#I would go to the ends of the earth I would tear anyone limb from limb if they asked me to

[barkingandbarking]

Just got held down with a vibrator against my dick, had their initials carved into my back, and got whipped with my own leash until I cried on the floor and had to rut against the vibrator while they fucked each other over my sobbing

#butchappreciationday

[in1-nutshell]

Can we give TFP Airachnid an opposite personality son? We’ve played with opposite personality daughters a lot and a son would be real refreshing. Like I’m thinking of a similiar fluttershy personality for this little one, who just loves all kinds of organisms and animals and wanted to explore and observe every life on every planet possible. Who was also always scared scrapless and sad whenever he walked passed his mother’s hallway of trophies.

And just for cuteness, could he be adopted by Arcee later?

(It would also be sweet if he can have a frog theme, contrast to Airachnid’s spider theme (cause real life tarantulas sometimes keep tiny frogs around), and in this case it’ll be sweet if he is named Ranidae, cause that’s the scientific name for frogs just like how Airachnid is the scientific name for spiders)

I will be adding the name to the list!

Hope you enjoy!

Arachnid with a son with the opposite personality

SFW, Platonic, Angst, Familial, Cybertronian reader

TFP

Arachnid never thought about getting ‘attached’ to anyone before.

She lived by a code.

To live for herself, by any means necessary.

It worked for her so far, the spider wasn’t going to stop now.

Arachnid would never admit it to anyone… but she started getting a bit lonely after defecting the Decepticon’s and wondering around Cybertron’s ruins.

That when she met him.

Arachnid is walking to her newest hideout when she hears rustling. She is immediately on the offense. Arachnid: “Come out or watching me will be the last thing you’ll ever do.” An old crate’s lid opens and a small helm pokes out. Arachnid: “A… sparkling?” She holds the sparkling by his pede looking him over. The sparkling just looks at her with curiosity burning in his optics. Arachnid: “Hmm…small, light…” The sparkling smiles and tries to grab her faceplate but settles on one of her extra limbs. Arachnid: “No.” The sparkling drops the limb. Arachnid: “And obedient? Oh, you’ll be a great addition, Little one.”

Arachnid took in the sparkling a couple days before she would hijack a Decepticon ship and fly out of Cybertron’s orbit.

Having the sparkling on board gave her something to do.

She’d thank him later for being the reason she didn’t go crazy from being stuck in that spaceship for so long.

It wouldn’t take long before she started using the sparkling in her newest hobby.

Hunting endanger species.

The sparkling played the perfect part as the innocent bait.

He didn’t know what was going on at first.

All he knew was that he was helping his mother be happy, something he was willing to do.

His mother didn’t smile too much these days.

As much as he loved his mother, the bot who saved him as a sparkling, he hated her hobby.

They both had a fascination with organic life and curiosity on its works.

Too bad both their definitions of ‘study’ were different.

The smaller bot looks sadly at the newest trophy on his mother’s shelf. Arachnid kneels behind him and places a servo on his shoulder. Arachnid: “Another successful hunt thanks to you, Little one.” She stands up. Arachnid: “Maybe the next planet we go, you can pick which parts I get to keep.” Arachnind walks away. The sparkling lets a tear fall and goes back to his room.

Soon they arrived on a quiet planet called Earth.

It was time for the bot to assume his position, bait.

Maybe this time he could get some more clips of this planet before leaving.

The sparkling ran into the forest as soon as his mother gave him the signal.

The plan was just to go out far enough to get back to the ship if something big came after him.

But thanks to some cute organic creatures, the sparkling ended up going farther than expected.

Maybe staying with them a bit longer wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

The smaller bot happily follows the tiny creatures to a small body of water. He watches them go into the muddy water. Ranidae: “Don’t be afraid! I’m Ranidae, I won’t hurt you.” A one of the creatures hops onto his open servo and croaks. Ranidae: “Hmm… my scans tell me the indigenous life forms call you… a frog.” The frog croaks and blinks at him. Ranidae: “You would be a great alt mode. Powerful legs, small, and no one seems to bother you too much.” He places the frog down. Ranidae: “This won’t hurt a bit.” Ranidae scans the frog and transforms to a frog. He tests out some hops before transforming back. Ranidae scoops up the frog again. Ranidae: “Thank y—” The sounds of an explosion interrupted him. It was in the direction of the ship. Ranidae: “I-I have to go. Goodbye!”

The bot started running as fast as he could.

When he made it over the ridge all he could see was the charred remains of the ship… and a limb that belonged to his mother.

Ranidae fell to his knees at the sight, not really knowing what to do or feel.

He didn’t stay there too long though.

Ranidae hears steps behind him. They were small, but too heavy to be his little friend. He turns and sees a human. Ranidae jumps a bit at the sight. Jack also jumps seeing a smaller bot near the ex-ship. Ranidae: “H-hello there.” Jack: “Umm, hi?” Ranidae: “You spoke back! You aren’t mute like my other friend!” Arcee comes walking over the rigde. Arcee: “Jack, who are you talking to?” She sees the smaller bot and instinctively takes out her blasters. Ranidae immediately backs up to a nearby tree, shaking like its leaf’s. Jack: “Woah, woah! Arcee calm down. I don’t think he’s evil.” Arcee looks carefully at the bot before realizing how young the bot look. She put away her blasters and kneeled in front of the shaking bot. Arcee: “You got a name?” He nods a bit. Ranidae: “Ranidae… your Arcee, aren’t you?” Arcee: “Yeah?” The younger bot starts shaking even more. Arcee is unsure what to think of this. Arcee: “Hey, I’m not going to hurt you Ranidae.” The bot doesn’t stop shaking as quite little sniffles are heard. Jack slowly walks to the bot. Jack: “He’s like a little kid.” Arcee: “That’s because he is one, by Cybertronian standards.” Jack slowly places a hand on the bots pede. The smaller bot jumps a bit but relaxes seeing it was the human who touched him. Jack: “I’m Jack.” Ranidae: “…Jack?” Jack: “Yeah. Look, Arcee isn’t going to hurt you, none of us are.” The younger bot relaxes a bit but look warily at Arcee. Jack: “Do you have any parents?” Ranidae quickly glances at the limb. Ranidae: “Not anymore.” Arcee notices the lack of badge on the bot. Arcee: “what side are you on?” Ranidae looks at her confused. Ranidae: “I don’t have one.” Arcee looks around before sighing. Arcee: “Ratchet’s not going to like this… come one kid, you’re with us now.”

It was a big surprise to see Arcee and Jack to come back with another young bot hot on their heels.

Ranidae stayed glued to Jack’s side the entire time, even grabbing his smaller hand and putting it in his servo when he got nervous around the bigger bots.

Miko and Raf soon came over to greet the smaller bot.

Miko: “Dude! You’re smaller than Arcee!” Ranidae flinches away a bit at the loud sound. Jack: “Miko, inside voice. Ranidae this is Miko and Raf. Raf Miko, this is Ranidae.” Raf: “Like frog?” The young bot immediately perked up hearing the word. Ranidae: “I like frogs. Are there any frogs here?” Raf: “Not here but I have pictures.” Ranidae’s smile widens seeing the little photos. Miko: “You really like frogs, don’t you?” Ranidae nods before transforming into his alt mode. Everyone looks surprised. Miko: “You really like frogs.”

The kids and bots nearly had whiplash once Ratchet found out how old Ranidae was.

In human years, he was a bit younger than Raf.

Bumblebee is quietly celebrating not being the youngest on the team.

Ranidae decided to stay with the Autobots.

It wasn’t like he had anywhere, or anyone would miss him.

As far as he knew, his mother was offline.

Better to start a new life with someone who didn’t want to hunt for fun.

It does not take long for all the bots to grow a soft spot of the youngest member of the team.

Arcee, arguably has the biggest spot for him.

Sure, the small frog was extremely hesitant to be around her or the team, but it changed after Fowler was introduced to him.

Fowler looks at the small bot slightly hiding behind Arcee’s legs. Fowler: “And you are?” Ranidae is pushed up front a bit. Ranidae: “Ranidae…” Fowler: “And?” Ranidae: “And?” Fowler: “What do you do?” Arcee: “He doesn’t have a position yet.” Fowler: “What do you mean he doesn’t have a position yet? Sure, he’s small but he has to do something. What did he do back on your planet?” Bulkhead: “Fowler, Rani just a kid.” Fowler: “Isn’t Bumblebee your youngest?” Arcee starts getting a bit frustrated. Arcee: “Ranidae is younger than Bumblebee. In human years, he’s around Raf’s age.” Fowler: “… And his parents? Or is everyone taking care of him.” Arcee: “I am.” Bulkhead: “You are?” Ranidae: “You are!”

Arcee had said that out of frustration after seeing the smaller bot start shrinking in Fowler’s gaze.

But she doesn’t regret saying it.

From staying out of Arcee’s sight to practically clinging on her back.

This does not exclude alt mode, especially after Ranidae found out that he could stick to certain objects, including bots.

Does the smaller bot get on her nerves from time to time?

Yes, but give her a break.

She never thought she’d be a parent, especially at war.

Arcee is quite protective of her little frog, and it is no secret to the others.

Arcee finishes brigding out Bulkhead and Bumblebee. Arcee: “Rani, I need you to help me out here.” Jack: “Rani isn’t here.” Arcee: “What?” Raf coming into the room. Raf: “Has anyone seen Miko?” Arcee: “… Raf do you know anything about ‘everglades?” Raf: “It’s a huge ecosystem filled with all sorts of animals, reptiles and…” Arcee, Jack, and Raf: “Frogs!” Meanwhile… Ranidae carefully carrying Miko through the marsh. Ranidae: “Are you sure there’s frogs here?” Miko: “Sure, sure, but we have to keep up with Bulk and Bee.” Ranidae: “Okay!”

[starboy-sirius]

may 6 | strawberry | @jegulus-microfic | 1026 words | slightly nsfw

James is going mad. Truly, stark-raving mad. 

He decided last week that he was going to be a good friend and take Regulus for a relaxing day out, because the boy had been cooped up within the library studying for his end of year exams. The dreaded week had finally come around and Regulus, eyes hard and decorated with dark smudges underneath, had flown through all of them. James already knew that his Potions work was going to be the best of the year because when he asked him how it went all of it flew over his head. And James, contrary to popular belief, is actually really fucking smart. 

It takes skill to pull off so many pranks flawlessly, thank you very much. 

But anyway, James wanted to treat Regulus to a nice picnic out by the edge of the Forbidden Forest where they wouldn’t be bothered by Sirius. As much as he loves his best friend, and he does tremendously, James got the feeling that Sirius was trying to block him from getting closer to his little brother. It seems mad to him because ever since Regulus ran away from home and moved in with the Potters, he and Sirius have rekindled their brotherly bond and James thought it only right if he bonds with Regulus, too. 

When he told Sirius this, his friend had looked at him with eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Do not fall for him, Prongs. I mean it.”

James had spluttered, completely taken aback. “What?! Why on earth would I fall for him?”

Raising one eyebrow, Sirius sent him a deadpan look. “You know why, James.”

At the time James hadn’t known. Looking at Regulus now, he thinks he totally understands. He also thinks that being friends with Regulus is going to be the death of him. 

Regulus is sitting opposite him on the blanket, raving about how stupid James is for setting up the picnic this close to the Forbidden Forest, and all James can concentrate on is the way he feels hot under the collar whenever Regulus insults him. 

Oh Godric, he does have a type.

