felt the sickle-claws digging into his ribs. “William—!”

He caught the horns just in time before they impaled his chest, then twisted them sharply to the side, throwing Gloucester off of him. The prince screeched as he caught his haunches in the brambles behind him.

“William, listen!” Marlborough knelt in front of him. “You- you have to fight the madness. I know it is possible—” He jumped back as Gloucester swiped at him. “You wanted to fight heart-eaters, did you not? Fight them now!”

“Both of you are the most pathetic creatures I have ever seen,” he heard Louis jeer. “Your deaths would not be so great a loss to this galaxy.”

“Shut up!” Marlborough turned to glare at him, and in that moment, Gloucester broke free. He opened his mouth wide and pounced forward. Marlborough frantically held his arm up to shield himself just before the tusks could bury themselves in his throat. Instead, they bit deep into what had been his uninjured arm, though much to his surprise and horror, this brought little pain with it.

Oh, I am dead. He tried to pull his arm out, and that was when the next agony hit, forcing a whimper out of him. Gloucester shook his head from side to side, up and down, clearly trying to tear the limb off. There was a move that William had once taught him, though Marlborough knew not if he remembered it—

Gloucester rolled violently to the side, taking Marlborough with him. The human shrieked as he heard the harsh ripping sound beside him, as the prince tossed his head back triumphantly with Marlborough’s forearm hanging from his jaws. Marlborough collapsed onto the grass, panting heavily and staring up at the sky in shock. He had spent decades in the European Galaxy, and it was a child who finally took this from him.

And now I will die. He could feel the burning of the prince’s venom coursing through his body, and yet he was the coldest he had ever been. He heard Gloucester approaching, licking his bloodied lips.

“Oh, he has ruined you,” Louis said faintly. “Well, I suppose he can have you, then.”

“Murderer,” Marlborough managed through his frantic breaths. “Murderer. Murderer. There was- there was a peace.”

“Nay, no longer,” Louis said. “If I can kill you and this child, there is a chance yet that James’ son may come to the throne. And the rest is history.” His crazed eyes glittered as if he were imagining his glory already.

Oh, William, I have failed you, Marlborough thought, though to which William he spoke to, he didn’t know. His vision was blurring, from both the venom and his tears. He would have liked to die with Sarah beside him, he would have liked to see both his son and the prince follow him into battle.

He winced as Gloucester stopped in front of him, sniffing at his face. His breath now had that nauseating, metallic scent to it, and Marlborough could almost vomit. That was his own blood.

“Very well,” he whispered. “Bite- bite my throat, like I taught you.” He reached his hand out to run it through Gloucester’s mane, still managing to smile up at him. “It was an honor to do so.”

Gloucester blinked down at him, then bowed his head. Louis growled beside him.

“Go on, Your Highness, what are you waiting for?” he asked. “I hear they taste divine.” He ran his tail along the bottom of Gloucester’s chin.

The prince didn't look up. Marlborough could see his legs shaking as they had before, his claws tearing up the grass as if he were making some great effort to stand. At last, he lifted his head and darted to the side, biting into Louis’ dangling tail.

Louis curled it in with a yelp. “N-No, not me! By the stars, how did you manage to hurt me?” He turned his tail back into an arm and lifted it towards his face, watching the wound begin to go black. “Your- your venom. It works on me.”

What? Marlborough weakly lifted his head. How did Gloucester, of all Asterothiriots, have the power to harm heart-eaters? There was no man here who had ever managed to do such a thing with nothing but his numerous teeth.

No ordinary man, of course. But Marlborough realized then that the boy was irradiated, to what must have been a large extent if he had the ability to harm Louis. Every part of him could hurt the King now, including his venomous tusks. And thus the King could even be killed.

Ah, but a child killing Louis was too much to hope for, Marlborough knew. He watched as Louis sprung back, trying to shake the furious Gloucester off of his back. He hissed and snapped his jaws at the prince, who climbed onto his shoulder, digging his claws into it to stop himself from falling off.

“You treasonous child!” Louis unsheathed his claws, or rather grew his fingers even longer, sharper. “Must I do everything myself?” He lashed his tail down against Gloucester's back, and Gloucester opened his jaws in a wild screech. He slid off of the King, tumbling on the ground with a couple of pained yelps.

“Run!” Marlborough called after him, and Gloucester had only time to glance back at him before Louis sliced his claws right through his chest and stomach. Opened was the only word Marlborough would later use to describe what Louis had done to the boy— ripped him open as if he were a worthless soldier on the field rather than the royal child that he was. This boy who had just only turned eleven now saw the turn between life and death itself.

The force was enough to send Gloucester flying towards Marlborough, his body landing with what sounded like a painful thump before him. His head lolled back as if he were stunned, and his chest heaved as he fought to breathe. There was that deep, deep blue covering every part of his body and dripping endlessly out of it. It was equal parts beautiful and the most horrifying thing Marlborough had ever seen; the exposed innards of a tendril-tooths child.

