#Visage; there's blood in the water and it tastes so sweet

[iron-embers]

Yumekui

Name means Dream eater or nightmare

Female Demoness

Age: approximately 125 years old

Height: 5,10

Character Traits

. Vain

. Deceitful

. Manipulative

. Charming

. Perfectionist

. Sociable

. Arrogant

. Catty/Competitive

. Ruthless

. Domineering

. Unpredictable

. Aloof

. Apathetic

. Superficial

. Opportunistic

. Vindictive

. Cunning

. Envious

. Hedonistic

Abilities

Talons: She is able to morph her hands into deadly iron like claws. They can elongate at will, with the capabilities of slicing through trees and some Boulders, and with enough force can withstand some attacks from nichirin swords.

Contortionist: Similar to Inosuke, her flexibility knows no bounds, able to contort her body at inhuman angles combined with her heightened agility, she is extremely hard to hit due to her unpredictable movements.

While she is not the best at full brute force or close range combat, she relies on her speed and reflexes to incapacitate her prey. More a stealth killer

. Sense manipulation: She can produce a faint sweet mist around her, and once her victims inhale she is able to manipulate their senses. One way to seduce her victims is by manipulating their vision to show them what they find attractive in a woman and they see her with these features. Subtle attractive features that draw them in to her, and bring down their guard.

. Human Guise: Yumekui does take on a human disguise, and while she does not prefer it as she believes her true demonic visage is her most beautiful, she uses this disguise to avoid detection and lure her victims.

. Shrouding Mist: In order to hide her presence, she uses a suffocating thick mist to disorient her prey. It muddles the victims senses, helping her attack without detection and to avoid possible retaliation. They can’t attack her if they can’t see her.

. Spectral Mist: Similar to a spriggan, she can turn into mist at will, dissipating her physical form to avoid crucial damage or escape when the situation calls for it. The downside is she cannot use her Claws in this form and she has to be in the air in order to do so. If she touches the ground or makes contact with water, she reverts back to the physical body

. Nightmares mist: A hunting tactic she had perfected throughout the century. She prefers eating children, specifically when they are at their most terrified state as she likes the taste of the adrenaline in the blood. To do this, she prowls upon sleeping prey, letting them inhale the mist and after a while when they exhale that mist comes back to her and she herself inhaled it as well. The mist is a spell that allows her access to their inner fears, and with that knowledge starts messing with her victim. Manipulating their senses in experiencing very vivid dreams that form into horrific nightmares. In the throes of their terror and paranoia is when she strikes, the last thing they see is her face with that sickly sweet smile before she kills them. With Children, they make easy prey, with adults it takes more energy to do so hence her preference.

Fun facts

. In her past life, she was a beautiful woman with great prospects, but that was ruined when she married the wrong man. She felt wronged by him, feeling that he took her innocence, her chance of youth gone because he was cruel to her. So she killed him, taking his wealth and got away with the murder.

. She remarried multiple times to many men to gain status and power to fill that hole in her heart due to the cruelty done to her. Every marriage ended the same, killing them and taking all their assets by playing the grieving widow after having a taste of taking a life

. She had an affinity for marrying widowed men, and strangely especially if they had children from a previous marriage and made it a habit to kill them as well. At first she did this to ensure they wouldn't tell anyone what she was truly like, but the more she killed it was more because looking at those innocent kids reminded her too much of the innocence she lost, and coveted it. When she was turned, it morphed her into the monster she turned herself into as a human. She preffered eating children to sustain her warped vision of eternal youth, and because the adrenaline of their fear is delicious to her.

. When she met muzan she was already on her 12th victim, muzan witnessed her killing the husband, commending her for her ruthlessness and before she could attempt to kill him for being a witness he turned her. Even as a demon she still uses these tactics.

. Striving to gain favor with Muzan to become one of the higher ranks, she is a vain creature fueled by ambition. She preferred eating and consuming the blood of little children, believing their blood made her look younger and stronger. Would wear the bones from previous victims. A sickly sweet voice and sinister young laugh, her fingers could elongate and cut like swords or spears, yet her words are the most dangerous weapon. Extremely manipulative, is the type to make it like it was your fault the people she murdered had to die.

. Yumekui is a demon that likes in being in control, and always looks out for herself. Due to her past, she learned that depending on someone leads to betrayal, and throughout the century while that inkling of wanting to trust someone lingered, it never lasted. She found herself despising those that claim to always think of others because she thinks that is impossible, viewing it as weakness and as a lie humans tell themselves. Every time she is forced to work with another demon from Muzan, she will play along, if only to find a way for things to work in her favor. A way she also likes to establish control is playing with an individual’s emotions, see what makes them tick and use that as a way to manipulate them to do what she wants. She tends to play the long game.

. Because of her envious nature, she despises working or interacting with women. She believes those that are either beautiful or clever may pose a threat to her, and her competitiveness shows. She will find anyway to tear them down emotionally or physically because she finds joy in somehow one upping them, that and woman know other women best and if she can tear them down before they see her true insecure self, it gives her a sick sense of security.

. Despite her usual aloof demeanor, she never takes accountability for her actions, and with that has certain hair line trigger when it comes to people denying her what she wants. Denying her shakes her confidence in knowing that what she wants is more important, and she doesn’t like that gnawing feeling of rejection. The motto she lives by, No one denies her and lives to tell about it.

. She is the Demoness responsible for killing Hatomi’s Husband Kaito and her young son Genji 9 years before the current timeline. Because of her, Hatomi left her village, wandering for months trying to hunt Yumekui down before a certain Demon slayer snaps her out of it. Which in turn leads to Hatomi finding a job at the Rengoku estate, while at peace with the good she found, is still haunted by the thought that Yumekui is still out there.

. Before the Swordsmith arc, Yumekui is killed by Saigo Masashi.

Hope ya like and if you have any questions about her and the story lemme know!

Art and Yumekui are mine

Saigo belongs to @bloodbladesanddemons / @taintedbloodlinesburden

[enigmatist17]

Takes place after Lineage

---

The first thing he does is post a letter to an old estate in England. Call it petty, call it bitter, all he knows is that it makes him feel better.

The second thing he does, weeks after he's able to adjust to the world, is corner a very special man in his office. The door is locked while Wesley is on the phone, back toward the door, as he argues over an acquisition of some sort. His mistake is ignoring the telltale tingle of a vampire on the back of his neck, clearly surprised to see platinum blonde hair and blue eyes when Wesley finally finishes his business.

"Spike?" The vampire cocks his head with a smirk, able to pick up the increased beat of Wesley's heart.

"Wanna know the one thing I wanted ta do, more than anythin' since I was a ghostie?" Wesley couldn't help but appreciate how Spike stalked forward like water over stone, pinning him against the expansive windows with a single hand over his chest.

"What would that be?" The sound of bone shifting to accommodate a demonic visage had long since turned from nerve-wracking to comforting, yellow eyes boring into his own as Spike moves Wesley's shirt aside to expose his neck.

"Aside from that sweet blood that's singing to me like a bloody Sex Pistols album? Kill your father." Fangs are sinking into his neck before Wesley can fully register what Spike said, bucking up against the vampire with a slight whine. He knows damn well Spike had bitten just high enough he won't be able to hide the mark, but can't find it in himself to care as Spike purrs against him in content. The vampire doesn't take much, fangs retracting as he pulls back from the sweet taste with a smirk, but it's enough to leave Wesley panting as he sags against Spike with a quiet groan.

"W-Why did you want to kill my father?" Wesley feels like his bones have been turned to jelly as Spike gently helps the researcher into his chair, the new mark on his neck pulsing with each beat of his heart.

"Because he's a git, and makes you upset." There's the hint of a snarl with each word as Spike drapes himself across Wesley's lap, one hand tangled in messy brown hair and the other grabbing the open report on Wesley's desk. "Not one for torture, but I'd do anythin' for you, just name it, pet."

"As flattering as I find the offer, and believe me to have two of history's worst vampires in recorded history offering his head on a proverbial silver platter, I shall have to decline." Wesley shivered as he scanned over the report being held up for him, letting Spike do as he pleased. "Hold that a little higher please?"

"Offer will always be there." Spike adjusted the paper before himself, head resting against Wesley's shoulder. "Mhm, warm...."

"Me, or the sun you've so coyly faced the chair toward?" Wesley chuckled as he turned a page, grabbing a pen and scratching something out with a grumble.

"Both."

Spike has fallen asleep when Angel stops by with a report, annoyance crossing his face when he sees the fresh bite on Wesley's shoulder, mirroring his own faded bite on the other side of the Brit's neck.

"He offered to kill my father, it was quite touching." Wesley hummed without looking up, quite taken with the book he was rifling through. "I do wish he would go and sleep in his bed, or I suppose it's really your bed."

"And miss the chance of having the best heater on the planet? Not even he's that stupid." Angel set the report in front of Wesley with a shake of his head, receiving an exasperated look in return. "Need anything else?"

"Aside from a kiss, not really." Wesley can hear some quietly muttered Gaelic before Angel is kissing him soundly, the rumble in his chest promising a sleepless night for the former Watcher after their day was done.

"Have fun." With a wink, Angel was gone, leaving behind his amused second-hand man with a lap full of a sleeping vampire and a mountain of research to go through.

Just another day at Wolfram and Hart.

[ccaptain]

@frozenambiguity​ said: «Even after all these years... Nothing has changed. Why can’t you be honest with me? With yourself?» A small ghost from the past visits the captain's... dream? Nightmare? To be determined. Perhaps his presence is unwelcomed. All matters considered, it can be torturous to face oneself and still receive judgment for your conduct. 

An ocean starry eye inspects that which he has become. He has grown taller. Apart from the natural laws of growth, however, he does not appear to have changed much. And... There it is. The sadness in his gaze. The guilt. The lies. Will they ever vanish? Will there ever be a time when he can just... exist? To be himself, his true self, without fearing external consequences? Perhaps the young boy desires to hold onto those childish, foolish dreams.