James also can’t tear his eyes away from Regulus’ mouth and the way it wraps sinfully around a chocolate covered strawberry, his plump lips stretched around the fruit as some of it dribbles obscenely out the corner of his mouth. 

James thinks he might faint.

Regulus looks over at him then, looking at him with judgement. “Goodness, you really are mentally deficient aren’t you, Potter? Hello? Is anyone home or do I have to go back to Hogwarts and inform my brother that the best friend he’s ridiculously co-dependent on is braindead?”

James shivers at every biting word, loving the way they brand him as they fall from those sinful lips. There’s a good deal of strawberry juice lingering on his lower lip, some gathering in the corner just begging for James to take a swipe at it. 

So he does. 

Only, it doesn’t go down the way he was originally intending. He meant to swipe at the juice with his thumb, maybe bring it to his mouth afterwards to get rid of it. Only, his brain doesn’t seem to confer that to his limbs, and so James leans his entire body forward, brings his face so close to Regulus’ that the boy’s eyes widen comically, and swipes at the corner of his mouth with his tongue.

For a moment everything is still, even the sound of the forest hushing in anticipation for their next move, and then Regulus lets out a shaky exhale as his eyes flutter shut. James moves automatically, as if hearing that from Regulus sets him off and he’s determined to hear even more wicked noises from him.

James brings a hand up to Regulus’ jaw and manoeuvres him so that his neck is tilted backwards, giving James the perfect angle to swoop down and curl his tongue over the plump bottom lip. He brings it into his mouth and sucks, relishing in the high pitched moan Regulus makes. 

He’s so perfect, James thinks as Regulus lies there and just lets him take it. Take whatever he wants. 

When James thinks back to all his encounters with Regulus over the years, specifically those over the summer when Regulus moved in with them, he thinks he can see how gone he was for the boy. It was almost immediate, the way James just completely folded as soon as the snarky insults left his mouth. 

A mouth that is parting so beautifully underneath his own. James can’t hold back the guttural groan as he dives back in for a proper kiss, taking everything Regulus has to offer and returning it tenfold. Regulus reaches up to scratch his nails across James’ scalp and James realiates by nipping his bottom lip before pushing Regulus onto his back, moving in between his thighs to hover over him. 

Regulus opens his mouth, allowing James to lick into it and suck on his tongue. His other hand grabs tightly at James’ waist, his Gryffindor jumper clenched tightly between his fingers as he encourages James to press his crotch down into his own. 

James pulls away on a broken moan and Regulus whines at the loss, blushing when he opens his eyes blearily, realising the sound he just made. James stares down at him as if he’s the most brilliant thing he’s ever seen. 

“Please tell me you’ll let me do that again,” James almost begs, brushing his nose against Regulus’. 

Regulus shoots him an unimpressed look. “Potter, if you don’t kiss me within the next five seconds I am going to tie you to that tree and leave you there for the foreseeable future.”

James hums. “If you wanted to tie me up, Reggie, you only had to ask.”

“Fuck off.”

Smirking, James brushes his lips against Regulus’ in a teasing manner. “A bit contradictory with your previous statement, love.”

A pretty blush dusts the high of Regulus’ cheekbones and James watches in adoring fascination as the younger boy groans and pulls him back down to his lips. 

James can’t help but smile into it.

[danikamariewrites]

i’m so happy you liked dark reader, do you think i can please request one where it’s slightly dark azriel x slightly dark reader where she’s so full of love, obsession, possessiveness and protectiveness and can’t contain herself. they’re cuddling and she thinks he’s asleep so she tells him how much she loves him, how beautiful he is, what she’d do for him and his happiness.

”i’ll kill anyone that stands in the way of your happiness, i promise you that azzie”

”you’re so beautiful, there’s nothing on earth i wouldn’t do for you”

” i love you so much, you have no idea how long i’ve waited for you ”

and he hears all this so he opens his eyes and tells her the same thing, she doesn’t expect he had the same views as her so she’s overjoyed🥲🤍

Nothing I Wouldn’t Do

Azriel x reader

A/n: god I loved writing this sm thank you anon

Warnings: dark themes, mentions of torture, and murder

You stirred, stretching slightly on Azriel’s chest. The two of you mustn’t have napped for that long because the sun was still high in the sky. Turing from the window you look back down at your mate. Your gorgeous, stunning, handsome mate.

Yours. Azriel was all yours. You slowly and carefully crawl up his perfectly sculpted body to look at his face. You lightly brush some stray hairs from Azriel’s forehead letting out a content sigh. “Perfect,” you whisper, smiling lightly.

You continue lightly tracing Azriel’s face. One night he told you when you run your fingers over his nose and cheeks it brings him comfort. You made sure to always bring him that comfort every night.

Ever since the bond snapped you’ve felt this overwhelming urge to always be around Azriel. To always give him love and never let any harm come to him. This was one of your ways of loving him.

Sure, these are the basic instincts that come with being mates. But it felt like there was something more to your feelings. You were absolutely possessive over Azriel. To the point where you’d rip someone apart if they stood in your way of getting to him.

As you continued the pattern with your finger tip you started humming a soft lullaby. “You’ll never know how much I love you Azzy.” You say when the lullaby ends. “I tell you everyday but it’s never enough.

“I’ve waited hundreds of years for you. For your love. And now, I’m never letting it go.” You lightly trace his lips letting out a small sigh, “Mother above, you are so beautiful my mate. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. For your happiness. I know you’d do anything for me.

“But I’d kill for you. Torture and tear down anyone who stood in the way of our love. If anyone ever upset you, gods Azzy, I’d go crazy. I’d take Truth Teller and take my time with the person. Making sure they never stand between us again.

“Something I’ll always resent Rhys for is not letting me have a go at your step-brothers. You don’t even want to know how I’d rip them apart limb by limb. It might make even you shiver, sweet spymaster.”

Azriel’s eyes slowly fluttered open. You jumped back, startled by his sudden conciseness. He slowly wrapped his arms around you, pulling you back to his chest. His scarred fingers started to play with your hair as his hazel eyes met yours.

“My sweet fawn, you have no idea how long I’ve waited to tell you the same thing. If you told me to kill a male in the street who looked at you the wrong way I’d do it. Anyone who touches you would lose their hands. I would do anything to keep you safe. To keep you as mine forever. I’d do everything you say and so much more.”

Your eyes started watering. No male had ever made you feel like Azriel does. He is everything to you. “You mean it Azzy? Truly mean it?” You choked out through a small sob. Gods, he overwhelmed you in the best way at times.

He nods slowly. “Truly my sweet.” You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, burying your face in his neck. “I love you Azzy.” You mumbled out. Azriel rubbed up and down your spine slowly. “I love you y/n. So much.”

[grunge-princess-nymph]

Yandere Dark Purveyors Headcanon

Author's Note: I was chatting with a friend online that used to be on tumblr until her account was deleted for some reason & we were chatting about this. I asked many other people to make a request of this, but they either busy with other requests or just not interested. So, I decided to make one myself. Enjoy!

To say the least, it's chaotic....literally chaotic!

Out of all the members, Zed would be the more clinging one. He would've threatened just about anybody who looks at you the wrong way.

Mariska would be one of those scary types of obsessive zombies. At first, she seems to be chill & relaxed like many hippies are. But slowly, she begins to reveal her possessiveness over you.

Josey is a pretty more chill zombie than the rest of the band. But it doesn't mean he don't have a obsessive side too. Just Let him see you with another woman/man & you get to see just how jealous he can really get.

Lewis is really a cocky one. He doesn't have to force his love onto his darling. In his mind, they are already into him, right? But like Josey, he will hunt down anyone who dares to even winked at his woman/man.

Despite they're possessiveness,, they would definitely spoil you.

And by spoil, I mean charming you with romantic bike rides, (Lewis) letting you touch Yumil, (Vikke) even cuddles. (All of them)

The good thing about them being scary obsessed zombies is that they each have a soft spot for you...

The worses part though, they can be aggressively jealous when it comes to rivals.

Let's say that one day, you decided to reject they're feelings for you...

It doesn't end well........for you....

The only ones who wouldn't understand the meaning of rejection at first is Zed, Vikke, & Josey, who would brush it off as a joke. But as soon they relized your....it's h**l on earth!

For one, Lewis would take it the worst. He will go out on a length & hunt down whoever stole his lover's heart.

Mariska would be chill about it. But don't let that fool you you. On the inside, it's like a tornado of jealousy.

And if you decided to leave them, you might wanna convince your other lovers to stay at your place.

And you might need to lock your doors & windows.

Cause as soon as you do, they're coming after, not just them...........you

Don't think they are going to let you get away with leaving them for another lover.

There are just so many ways they can get rid of their rivals you come across.

Zed will have his mosh pit army tear your new lover apart from limb to limb.

Vikke would ripped them apart with his brute strength, hoping to show you what he do with rivals, or even feeding them to Yumil.....or himself.

Lewis wouldn't be making a mess in the living realm. He drag them to his realm & kill them there, by shooting alot of holes in they're body.

Mariska can use her illusions to drive anyone crazy like they were on drugs or something, giving her enough time to kill them off....slowly & painfully.

Josey on one hand, can just turn them into a mindless undead minion when he feels that they could be threat to love growing between you & him.

With the lover out of the way, they're gonna lay low for a while until the time is right to strike.

Heck, they're probably going to start a apocalypse to get you if they have to.

Before you know it, you'd be finding yourself either trapped in one of Mariska's bubble traps or chained to a poll on Vikke's ship.

Obviously, there are going to be alot of ruthless fights with everyone except you, on the count on who gets to keep you & you know.......cuddles.

You can always count on your friend Juliet to protect you.....if she's still alive.

Just pray that things will end for the better for you.......while you're dealing with some undead unwanted admirers.

[beelmons]

You will find things when and where you least expect them, and more often than not they will find you rather than the other way around. This has proven to be true endless times, like when your keys have gone missing and appeared in a bag you hadn't used in a while, or when you have been hungry without a specific craving and bumped into a new food that suddenly became your favorite.

And right now, amidst a melacholic storm on a random tuesday, grief found you.

It's a funny feeling. Grief, I mean. Not two people emote it the same way. From a single tear to hours of heart-ripping screams, manifestations of such pain are as vast as the oceans on earth.

Dropping to your knees, paralyzed by sorrow, drowning in a pond of salty tears was certainly not the way you expected it to.

In the middle of your office, while you pulled some overtime thanks to having slacked off the week before was not the place either.

And that way, amidst the turbulence of a tempest within yourself, Spencer Reid found you.

To other eyes the sight would have been nearly pathetic, you would have judged yourself as such, surely, but to a merciful soul such as his, filled with nothing but love an empathy, it was the purest form of bravery.

The abillty to be vulnerable, to express heartache.

It took him a second to figure out the best approach. The wires of his brain weren't easily turned off, even grief had a method, it made sense. But to him, nothing you ever did followed an order, let alone a process. You never made sense.

For once, he was not confined by the sequence demanded by the logical choice, because there was nothing logical in the way you broke down, the strongest woman he knew, the one he deemed invincible, close to unreachable.

There was nothing logical in the way you crawled into his arms once he sat down next to you, or how your acid-like tears pierced through his chest, or in the way he swore, to himself, to not rest until it went away. An impossible task yet to his knowledge.

"What is it?" he finally brought himself to ask.

"Nothing." you muttered, but there was no place for falsity, not when your soul was bared open for his to touch "Everything."

"I'll do anything." his voice was a vague whisper "Anything to make it stop."

"Will you understand?" you pulled away to look up at him.

"Try me." his eyes were oddly resolute, a glint you had only seen when it came to people he cared for.