“William,” he whispered. He began to drag himself towards the convulsing body. The desperate choking sounds coming from Gloucester's bloody mouth, blue and red, almost caused him to faint, but he willed himself to come closer. “William.” He repeated the name with a sob.

Louis blinked down at them both, seemingly unamused, though noticeably shaken with the spreading venom in his limbs. Marlborough glared up at him through his tearful eyes, daring him to say something, but the King only turned his apathetic stare away and limped back into the pond. The last Marlborough saw of him was his wounded tail, flicking at them dismissively as always.

“William,” Marlborough urged, looking back down at the prince he held with the arm that remained intact. His other arm he could feel becoming drenched in the blue blood, but he welcomed it, for it meant a chance to survive. No, he would survive, for it was the attacker's blood that was the only antidote for the venom. But Gloucester spilling out all the contents of his belly here would only save Marlborough’s life, not his own.

“You were so brave, do you know that?” Marlborough smiled through his tears, but then he truly could no longer hold back the shattering, near painful cries as he wept for the dying prince before him. Did he know he was dying? Was he aware of everything he was about to leave behind? His eyes remained fixed ahead, and he said nothing as Marlborough smoothed back his mane.

“Your poor mama,” he whispered. “How could anyone be ready for this?” He buried his head into Gloucester's bleeding chest. “Oh, forgive me, my child. I knew not that a liar and murderer awaited us here. Forgive me. Forgive me.”

He still had not the strength to run back, but as he felt the venom's effects drain from his body, he felt as if he could at least crawl some distance back before collapsing into Sarah's arms. Would she want him now, though, like this? His arm replaced by the immortal guilt of having let Gloucester die under his care?

“I'm so sorry,” he went on as he began to drag Gloucester back, holding him up close to his body. “I'm so sorry to all of the alien race. When- if you go to Heaven, tell God I said that.” He knew if was a fanciful statement. He was slipping on the grass with the prince’s endless flow of blood.

There came a point where he could not walk any longer, which disappointed him so, as he would have liked to at least bring Anne a body to bury. He collapsed against the ground, the sounds of him hyperventilating matching the labored breaths of the prince. Was it Marlborough that was dying with him, or was there a chance Gloucester could be saved after all?

Chance, ha. They would both die here. He knew they had not even made it halfway yet.

Suddenly Gloucester kicked a leg out at his side, and Marlborough grunted. It was nowhere near the pain of his open wounds, so he let it be. He turned to look at Gloucester's face, his breath being taken away upon seeing the familiar look in the prince's blank eyes. There was the boy, still alive even if he was fading quickly.

“Oh, little one, please,” Marlborough pleaded, feeling as if he could burst into tears all over again. “Just wait until you can die by your mother's side.”

Gloucester blinked up at him, and then he reached out towards Marlborough with his weak talons. “You, trumpet of the apocalypse,” he said faintly, though his eyes are as clear as ever. “The angel who saves us all. It had to be me— I was the sacrifice that so pleased you. Play for the end of the world, my trumpet!”

“Wh-what?” Marlborough wiped at his nose, his voice shaking. “William, stay. I beg of you. Stay. I cannot let them take something else from me.”

The prince had fallen still, and for a moment Marlborough thought he was at peace now, the madness and terror draining away from him as he realized he was safe, and held. But the emptiness of his eyes had returned again, and not even his chest attempted to swallow up every last gulp of air.

“William.” It was all Marlborough could manage, the panic rising within him all over again. “William, listen to me. Wake up, my child. We're almost there. I told you we would take your little army with us tomorrow.” He laughed uselessly, imagining the boys all nipping at each other's tails and roaring with delight. “You are eleven now, and look how strong you are. You have so much left to do.”

So much blue; Marlborough was drowning in it. The blue of this child's blood, of the radiation in the pool, of that monster's eyes that had taunted him during those dreadful nights— he couldn't take it.

He dropped his head against Gloucester's shoulder and screamed his grief out onto the body, which remained of his size, but now seemed much too small to be so still like this. He screamed until he either fainted or he heard the frantic footsteps ahead of him, he couldn't tell which one came first.

“John, you— oh, John!” That was Sarah's horrified voice. “No, I- I refused to believe it, but— John, please! Look at me!” She licked his bloodstained face, and he could only blink listlessly up at her.

There came the name again. “William!” from a horrified mother, unwilling to take in the sight of her son in such a state. “William!” from a shocked, sickened father.

“It should have been me,” he said as he felt Sarah lift him up in her arms. “It was all me.”

“Hush, say no more. You can tell us all about it later. Rest now.”

Rest! Marlborough wanted to scoff. What rest was there for those who were still living?