«This... emptiness. It will go away, right...?» Right? A foolish question. They both know it.

   when kaeya dreams, it’s never good. 

   even the sweetest of illusions must unravel the horror within. idealistic visages turn into alcohol-fueled night terrors: there’s blood, dismemberment and death in his mind, in every step of the way. 

   in kaeya’s dreams, nothing sits still except for a child.

   how long has he carried his innocent, young version of himself with him? he must have seen countless horrors. he must have seen his father die, the surfacing truth driving a permanent wedge between him and his beloved brother- how they both learned that rain can’t wash away sins, no matter how heavy the downpour.

   he remembers how little fingers clung to his leg as they witnessed the last of his innocence die, slaughtered by the consequence of his own actions. his mouth tasted like copper. a crimson pool was growing larger by the seconds, staining the knight’s uniform. he remembers dark cobalt hair scattered about as if it was an halo around the corpse’s head.

   here laid at their feet kaeya ragnvindr, unmoving body of someone who was full of life once.

   the child has seen a bottle of alcohol per night being depleted quickly, much quicker than the purchasing time was. how crimson stains blossomed on the white blouse as he drank it down, eager to find some peace in the numbness. 

   the adult that has failed at everything finds comfort in denying himself the pleasure of a comfortable mattress. he’s deserving of the crick in his neck and the stiffness of his shoulders in his wake.

   when his brother seems eons distant, when life has lost the taste of wonder for the unknown, when the days are monotonous repeats of the previous one- kaeya keeps persisting, one foot in front of the other. 

   he doesn’t know why. perhaps it’s out of spite.

   there’s this sense of vindication in stubbornly staying alive after he has ruined everything- not a thing is salvageable, there’s not an home to turn to- not anymore. wherever he looks, there’s just the vastness of the mistakes that he’s made to suffer. there’s no backpedaling. there’s no turning back.

   he’s lost, his raft is falling apart, and he has stopped fearing the abyssal depths calling for him. 

   how does he start to explain, where...? the child’s questions crash on him like waves, and he wishes to drown to avoid answering. it’d be such a relief is water filled his lungs, preventing him from uttering a single word. it’s a confrontation that’s long overdue.

   yet, kaeya cannot answer.

   please, he begs to no one in particular, shaky hands slowly coming up to shield his face from that gaze. please, how can i...

   kaeya alberich refuses to let a child look at his despairing expression. he is nothing but a coward, each shake of his shoulder a shameful one.

   he should be a knight, able to protect what little innocence his past self should have had. what is he doing instead? 

   ‘ i... ‘ a swallow. locks of dark cobalt are tousled and damp with sweat, trapped between trembling digits. ‘ i wish i could... i’m... i’m sorry, sweet star, ‘ he finally manages to utter, voice cracking like stainless glass. he fails at being comforting, utterly so.

   ‘ i wish- i wish i could tell you that it will, but... i don’t know. i’m sorry, i’m so sorry- ‘

   i wish you won’t have to drown because of me. because of us.

[alicenaivory]

•⊱ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬| 𝘛𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘖𝘧 𝘈𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘦 & 𝘚𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘦 •⊱ (written 2019)

[Through supernatural hearing, my ears capture the sound of a trumpet, it played sweet melodies that gave me assurance that I made it to New Orleans. I always liked to refer to this place as ‘The Town Of Witchcraft.’ The one place I knew that made the impossible very possible. It’s not often I would roam the streets full of witches that could kill me but I wasn’t here to stir the pot or cause trouble. I had a plan and it had to work.

It was a last chance kind of thing.

I walk in the distance, keeping further back from the people. I had to isolate myself if I wanted to have a good time. I take a brief moment to take in all the lights, the small water falls on the strip. It was beautiful here and as I look to the right and left of me, I’m reminded that I have no one to share it with.

Even silence gets lonely and the silence starts to become so loud.

I saunter slowly across the cemented ground.

A long nude colored trench coat clings to my figure. My blonde hair curled at the ends, red lipstick on my lips. Covering my feet were new costume made heels. I went for a different look, dark black shades hanging over my eyes. I’m attempting to keep a low profile this time around. I didn’t want my presence to be known just yet...

But this wardrobe? I couldn’t have been more obvious about it but that was the key. What better way to hide than in plain sight?

I feel the wind running through my hair, massaging my scalp in the process. I slow down my pace of walking as I’m distracted by the scene on the other side of the street. A man with long grey hair blows into a rusty trumpet. He was the one I heard a few blocks down.

Standing above him was a younger male with messy blonde hair. I can smell how liquor fueled he is from where I am.

“That’s enough, Pal! Can the people get some peace and quiet!”

He shouted at the composer. Through his shouting he was able to ignore him and continue to play. I can tell the man didn’t like that much.

“You’re shit, man! Give it up!”

He staggered toward him with a half empty bottle of whiskey. He raises it over his head, the man is still playing like nothings happening. That’s when I discovered he might be blind and this wouldn’t be a fair brawl.

Just when he was swinging to strike him with the bottle, I used enhanced speed to catch him. My manicured fingers wrapping around his wrist tightly, the grip causing discomfort for him to drop the bottle opposite of the other man.

I push forward so he’s staggering backwards, his eyes landing on me. “Well, Hello. Didn’t see you there.” I force him into the ally way, shoving his body up against the brick building.]

He’s playing a classic. Is it that you don’t know good music or you have no respect for the artist and the time he puts into it?

[I had a passion for music myself, how it soothes the soul. Why would he disrespect it? How dare he ignore the significance of it all?

I trace my hand up his chest, forcing my hand around his throat to cut off circulation.

I close my eyes at the familiar squirming, the fighting as he pushes and swats at me. The sound of his saliva stuck at the back of his throat preventing him from screaming.]

That’s more like it...

[I whispered as I turned his head to the right, exposing the flesh of his neck. My sharp canines extract from my gums, dark veins pulsating under both my eyes. That vampire visage of mine takes over and I waste no time to embed my fangs into the man.

The taste of him floods the warm caverns of my mouth, I had to have more. He screams hoarsely with my hand finding its way over his mouth.

Once anyone is near me or beneath me there’s no surviving. I capture his blood with the tip of my tongue as it attempts to run down my chin. Usually I’m a messy eater but this wasn’t my usual trip or a road to no where.

I had a /plan/ and I /needed/ it to work.

For the moment his blood cured the ache in my gums, the itching in my throat and the urge that made me slaughter half of towns. I hear his faint heartbeat as I refrain from intaking the last drop of blood. I drop his lifeless body to the ground, stepping over it to saunter back over to the man.

My guess before was right, he was blind and all he wanted to do was enjoy music. He lived a world without vision, unable to see what everyone else saw. Yet he still found passion in something and I admired him for it.]

You play beautifully.

[I admitted to him while shoving my hands into the pockets of my coat. He pulls his mouth away from the instrument, stopping the beautiful melodies.

“Thank you, Miss.”]

I see your trumpet is a bit rusty. You’ve been playing for a while.. learned on your own?

[“I have played for a while but it’s the only instrument I can remember and see myself playing.” He randomly chuckled, masking pain with happiness like most people did. “Music is the only thing I have in this life. After losing my vision I thought there was nothing else.” His smile eventually fades as he bring the instrument back to his lips.. “That’s why men like that never bothered me. I heard you stop him..I also heard what happened after. It’s what he deserved. Thank you..”

Like the conversation never happened he blew into the instrument to play it again. As much as I wanted to stay and listen I had to keep walking. I was here in New Orleans for a reason.

I had an agenda and I couldn’t leave here unless I fulfilled it. Just my luck I had a good rapport with Klaus Mikaelson (@MaddenedRascal). Our bond is what made the witches and nightwalkers give me the warmest welcoming.

Lately my bond with Klaus was fragile. He wasn’t use to having friends and I was a hand full. One thing we knew for sure is that we could trust one another. If anyone crosses him I would risk it all and vice versa. I was confident in that.

How we met was a long story that I’d have to tell another time...

I can hardly remember the last time I been here in New Orleans. I was so far off the deep end that it’s been a while but just as I imagined, a lot has changed. I remember it being so chaotic here and yet my good friend loved this place and wanted to fight for it. How could I judge him? He simply fought for what he loved, the reason I was here.

I kept walking until I reached the famous French Quarter. It was just as full as it was last time but I could sense the difference. Marcel was no longer playing fake leader anymore.

I invade the doors of the bar, gazing at everyone through dark shades. I’d be able to scope out the witches easily if it weren’t for the night-walkers. The scent of them was distracting. I thrived off what was in their veins and it was bad enough humans were also here. It’s a shame my appetite was this greedy.

I trace the tip of my tongue over red painted lips, walking toward the bar where a beautiful caramel skinned woman was tending behind it. The scent of honey makes my nostrils flare. Witches blood always smelled like honey to me. Being in the same room as them you just know.

I slide into the bar stool, crossing my toned shapely thighs over one another. I stare at her through my glasses to rake in every part of her before I placed my order.]

I’ll have some green apple ciroc. Make it neat.

[“We don’t carry that flavor.” The words fell so bluntly but it wasn’t from the witches lips. It came from the other side of me. A woman with long brunette hair and a tight white dress approaches. I hadn’t seen her when I first came in, yet alone the other times I’ve been here.

She had this aura about her that I found intriguing. I wondered if she observed me while I observed the witch.]

I suppose the bartender can’t speak for herself, huh?

[“If you’re disappointed then try another bar. Maybe some place out of New Orleans.” I feel her glare, her brown mocha colored eyes observing me so intensely.]

You aren’t subtle at all but bourbon will be fine and as far as me leaving New Orleans? You’ll have to move me.

[“Ne me tentez pas!” The words curled off her tongue, I discover she’s feisty and French. I like it. I have to get a better look at her.

I carefully reach upward using manicured fingers to grab the edge of my glasses, removing them from my face to reveal my oceanic colored blues. I watch her come closer to me, she’s nearly hovering me, gazing for a few more moments.

I look down at her exposed cleavage, running the tip of my tongue over my bottom lip in the process. She looks this good and comes this close to me, of course I’m going to take in every part she allowed me to see.

I figured she wanted to intimidate me which would be very difficult for her. Her red painted lips pull upward into a smile, it was a beautiful sight to see...

But why was she smiling at me?

“You’re Alice aren’t you?” The words and my name fell so comfortable from her lips as she continued. “Alicena as Niklaus would say.”]

I take it you aren’t a fan of me.

[“Not if you’re here to kill up the night-walkers again. You and trouble are magnetic.” That bright smile she once given me had faded into something different. A stare of maybe hatred or strong dislike.]

Violence is all I know. That’s nothing new. So who are you anyway?

[“Sabine.” My first thought was that she had a beautiful name on top of being so beautiful herself. I also heard a bit about her and she lived up to her reputation. The beautiful bartender slides the drink between us, her attempt to calm us down. There was tension in the air. The brunette woman looked to the witch and pushed the drink back towards her. “No. We aren’t serving her.” She ordered the witch. Sabine was fierce but so was I.]

There’s no reason this has to get nasty then, Sabine. I’m trying to have a drink but I’m getting mad.

[I feel her fingers grip my jawline, forcing my face upward to look at her. I can see the rage in her eyes, smell it in her blood and it was intoxicating.

“Je vais m'amuser avec vous.” She whispered as I gripped her wrist, squeezing tight enough in case I needed to break bones while removing her grip.]

Calmez-vous.

[I spoke calmly and unfazed to her, listening to the shuffling of a vampire and what reeked like a wolf had gotten into a fight.

“I’m sick of you vampires! Walking around in packs like you own New Orleans!” A man shouted at the other.]