The fact alone soothed some of the wounds, but your essence was scarred past the existance of him, or anyone else for that matter. What you were was the work of many, some of whom you least expected, some of whom you denied ever played a part, and others whom you knew were there simply to do more harm, and you were yet unable to walk away.

"Do you understand the dispair of having your shirt stained with ketchup?" you blurted out. Truth was, you yourself were unable to put into words what such affliction was.

His eyes narrowed, clearly confused "I can relate to that inconvenience." he said.

"Do you?" you asked with curiosity "Do you understand the feeling of your hair not looking quite right, of your favorite food no longer tasting the same." you took a second to sob, to regain your breath "Of the night being too cold no matter how many blankets you wear, or your body feeling tired regardless how much you sleep. Do you understand the despair of missing who you were, and yet knowing your were bound to end this way?"

"The inevitability of growth can be terrifying." he stated "That much I can understand."

"How do I go back?" you let out a hopeful inquire.

"You dont." after a second of thought, he decided to speak.

"How do I run from what's to come?" you asked yet again.

His hand trailed down your cheek in an affectionate gesture, his slender fingers focusing a bit long on your red and damp skin.

"You can't." his limb trailed down your arm until his palm rested atop of your hand "You stand to them head first, and cling to the hands that stand with you."

Your fingers slowly twirled around, intertwining with his lazily, weakly.

"And if there aren't any?" you tried to look away.

His free hand tapped at your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his own.

"There will always be at least mine. That much I can promise."

You will find things when and where you least expect them, and more often than not they will find you rather than the other way around. This has proven to be true endless times, like when you were lost in a sea of mourned selves and you found yourself in the touch of a loved one.

And right there, hope found you.

[blametheeditor]

Voretober Day 28 | Miss

Voretober Prompt List

First | Previous | Next

If given the opportunity, would you take the chance to go to space and travel the stars? What if the person offering to take you was someone you trusted more than anyone else?

What if that person is no longer entirely human?

CONTAINS SOFT VORE

Content Warnings: Soft, non-sexual vore. Mentions of body horror. Mentions of experimenting on people. Mentions of death and murder, violence. Being trapped against one's will. Disregarding other's wants and opinions. Manipulation. Dehumanization. Abductions. Cursing. Darker themes/tone

___________________________________

Mike is admittedly upset with his brother and father. 

He only made it to the lab just in time to see the fight end, meaning he didn’t know what led up to Vincent attacking William who then forced him to shut down. What Mike does know is that something was said to make his brother so upset that he got sloppy enough to leave himself vulnerable, followed by his dad taking advantage of it to not only disarm Vincent, but shrink him as well. 

Mike knew the two being completely alone with each other wasn’t going to end well, but never did he expect something like this. 

As soon as Scott finds out, the human is going to have some choice words. But until it’s safe for him to do so, Mike has to ‘straighten everyone out’ in his absence.

Only he doesn’t get the chance. Not when William walks toward him with a look of pride on his face. Puts a hand on Mike’s head to brush his hair back, the other cupping his face to brush away a tear he hadn’t realized was there. 

And suddenly, Mike realizes just how much he missed his dad. 

Vincent is protectively held close as he buries his head into William’s chest without saying a word, feels strong arms immediately wrap around him in an all encompassing hug. With his free hand, he clings to his dad, a silent plea never to be let go. 

He doesn’t regret his initial decision to leave his dad a note saying he’ll be back once he finally got his growth spurt. Doesn’t regret telling Scott and Vincent he didn’t want to be sent home and to travel with them. But no matter how many times Vincent comforted him from nightmares, or Scott scolded him for doing something reckless, they weren’t William. They didn’t know his favorite foods and games without needing to ask. They didn’t know how to comfort him without needing to be told. 

“You’re a lot bigger than I remember.” 

A tearful laugh bursts out of Mike’s chest. “I’m still shorter than you.” 

“You still have a few years to grow,�� William murmurs. Rests his head on Mike’s as he takes a deep breath. “I’m glad you’re finally home, Hunter.” 

“Me too, Dad.” 

As the arms slowly unwind from him, Mike almost asks they hug for just a little longer. But his dad doesn’t push him away, only holds him at arm’s length to take him in. “How were your travels?” 

“They were incredible,” Mike begins, growing excited as William watches him attentively, clearly wanting him to continue. “We went all over the universe, and I got to meet every species you’ve studied!” 

“Every species?” William asks, a look of skepticism on his face as he leans away slightly. Something he always did when he knew that Mike’s ‘accidental’ fall into something they were cooking was done on purpose. “Even a Taric?” 

“Twice,” the younger proclaims. “Though you forgot to write down about how they can hibernate at will even if it isn’t cold enough for it, and their extra limbs used for climbing grow longer every year, not every other.” 

“Well I apologize,” his dad smiles. “I will make that correction. Anything else I may have missed?” 

Mike’s eyes light up. Because those were the words he always wanted to hear. The ones where his dad asked him for information rather than always having the answer. “I also learned so much about Earth! I even have pictures, so I can show you what the flora and fauna look like! But I’m an expert on baseball and Hanna-Barbera cartoons.” 

William looks genuinely impressed by the proclamation. “You wouldn’t mind sharing your notes with me, would you?” 

“No sir!” Mike exclaims, bouncing on the balls of his feet with joy, wanting to do nothing more than to run to the ship to grab the book with everything he’s written down about Earth and humans. One that’s a near exact replica of Scott’s, except the human’s book is filled with information concerning Colossus and Colossians. “I can show them right now!” 

William gives a wide smile as he takes his hands off Mike’s shoulders, holding a palm out expectingly. “Why don’t you grab your notes and I will meet you in the operating room so we can discuss your findings while I take care of Vincent?” 

Right, how could he have completely forgotten about-! 

Mike’s thoughts screech to a halt, freezing only a moment before carefully sliding Vincent into the waiting hand. Looks down to see his brother still completely immobilized yet conscious sitting inside his grasp. Replays the scene of watching his father disarm the human turned Colossian before forcibly shrinking him. 

Vincent looks so small inside Mike’s hand. Just like the first time he was shrunk while the younger grew. The only difference is this time he isn’t fully unconscious, but he’s as vulnerable as if he was, once again needing Mike to keep him safe. 

Mike looks back up at his dad, meeting the icy blue eyes he inherited, wanting to trust the taller. Because the three of them are family. 

...one who has a send a bounty hunter because Vincent hates William with a burning passion and wouldn’t heed any message stating they need to come home. Who shrinks Vincent instead of capping his strength at a certain level so they can discuss why the operation needs to be done by William himself. 

Mike remembers when his dad stayed awake for days on end because an operation had failed and Vincent was barely holding on. Of the countless times they cooked together, and the two giants took turns keeping the youngest from jumping into the food. Had always thought that’s what family did. 

Until he saw how comforting Scott was when Vincent needed a repair, talking to him the entire time without a single order to be still and silent, always checking if there was any pain and stopping if there was. When the three of them cooked while the same size, there was always teasing and laughter when they inevitably wore more food than they ate, the exact opposite of restrained shoulder jumps and suppressed smiles. And the ship was never silent. 

Mike doesn’t know if his dad sees Vincent as a son, but even if they are family, the latter is the version he wants. Which means even if William doing the operation is for the best, no one will be putting a single finger on his brother. 

“I’d be happy to share my notes,” Mike murmurs as his fingers curl protectively around Vincent, pulling his brother close and away from William’s outstretched hand. “But I will be doing the operation.” 

His dad’s expression morphs into one of patience. The one that means he’s about to explain that Mike is too young to understand something. “Hunter, this is a rather complicated operation. As confident as you are in your abilities, this far surpasses any repair, including one for his core.” 

“And I will listen to the instructions word for word as you give them. But Vincent made it clear he never wants you to operate on him ever again.” 

“His imminent death bares a far greater importance than his comfort,” William murmurs. 

“It’s not just comfort, Dad,” Mike argues, all but begging for William to listen. Something he’s never had to do when he talks to Scott and Vincent. “He told me how you took him from Earth. Said you forced him to become a Colossian even though he never wanted to be one. You forcibly shrunk him instead of explaining what the operation is and why it’d be best for you to do it.” 

The taller softly sighs. “You aren’t old enough to understand, Hunter.” 

Mike can’t help a glare. “I’m old enough to understand why he doesn’t trust you.” 

William’s eyes harden. “Trust has no place here.” 

“Then why the hell would any of us have any reason to stay after the operation?” 

His dad goes still, searching his face carefully. “You won’t stay?” 

“No,” Mike snaps. “Not if you’re just going to treat Vincent like an object and say I’m just a kid. If we can’t trust you, then we’ll leave right now and find a solution on our own.” 

Because if his dad is going to be adamant on being the one to conduct the operation, then they’ll just refuse help completely. They have enough serums to last for a year, and they’ve already made a lot of progress on research with what little information was provided to the bounty hunter. This just made things a lot easier, and Mike had missed his dad. But if William isn’t going to be trustworthy, then they’ll figure it out themselves. 

“Hunter-” William begins in exasperation. 

“It’s Mike, Dad,” he quietly interrupts, expecting his words to be spoken over. 

His dad doesn’t continue speaking, though, instead meeting Mike’s gaze with a careful look. “It’s slightly different from before.” 

“Mikey’s a nickname for the shortened version of Michael,” he explains softly. “I go by Mike.” 

Whenever Scott isn’t upset and therefore uses his full name. And anytime Vincent introduces him to someone because the nickname is his alone to use. 

“Mike,” William slowly repeats. Waits for a nod to say he spoke the human name correctly. “I want to ensure he lives another ten years without having to worry about complications.” 

“If that is all you want, then you will let me do the operation while you instruct me step by step,” he counters. 

To be honest, he doesn’t know what’s more important to his dad, either having full control over Vincent and possibly making it impossible for him to grow until William gives a certain command, or keeping his son in his life and not burning this bridge forever. Because no matter how many bounty hunters are hired, no matter how many promises are made, they will never come back to this ship if he is adamant that trust doesn’t matter. 

William thinks for a long moment, his face not betraying any emotion and his eyes staying locked on Mike. 

After several minutes, his waiting hand is carefully pulled away despite remaining empty. “You feel confident in your abilities with utilizing a modified medbay?” 

Mike nods once. “Yes, sir.” 

“Then I will guide you through the operation.” 

William wordlessly returns the hug as Mike sighs in relief. “Thanks, Dad.” 

“Anything for you,” is spoken like a promise he can trust. 

Glancing down at Vincent’s prone form protected despite being held between two massive beings, he remembers there isn’t a timer for when his brother will reboot and needs a certain command needed to move by himself again. Even though Mike does know the proper sequence and how to input it, he’s not comfortable with his strength just yet. If he doesn’t dare pinch delicate limbs between his thumb and first finger, then he’s not going to try and make a precise tap on Vincent’s minuscule neck. 

Mike tilts his head up to meet a questioning look. “Can you reset Vincent?" 

William breaks the hug, motioning for the minuscule form to be held out. And despite the possibility this it just to get an opportunity to snatch Vincent away, Mike holds his hand out with his fingers curled protectively. 

He almost misses the quick but careful reach forward to tap the specific sequence. Then the hand’s retreating as Vincent springs to life with a gasp, the scrambling form pulled close for reassurance. 

“You’re a sick son of a bitch,” are the first words his brother growls with a glare up at William, a shaking arm clinging to one of Mike’s fingers. 

His dad’s brow furrows. “I take it the unregistered word is slang.” 

“Sure, let’s go with that,” Vincent snaps. 