Sounds to me you have other matters to tend to...

[“Ah, Alice. You know what it’s like when too much testosterone is in one room.”

I needed her out of my way to speak with the witch but with her interference it’ll be hard to get her to work with me. I haven’t even gotten a name or spoken two words to her yet.

I knew the dangers of resurrection spells but I was done living without /him/. It may have been selfish of me but I would get it by all means.

Though there’s a commotion, she’s still looking in my eyes. It’s like she’s frustrated because she knows a lot is going on in my mind yet she can’t know what.

Sabine looks towards the men causing the scene. One glance from her and their friends around them put a stop to it.]

So, you run the show? That’s cute.

[“That’s cute? You’re testing.”

I lifted from my stool, not bothering to touch the drink that the ice melted into, watering it down. I reach into my pocket to pull out a hundred dollar bill to slide towards the bartender.]

Thank you...

You’ll be seeing me again.

[“No we won’t! You’re leaving tonight.” The feisty brunette snapped at me again, invading my space and nearly pinning me against the bar.]

Why wouldn’t I come back when you clearly like me so much.

[“You already left a body in the streets, which by the way, I cleaned up for you.” Her voice was in a hushed whisper. It was nice of her to clean up my mess when I didn’t ask her to. She expressed her hatred for me since I walked in, so why not allow me to take the backlash of killing someone?]

How thoughtful.

[I puckered my lips and blew a kiss at her, slipping past her to take my leave that she wanted so badly. I knew if I pushed her any further this fight between us would break out and it’ll get really nasty.

I make my way to the door, turning to give her one last glance. My eyes find hers again I find myself wanting to see her more than just this once..

Who was Sabine?

I /had/ to know her.]

—Part 2 coming soon.

[maximumprime]

Amen!

I am only a man, howling at your face in the moon

Hot damn!

But no holy man, kneeling in the stained-glass tomb

As all hell breaks loose, as all hell's always do

Oh, what the hell can I do to have a little more heaven with you?

Hot damn, you are a part of my plan

Cataclysmic catechism catch-22

Your body, my temple, baby

Your body, my temple

So, when the cattle fall dead and the waters run red, I'll be your lamb's blood on the wall

God isn't dead, but that's exactly what I've been dreading after all the meek inherited fuck all

Jesus Christ, I will die for my own damn sins if you help those who help themselves

My superstitions, your visage, my visions furtherin' the fever of your fervor, for believing, I will

Your body, my temple, baby

Your body, my temple

I'll be your blessing in disguise, whip the mask off my good side

I'm all stripped down naked for you but still asking you to loosen up my buttons, baby

You've got my whole world in your hands, got that little blue spot

And you really ain't got no idea how much this thing orbits you, now, do you honey?

Please relieve me of my dreaming

I'm kneeling, begging, pleading, for my savory, sweet release of death

Oh, I wanna die, I wanna die, I wanna die, I wanna die, I wanna die, I wanna die

So, I can taste your name on my final breath

Your body, my temple, baby

Your body, my temple

Am I supposed to call this flagellation?

Trade confessions for questions, just us second guessing

I guess now am I missing the message?

Its essence goes over my head like a halo

Like a halo

Like a halo

The wine in my veins fermenting my brain

My body, my bread, is all gonna rise again

So, be my golden calf like a fresh cut of veal

After all we're both dead meat

My forbidden honeydew, honey do you need a hot meal?

Just save me half

Yeah, I could eat

Your body, my temple, baby

Your body, my temple, baby

Your body, my temple, baby

Your body, my temple

Baby

Amen!

I am only a man, howling at your face in the moon

Hot damn!

But no holy man, kneeling in the stained-glass tomb

As all hell breaks loose, as all hell's always do

Oh, what the hell can I do to have a little more heaven with you?

Hot damn, you are a part of my plan

Cataclysmic catechism catch-22

Your body, my temple, baby

Your body, my temple

So, when the cattle fall dead and the waters run red, I'll be your lamb's blood on the wall

God isn't dead, but that's exactly what I've been dreading after all the meek inherited fuck all

Jesus Christ, I will die for my own damn sins if you help those who help themselves

My superstitions, your visage, my visions furtherin' the fever of your fervor, for believing, I will

Your body, my temple, baby

Your body, my temple

I'll be your blessing in disguise, whip the mask off my good side

I'm all stripped down naked for you but still asking you to loosen up my buttons, baby

You've got my whole world in your hands, got that little blue spot

And you really ain't got no idea how much this thing orbits you, now, do you honey?

Please relieve me of my dreaming

I'm kneeling, begging, pleading, for my savory, sweet release of death

Oh, I wanna die, I wanna die, I wanna die, I wanna die, I wanna die, I wanna die

So, I can taste your name on my final breath

Your body, my temple, baby

Your body, my temple

Am I supposed to call this flagellation?

Trade confessions for questions, just us second guessing

I guess now am I missing the message?

Its essence goes over my head like a halo

Like a halo

Like a halo

The wine in my veins fermenting my brain

My body, my bread, is all gonna rise again

So, be my golden calf like a fresh cut of veal

After all we're both dead meat

My forbidden honeydew, honey do you need a hot meal?

Just save me half

Yeah, I could eat

Your body, my temple, baby

Your body, my temple, baby

Your body, my temple, baby

Your body, my temple

Baby

A-men! I'm only a-man

Howlin' at your face in the moon

Hot damn! But no holy man

But kneelin' in the stained glass tomb

And as all hell breaks loose, as hells always do

Aw, what the hell can I do to have a little more heaven with you?

Hot damn! You are a part of my plan

Cataclysmic catechism, catch 22

Your body, my temple, baby

Your body, my temple

So when the cattle fall dead and the waters run red

I'll be your lamb's blood on the wall

God isn't dead, but that's exactly what I've dreading

After all the meek inherited fuck all

Jesus Christ, I will die for my own damn sins

If you help those who help themselves

My superstitions, your visage, my visions

Furthering the fever of your fervor for believing, I will

Your body, my temple, baby

Your body, my temple

I'll be your blessing in disguise, whip the mask off my good side

I'm all stripped down naked now for you, but still asking you to loosen my buttons, baby

You've got my whole world in your hands, got this little blue spot

And you really ain't got no idea how much of this orbits ya, now do you, honey?

Please relieve me of my dreaming, I'm kneeling, begging, pleading

For the savory-sweet release of death

Oh, I wanna die, I wanna die, I wanna die, I wanna die, I wanna die, I wanna die, I wanna die

So I can taste your name on my final breath

Your body, my temple, baby

Your body, my temple

Am I supposed to call this flagellation?

Trade confessions for questions, just us second guessing, I guess

Am I missing the message? Its essence

Goes over my head like a halo

Like a halo, like a halo!

The wine in my veins fermenting my brain

My body, my bread, it's all gon' rise again

So be my golden calf like a fresh cut of veal

After all we're both dead meat

My forbidden honeydew, honey, do you need a hot meal

Just save me half, I mean, yeah I could eat

Your body, my temple, baby

Your body, my temple, baby

Your body, my temple, baby

Your body, my temple...

Baby!

Follow Will Wood

on Bandsintown

Writer(s): William Joseph Colligan

[torment-deviser]

Nightmares

A little snippet of an Idea for Ariadne my Pokemon Rejuvenation Oc. She was originally a changeling from CtL of the chronicles of darkness. But got sucked into the Pokemon world for reasons those familiar with rejuvenation would know. Will still post more about her at a later date for those interested though. Still, no knowledge of that needed to, hopefully, enjoy this. Under read more for the following CWs: Violence, blood, implied gore, manipulation, a bit of body horror (It is Changeling, after all). (Tell me if any more warnings are needed please.)

She could feel it. The rage, the fear. As they snapped at each other, the chains around all of their necks stopping them from ever damaging each other.

There was one time though, when the heavy chains snapped, and they all fell onto each other tearing and rending with tooth an claw.

The feeling of flesh stretching and remolding, their punishment.

He said that it was fitting, for their visage to fit their behavior. Now she wonders if it was him who snapped the chain. Setting another scene for the maddening play as they danced to the tune of his whims.

More than the emotions being echoed back to each other though. Something else tainted all her thoughts.

Hunger.

The agonizing feeling of her own gut seemingly eating itself in search of relief.

He fed them, or rather ordered them fed. But only just, never enough to satisfy, only to stop them from weakening.

But not this time.

Now she doesn't know when they were last fed, days? Weeks? Months? She what little of her mind remains in her hungered haze knows half the reason they snap at each bother lately is the desire to consume, anything, anyone, if only to make the pain go away.

Suddenly, silence surrounds the kennel. As a sweet scent floods it. Sweat, tears, fear…

Blood

Instincts overtake them all as suddenly their attention is focused on getting out. Consuming the source of the sweet mouth-watering scent, and the possibility of it filling the void inside all of them, the only thing in their consciousness.

As if reading their minds, the chains containing them all suddenly snap. Sending them all careening into the eternally dark forest in search of their prey.

Its all a blur for her after that, she knows she won the race though. Because the next she's aware her mouth tastes like iron, and she feels so full.

A mess of flesh, blood and guts beneath her claws paint the forest floor a wine red. A moment of clarity passes through her mind, the part of her human mind that remains now suddenly aware without the dull haze of starvation coming to a horrifying realization. As the features of the mess beneath her becomes hauntingly familiar, and threatens to make her throw up.

These thoughts however, are silenced with the gentle touch of her Keeper's cold hands. Her body preening at the attention, as her mind reels away from this unwanted touch. His voice both praising her victory, and demanding a better performance the next time in the same breath.

Her mind shudders at the thought, and something insider cracks at the realization of what she'll have to come to terms with if she wants to retain her sanity in mostly one piece…

—— She wakes suddenly, sitting up as her vision is flooded with the fluorescent white light that never fails to bring her a stinging pain behind the eyes, despite the lowered brightness, and makes being irritable the default mood for most of the days she has spent in this place.

Darkness has always welcomed her like an old friend.

Oddly, now she finds a contradictory desire to stay in the light. The glare being uncomfortable in a way that makes her feel safer at the same time.

The vestiges of the half remembered nightmare slips from her mind’s grasp, her body still tense but slowly relaxing. Yet, lying back down on the thin mattress, as she closes her eyes in an attempt for the hours to go faster she cant help but feel the restricting feeling of chains around her neck…

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

Eskel gladly admired the perfect view of the blonde beauty as he changed out of his weapons, equipment armor and clothing, gradually stripping down all the way save his medallion, entirely unashamed doing so around her. She looked like the fair maiden she was... or some alluring Water Nymph or Siren cleaning herself. He could imagine her beside some lake, pond or sea as she was, beckoning him to join her. He did so gladly, drawing closer. Joining her in the shower, he breathed a relaxed, contented breath... viper eyes closing and savoring the heated water as it soaked his hair and form alike. Between the shower and comfortable room and bed with her, the meal and drinks awaiting them below in the tavern, all felt right in the near doomed world, for a change. The weeks of hunting well worth it. Worth this. Much as he usually avoided folk on the Path, it was good to be among the living again. He opened his eyes again when he felt her press the cloth against his chest... meeting her blue gaze. He always enjoyed the way she looked at him, admired his body, as if not seeing the scars... or as if they only aroused her further. When her pleasing, accented voice spoke... and the naughty smile she offered him, despite her usually demure, sophisticated manner, his marred visage returned it with a smirk and chuckle under his breath. He felt his arousal growing already, the heat deepening in his blood. Taking her hand, he pressed a kiss to it, and then to the scat on her arm tenderly, before drawing back his mouth, to smile, deep, calm voice murmuring to the beauty.

"Mmm... yes. Though I have more energy than the average person, between my mutations... and you being around. Would only be proper to spend what remains making sure the fair lady knight has a more pleasant sort of exhaustion to rest from, this evening. Have a few ideas for how to go about that... but am always open to suggestions..."

The Witcher settled both roughened, powerful hands carefully on either side of her waist, drawing the blonde young woman in closer, before moving to her back and trailing along it enticingly. His manhood growing and pressing against her flesh. Moving down, his hands trailed to her fine rear, gripping it. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to Anri's lips, slowly and softly at first, showing her his care and appreciation. Then, reaching a hand down between her legs, he began to slowly rub her womanhood, gazing back at her to see her reactions, which always drew further arousal from him. Seeing the effect he had on her. Every time since he had claimed her maidenhood only deepened their bond... be it slow, intimate lovemaking or searing, passionate fucking. Stretching out her womanhood to accommodate him, marking her as his. It was always perfect and felt right when it was with the lady knight. Especially after each battle with Aldrich's cult and the various monsters they survived and slew together. Kissing her again, his tongue met hers and tasted her... before he slowly lowered down in front of her, kissing over her breasts and stomach, and reaching between her legs. He pressed his mouth to her womanhood again, her sweet nectar as inviting and delicious as sugar, and his tongue and mouth began to tend to his lover and companion again dutifully. Attentively. The warm water of the shower moved along his body, but it was nothing compared to the heat he felt within, and sensed stirring inside her, at the mercy of his mouth.

@prismaiden

[ shower ]   your muse joining mine in the shower. (Perhaps in some town they're visiting for supplies, or waterfall)

The inn was baked in the scent of hearth smoke and rosemary, honeyed mead and roasting meat.  It was warm in its welcome, particularly after long weeks on the road, trudging through the thickety heart of the wilds.  Anri, weary down to her bones, retreated from the fireside and made her way to the attached bathhouse, eager to purge the dirt that had bedded itself in her pores and nail beds. 

Steam hung like mist as she stepped into the small, crack-tiled chamber.  Beneath her feet, stone flags had been worn smooth by countless bare soles.  There, she stripped away her dusty garments, letting them pool at her feet like discarded skins, and moved beneath the shower.  It beat against her skin like summer rain, rivulets streaming over her dirt-smudged skin, dissolving the grime of their journey.  Tilting her head back, water saturated her hair, darkened strands clinging to her scalp and trailing down her neck like veins of gold.  Still further she leaned, the spray cascading over her face, loosening the waves and tangles left after days of being woven into braids.

The sound of the door creaking open startled her from her reverie.  Spooked and immediately shy, Anri instinctively pressed herself against the cool tiles, her breath quickening – but modesty melted into familiarity as her eyes found Eskel, his broad shoulders nearly brushing the narrow door frame.  Pulse slowing, she smiled at him, giddy, drunk on the luxury of warm water and the way his sharp, slit-pupiled gaze fastened itself to her.

Let him look, she thought, dazzled by her own boldness.  Let him see how the water coursed over her in glistening sheets, dripping from the rose-crowned peaks of her breasts.

Eskel began to undress without ceremony, his movements methodical, though Anri thought she detected the fatigue in his movements.  When his tunic fell, it revealed the familiar map of scars crossing his chest, a pattern she knew as thoroughly as the back of her own hands.  Anri looked away – not out of embarrassment, but rather quiet respect – and busied herself, fingers working the water into the roots of her hair, nails scraping her scalp in small, satisfying circles. 

The spray shifted as Eskel stepped in beside her, his presence large and grounding.  Water struck his shoulders and rolled down his muscular frame, the drumming sound filling the space and silence between them.  Wordlessly, Anri knelt to retrieve the cloth, the soap already soaked and bubbling in anticipation.  She couldn’t resist a glance – just a fleeting look – her eyes skimming over him as if she hadn’t already traced every inch of him with her hands, her lips.  A girlish shyness stirred in her still when she glimpsed what hung heavy and shameless at the apex of his thighs.  As if he hadn’t deflowered her, as if she didn’t already know the taste of his skin. 

Straightening, she twisted the soap into the cloth until it frothed.  It had a herbaceous smell, a blend of whatever green crush the innkeeper’s wife had harvested from her garden.  Something vaguely floral was buried there too – violets, Anri would guess.  Pressing the cloth to his chest, she was slow and reverent in her motions, foam trailing over old scars and the planes of muscle. 

“We will feel better after this,” she promised, her voice low and warm, her eyes flicking up to meet his.  Mischief danced at the corners of her mouth.  “Especially if we can manage a long sleep.”

[khimerism]

tag drop       ↳ character related.

✧ ⥼ 𝐤𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐞 𝐯𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐚 — visage. ❝ her wild feral stare / her dark hair. ✧ ⥼ 𝐤𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐞 𝐯𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐚 — about. ❝ old things have strange hungers. ✧ ⥼ 𝐤𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐞 𝐯𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐚 — musings. ❝ if i am anything. i’m cruelty. ✧ ⥼ 𝐤𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐞 𝐯𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐚 — insight. ❝ i wonder how long until i hunger again. ✧ ⥼ 𝐤𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐞 𝐯𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐚 — desires. ❝ i’ve got my teeth in you. ✧ ⥼ 𝐤𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐞 𝐯𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐚 — isms. ❝ unhinge your jaw. go for the throat.  ✧ ⥼ 𝐤𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐞 𝐯𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐚 — wardrobe. ❝ the devil wrapped in silk is still the devil. ✧ ⥼ 𝐤𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐞 𝐯𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐚 — music. ❝ blood in the water / tastes so sweet.

[bowiebond]

Hot & Cold - Chapter 1

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40818159/chapters/102279033

Relationship: Mungrove aka Eddie Munson/Billy Hargrove

Summary: Eddie awakes in the Upside Down with a stranger. He doesn't know his face, or his name, but the universe has appointed him a savior he never thought to ask for.

CW: Injured!Eddie, Vampire!Eddie, Pyrokinetic!Billy, Blood Drinking, Minor Gore

Words: 4.8k

The first thing he registered was the heat. Next was the pain. The heat from the pain too. His head felt like lead, and lifting his eyelids felt like a feat all on it’s own.

God, did he pass out? When? In his trailer? No...No, he remembered now. His sweetheart in hand, playing in Chrissy’s memory, avenging her the only way he could. Dustin...Dustin had been above him, haloed, and there had been bats. He had cut the rope. Ran.

But not to escape. He had run to buy time, had crashed and kept going. The fear plaguing the memory made it hazy, dotted in blood and a mirage of pain. But he remembered fighting, losing...Dustin. Dustin.

“I love you, man.” “I love you too.”

Christ, Dustin. Fuck. He had died on the kid. What a way to leave this world, traumatizing his smart-mouthed younger pseudo-brother.

Except, he was pretty sure he was alive. Or maybe the afterlife was cruel, and he would feel this pain for eternity. God, he hoped not. Chrissy didn’t deserve to spend her afterlife in tears and pain. She had been too sweet for that. Maybe Eddie was just in hell. Yeah. He’d prefer to be in hell then for Chrissy to share a torturous limbo with him.

Eddie slowly pried his eyes apart and was assaulted by the bright orange of flames. He squinted and grunted, breathing out harshly as pain tore through his wounds. He wheezed, mouth dry and tacky, and he flinched when a hand touched his head. It smoothed over his hair, and he let out another small wheeze.

“Don’t move.” It was barely a whisper, but Eddie heard it. He stared at the flames, heart thundering with fear as the hand continued to smooth over his hair gently. “You probably won’t survive your injuries. But I thought maybe...You could understand. They left you here too.”

Eddie trembled, swallowing painfully, tasting copper and dirt. He choked on it and the stranger hushed him softly.

“Sleep. I don’t want you to pass in pain. Dying hurts.”

Eddie breathed out the beginning of a ‘help’, but he didn’t make it past the first letter.

“I said, sleep.”

Eddie’s vision spotted, drowning out the visage of flames that cackled in his ears. The sound sent him right off into the abyss, and he sagged against the floor, the strangers hand still resting upon his head.

*****

When Eddie woke again, the fire was out. It was dark, and everything still hurt.

A door creaked, heavy footsteps following, and Eddie breathed in a lungful of oxygen, the sound more rickety than an old house on it’s last leg.

A wet slap sounded out against the wooden floor, the drop of something heavy and metallic joining it moments later.

He managed to rolled onto his back with all the strength left in his withering body, and his eyes found a shadowed figure. Slowly, it reached for him and he wheezed out a protest, incoherent.

The silhouette hushed him softly, fingers grazing his pale cheek. His touch was scorching, and Eddie didn’t have the energy to move away from it.

“You’re persistent. I really thought you’d die by now.” His voice was still soft, melodic, and Eddie’s eyelids felt heavy. “I guess we’ll see, critter.”

Eddie’s vision went black as a hand came across it, burning still.

He was so cold.

*****

The third time he awoke, it was to the feeling of warm water dripping down his neck.

“Wha...”

“You’re a fighter.” The rich baritone slipped into his ear and fell apart in his brain, nothing more than a hum that left him just as disorientated as he was moments before. The lukewarm water grew warmer, and Eddie hissed as it touched healing ripped flesh. He could feel the single, short huff of laughter that jumped through the mans chest, pressed against his back.

“I’m glad.” The figure behind him pressed the rag to his side and Eddie passed out before he could even acknowledge that he would, the pain too sharp, too quick, and too much.

*****

“It’s so quiet. Why is quiet?”

Eddie fluttered open his eyes, the heat of fire back. Like the first time, he was blinded by its flames, squinting past the embers to gaze upon the silhouette standing by the window. His heart stuttered at the bloody axe in the mans hand, hanging loosely from his fingers.

“It’s too quiet...” The fire burned brighter and Eddie shied from it as its heat stung his face. Like the swirl of a cape, the flames vanished and the man turned to him, basked in darkness.