Mike takes a step back to give his brother space, gently nudging the trembling form for attention. Even though amber eyes immediately lock onto him, they flicker over to the tower form within reaching distance and back again, clearly afraid of the person who made it so a reset was necessary. 

“Do you want Dad giving me verbal instructions, or do you want us to go through the notes and use those instead?” he asks. Because even though Mike approves of the idea, the only person’s opinion who matters is Vincent’s. 

William doesn’t seem to agree as he speaks over whatever answer was about to be given. “As extensive as my notes may be, there may be unseen complications that require a knowledgeable party to be an active participant.” 

“And we will take that into account,” Mike replies as he carefully rubs Vincent’s arm with his thumb, the tiny figure seething. “But if he doesn’t want you there, then you won’t be.” 

“Mike, I have been exceedingly patient-” 

“Patient about what?” Vincent interrupts as he stands up, his fists clenched. “Pretending that you’ll keep your end of the bargain until I’m on the table and then deciding it’d be best you perform the operation?” 

“Vincent,” William says evenly. “This discussion does not require your input.” 

Mike’s jaw clenches in a silent declaration he will not be saying another word. Will not participate in talking directly over someone while they stand directly between them. 

“It’s going to have it,” Vincent snarls. “You can’t just shut me down and do whatever the fuck you want anymore. If I don’t want you giving instructions on how to permanently limit my strength, or make it so there’s a verbal command to make me shrink without us even knowing that’s what you’re doing, then you. Won’t. Do it.” 

William looks at Mike. Finally looks down at Vincent without tilting his head. “These are quite the demands you’re making. To utilize my notes and equipment while limiting my access. I assume you would be leaving without so much as a goodbye.” 

“You owe me. Not to mention you hired a bounty hunter to bring me here. Don’t sulk because things didn’t go your way and I’m finally talking back by asking to be treated like a human being.” 

When Mike still doesn’t say anything as he’s given another glance, William slowly tilts his head down to properly address Vincent. 

“Then we will sit down to properly discuss this.” 

There’s a long moment of silence as Vincent stares the giant down. “All four of us.” 

Mike’s hand automatically reaches up to gently rub his chest just above his heart at the reminder that while Scott has been in the dark about everything that’s happened, the human wasn’t left alone. Not to wonder through the ship and potentially stumble upon something horrific. Or to have him locked inside their ship until William gave a command considering it had originated from this docking station. Or stand on their shoulder or hand only to get snatched away once his presence was noticed. 

As much as it pains Mike to say it, he doesn’t know if his dad wouldn’t have left Scott alone if the human said he didn’t want to be grabbed. Glad the man agreed that, as much as he hates being stored, it was the best option to make sure he was safe. 

After a moment of a fluttering sensation, Mike feels a distinct but gentle push back at his fingers to confirm Scott’s alright. Though he can perfectly imagine the disgusted face. Wants more than anything to see it. Feels his throat close at the thought of letting the tiny form out of his storage without the reassurance he won’t immediately be snatched away. 

William follows the movement with this eyes as understanding appears. “Your human companion may join in the discussion.” 

“He was going to join no matter what you said,” Vincent growls. “What I need is the promise you won’t touch him. Won’t be left in the same room alone with him. And if he asks you a question, you will answer.” 

His dad’s expression boarders on irritated. But one look at Mike’s steely glare about Scott not being respected, and William nods. “I will provide the same respect I am given.” 

“You are such an asshole.” 

“Can we meet you in the kitchen?” Mike asks, interrupting his dad’s question. “We just need five minutes.” 

A hand is placed on his head to brush his hair back. “If you need anything, let me know.” 

A hopeful smile spreads across Mike’s face as William then walks toward the kitchen without another word. Vincent doesn’t shout anything after the tall giant either, slumping against curled fingers as they walk in the opposite direction to the bathroom. And even though they haven’t been on this ship in three years, and this is the first time Mike’s been a giant navigating through it, they both know the familiar layout. And the moment the door closes, they slump in relief when it registers the offered palm as a resident and therefore has permission to lock it. 

“Holy shit,” Mike breathes, closing his eyes as he takes a deep, long breath. When he opens them, he scowls down at his brother, earning a raised eyebrow. “Why the fuck did you attack him!” 

Vincent bristles. “He threatened Scotty! What the hell did you except me to do!” 

“Not immediately attack him!” the younger exclaims as he sets his hand down on the counter. “You’re the one always hounding me not to let my emotions control my actions!” 

“I’ll admit I made a stupid choice,” his brother begins as he steps off Mike’s hand. Turns to gesture toward the locked door. “But I fucking hate your father.” 

“And that’s why I said to wait for me,” Mike says with a careful poke. 

“And I should’ve listened,” Vincent murmurs as he bats away the finger. “...thanks for rescuing me, Mikey.” 

The giant grins. “Now you owe me twice.” 

“Like I haven’t saved your ass numerous times.” 

“From problems you caused!” 

“We agreed Sara was completely on you!” 

Mike opens his mouth to retaliate, only to hesitate when he feels Scott give a questioning shove. Instead of continuing the argument, he narrows his eyes at Vincent. “This isn’t over.” 

There’s no attempt at getting another point in as Mike closes his eyes, knowing what he’s about to attempt. Though this is only the second time he’s ever stored someone, it only takes a moment of concentration until the small form curled into a ball suddenly appears in his mouth. One that flails and yells as fingers appear to gently grab it. 

Scott breathes heavily as Mike carefully cups his hands around the human. He only looks over the form drenched in saliva as their surroundings are taken in, not even nudging the shaking limbs to give as much space as possible. Then hazel eyes stare directly up at him. “I prefer you eating me over Vince.” 

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you correctly,” Vincent says, pointedly ignoring Mike’s shit eating grin at being deemed as the preferred person when it comes to storing. That means it’s now 5-3 with the younger in the lead. “Could you repeat that for me, Scotty?” 

“I’m not being suffocated for a solid minute when he swallows me,” Scott scowls. Despite the favoritism, Vincent helps the shorter off Mike’s hands once he sets them on the counter and leads him toward a small circular platform as saliva is flicked away with a look of disgust. “And even though I can’t see anything, I think I prefer it that way.” 

“Sorry, Vincent,” Mike smirks. “Looks like you lose this round.” 

“You’re meant to swallow people,” Vincent grouses as he shoves Scott onto the circle. “It’s hardly fair.” 

Scott’s words are lost as the platform activates, the human gasping as a sharp gust of wind rushes over him before disappearing within seconds, leaving him standing there in shock and completely dry. 

“What the hell was that.” 

Vincent hums. “You’re all dried off.” 

“I can see that!”

“It’s a feature only large Colossian ships have but are everywhere on Colossus,” Mike grins as he kneels down, enjoying Scott’s reaction as much as Vincent is as he smirks shamelessly. “It’s the quickest way to dry someone after they were stored.” 

The human’s quiet for a moment, frustration and amazement morphing into wariness. “So does William know we’re here?” 

“Oh he knows alright,” Vincent murmurs as he shoves his hands in his pockets, unable to keep the hardness out of his voice. “He’s actually waiting for us in the other room.” 

“We’re going to talk about how we want to do the operation,” Mike adds when there’s no further elaboration. “We didn’t want you to be left out.” 

Scott looks between them for a moment. “Should I be concerned about why Vince is human sized?” 

“Not anymore,” Vincent reassures. “Though I would appreciate it if you unlocked my shifting for me, Scotty.” 

Mike nods at the concerned glance to say he shouldn’t be worried. Before this, yes, but William has agreed to talk to them. His instincts wouldn’t have let the human out of his storage if he didn’t believe it was safe. 

There could have been an attempt to snatch Vincent away rather than reactivating him. The fact there wasn’t hesitation is enough to trust his dad won’t so much as poke Scott even if given the opportunity. 

Scott moves Vincent’s ponytail as the taller sits down before tapping out a short sequence on his neck. Yells when a giant immediately appears on the counter, the scrambling form swept up and promptly held protectively close. 

Mike’s pulled into a hug once he stands up. Wraps his arms tightly around Vincent as he’s clung to. “Don’t be such a dumbass next time.” 

His brother snorts. “No promises.” 

“I’d prefer there’s never a next time,” Scott scolds. 

[quest-for-pluto]

Asterism

Human!Neteyam x Human!Female!Original Character.

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Summary: He stared at his hands as they hovered in front of his face, tremors running up and down his fingers. His five fingers, not four. And deep, warm brown skin. Not blue.

When Neteyam dies, instead of ending up in Eywa’s promised paradise, he wakes up on an apocalyptic earth, with a strange human girl as his only hope for survival.

Interlude 1: She Has Spoken

Neytiri sat alone in the Sully marui, holding her son's handmade necklace between her fingers. He had crafted it himself at ten years old, after he'd seen his father wearing one.

Only warriors wear necklaces, Jake had smiled at their son, ruffling his braids. You may make one after your first hunt.

Neytiri's lip wobbled as she clutched it close to her chest, exhaling deeply and feeling warm tears blur her vision. She barely noticed his approaching footsteps until her husband laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"It's time," he said softly.

Her chest squeezed painfully at the realization that this was the last time she was going to see her son without visiting Eywa, to touch his face and stroke his hair. "I don't want to go," she choked out. There was not enough air on this planet to soothe the ache in her lungs as they tightened.

Jake sighed deeply through his nose. As he maneuvered around to face her, she observed the small cracks in his normally stoic expression. Glimpses of the true pain and exhaustion he was feeling that he would never let anyone else see.

"Neteyam needs you," he said quietly, reaching up a hand to brush away the tears that had fallen down her cheeks. "He needs his mother."

Neytiri closed her eyes, gathering all of her hurt and suffering and stuffing it into a tiny bottle at the back of her mind. She felt a false calmness wash over her, a strength reserved only for her children. She opened her eyes. "He does," she whispered, reaching up to rest her own hand on top of his.

Jake helped her to her feet, leading her to where the body of her eldest son floated on a woven stretcher, his limbs tied together in the traditional fetal position.

The rest of her children plus Spider were already there waiting, keeping the stretcher afloat. She felt a usual spike of resentment and bitterness towards the later, but it was tamped down by the overwhelming sadness of the occasion, and the satisfaction that his father was most likely dead for good now. There were more important things to focus on.

Everyone from the Metkayina clan had gathered in the bioluminescent water, holding flickering torches as they respectfully waited for the funeral proceedings to start. The Olo'eyktan's family stood at the forefront.

Ronal's eyes flickered up as they approached. Her chin dipped in respect. "With your permission," she said. "We will start now."

Neytiri fought the urge to close her eyes and run far, far away. Instead she looked at her husband, both of them nodding in consent.

They wadded carefully into the water, the crowd parting respectfully for them as they came to stand before their son's body. Neytiri took a deep breath.

"Pamtseol ngop ayrenut," she sang. "Mì ronsemä tìfnu, mì hifkey."

(Music creates patterns, in the silence of the mind, as weavers do.)

"Awnga rol fte kivame. Kame fte rivol. Rerol tengkr kerä ìlä fya'o avol ne kxamtseng."

(We see to sing. We sing to see. We sing our way down the eight paths to the center.)

"Aywayl yìm kifkeyä ìheyut avomrr sìn tireafya'o avol, na waytelemä hìng."

(The songs bind the thirteen spirals of the solid world to the eight spirit paths, like the threads of a Songcord.)

Neytiri unclapsed her son's necklace, fastening it around her own neck with a pained heart.

Jake took her hand as they approached Neteyam. Her son's eyes were closed, a peaceful expression smoothing out his features.