“You’re awake.” He seemed surprised. “For how long though...” He breathed in and sighed, his rising and falling shoulders illuminated by the faint night blue glow of the outside world. He approached, slow steps, and Eddie watched the axe in his hand. A weak whimper escaped his throat and the figure knelt beside his supine form.

“I think you’ll live, critter.” He caressed his cheek with his thumb, moving his hand into his hair. His skin, once grimy with his own blood and sweat, felt clean. “You’re so cold though.”

“Wha...wha you...?” He slurred, words melding together. He didn’t even try to respond and Eddie wanted to cry.

Where was he? How did he survive? Who was this guy? What did he want from him?

He couldn’t tell if he wanted anything at all. But Eddie? He wanted to go home. To be anywhere but this creepy, dark room with this faceless stranger. He wanted his Uncle. His friends. Dustin.

Hell, he’d even settle for Nancy, Robin and Steve right now.

His whimpers only grew, tears blurring his vision, and the man hushed him softly for what felt like the millionth time.

“Don’t cry. No one will hear you.”

Light flickered into existence from nothing, dancing in the palm of his hand, the shape of a girl undeniable to Eddie’s eyes. Slowly, his eyes traveled from the flame to the wielder, and a tear slipped down from the corner of his eye, into his hair.

“No one.” And there was tears of gold in his eyes, molten like the flame as they dripped down grimy cheeks. The ocean had met the sun, and the sea wept sunlight as Eddie watched.

For the life of him, he couldn’t place a name to the face. He thought, maybe, he didn’t have a name. Not anymore.

*****

They didn’t talk much. Eddie didn’t because it hurt too much to. He wasn’t sure why the other avoided conversation. Maybe he wasn’t used to company.

Eddie watched as the dark haired man (Was his hair dark? Or was it the dirt and grime? Eddie couldn’t tell.) ate, teeth tearing into black, almost purple tinted, meat. His own bowl sat in front of him, and despite his hunger, it didn’t look appetizing at all. The smell alone made his stomach churn.

“Eat. You’ll need the energy to get better.” He advised, and Eddie picked at it. He tore off a tiny part and brought it to his lips, placing it into his mouth. The moment it touched his tongue, his mouth was filled with an ashen taste and he spat it out, coughing so hard he feared his wounds would split back open.

The man was beside him in a matter of moments, abandoning his own dinner to help Eddie sit back up, his coughs simmer down to little quiet leaps of his chest.

“You have to eat, dammit.” His hand was trembling as he raking it through Eddie’s hair, the man too weak to protest the touch. He pulled away and came back with the bowl of water, wringing the rag in it out and pressing the damp cloth to his lips. Eddie’s lips were chapped, cracking, and he could taste blood on his tongue, bitter and rotten.

He parted his lips, taking the corner of the rag into his mouth and the water was cool against his tongue. It was relief like no other.

“That’s it.” That shaky hand was back in his hair, fingers threading in the strands at his nape, thumbing behind his ear as Eddie suckled. “Water first. Food next. We can work our way up...”

Eddie didn’t know how long until his voice would come back, but the first thing he wanted to ask him when it did, was how long he had been here alone.

*****

Time was strange here, Eddie realized. There was no day or night, just darkness and the occasional flash of red like thunder. The small shed they were in was fairly tidy, but vines crawled up it’s walls outside. Eddie could see from the windowsill, how they inched closer and closer over time. In a way, it was stabilizing, like a clock. He made his own metric of time in his head based on the vines.

Sometimes the stranger would leave for a while, hours it felt, and return with things. Blankets. Pillows. A dead creature to eat, as gross as it was. Eddie wasn’t sure where he got the water, or how it was clean, but he was grateful nonetheless. Water was one of the only things he could keep down, but he knew he was withering away slowly. He could feel it, even as his skin stitched back together over time, the hunger never stopped. Getting up from his bed was difficult, and he could feel the other watching him most of the time.

He was starting to fear he might never speak again.

“Eat it.” He turned his face from it, everything in him telling him not to sink his teeth into the slightly charred meat. “You’re gonna die if you keep refusing to eat.”

“’an’t...” It’s something, softer than a whisper, but it’s something.

He flinched when the man tossed the meat into the bowl with a clatter, almost kicking it as he stood up in a huff. He paced, the fires glow flickering over his skin. He was washed out, but Eddie could tell he used to have a tan. His skin was littered in scars, though he often kept his aged deep brown jacket on. Eddie could see the traces of them crawling up from beneath his white tank, and if he could vocalize his many questions, he didn’t think the man would even have enough time to answer them all.

He dragged his hands through his hair and locked them behind his head as he locked at Eddie.

“Why won’t you eat?” He could not fathom it, and honestly, Eddie wouldn’t be able to either if he wasn’t the one inhabiting this body, experiencing these weird spikes of hunger with no relief even when he tried to eat.

“Are you...allergic? Fuck, how would you even know?” He scrubbed a hand down his face, looking exhausted. “I don’t have anything else.” He gestured around the minimalistic room. “I can’t feed you anything else.”

He looked like he wanted to cry again, face falling with his own defeat, looking lost as he gazed down at the floor.

“You’re going to die.” He intoned, voice hoarse. “And I have nothing else.”

Eddie stared up at him, a small bud of solicitude blooming in his chest. Slowly, trying not to sway on his own two feet, he walked over to the stranger and offered him solace in the form of a hug. The man sucked in a sharp breath at the contact, a tremor rippling through his limbs like goosebumps.

Hesitantly, he held Eddie back, and the injured man heard his breath shudder free and finish in a soft sob, sliding his hands up his back to curl his fingers around the muscle of his shoulders.

“I don’t want you to die.” He sniveled. “It’s so fucking lonely down here.”

Eddie had come to that conclusion not long ago. If he had the strength, the words, he’d tell this stranger there was a way out. They just had to find it first. Then they could find the others.

He missed them. He missed everyone back home. His Uncle, his party and band, all those misfits that put their necks on the line to save Hawkins. He missed them all.

Eddie wasn’t steady on his feet, not when he was so fatigued, still healing, but the other was strong. Held him firmly and close as he cried. Eddie rested his head on his shoulder, not minding that the man was a tad too short for it to be comfortable.

Eddie was cold. He had been cold since he first woke up. No amount of heat had changed that, but the other ran hot like a furnace and Eddie felt it emit from his skin like a stove top.

With the warmth came the scent of cinnamon and musk, the grit of earth and something a touch sweet. Like rose and grapefruit. It was the kind of scent you would steam your bathroom up with, that soothing touch that was perfect for lounging in the tub.

His skin was feverish against his lips, and his blood boiling.

He didn’t hear exactly what he shouted, but he felt the rough shove, felt his body hit the ground, and felt the sweet spice slide down his throat with his own spit. He could feel it tingling against his lips, and they were quivering as he licked it off his upper lip and savored the flavor on his tongue.

“You psycho-!” He hissed as he clutched his neck, blood sliding over the heel of his palm, slithering down his wrist. Eddie’s stomach growled loudly and the man stared at him, mystified.

“Is this it?” He slowly removed his hand from his neck, breath quickening as he looked at the crimson staining his hand. “Do you...is this what you’ll eat?” He turned his eyes back to him and Eddie licked his lips, wanting to say something, anything, but his mouth was watering and he had to swallow.

Tentatively, he lowered his hand, still doused in red, and left it there. Waiting, offering with uncertain eyes.

Eddie had been told since his birth that he was lesser than most. Trailer park trash, a delinquent, a freak, a flunkee. Eddie had been okay with all of it. Learned to take pride in his life as a disappointment to most of society.

He never felt lower than when he reached out for that scarred wrist, dragging his tongue along the rough callouses of his palm to soak the cherry red fluid into the cracks of his tongue. His hand twitched in Eddie’s grip and he wrapped his lips around one digits, sucking off the blood from it. The sweet taste of his blood mixed with the tang of sweat and Eddie groaned.

He tried to tug his hand back, but Eddie felt a new sense of strength as he held firm, swirling his tongue another digit. He was thorough with each one, cleaning the blood off his hot palm and tracing his tongue up the trail of blood that had trickled down his wrist. It didn’t have the same scorch that it did when it came right from the source, but Eddie would take whatever he could get.

He sighed with satisfaction, his own body starting to feel tepid as he licked his lips, reaching his thumb up to swipe the streak blood he could feel there. He sucked it off his thumb and finally released his wrist.

The man quickly hid it behind himself, wiping his hand on the back of his jeans as he stared down at Eddie in astonishment.

“That’s why you wouldn’t eat?” His voice sounded wrecked. “You just needed...b-blood?” He looked like he wanted to be disgusted, but Eddie couldn’t pinpoint what the actual emotion was on his face.

“You’re not the only one surprised.” Eddie’s voice sounded even worse, but it formed syllables, real words, and it made his shoulders sag. He could have sob with the sheer relief of hearing his own voice again.

“You can talk.” He awed, eyes widening as Eddie nodded.

“I guess so.” He cleared his throat, rubbing it gently. “I do feel better.”

“You do?” He knelt before him, looking him over with wonder as Eddie tried to suck every last reminiscence of his taste from his tongue, greedy to consume. Eddie eyed his neck, sluggishly bleeding from the shallow bite. He watched at a drop slid down his collarbone and stained the white fabric of his tank, wanting to lick it clean.

“I do.” He murmured, distracted. The other noticed his stare and seemed apprehensive, tilting his shoulder away, chin jutted to hide the wound from Eddie’s gaze. He forced his gaze away from the red sticking to his lightly freckled skin, meeting his blue eyes.

They looked apprehensive, cogs turning in that brain of his, and Eddie could only wait for him to draw the conclusion he was working his way towards, to make a decision on his next words, next action.

A pink tongue peaked out past his lips, wetting them before he looked away from Eddie’s dark eyes. His lips parted, closed, and opened once more but nothing except a sigh passed them.

With a creak of a floorboards, he sat down heavily, one knee up and the other falling to point west. He rested back on his hands, palms down behind him as he studied Eddie. He looked like a statue, sharp and ethereal in the warm light, and Eddie felt like bacteria under a microscope. His gazed dipped to watch the bob of his throat, the man cocking his chin in challenge. His legs spread further ever so slightly and Eddie could hear his own heartbeat in his ears.

“Well?” He tilted his head with heeding eyes, the softest twitch in his upper lip giving away the sting of his wound at the stretch. “You want to survive, don’t you?”

Eddie salivated at the offering. His soft pants felt like they were echoing in the silent room, but this stranger didn’t take his eyes off him. Observing his every move as Eddie tried to resist. This was insane. He was trapped in this shack, in the Upside Down, with a man who’s name he didn’t even know, a man who seemed to control fire like it was as easy as breathing. A man who smelled and tasted incredible. That wasn’t something he should think about another person. That they were appetizing in a way that wasn’t inherently sexual.

He swallowed back another bout of saliva that had pooled under his tongue, every swallow starting to scratch at the back of his throat. When he clenched his teeth, he could feel the change in length of his canines. They weren’t sharper, because humans were carnivores with teeth built for tearing, chewing, biting, but they filled more space in his mouth than before and it was alarming.

“What’s holding you back?” The other frowned, brows coming to draw inwards. He reached up to his neck, swiping the drying blood from it. He looked down at it, face shadowed with near-contempt. When he brought his gaze back to Eddie’s, something shifting in his eyes, the fire crackling beside him loudly as it spat embers.

Eddie recoiled when he pressed his fingers to the shallow wound and dug them in, fresh blood spilling past his nails. His eyes were unwavering, the glossy shine of tears not tapering his determination as Eddie watched, refusing to breath. He knew if he breathed in, something in him would snap. His self control was slipping through his fingers.

“Maybe you just need a proper invitation.” He brought his two red dyed fingers to his mouth, and Eddie’s closed lips quivered, the muscles in his face twitching from his weakening resolve. “Go on. Think of it as an oath of brotherhood.”

His smile was insincere, words barely a whisper and eyes unreadable.

Eddie couldn’t hold his breath any longer.

He breathed in, lips falling apart as the scent of smoke and spice filled his senses, a sweet aftertaste coating his tongue from the smell alone. His tongue slowly peeked past his lips, catching the blood drop that threatened to fall on his tongue before curling it back into his mouth.

He wondered if this was what true addiction felt like. His skin felt flushed, itching for another taste, and he gave in as his self-control dissolved into dust. He took those two fingers into his mouth and sucked, moaning softly in satisfaction. He choked when they pressed further, almost catching his knuckle on his fangs between he felt the digits spread, fingertips catching his bottom teeth and prying his mouth wider.

“If you bite me again, critter, I’ll tear these from your gums, got it?” It was the first threat the man had spoken to him, but Eddie nodded as best he could, drowning in the heavenly taste. “Good.”

He pulled his fingers from his lips, strings of spit snapping before Eddie followed, tongue sliding up his collarbone to his throat, latching onto the bite.

It burned, and Eddie had never tasted anything better.

His hand slipped into loose curls, cupping the back of his nape as he pulled longer draws from his neck, groaning lowly. The heat buried into the marrow of his bones, panting softly against his throat as the other breathed through his nose, sharp intakes and shuddering exhales. Eddie wondered vaguely if it hurt. When you licked a wound, it tended to sting.

He dragged his tongue along it gently and the man winced, fingers curling into his palm in a fist. He was unsure what provoked him, but he dipped the tip of his tongue into the source and the other gasped, flinching away and grabbing his sleeve tight.

“Enough.” He rasped and if Eddie was greedier he would have shoved the man down and covered his mouth, sucked every last drop from him until he was cold instead and Eddie was burning.

But Eddie was not a killer. Hell, he couldn’t even kill a spider. He had set free every single one he found and cried as a kid when his father squashed them under his boot.

He pulled away and leaned back too far, shifting from his knees to his ass with a hand behind him to catch himself. He licked his lips, cleaning up the mess he could feel was there, staining his lips cherry. They watched each other, air rife with tension as the man stood slowly. He stumbled slightly, boots making a heavy clunking sound before he straightened and blinked a few times. He was probably dizzy, but Eddie had a good feeling he wouldn’t accept his help even if he offered it.

He walked over to the wall and leaned against it, puffed chest sinking with his exhale. Slowly, he slid down to sit on his designated pile of blankets, a makeshift bed, and reached for the duffel bag at the end of it. He pulled it into his lap, keeping Eddie in his view as he riffled through the bag and pulled out a few strips of fabric, lining two pieces together and tying it around his neck like a bandage, his cheek twitching when he pulled it tight.

With that taken care of, he dropped his hands onto the bag in his lap and kicked a brow up at Eddie.

“So. This place brought you back different too?”

“You haven’t always wielded fire magic like some kind of wizard?” Eddie quipped and he chuckled, looking away with bitter mirth.

“No...I was perfectly normal.” He frowned for a moment, uncaring as he continued. “Well, depends on who you ask.”

“I was not.” Eddie rubbed a hand down his face. “But I also didn’t suck blood like Count Dracula.”

“I’d say you got the shit end of the stick, but I don’t trust myself not to jinx it.” He shook his head, like he knew better. “Well? You got a name, amigo?”

“Eddie.” It felt good to finally say it. “You?”

“Ah...” He seemed to think about it, dragging his tongue over his teeth. “Billy.”

“Well, Billy, you have my gratitude.” He had been scared shitless by the guy for a while, but overall, Billy had helped him overcome his wounds. He couldn’t feel a hint of pain anymore, the chill that had set into his bones long gone. “Thank you.”

“You’re fucking welcome.” Billy cupped a hand over his neck, brows pinching. “It was a one time affair, trust me.”

“Not for...that.” Eddie wrinkled his nose. He was slightly disgusted in himself now that he was no longer hungry. “I mean, thanks, but I meant for...nursing me.”

“I’ve been down here a long time. Trust me when I say you start dying for some company.”

“I can imagine.” Eddie, with strength renewed, heaved himself onto his feet. He walked to the window and peeked out into the dark forest, flashes of red in the distance. “Where do you get the water from?”

“What?” Billy furrowed his brows, not bothering to join him at the window. He felt off-kilter, and rightfully so.

“The water you bring back. Where do you get it?”

“There’s...There’s a lake not far from here.”

“And you drink that?” Eddie wrinkled his nose.

“I clean it first, dipshit.” He sparked his fingers. “Boil the fuck out of it, let it cool, and you have drinkable water.”

“Well, that makes me feel better.” Eddie admitted, pushing off the windowsill. “This place, it’s like an alternate dimension of-”

“Hawkins, I figured.” Billy cut in, scowling at being taken for an idiot. “What of it?”

“The water, did you get it from Lovers Lake?”

“Well, it’s vaguely heart shaped.” Billy shrugged. “Why?”

“There’s a gate there.” Eddie said and Billy squinted up at him. “Well, last I checked there was.”

“A gate?” He looked confused before something seemed to click, face slowly smoothing with realization and eyes widening. “A gate. The gate.”

He was getting to his feet, too quick and throwing too much weight forward as he stumbled. Eddie caught him on reflex and the man shook him off in seconds, glaring.

“I remember about the gate.”

“You’ve seen it?”

“I didn’t see anything. I just know.” Billy flicked his wrist and the fire went out. “You said it’s at Lovers Lake? The gate.”

“A gate.” Eddie clarified. “Why are you talking like there’s only one?”

“Because there was only one. Obviously something changed after I died.” Billy muttered, grabbing his bag and hauling it over his shoulder. His eyes fluttered a few times and Eddie pursed his lips, reaching for it. Billy flinched away, scowling at him. “Don’t touch my shit.”

“You’re going to pass out if you keep overdoing it. Just let me carry it.” Eddie kept his hand out, expectant, and Billy stared down at it distrustfully. “Come on, man. I owe you.”

His blue eyes flickered up to his and slowly, dropped the straps into his hand.

“Yeah. You do.” Billy grabbed his axe and rolled his shoulders back. “Come on.”

“You wanna go now?”

“I’m not staying another goddamn minute more than I have to. You said there’s a way out. I’m getting out of here, and I’m disappearing on my own fucking terms.” He spat, throwing the door wide open. Eddie pursed his lips, looking around the room as he swung the bag over his shoulder.

“Well, I’m not staying back here on my own, this place gives me the-”

“Heebie jeebies?”

“...I was gonna say the creeps. But yeah, sure. Heebie jeebies.” Eddie tried not to pull a face at the phrase, but he must have been caught because Billy gave a roll of his eyes before he continued on forward.

Eddie looked around the woods, avoiding vines as anxiety built in his chest.

“Shouldn’t I have a weapon or something? I feel like I should have a weapon.”

“I have a weapon.” Billy gestured to his axe.

“That’s all fine and dandy, man, really.” Eddie narrowly avoided tripping over a vine. “But that doesn’t protect me.”

“I’ll protect you.” He said it simply, like it was an obvious fact, and Eddie laughed a little.

“Yeah, I’m sure you can.”

“I will.” He corrected, voice low with promise, and Eddie’s eyebrows jumped. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Okay.” Eddie looked behind them, head moving a lot more than Billy’s even though the pair were both surveilling the area. “It’s like...really quiet.”

“I noticed.” Billy didn’t seem to like that either.

“That’s like...a bad thing. Right?” Eddie took a hop, skip and a jump to step in line with Billy’s own measured pace, looking past Billy to check their left. “Like, if this was a slasher film, quiet would mean...jumpscare.”

“Quiet could also just mean quiet.” Billy narrowed his eyes at Eddie, indicating for him to shut up.

“I’m just saying.”

“I think I preferred it when you didn’t talk, critter.”

“You’re not sunshine and rainbows either, buddy.” Eddie grumbled, a snap ringing out. Eddie jumped and shoved a hand out in front of Billy on instinct, looking around wildly. Billy gripped his axe tighter in both hands.

Eddie held his breath, Billy’s own breathing silent and slow as they waited.

[keilemlucent]

“i’m here”

NSFW (minors dni)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

word count: ~2.2k

keigo comes home and you’ve both got old wounds on the surface 

warnings: sex-based breakdown/panic, depictions of ptsd, safe-wording, trauma (😎), vague descriptions of dissociation

a/n: hey folks, mind the tags! this is some vulnerable, self-indulgent hurt/comfort. i’m a bit shy posting this one BUT all the same enjoy <3

Keigo cared.

You could tell, so easily. It radiated around him when you were together, this aura that he never carried publicly. It was saved for you, a different type of adoration and tenderness that solely belonged between the two of your souls.

It was never acknowledged, but felt, and that quiet recognition was enough.

There were things you couldn’t tell him, not yet and fuck, maybe you never would. Everyone has their demons, and you knew Keigo had plenty of secrets he kept to him.

(How many times did you help him pluck and preen feathers still wet with blood? He assured you it was never his, but that didn’t ease the knot in your gut.)

It was just boundaries, maybe. Maybe. The things you couldn’t, wouldn’t tell each other. Little lines drawn to keep the two of you safe from your pains. Better to lock them up than share them, right?

Except, things are never that simple and ills hate staying hidden for too long.

...

He’d been gone for a while. A mission far off and secret.

By proxy, Keigo had come home haggard and hungry.

For you.

He entered your home and without pause, he was on you.

He tossed you into bed. His wings flared out wide and ruffled. It made him look bigger than he was, and the light in his eyes had a starved gleam that sent your heart racing.

You tried to ignore his new, plentiful bruises and bumps. The colors bloomed over his skin, even in the near dark of the bedroom.