"It's okay," Jake said softly, not to one person in particular, but to everyone in the family. As one, they mounted their ilus and began to pull the stretcher with their brother and son further into the vast, glowing waters. Once they got far enough out, they dismounted, treading closer to the stretcher to slide Neteyam's body out of it.

Neytiri choked on a sob as she held her son close for the last time. His hair drifted softly around his head like a halo, his lips slightly parted. Lo'ak rested a hand on his brother's forehead, as if reluctant to let him go.

With deep, shuddering breaths, Neytiri and Jake plunged into the water, each holding either side of their son as they lowered him gently to the glowing coral ground. As soon as the glowing plants tenderly enveloped his body, his parents let go, treading upwards.

That was when something strange happened.

The coral glowed even brighter around their son's form, but instead of disappearing into the plants, his body started to convulse. Small twitches that Neytiri denied at first, and then undeniable, full body convulsions that shifted the coral around him. Neytiri yelped in shock, a few air bubbles escaping her mouth.

The Sully family watched in fascination and disbelief as his chest began to glow from his bullet wound, the hole seemingly starting to close on its own.

With a cry, Neytiri swam back down to her son, narrowly escaping the grab Jake made for her arm. She cradled his body gently in her arms, shaking him urgently. "Neteyam!" She screamed underwater, uncaring of the air escaping her lungs. "Neteyam!"

Just as she felt herself begin to choke, two strong hands grabbed her by the arms, yanking her and her son up to the surface.

"Neteyam!" She coughed, bringing him back to the stretcher and cupping his face. The rest of her family quickly crowded around the stretcher, peering over him with bated breath.

"It's gone..." Jake whispered in wonder from beside her.

Looking down, she gasped in amazement. He was right, the bullet wound that had pierced her son's chest, leaving a small gaping hole, had healed almost completely. The only evidence left behind was a circular, slightly raised scar.

"By Eywa," Neytiri whispered, frantically pressing her ear down over his chest. Sure enough, the steady thump-thump, thump-thump of her son's heartbeat rang clearly in her ear, moved steadily against the skin of her cheek. Her eyes watered as she whimpered from joy, slowly raising herself to stare directly at her wide-eyed husband.

"He's alive," she breathed, voice thick with emotion.

*******

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[legal-graffiti]