What does he do when he’s away?

It was better to not ask questions.

He ravaged you, naturally. How could he not? He’d been gone for weeks, sending you the nastiest, most yearning texts. Nothing too long, but little notes that communicated how much he missed you, how much he fucking needed you.

And he was certainly showing you.

His lips were over yours, nipping and sucking and devouring you in every sense of the word. Hands tugged and ripped your clothes off, his nails long and unmanicured with his mission. They weren’t quite pointed, but they were still too sharp to be scratching down your ribs.

It was all a bit too much, a bit too fast, but you tried to catch up the best you could.

“Keigo—” You sputtered as he bit his way down to your breasts, tugging on a nipple with his teeth.

“Hush,” His voice sounded far too low and it made your stomach flip (in the worst way oh my god). “I’ll take care of you. Doesn’t that sound nice, dove?”

The pet name should’ve soothed you.

(‘Should’ve’.)

Your inside did flips as he trailed lower.

Your mind was going lower too.

Mentally, you scrambled, clawing for a ledge to ground yourself on. Sensation whirled, pleasure and fear mixing into some fucked up cocktail in the front of your psyche.

Why are you so scared?

Your heart pounded, nearly ached in your chest as Keigo played with your clit over your panties.

It should’ve felt good.

His tousled hair was so fucking pretty. Keigo was gorgeous in every way, the wings were just a part of his visage. You were so lucky, so privileged to have him looking at your cunt so hungrily.

You’re so scared.

Why are you scared?

(You knew why, you just didn’t want to remember any more than you needed to. But that wasn’t really in your control, was it?)

You felt like you were falling as Keigo cleanly licks your cunt through your panties, soaking the cotton with his drool.

No, no, no.

Tears pricked your eyes as he pulled aside your panties, just enough to get a look, going in for a taste—

NO, NO, NO—

“N-no. Stop.” You gasped the words, cringing at how they broke in your throat. “Keigo, s-stop.”

Keigo froze immediatly, gaze flickering up to your face before his expression fell hard and fast.

No, no, no, you made him upset.

Dumbass.

He shot up, wings folding tight to his back. You scrambled up on the bed, arms wrapping around your shoulders. They shook in your grasp, you shook in your own hold as you tried to comfort yourself. Your breath was coming too fast and hard, but that was another issue entirely. You tucked into yourself tighter and let your vision go blurry in the ripples of the sheets.

Keigo sat in front of you, eyes wide and lips parted in terror and unsure words.

“I’m so s-sorry,” His hands folded in his lap. So tense they looked painful.

You shook your head, laughing, “It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You just couldn’t do this right now.

“Can I help?”

You didn’t reply for a moment, trying to reign in your racing mind.

Truly, Keigo didn’t do anything wrong. Maybe moved a bit too fast, but nothing out of the ordinary. You’d done this song and dance so many times, you loved it. Most of the time.

Sometimes, someone with your secrets had bad days that made you scared of the people that love you the most.

A thick sludge burrowed in the back of your throat as you shook your head.

Thinking felt too hard.

“Not yet,” you choked out rubbing at your cheeks. The tears smeared over your cheeks, turning them hot and angry as the rabbit’s heart buried in your chest. .

Keigo hovered, unsure.

It wasn’t like him not to know what to do. He was intuitive and saw through people easily, even if he didn’t say it. And he knew you particularly well. Very well. Little details about you and your being were tucked away in his mind, always brought out in key moments.

“Dovey?” He asked softly, like trying not to startle a terrified animal (isn’t that what you were?) “Do you want me to go?”

“N-no,” The words burst from your lips as your chest squeezed so tight, you could’ve checked. “No, no, no, please don’t go.”

You gagged on air and slammed back into the headboard.

Sure, the odd mix of emotions and very unwelcome memories was rawing your mind and body from the inside out. Sure, Keigo knew nothing of what you were experiencing. This was private, all of this part of you held far away from him. This was your burden. You had therapy, and self-help books, and deep breathing.

But, none of that was working. Instead, you were staring down your lover, helpless.

Your eyes flickered to the nightstand.

“Water?”

Keigo was already sending off a flurry of feathers to freshen up the liquid in the glass.

Good start.

Keigo’s hands twitched, wings restless as he regarded you. His breaths were even and solid, counted and practiced to keep himself calm in the face of your panic.

A chilled glass was delivered to you by a bundle of feathers. You snatched it, holding it to your cheeks before taking a few fat gulps.

Slow down.

You’re going too fast.

“Little sips,” Keigo reminded you, voice soft.

You pulled back, looking at him in your hazy vision, “Little sips?”

You tried again, taking a smaller sip, swishing the water in your mouth before swallowing.

“Was that good?” You looked at him, inching closer to him

He nodded, golden and glowing, “Very good.”

The praise was a little bit of salve for a much larger wound, but it felt wonderful nonetheless.

Keigo wasn’t the issue.

He wasn’t, truly. You knew that, despite all the swirling fear.

The only issue with Keigo was that he suddenly felt too far away.

You gave him a desperate little look, hands itching across the covers.

He noticed because of course he fucking did.

(Thank fucking god.)

“I’m here.”

It was a reminder, a needed one.

Keigo, your kind, sweet partner was not the memories swirling his mind. He didn’t hurt you, he didn’t harm you.

“... Yeah?” You sniffled.

“I am.” His face was soft, softer than you’d ever seen. The pre-mature wrinkles looked too deep in the moonlight. His eyes looked too old, too worn, as he silently acknowledged those goddamn demons without a word. A little, rumbling coo broke from the back of his throat and felt yourself relax with the sound.

And, fuck, bless him—

Keigo gave you a soft smile that felt like warm honey in spiced tea that seeps into the cracks between your ribs.  

“Hold me?” You finally asked, words shaking but not hesitant.

He nodded, and before you could comprehend, he was tugging you down into the sheets, pulling you to his chest and squeezing. It wasn’t rough treatment, but it was firm, grounding at the very fucking least. His arm wrapped around your middle, pulling you to his chest and holding you there. Your cheek squished against the chill of the cooling sweat over his sternum, a shaking breath finally coming slow enough to give you a bit of ease.

“Is this okay?” Keigo asked, one of his wings adjusted to barely ghost over your bodies.

You pressed closer, greedy and scared, “More. Tighter. Please.”

Keigo wasn’t one to deny you.

His grip got firmer, fingers stroking up and down your spine in time with his own slow breathing. The wing over you relaxed, bearing down just enough to be comfortable. It was maybe a little too much. You dealt with it, let the weight of Keigo be next to you and over you because he was good. You were good or going to be. You clung to the thought.

“You’re safe, I promise.”

You clung to that thought too. Keigo was good and safe. You believed him if only a little bit.

You hoped Keigo knew that this wasn’t about him. That the poisonous memories and awful thoughts weren’t about him, rather than he’d caught their thin, nearly invisible tripwire.

You’re safe, why are you panicking?

Because sometimes this just happens.

You pressed your nose between his pecs, tucking a hand between the roots of his wings. It made him startle; the area was sensitive. He quickly relaxed and went back to petting your back and taking deep breaths.

The two of you laid for a long time, surrounded by each other's breathing and grounding in the heat of the sheets and the white noise of the world. You remained in some sort of a daze for most of it, the memories fading, but just leaving you numb and out of it.

“More water?” Keigo asked, tentatively kissing your clammy forehead.

You nodded, sitting up slowly and rubbing a hand over your cheeks. The air felt less suffocating, your mind calmer, but you still felt like shit—

“Drink,” Keigo brought the glass to your lips with a combination of his hands and feathers.

You gulped down half of the freshened water, letting a bit dribble past the corner of your lips. The leftovers were swept away by your thumb and rubbed in your hot cheeks. The cold was a grounding, and the world was finally stilling as you needed it to.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” You met Keigo’s gaze from where he sat across from you. He sat upright and on his knees, hands and wings folded to his center. The posture made him look smaller as he watched you. His bright eyes took you in as well as they could, but you could sense he was still a little on edge.

Your words made his brows shoot up.

“I should be telling you that, not the other way around,” Keigo bit his lip and frowned.

You snatched his hands in yours, “We both need it. I need you to know I’m not upset.”

“You... should be. At least a little.”

You gave a little shake of your head, thick in your resolve.

Keigo stayed silent before taking a deep breath, wings readjusting with thought, “I suppose you don’t want to talk about it?”

“I... I don’t,” Maybe sometime, but not now. “But, I still need you to know you didn’t do anything wrong. It just moved too fast for me and I got...”

You lost your words and your vision went hazy at the bedsheets once more.

“Overwhelmed?” He finished your sentence with a squeeze of your hands.

“Yeah, fuck, that’s the word,” You shook your head. “I’m still not feeling great.”

“That’s okay, “ Keigo assured you with another squeeze. “Can I help at all?”

You shook your head once more.

Not right now, not more than you’ve already done.

“Just be here, if that’s okay? Like you have been.” You fully intertwined your fingers, noticing the remnants of something dark under his fingernails. More than likely dirt, but it was still a reminder. “It’s just nice to have you close.”

Everyone has their demons.

“Can I still kiss you?” Keigo asked as you dragged him under the covers.

You mussed on it, wondering if it would bring back the thick fog and panic.

“Only a little,” You told him, once again burying yourself in him. “I’ll let you know if it’s too much.”

It was more than enough for the two of you.

Keigo tilted your jaw up with his palm, giving you the gentlest kiss he could. His touch remained firm everywhere else, but he was tentative in giving you the space you needed.

He pulled away and you tuck yourself under his chin.

“Thank you.”

Keigo’s wing stretched over you, blocking out whatever thoughts and ills clawed toward you. In a wordless squeeze, he said all that needed to.

‘Of course.’

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

"Mmm..."

The hum, usually smooth and light, had become hoarse due to how many times he had cried out Danny's name within the past hour - a grievence he was sure to hear about from the neighbors the next time he ran into them, but a well worth one. At least in his own humble opinion as his mind swam with the fresh memory of their playtime, his usually buggy eyes falling halfway as Danny mosied over with the wash cloth, warm and damp. he hickeys stamped onto his neck brought a relaxed smile onto Robin's features; a lazy expression that he'd seen his boyfriend make so many times before...perhaps he was rubbing off on him, or maybe the mage was just too comfortable to care.

Gently textured fabric along his thighs lifted him from his groggy thoughts while his breath ever so slightly hitched at the sudden temperature change. "Bel likes you, I think....it's just r-rough." Oh, sweet little thing was still shaking, his legs spreading almost too easily for Danny, a well practiced routine after their lovemaking; one of his favorites. When those icy eyes met Robin's he found it difficult to resist any urges welling up within his chest, and his left hand lifted from the counter top to cup the back of Danny's neck, brushing away some of the longer pieces of his black hair. He stayed still for a moment, just watching him, before tentatively closing the distance with a chaste kiss, his sleepy heart fluttering as he smiled into the kiss.