I would have been entertained if Citra just killed Rowan at the end of the first book

~~~

Citra is exactly as decisive and swift as he hoped.

A deep pressure pushes into his chest, dull and empty as it carves him open. Rowan isn’t even sure the knife goes through. It’s only breathless adrenaline, and Citra’s steady hand cradling his head, holding his body upright. The sun turns in the pit of his chest when she punctures his heart. The room lurches violently- until Citra lowers him gently to the floor. His head feels dizzy.

“Everything’s okay,” Citra whispers as she kneels over him. “You’re okay. I’m here.” Rowan trusts her, lets her lull his mind into silence. Then she pulls the knife out. He gasps. Burning fire crawls out of his heart, and trickles down his sides. More pain than a human mind can process, and no clarity of mind. He just clings to her desperately.

“When they ask me to recite names,” Citra says, “Yours will be the first name I say. And the last. And the only name, ever.” Her voice is heavy from holding in tears. It’s a comfort to know that Citra will mourn him. That she thinks he is worthy. Rowan is sorry to leave her on her own.

I miss you already. He wants to say it, but the only thing that comes out is a helpless whine. His limbs turn to static when he tries to move at all. The weight of his body is too much. He would sink straight to the center of the earth if she didn’t hold him. Citra catches his hand when it drops from its place against her shoulder. She holds Rowan’s palm to her cheek, and she will keep it there until the light is gone.

“You’re okay. I’m here.”

This is a cruel way to go. He will never see her face again, never speak her name, or hear her voice, even though she’s right in front of him. Still, he wouldn’t want to die by anyone else.

In front of everyone, Citra leans forward and kisses Rowan’s last breath from his lips.

“Sweet dreams.”

[livingdeadvoid]

"If you're going through hell, keep going."

"I'm guessing you knew him from school,,,? His dad asked in a soft voice, placing a calloused hand on his shoulder. He hadn't expected his dad to show up. I mean he didn't really know Issac much. But yet here he was, offering support to the son he didn't know he needed to support. Stiles just stared at the gravestone numbly, finding it difficult to speak the correct words for the situation. His shoulders shrugged lightly, rising and falling at a stiff pace. He nodded slowly though "friends from school," didn't exactly encapsulate their entire relationship.

See Stiles Stilinski and Issac Lahey, didn't just "know each other from school," They had loved each other. At least that's what Stiles had thought. The two had never been friends. Not until Issac rolled up to school one day all werewolfied. He had been bitten by Derek. Then he was quickly taken away.

The two hadn't really had a chance to really, get to know each other until after Jackson was dealt with. After everything was seemingly solved. It had started out with arguments. Petty comments passed back and forth, turned into screaming matches. Stiles would say something fucked and Issac would retaliate. Soon the two found each other knowing more about each other than anyone else around. Somehow through the mean comments and snarky remarks they had found each other through the darkness that clouded their lives. The yelling had long since quit, instead they comforted each other, helped each other. It became so much. The two began getting drunk off of each other's company. They wanted more, and more of each other. So the two took more and more of each other. Until eventually, "friends from school" didn't fit them anymore. It wasn't even beginning to cover what they were to one another.

The rest of them couldn't tell when Stiles Stilinski and Issac Lahey became... Well became Stiles Stilinski and Issac Lahey. Most didn't mind. It was nice without the constant bickering. It was nice to see them together, see them happy. Of course it couldn't last. Neither of them were particularly lucky. The two were in love. Well as in love as two hormonal teenagers could be. It had felt real to them, so who's to say it wasn't? Who's to say they wouldn't have gone to the ends of the earth for one another? Because they most certainly would've. Stiles Stilinski and Issac Lahey were in love. In love with each other and in love with the feeling of one another. They would do anything and everything with each other. Anything they could've and should've. Stiles only wished he had more time, there was still so much left to do.

They had wanted a dog together. A big one. Neither had ever had a pet before. But both wanted one. A husky,,,,that's what they had decided on. Big and fluffy. It wouldn't happen now, not with Stiles standing over Issac's grave. A stray tear fell from his red brimmed eyes. He had already shed so many tears, yet of course there were still more to come. He wiped it away slowly, his limbs too shaky to do anything quickly. He looked back at his dad, giving him a small smile. "Yeah.. friend from school. That's all," he turned back to the Sheriff, giving him a quick thumbs up. He thought he was done lying to his dad. Thought the days of endless half-truths and full on deceptions were over. Clearly he was mistaken. While yes, he had every intention of telling his father he just couldn't. It was too painful. Too fresh. His father sighed, bringing him into a tight hug. "He wasn't just a friend, was he?" Stiles' eyes widened, clearly he couldn't lie to his father any longer. Even though he had wished to. He shook his head softly as more tears streamed from his tired eyes. "He was so much more than that Dad, so much more," he had a painful smile on his face. His grip tightened as he sobbed into the crook of his father's neck.

After the dust had settled, Issac laid on the field lifeless. Stiles rushed to his side but it was too late. The wounds couldn't heal fast enough, blood pouring from them faster than any of them could deal with. He held him in his arms, rocked him as he took his last breaths. Stiles screamed, sobbed, hit, but nothing brought him back. Nothing would bring him back. Because Issac was dead.

"I was in love with him dad,,,, I was in love with Issac Lahey," he spoke the words quietly as he continued to sob.

[aniverous]

I don’t have any reason for this idea other than that I like causing fictional characters emotional pain so:

What if V and N had a kid before they were vampire-ized?

They get closer in the months after their romance sparks, close enough to, well, let their data link a few times when the humans or J aren’t around.

——————————

If Drones can accidentally merge data, then V tells N that she’s processing. Digital tears in her eyes as she fears what will be done to them if it’s discovered, how they have no material to make them a body with, how even considering making a Drone not under JCJenson (on earth)’s control was grounds for death and what should they do?

And N’s scared too. Enough that he asks if she wants to delete it because as much as he’d love them he couldn’t bear to force her into danger if she doesn’t want it. But she tells him she does, more than any amount of safety, so they start planning how to make this work.

If they chose to have a kid, when their relationship got more serious, they’d talk amount how their romance makes them marked for death if caught anyway. That they might as well do what would make them so, so happy. And how they’d protect them no matter the cost to themselves.

——————————

Either way, the next few weeks are the most tense they’ve ever had. Gathering parts and robotics books from Tessa’s room, sneaking around J and the humans, getting it all back to the old cralwspace no one but them knew how to access.

Hiding V’s condition was the hardest part. Needing to divert lots of power to the processing code left her weak and fragile. N took every chore from her he could, created distractions when she had a moment of tiredness in front of anyone. All it would take was one person deciding to examine her code and that would be it, for them and their progeny.

But they managed to hide it all until the day of the upload.

——————————

N hated seeing V so weak, but he knew the upload would take a lot out of her. He’d read and reread Tessa’s books on the process (labeled hypothetical due to being illegal) and he knew it was going how it should.

V almost passed out when it was done, but she refused to. As N checked her over for any complications, she looked at her child. Their child.

The body was far from perfect, but they shouldn’t have felt any pain or trouble moving. Soon their code would slide right in and then their visor would light up and they would see their parents for the first time.

The new mother was sad that her child was being made under a floor among the pipes and dirt, but she would stop at nothing to make the rest of their life perfect.

Once she and her baby were strong enough to run, they were all leaving. V and N wouldn’t let them grow up as a servant or pet. They’d been researching places to go, groups of rogue Drones or uninhabited factories, whichever turned out safest for the child.

They would watch their kid learn and discover and find out who they were, and it would be incredible.

Or it would have been, if the floor above her head wasn’t suddenly ripped away.

——————————

N grabbed his girlfriend and child and tried to run. He had never put more force into his legs than that moment.

But he only got three steps away before the giant Drone swatted him to the ground.

A hulking thing, it mindlessly served the law enforcers that surrounded them. When a glance spotted J at their side, N wanted to tear her bolt from bolt until he saw the restraints on her broken limbs and the pain in her shattered visor.

When someone tried to take his family from his arms, he fought with everything he had. Punching and kicking and biting, V using her little energy to aid him. But their resistance only lasted as long as it took for them to be separated and pinned down. Only a few seconds.

N waited for death. He looked at his partner and waited for the blow or the shot that would end them. He couldn’t look at their child. Not as they were killed before they ever lived. When a shock to the neck made his vision fade, he silently prayed he’d see them wherever he ended up.

—————

V stared into her child’s eyes.

They were frightened and confused. The first thing they saw was human hurting their parents. Did they know they were their parents? The books didn’t know what they’d be aware of at the start. Did they know her, or was she as strange as the people holding them?

The people taking them away.

She held eye contact until the taser knocked her out, silently begging that whatever the humans did to her baby wasn’t going to be too horrible.

[silverstormsxx]

A Letter To A Particularly Hot Someone - An Undertale Fic

Au where muffet is chara and grillby is asriel

Human!muffet

----

Dear Grillby,

A long time ago, I told you a secret.

I made you promise not to share it with anyone, and it seems you've complied with my wish, even through all these loathsome years we've been apart.

Ahuhu. What a great best friend you are.

If I remember correctly, it went something like this..

"My favorite bug is the Bothriocyrtum Californicum. It can bounce back from anything you throw at it, no matter what. You can crush it underneath 38 times it's own weight, and it'll still come out on top. If everything and everyone were as strong as it is, then nobody would have to shed tears over pointless things like overcooked brownies or a lack of money. Nobody would have to cry at all anymore. Doesn't that sound perfect, Grillby~?"

It did sound perfect, at the time. I was such a painfully naive child.

Back when I was still on the surface, I was taught that the only thing that mattered was money. I lived in a small little bakery and slept in a small little room and ate small little loaves of bread (which was subject to change at any time if I made a mistake at any sort during work hours, like burning a slice of cake on accident), all while being forced to work my scrawny little limbs to their very limit in order to support the family before I even reached the age of ten.

I eventually grew tired of this lifestyle. I felt more like my mother's slave than I did her daughter. At best, I was an extra worker that she could work to the bone more so than she could other employees while simultaneously not having to pay whatsoever. At worst, I was an extra mouth to feed - and a loud, whiny one at that.

It's hilarious, really. I felt more comfortable with the spiders living in the cobwebs around the house than I ever did with her.

Guess that really goes to show who the superior race is, huh~?

Anyhow, that was the day I met you. And the day I learned what a true family was - or should be, at least.

When I fell down that hole, I fully intended to rot. To sink into the earth and rejoin the spiders as they laid eggs upon my decaying corpse, transcending my humanity and becoming a prized spider colony..

I'm rambling, aren't I? Forgive me, Grillby. I simply have.. a lot on my mind right now, as you might be able to guess.

But then you found me. Coughing up blood and staining the lycoris's an even more striking shade of red, if that was even possible. What ill manners I had!

You took me back home, and the rest is history.

...

Grillby.

Remember what I used to tell you?

"You do want to make me happy, right Dear Grillby~? If you keep going along with our little plan... you just might make me the happiest human in the underground, ahuhu~!"

I was so very idiotic. Forcing you to assist me in my foolish plan to free monsterkind while also slaughtering the rest of humanity.. it was completely and entirely cruel.

And in the end.. our stupid plan got us both killed.

The townspeople pelted you with stones and sticks and whatever they could get their hands on, calling you such disgusting names.

"Angel of Death."

"Final Inferno of the Demons."

"Flame of the Underworld."

... It does not mean much. I am fully aware of that, at the very least.

I apologize, Grillby. For everything I have done to you through the years we've been together.

I have been nothing more than a parasite in the life of everyone I have ever met. It would have been better.. had I never existed at all.

I wonder what would've happened, then? Would you not be reduced to a mere husk of what you used to be, in the form of an unnervingly quiet red lily? Would you lead Monsterkind to prosperity and success, as you should have? Would six children not have been lambs to the slaughter for the sake of pointless vengeance?

...

There is no way of truly knowing, I suppose.

The only thing I can do.. The only thing all of us can do, really..

Is attempt to move forward and try to forge a better future among the embers.

... Were I still an incompetent fool, I probably would've scolded my future self for saying something so unbearably cheesy.

But times have changed dramatically, haven't they?

In more ways than one.

...

I can't help but happy that they have.

Goodbye, my dearest Grillby. You were the best brother and best friend a person could ever hope to have.

May we never cross paths again.

From,

Muffet

---

[messagefound]

overgrown

ft lilieve by @crashstanding

something i did the other night. i tend to write these feverishly in one sitting and this one was an idea that was clawing at me for a While

summary: Adam has been in pain for some time. The necrosis brings back a nonlinear memory.

Adam was dreaming again.

         (again, again it was always again)

         He wasn’t called “Adam” right then. Whoever he was before had been swallowed up by the soil and that godforsaken Silence. Or at least he should’ve been.

         Whyever did his limbs hurt so? This was the moment the suspicion he was not of human stock was made bare reality, the blood leaving him in waterfalls he still walked through with only the slightest of limps. The pain was unbearable, oh yes it was unbearable, but he had to keep going to the grave. He had to. Nothing would grow if he didn’t allow his flesh as fertilizer, his blood and tears as water, his love as sunshine. Everything would be silent and barren forever if he did not do this.

         And yet, whyever did he fall just now? The starving soil was not slick like synthetic linoleum, and it ate his blood hungrily, so there was hardly a way for him to slip. Try as he could, he could do little but convulse, cries for no one hardly bearing to leave his throat in choked gurgling gasps.

         Oh, how he hated that sound. What was he doing a death rattle for? There was no one left to hear him. What was the point of having a last breath if no one was around to keen like a dove at his passing? He did everything right. He gave all that he had. Everything. He begged the earth to take his body, why was he now being rejected? Why couldn’t it just open and take him? Why must he be humiliated like this, convulsing upon the ground like a fish drowning in air?

         What use could he be to anyone now?

         He hated that saying, that the world would only end with a whimper. Just a singular whimper. It was always said with such cynical derision. After all, what great importance can a singular blue marble boast in such a vast cosmos? There is just too great of a chasm between the stars, with life only stumbling blind through its trenches. When an empty predator inevitably finds something so outrageously loud and colorful in such a place, it will cry out, and none of its kind will answer, far away as they are.

         (“if there were any at all” would go unspoken)

         Deep down he always knew none of that sounded right. He didn’t know how he knew, but some primordial instinct told him thus. Someone would hear and would always hear and would cry and would always cry at the sound. It was just that no one remembered. Too much time had passed.

         It was ending again now, and he was ending with it. And oh God did he refuse to end with something as quiet as a whimper.

         He finally felt himself sink into the dirt, but it didn’t feel as willful as he once wanted. It felt more like every part of him that was in contact with the soil grew claws and forcefully tore away every speck of dirt in sight. Every little bit of him, every pore and every molecule, seemed to grow sharper as strips of dead earth were shredded on contact.

         Eventually he didn’t see that smog-filled sky anymore.

         He curled up like an injured animal beneath the earth, every joint feeling like it was pierced with shards of glass. His body was now an empty bloodless concave, the open underbelly lined with ribs like teeth. He trembled as if he were cold, and truly he knew the earth’s core should never be cold.

         If he could just make it down there, he could branch out all that he is.

         This world will scream if it kills him.

         With pained, arthritic, yet determined movements, he dug deeper. Sometimes he could feel long thorny vines emerging from what was left of his flesh, dragging the dirt behind him and leaving systems like ant or mole trails. He wished they were a bit more patient. They should’ve waited until he settled, that way they wouldn’t waste their energy dragging uselessly behind him. Their catharsis will come with his if they could just wait—

         Wait…

         Who was tugging on him?!

         He dug his fingers into the bedrock, staying perfectly stiff and still. No one should be interrupting, because no one else was supposed to be here. And why on this barren earth should they be interrupting?! No one cared to go down fighting except him.

         No one understood except him.

         More pulling, now enough for him for scrabble for a handhold. He even turned and bit on one of his own vines to pull back, tugging back with just as much force. A guttural growl exited his ravaged throat as he did, and that just made him pull harder.

         He did not know how much he had changed, for how long and deep he was digging. His body had already been broken when he slipped in. He was still moving and breathing despite all his organs falling out, his hair was caked in dirt and growing unchecked, there was dried blood under his clawed fingernails…

         No, this simply wouldn’t do. No one can see him like that. No one should.

         He wrenched the vine back harshly, an agonized wail exiting his throat as he did. The thorns were pricking the roof of his mouth, but he didn’t want to get out. He shouldn’t.

         “DEAR, PLEASE.”

         “no” he growled back simply, staying put. Who dared speak to him? Everything was supposed to be dead.

         (and why was his voice so unfamiliar to himself?)

         “THERE IS NOTHING FOR YOU DOWN THERE.”

         “that’s exactly the point”

         “YOU HAVE TO COME OUT LIKE THE REST OF CREATION. THAT’S SIMPLY HOW IT HAS TO BE.”

         “no it doesn’t”

         “WHYEVER DO YOU THINK SO?”

         “because I TRIED”

         He pulled back the vine with a small hop, swinging his head back and forth like a wolf breaking a fawn’s neck. His face felt wet.

         (that was odd, all his blood was supposed to be spent)

         “I TRIED, I gave myself, I did everything right, but it didn’t take me it WOULDN’T TAKE ME”

         A primal snarl left him as the vine was wrenched back in reply, thorns raking across his mouth and lips and teeth as the vine flung itself out of his jaws. He tried to bite it again, only to flinch and wail at the pain.

         “I NEED EVERYTHING THAT EXISTS TO REKINDLE IT. IT WON’T BE ABLE TO COME BACK IF YOU DIG ANY DEEPER.”

         “it’s NOT COMING BACK”

         He pounced deeper to forestall the iron grip, only to stumble and fall like a dog on a choke chain.

         “let GO OF ME”

         “I’M NOT LEAVING YOU BEHIND.”

         “let me GO LET ME DIE”

         “DEAR, PLEASE.”

         He felt a more familiar kind of grip on his back, like someone picking up a kitten by the scruff of the neck.

         “I said BACK I SAID BACK”

         With a sudden rage-filled movement, he whirled back and bit…something. He didn’t really know what it was. His teeth sunk into it as easily as it would flesh, but it splintered into his wounds like shattered bark. He doubled over at the surprise shock of the pain, letting out a gurgling scream-moan.

         “…DEAR, PLEASE COME OUT.”

         Slowly, he felt himself being pulled back. He could only feebly grip the dirt and feel it skid beneath his fingernails in protest.

         “why do you keep calling me that”

         There was a pause.

         “…DEAREST, I KNOW YOU’RE UPSET, BUT DON’T YOU REMEMBER ME?”

         He seemed to break through the dirt then and found himself promptly surrounded.

         Not surrounded as in there was a crowd, but perhaps that was partially correct. When he came out, he wasn’t met with that beige, smoggy sky that he remembered. He didn’t see the sky at all, instead he found himself surrounded by shades of black and pine green, intermixed with blue gray. He felt it on all sides, pressing up and pushing against him and squeaking like living fuzzy organisms.

         He was being held in a palm, he realized. Sprawled upon it, to be precise, being as smothered as he was.

         Some very sad eyes were looking at him. They were the eyes of a woman much bigger than him, poised like a weeping willow with her hair as the leaves but her face gazing out from such a forest. She was so close to him now, and her leaves seemed to nip at him and hide his ravaged body as she embraced him with all that she had.

         “dear,” she said.

         …ah.

         Ahhhh.

         Ahhhh, ahhhhh, ahhhh—

         “Don’t, don’t scream, please…” she murmured, and Lilieve never murmured.

         He was Adam now, like he always was. But oh, he felt terrible, horrible. He hadn’t even realized he was screaming until she said so. Water was streaming from his eyes like waterfalls. He couldn’t even say he felt as gutted as the day he buried himself, because that felt like nothing compared to this new yet paradoxically familiar pain. He didn’t even know if it was the same pain he had when he fell asleep.

         People don’t often feel their son’s very necrosis set in when he dies deep beneath the sea, after all. That was still here, and fresh, and raw, but there was something else now, something just as ugly.

         His shaking gaze eyed the gash upon the bark-flesh of one of her wrists.

         “why did I do that”

         “You were somewhere else, dear. Sometime else. You didn’t recognize me, because why would you? You hadn’t known me then.”

         “but why did I fight you”

         “Because something went wrong. I know not what. The earth responded to me that time, and not to you.”

         “but”

         God, that gash that gash—

         “I bit you”

         “You were scared.”

         “you didn’t fight me when I heard you before”

         “I wasn’t scared then. I was simply sad, and angry.”

         “but”

         “I trusted you then. You didn’t trust me this time, but you were scared. It’s okay.”

         She leaned in closer to him, her children shifting like leaves in the breeze with the movement. Her lips gently touched his forehead, and he let out a deep sob.

         “Shhh…I promise it’s okay. I understand.”

         “I hurt so bad”

         She grimaced, as if an arrow hit her heart.

         “…I know. That is the one thing I can no longer bear. So please, let me do this for you.”

         From the undulating sea of her children emerged another of her arms, palm facing upwards. Without so much as even the littlest of sobs, a waterfall of tears pooled upon her hand, forming a gray puddle across her entire palm. The puddle shook and began to rise and solidify. It was less like a reversal of a melting ice cube, and more like clay on a pottery wheel.

         Soon, she held a singular fruit in her palm. It was familiar in its non-descript yet ever-changing shape, like the fruit from the tree in their garden that held healing warmth that risks temptation and addiction to anyone else but them, like the fruit that held their memories with all their ugliness and sorrow from the tree they dream about sometimes.

         She offered it to him with the demurest of gestures, so different and so much more sorrowful than anyone else that ever held a forbidden fruit.

         “Please, I beg of you, eat this. It will make you forget. It will take all of this away. No more will you feel the pain of your son, no more will you feel these stinging memories, no more will you feel any pain. You will simply be, and if that can bring your smile back then so be it…”

         Her voice broke in the last few words.

         Adam stared at the fruit. His tears fell relentlessly, but he remained silent and still.

         Then, he shook his head.

         “eve,” he whispered. “you would not take this had I been the one to offer it to you”

         She faltered. Then, as she moaned like a creaking floorboard, the fruit dissolved back into tears in her open palm. It rained down through her fingers into the ground below.

         “…why not…?”

         Adam shifted his position, cautiously letting out a shaking (clawless) hand to press a clump of her children close to his face as if they were a towel. He felt them nuzzle his cheek, frantically lapping up all his tears, as stainless as they were in a dream. Such sweet darlings.

         “I cannot bear to forget my sons, even as their pain ravages my body”

         Oh, Lilieve’s eyes were so lovely too. They were deep and ancient, like his. Reversed like an image in a mirror. Whyever did she not ask if he could get lost in them instead? If he could get lost in that dark forest for just a little bit, the pain would ebb. He wouldn’t even be alone then. Every forest that ever existed was a part of her.

         (but he knew he couldn’t do that, too much time would pass without him knowing)

         “I don’t want to forget even a single moment with you, even the ones where I didn’t know you yet”

         Lilieve wept, and you could feel her weep. The clouds of children shivered and whistled like the wind.

         “I don’t know how to get your son out. We’ve tried everything, but my children can’t get him in time before the pressure gets them first…”

         More of Adam’s tears came, as silent as hers usually were.

         “I know”

         “I just want this to end.”

         “I know”

         “Seeing you like this makes my insides feel as if they were split apart with an axe.”

         “seeing you cry alone makes me feel like I’ve been trampled”

         “I want to make it go away.”

         “but what would be left of us had we the choice to?”

         She remained silent.

         “let me mourn, please”

         “It hurts to.”

         “I’m not asking you to leave me by myself”

         He curled up in her palm, her children reminiscent of a blanket upon his shivering body.

         “you saw what happened back there”

         “I know.”

         “please stay with me”

         He wondered briefly if he was only able to get this out properly because he was asleep. Had he been awake his voice would be drowned out by his own incoherent cries, all except those words he must’ve echoed throughout time and time and time and time and time and time.

         Lilieve got closer, her body shrinking to be as small as him, but her hair like leaves kept surrounding him. Her children were beginning to sing again.

         “If I could,” she said softly as she wrapped her many arms around him. Her expression was a mix of pain and love. “I would press you down between the pages of a book made with my own leaves. You would grow dry and brittle, and you would have no more roots, but I would preserve you for all of time.”

         He nuzzled against her neck and chest, shakily embracing her back.

         “if I could, I would burrow down within your feathers until I reached your heart, and I would fall asleep within your chest to its beating”

         “I would cut open your sternum and pull your very ribs around me if it meant I could be near your own heart.”

         “I would drill into your sycamore trunk and live there like a bug”

         She kissed him gently, and he kissed her too as the dream became enveloped by her leaves. There was nothing except her presence and her lips and her arms and her love and her children’s singing and eventually even his own tears disappeared.

         And she knows he would’ve done the same for her.

[thosedizzystargazers]

Let the Earth Devour Me and I Will Be Whole

I think there is something wrong with me—like a gaping, bleeding, jagged wound is at the core of my very being. It is devouring me from the inside out and soon there will be nothing left. Rain pours down from on high, thunder and lightning crashing in time to the rhythm of my beating heart. The frames on the school’s windows rattle with the force of the storm, their shutters banging open and shut. 

Whether it is the raging storm that unnerves the hawk-like administrators sitting perched in the room or my presence in here with them, I do not know. My dorm master, Mrs. Duellen, wags her finger in their faces, ever a stern and unyielding force of nature in and of herself.

The worst of the administrators, Mr. Cromwell, waves a hand in my direction, sneering at where I am slumped in a plastic chair. “I hardly think that it is necessary for the girl to be in the room with us as we discuss such matters.”

“It is her very future at this institution that we are discussing, sir. I can seldom think of anyone else who would, in fact, be such a necessary presence in this room—though certainly, it is not you,” Mrs. Duellen scolds.

He narrows his eyes. “A brilliant, gifted young man has died, Mrs. Duellen, and on school grounds nonetheless. Do not forget her involvement in this.”

The edges of the forest beckon to me from just beyond the windows of the Headmaster’s office. I wonder if she’s out there, just waiting for me to return to her. I’ll have to curl in on myself to get out of this room, make myself small and scared and weak and worthless.

I turn back to face them, looking at the Headmaster and then slightly downwards—demurely—as I speak, my voice trembling. “I already told you what happened.”

The Headmaster leans back in his leather chair, folding his fingers together like the steeple of a church. “What you told us, Lillian is nothing more than a local legend. You can’t really expect us to be so foolhardy as to believe your story. That…this creature you described was responsible for Matthew’s death?”

Tears start to make their way down my cheeks. I don’t really feel like crying right now—which is odd because I’ve always felt like I could start sobbing at any moment and that I just might never stop. Drowning the world in my tears. But this is what they need to see to let me go: a crazy girl making up yet another story to get the attention from her distant father that she so desperately needs. It’s not the truth they want to see or hear, but a lie that will comfort such small-minded people like them. As my tongue labors to form falsehoods, a small, brown moth watches from outside the window. Its wings flutter, impervious to the wailing of the storm. She is waiting for me. 

The Headmaster sighs, his chair creaking beneath him as he dismisses me from the room finally. They will get nothing more out of me today. It isn’t a story though, that’s what they don’t understand. It’s what really happened—she saved me from him. My cryptid in shining armor. Shadowy, monstrous, beautiful.

↠↞

The woods are too dark, not even the thin crescent of the moon to light my way as I run. This seems like the start of some horrific fairytale before they were sanitized and beautified, and given to the light. Low-hanging branches slash at my face as I flee from their laughter. Matthew chases after me. I don’t think I’ll be able to run much further, my sides ache and my lungs feel like they are full of glass. They think that there is something wrong with me; a darkness inside my soul that they can force out into the light. This is something they think they must purge from me, or else I’ll corrupt everything I touch. The world is already rotting at the hands of people like them though.

An exposed root is my downfall, my nerve endings burning like they’ve been touched with poisoned hands as he grabs at me. I hit the dirt with a resounding thud. My head is spinning. Above me, though—perched on the limb of a tree—is a shadow, darker than the darkest night. More terrifying too. I must’ve hit my head against a rock to witness such a monster as her. Wooly wings extend out from her back. The only light to be seen for miles is from the faint glow of her eyes and the glint of rows upon rows of sharpened teeth. She descends from her perch in a fury, tearing my attacker to shreds in an instant. Blood dribbles from her mouth, her teeth now shining red in the night. She is beautiful.

A twig breaks under my hand as I lean towards her and she looks up from what remains of Matthew. This creature could tear me apart with ease if she really wanted to, but only a fuzzy wing brushes gently across my face before she is gone.

↠↞

She leaves flowers in the fields for me to find, a gift from my admirer from afar. She speaks to me always, even if we don’t yet have the words. It is in moths and flowers and darkness and decay. She is death and change and life born anew.

The locals in the small town surrounding the veritable fortress that is the boarding school sometimes speak in hushed, fearful whispers of the things in the forest. Most of them shiver and cower at the thought of a creature like her existing just beyond the edges of their simple lives. But some, older folks with the marks of their lives carved into their skin, speak of her with wizened reverence. They call to her for protection, care, healing, and wholeness.

The walk back to campus from town isn’t all that long, but it feels like it could stretch out for all of eternity if it really had to. 

If I really wanted it to.

↠↞

I dream of her at night, arched over me like a saint in prayer or someone mourning at a grave. I do not understand what these visions mean. Why should she mourn me? Why should she grieve? I am not dead. I am not dying. I am simply just…not living.

She is not as I saw her out there in the woods; more human now in my unconscious mind than anyone I have ever seen before. A veil covers her face though, hiding it from me. Every night she comes to me this way, whispering words that are indistinguishable to my waking mind. At first, I only watch, gazing on in awe and wonder as she gathers the stars around her like a traveling cloak to soar out of my window after she has held her nightly vigil for me. But I grow tired of this, weary of waiting for the world to turn towards me at last.

On the thirteenth night of her visitations, I lift the veil covering her face. She retreats from me, changing before my very eyes back into the monster I saw in the forest. She is wrath and fury and incandescent rage incarnate, snapping at me with razor-sharp teeth. I stumble backward out of my bed, cowering against the wall as she approaches.

She speaks, her voice like thunder and lightning, and I understand for the first time. “You must not gaze upon my face until thrice the font of life has been filled to the brim.”

I wake suddenly, breathless and frightened and oh so curious.

↠↞

It takes me over a month to piece together her cryptic words, spoken to me in the dead of night. Was it only a dream—fever-filled and delusional? Or had she really been there—settled tremulously by my bedside for nearly a fortnight? I have trouble recalling just what exactly occurred that night, beneath the haze of sleep.

You must not gaze upon my face until thrice the font of life has been filled to the brim.

At first, I figure that perhaps Saint Peter’s Church down the road could be the answer. After all, a font holds all of the holy water used in the baptism of children, and what are babies if not the essence of life, just waiting to be filled with a commitment to God? I witness three baptisms from start to finish—words spoken, babies dunked, and all—before realizing that this must not be the font of life, for it certainly does not encompass the reality of life for a creature such as her.

The second thing I figure is that if the font is not the font for baptisms, perhaps it is the oil-holding reservoir at the bottom of old lanterns. The antique shop in town doesn’t have any old lamps or lanterns or anything close to the sort. The shops in the city, though—only half a day’s journey away by train—do. The city is so loud. The people so joyful. A young couple walks down the street, hand-in-hand, and no one so much as bats an eye at them. I want that. More than anything I have ever wanted before.

A sign hangs over the door of one of the city’s many antique stores, reading: JOHN’S CURIOSITIES, STUFF, AND THINGS. It is a cluttered space, objects thrown about every which way. They do have a lantern though, and oil to light it with too. I let it burn for three days, refilling it each morning before I come to the inevitable conclusion that this is not the answer either.

It isn’t until I am desperate and despondent, hovering on the edge of the rooftop beneath the night sky that I realize perhaps she wasn’t being so literal after all. The moon, ever immortal and eternal, calls to me and suddenly I know. I just know.

I must be patient now, steadfast in my knowledge. All I can do is wait for the full moon next month. Then, I will meet her in the forest.

↠↞

My knees are scratched and bleeding as I finish clambering down from the slanted roof and stone walls of the dormitories. The moon is full in the sky, lighting my way forward. It’s been almost three months since we met, though the days have felt impossibly longer without her. How is it possible that one person can live a life of waiting—so static and unchanged— yet, simultaneously find yourself standing on the edge of a precipice where everything within you—everything that is you—is changing. Transforming. Transcending.

No one stops me as I leave the campus. No one even knows I’m gone yet. The grasses in the field before the eternal reaches of the forest are parted by an unseen hand. To any other observer, it would merely seem like an odd gust of wind. But the world is not a place of random chance and coldly calculated reason. No. There is magic here. There is love. There is a chance to be something so much more than what I was told I could ever be. There is light here and darkness and growth and extant decay and through it all, I can truly become myself.

↠↞

She is waiting in the forest for me.

The light of the moon shines through the canopy of the trees, illuminating her. She is a shadow, born of light. An endless void in which both nothing and everything exists all at once. Wings like a rosy maple moth stretch out behind her, swaddling the forests and the fields and the sky and me. Pockets of delicate flowers, poisonous mushrooms, and healing herbs dot her form.

I think I am in love with her.

I stretch my arms out into the night, reaching for her. Nothing will ever be the same. Change is my only salvation, a balm to soothe my raging soul. The wind stirs the branches arching overhead as her vines slowly, tenderly wrap around my ankles.

I whisper into what once might have been an ear, though now resembles a feathery, gaping, maw. “Let the Earth devour me and I will be whole.”

She is silent, she is always silent, though I suspect I will be able to hear her soon enough. The wind rises, snapping and howling through the forest like baying dogs. That monstrous creature in my arms starts to lose her shape. Her bones creak and groan as they shatter and reform. Those fine tendrils wrapping around me, squeezing like a boa constrictor, fall away like dead leaves on a tree. At once, the figure towering above me starts to become smaller and smaller and smaller. The feathers and dirt covering her body become thick, glossy fur that hardens into shedding scales before she finally slips into the skin of a human.

The girl in front of me can hardly be a year or two older than me, though I know she has existed since the beginning of time. She is as beautiful as the night that we first met, the night that she saved me. Without hesitation, I cup her cheek, stroking my fingers across the lines of dirt still streaked across her face.

She leans into my touch, speaking quietly, reverently. “You…you saved me.”

I laugh, loud and boisterous and alive. “I think you saved me first.”

She smiles, a grin full of teeth, and everything inside of me is screaming that this is right.

[sapphorror]

VIVIDLY imagining this with the trope of several messages wildly oscillating through extreme mood swings. Like:

"Just so you know I don't miss you whatsoever and would totally hate it if you showed up to stop my latest nefarious scheme. Mm-hm, yep, I'm having a great time over here all by myself totally unhindered in my mission to eradicate all human life and it'd be extremely inconvenient if any overconfident Earth-scum suddenly recovered from their temporary insanity and got in my way."

*beep*

"If there isn't a pitifully insignificant human dirt-child with delusions of world-saving grandeur crawling around my vents or whatever within the next fifteen minutes, I'll, I'll... go conquer somewhere else! You NEED me, Dib. I'm the best thing that ever happened to you. I'm the perfect adversary your whole existence is begging for and without me you're nothing but another under-evolved defective clump of expendable genetic waste stranded on some worthless backwater planet. You need me and I don't need you—"

*beep*

"why won't you look at me why don't you want me how awful do I have to be for you to start hating me again I can make myself worse zim can make himself so much worse for you just comebackcomebackcomebackcomebackcomebackcomebackcomebackCOMEBACKCOMEBACKCOMEBACK—"

*beep*

"YOU CAN FORGET ABOUT ALL THOSE OTHER CALLS! I DON'T CARE. IN FACT, IF I'M EVER SO UNFORTUNATE TO SEE YOUR HIDEOUSLY DISPROPORTIONED HEAD AGAIN I'LL SAW OFF YOUR LIMBS AND TEAR OUT YOUR ORGANS AND KEEP THE REST OF YOU ALIVE TO FEEL EVERY MICRO-SECOND OF PAIN I'LL PUMP ACID IN YOUR VEINS I'LL KILL ANYONE YOU CARE ABOUT I WILL DISMANTLE YOUR ENTIRE LIFE PIECE BY PIECE THEN PUT IT BACK TOGETHER JUST TO START THE WHOLE THING OVER AGAIN—"

*beep*

"Listen, was it the thing with the weasels? There doesn't have to be any more weasels. I'll exterminate this planet's entire weasel population just so nobody can do anything with weasels. Or maybe my evil plans have gotten too routine. What if I make a plan with ghosts? You like ghosts. You know you want to stop a plan with ghosts."

*beep*

"Cease with the games. Do you really think that abandoning Zim makes you special? Do you think there's something extraordinary about giving up and letting me win? This can't be how you want it to end. You're that desperate to get rid of me? Then come over here and get rid of me."

*beep*

"Please. Please just pay attention to Zim."

The only thing Mopiness of Doom was missing was a "drunk dialing your ex" scene. Like, imagine if instead of GIR coming to Dib to tell him Zim needs him, we actually see Zim leaving a message on Dib's answering machine begging Dib to take him back. Then at the end of the episode, instead of the usual credits, credits play over a scene of Gaz eating breakfast alone when Zim suddenly smashes through the kitchen window. Before he can even say anything Gaz tells him, "I already deleted it."

"Has Dib...?"

"No."

"Oh. Good. Let's just keep this between the two of us, shall we?"

"Yeah. That would probably be best."

And then every time Zim and Gaz see each other afterward there's this awkward tension because she could totally rat him out to her brother the moment he pisses her off.

[mdemontespan1667]

HUNGER (conclusion)

VAMPIRE DARK WALTER MARSHALL AU X READER

READER X OC JENN / READER X OC NINA / READER X OC ALESHA / COMBINATIONS OF JENN X NINA X ALESHA

WARNINGS: NON-CON/VAGINAL SEX (F/F AND F/M)/ANAL SEX (F/F)/ORAL SEX (F/F AND M/F)/VIOLENCE/DEATH/BLOOD DRINKING/HORROR

AN ONLYFANS LIVE STREAM AT THE INFAMOUS MARSTEN HOUSE GOES HORRIBLY WRONG.

This is a hot fucking mess. I really wanted to post it before or on Halloween but that didn't happen. So I'm posting this part tonight and will post the ending tomorrow night. I apologize for any mistakes, I was typing in a hurry.

AS ALWAYS THIS IS STRICTLY 18+

I apologize for any grammar/spelling mistakes. I wanted to make sure I got this posted tonight.

PART ONE

“Have you seen to her companions?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Very good Mr Pronge.”

Even though the trance was fading you kept your eyes closed, limbs slack, suspended in Alesha’s former position, listening to the men speak behind you.

“With your permission I’d like to have the whore with the big titties.”

A grim laugh was uttered.

“Try not to make a mess this time.”

“Of course Master.”

Muted footsteps shuffled down the hallway.

“I know you’re awake.”

You startled, jerking frantically at the bindings.

“Did you have a pleasant rest?”

His breath on the back of your neck was sour, fetid, a combination of damp earth, rotted flesh and, oddly, vanilla.

“Where are my friends? What did you do to them you sick fuck!”

Pain exploded as Walter bit down on your neck, pointed teeth breaking the skin.

The pull of his mouth threatened to overwhelm you.

You felt yourself floating, fire radiated from the bite, pooling between your legs.

“Sorry, Love. I couldn't help myself. I’ve smelled your scent since you drove up.”

He caressed your ribcage with his icy fingers.

“Your friends have been made comfortable. Except for Alesha. My human associate has taken a liking to her.”

He tsked.

“She’ll wish he hadn’t.”

“You, you won’t get away with this,” you screamed, “Thousands of people know we’re here. They’ll have the cops looking for us.”

“Due to technical difficulties the rest of the live stream is canceled. We’ll let ya’ll know a new time and date when we get back to fucking civilization. Sorry Kits and Kats.”

Jenn’s words spilled from her phone.

You gasped, “How…..”

“Mr Pronge is a fountain of information.”

Walter’s hand cupped your breast.

“Your cellular phones will show you left here at approximately 11pm. Your car and personal belongings will be found in a ditch outside of Chamberlain, along with alcohol and assorted opioids. It will be assumed the four of you, drunk and under the influence, wandered off. The police will search, of course, but the woods are dangerous, full of deadfalls and sinkholes. In a year or two a hunter may stumble on skeletal remains. Or not. Mr Pronge is very reliable.”

Tears sprang to your eyes.

“No, this, this is just a dream, a fucked up dream, not real, just a dream..not..”

Walter turned you towards him, lifting your chin. 

“I assure you, this is very real.”

“Why?”

You were sobbing now, vision clouded.

“Why? Because you wanted this. Why else would you be here.”

“We’re sorry, so so sorry. Just let us go. We, we won’t tell anyone.”

He dropped to his knees, slinging your leg over his shoulder.

“We both know it’s too late for that.”

You shrieked when he bit down on the tender skin of your inner thigh.

“Oh God, please, please stop.”

Lifting your other leg, spreading you wide, he grinned.

“There is no God here, Only me.”

Your body bucked as he lapped at your cunt. 

His tongue was freezing, like a twin popsicle.

The thrill of it against your heated folds was unlike anything you’d ever experienced.

Walter swept your nub, catching the sensitive tip, his canine prinking the delicate skin, the pulling sensation forcing you to orgasm with a jolt.

He lashed your clit recklessly, licking between the swollen lips.

A thumb replaced his tongue, swiping, while he pushed two digits in, puncturing the other thigh.

He tore orgasm after orgasm from you, alternating his hand and mouth at your core, blood and slick staining his beard, running rivulets down your legs. 

Body limp, arms numb, your head fell forward. 

Despite the crisp Autumn air you were drenched in sweat.

You felt Walter’s cock at your entrance.

“Please no, no…”

He ignored your pleas, wrapping your legs around his hips, his hands supporting your ass.

In one violent shove he impaled you. 

His cock was huge, cold, unyielding as granite, stretching you beyond reason. 

Walter gave you no time to adjust, thrusting with preternatural speed.

“It hurts….plea….please stop..”

Capturing a nipple, he pierced your breast. 

It seemed like eternities passed, your body ragged out and torn, drained.   

You fought the twelfth impending orgasm that now brought more pain than pleasure.

“I WILL NOT BE DENIED.”

The command echoed in your head.

Your nerve endings fired, sending tendrils of ecstasy outward.

Every sense was heightened, dissolving you into a delirious mess of longing.

Keening, you tightened your legs, desperate to force him deeper.

He pistoned faster, nipping and sucking your exposed flesh.

“NO..NO..NO..,” You wailed, unsure if it was in denial of the impending crash or a last ditch effort to save your soul.  

Tremors built in your belly.

Walter’s fingers found your nub, circling the tender flesh.

You came with a gut wrenching cry, body shaking with uncontrollable spasms.

Barely conscious, you felt his hips falter.

With a grunt, Walter came, slamming into you as he rode out the tremors. 

Vaguely you wondered at the warm liquid filling you up, dripping from your center.

The image flitted away, brain recoiling at the possibilities.

Gently he freed your arms, gathering you close.

An unfamiliar electricity clawed along your veins.

He kissed your forehead.

“Sleep. Later we will visit your companions.”

Your eyelids heavy, visions of writhing bodies bathed in blood danced behind them.

An awful, unholy hunger grew. 

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