God. He felt so stupidly tired, stupidly in love, stupidly smitten, and stupidly content with how they parted. The motions between the two were slow and languid, something Robin was far too grateful for as anything too fast would make his head have whiplash from how sensitive he still was. "Nnn...I'm so excited to sleep..." A phrase he'd not uttered in years, or at least before he had met and subsequently fallen in love, as such things like dreams, sleep, and food were nigh impossible for him to enjoy. But now...? Now after a year of being together, nestled up in their Piltovan apartment...? Oh, the things he could do again.

Sleep and dreams came back to him in full swing, not nightmares of the past, but gentle -almost funny- instances of daily life being distorted. Food and drink which once tasted like ash in his mouth and caused him to cough up blood had shifted too, vibrant flavors danced in his mouth and he always felt so content after a meal. The scent of Danny's cologne was like a comfort to him. A reminder of his safe place. All of this a reward for feeding a demon but Robin barely even recognized it as such, it was too much of a miracle for him to deny the joy it brought him. That someone on this god forsaken rock could love him as fiercely as he loved them, and to be able to actually see Danny's visage, pale with dark hair and blue eyes...everything he ever wanted, right there with him in their bathroom. Shit - was he crying?

His hand wandered upwards to his face, pleased that his exhausted eyes were just beginning to water and he hadn't spilled any tears yet, and Robin rubbed his eyes. He could feign them off as tired tears, frankly some of them probably were, he'd nearly lulled to sleep two times already while Danny cleaned him up after all. Still, however, he kept in place. He knew how meticulous and clean his boyfriend liked to be before bed after a session, and Robin was an obedient dove in his hands; he'd accept pretty much anything Danny would do to him at this point.

"Almost done...love...?"

@witchcraftandburialdirt

Danny patiently waits for Robin to get adjusted letting him lean on him, "You don't need to apologize, I just rearranged your guts sweetheart." He only starts moving when the smaller man is ready to, letting him use him as much as he needed to make it to the bathroom where he set him down on the counter and started the shower waiting for it to get warm.

"Are you alright? It was pretty intense." His fingers idly touched the marks Robin sucked and bit into his pale skin. Something he'd wear with pride. To be owned and loved so viciously that he was prepared to eat him the inside out. It was almost terrifying. Almost. He gently wets a rag running it over the marks he had given his boyfriend, "And you had to use me to get to the bathroom." he hums-

"I'll clean you up nice and good though, no worries. No need for your big demon bird to get mad at me." he laughs clearly in a good mood despite the tiredness in his eyes.

[supernovafeather]

In The Beast's Guts (Part 1) (18+)

FO!Poe Dameron x F!Resistance!Reader

Warning : Public humiliation, language, mention of war, death, urine, mention of torture, enemies.

"Oh. Because you complain about the cold now ?" This soft and threatening voice whispers to your ear. "Do you know how cold were my Stormtroopers when you took their ship down ? Do you know how painful it is to die from drowning with snow and icy water in your lungs ?"

Fully tense, your breath stuck in your throat, the taste of blood still clear in your mouth, you try not to give away your distress. Your eyes are burning as you keep staring at the wall in front of you. A gray one, so unpersonal in this vast First Order warship, so anonymous and swallowed whole by the General's presence. The famous General Poe Dameron himself that made his duty to catch you, making you the temporary public enemy number one in this part of the galaxy. But you are no Leia Organa, and got trapped after barely a month. You ended up here, getting interrogated over and over, an eye swollen due to the kicks that marked your face. Kneeling on the ground because your feet can't carry you anymore, your head stays straight merely thanks to this hand that grabbed your hair so harshly.

"I am not complaining about the cold." You whisper in a breathless voice.

The General chuckles briefly as he takes a look at your damaged face. Behind this amused angelic visage you notice this raw hatred for you. You can only hope he won't add the one he holds against the Resistance against you and you only.

He releases your head and your forehead almost hits his shoulder, its weight unbearable for your weakened body. The General's uniform remains clean there though as he takes a firm grip on your chin, forcing you to witness his sharp jaws clenching as he keeps smiling.

"Take a breath beautiful." He murmurs as his bare hand caresses your cheek. "Please do. I need to understand what you are telling me."

"I am not complaining about the cold." You stutter as for the first time you look away from him during a direct confrontation. "I am not."

"Feeling anxious my little Rebel ?" He asks in this sweet voice your heartbeat skyrockets when you feel the warmth of his palm on your nape. "Don't. Please don't. I have to make you understand a few important things. First of all, don't make me your enemy. But it's too late for that. Second one, you were complaining about cold - I insist on complaining like a spoiled child - whereas I had the decency to bring you water. Do you know how rude of you it is ?"

His face comes closer, his teeth now uncovered as his smiles turns in a hateful grimace, his eyebrows frowning, his grip on the bottom of your head tightening so much that you follow the shaky movements of his own body as he boils inside.

"You Rebels, and your kriffing stupid pride. Little liars as well. Do you know you are nothing like nice guys ? Because yes, you do love calling yourself like that, trying to mold the universe in your own vision, then calling us out because we have a different one, then kriffing daring to complain when facing the consequences."

He is hurting you as he forces you to get closer brutally enough for you to lose your balance, your hand grabbing his chest as your knees almost fail you. His dark eyes are a couple of black holes and you don't know which one is about to engulf you as you look at one of them at a time. General Dameron smells like sweat. Like your blood soaking the front of his black top. Like this fruit he ate in front of you as your stomach started to grumble loudly after your third day stuck there.

The moment you release your hot and shaky breath is when he pushes you back hard enough to make you fall on the ground as he stands up. Now you breath in and breath out, like your chest got released from an invisible rope that was compressing it. You feel knocked out, listening to your whistling inhales as you stare at the ceiling. Actually you are cold. Your tank top and pants are not enough.

"How pathetic you are without your pilot outfits." He chuckles as he walks closer, his boots right between your spread legs now. "Look at you Commander. Look at you. Are you still one, even ? They certainly think you dead. In a way, you already are. After all this is what happened to your pride and honor. Weren't you the one claiming you would keep staring at me no matter what ? Is this ceiling more interesting than me ?"

"You don't deserve my attention." You stutter between your clenched teeth as he walks away from you.

This fake excuse is dumb you think as this time you find the strength to look at his back now that he is on the other side of the room, taking a bottle from the table surrounded by two Stormtroopers. He turns around, his face now looking like angelic again. But his eyes... they don't change. They keep staring down at your soul even as he takes a long sip of this clear water. Several seconds, his black curls sticking to his forehead after mistreating you for so long. His Adam's apple is bobbing up and down. He is fit for a General. He is clearly the kind according some importance to his appearance and physical training. He wants to get control over every aspect of his life. He didn't like that you led a whole battalion of his men to its death. You are an abnormality in his equation. Maybe you would have had a better chance of survival if you defied the right General, one not caring much about his responsibilities but more about his living conditions and not the results. Sadly, you crossed the path of one of the most loyals.

"I'm a bit sad, where is the hot-headed Commander ?" He whimpers with disdain. "Where is she ? Where is the one who got real things to say ? Don't tell me you're already yielding. I can't believe it."

"You're being the kriffing moody child there !" You snarl as this shot of adrenaline and rage has you sitting on the ground, his satisfied grin fuelling your disgust. "I DON'T REGRET ANYTHING DO YOU HEAR ME ?"

"I do so thank you now you can shut up." He says as he throws the bottle at your head before it bounces on the ground as you groan. "Cold is making you act unreasonably. Hunger too. There is a difference between the way you do things normally. Let me tell you that -"

"I'M NOT KRIFFING COLD NOW SHUT YOUR STUPID MOUTH !" You lie at the top of your weakened lungs as you try to prevent the next wave of goosebumps from running down your back. "KILL ME IF YOU WANT TO !"

"So as I was saying you are acting dumb right now. I'm getting bored. And-"

This time he's interrupted by the loud growls coming down from your stomach. It barely attacts his eyes. He looks more annoyed by the interruption itself. At least he doesn't notice the way you close your thighs. You have to go to the bathroom. You have to, soon. It's starting to hurt and the cold only makes it worse.

"-and I forgot what I was saying. Great." He says as he runs his fingers through his curls in a frustrated gesture.

"You are the worse piece of shit I've ever seen."

"I beg your pardon ?" He asks and blinks in incredulity blended with offense. "You're still alive, our Supreme Leader didn't Force-choked you, you got water. I am a man of honor who could have taken advantage of you in many ways yet didn't. We could have been more brutal than that."

"Kill me."

This time you are asking for it, your body going limp as you lie down on the ground. Everything hurts. From your poor bladder to the areas that got kicked, and your ego. This asshole is right when he says they could have been worse than that to you, but you are convinced it's because they need you alive and not completely broken. They only need you tired enough to give away some precious info. But to be realistic... you are deep in the guts of this metallic monster itself dwelling hundreds of smaller ships.

"No. Only in a fight. You deserve a bit better than that." He says in a bored voice as he comes closer. "Turn around. I'll warm you up a bit."

Panic awakens some of your nerves and you look at the Stormtroopers behind him. Themselves move their helmets a bit to look at each other with hesitancy, unsure of what's going to happen. You crawl back on your buttocks slowly as the General stands there, his face now unreadable. No way you obey to that kind of order. No way you turn your back to your opponent if you're not able to turn it against him. No kriffing way. Him ? A man of honor he said ?

"What ?" You ask as this time you control the rate of aggressiveness in your voice not to make it go downhill even more.

"I can warm you up. Just offering some help." He says.

You notice that smug grin of his appearing for a split second.

"Never."

His face grows amused.

"Turn around." He now orders.

You won't, as your breath quickens. Maybe collaboration is the best solution but as he said your damn Rebel honor is stronger this time. This man is just another First Order scum, ready to everything to get things going the way he wants. He wants to take advantage of you ? Of course he wanted too. Of course his excuse of dignity earlier was bullshit. Just a liar wanting to fold you into the shape he desires. You may be sending him the darkest glare you can with your only functioning eye, but it doesn't do much.

"Turn. Around."

This time he is less patient. Amusement disappeared fully from his features. You notice an uncomfortable movement from the Stormtrooper on the right behind him, just a shoulder rolling. But after all what are your options there ? Maybe it would be better to... accept ? Just to manipulate him as much as you can. Make him think he can break you. Make him think he's stronger than you. Make him think he can win.

The cold and this new anxiety you are trying to tame as it crawls under your skin are unbearable. The General is coming closer, his footsteps slow as he stares at you, his thumbs now sliding discreetly under his belt.

You do. You turn around, jaws clenching as your sore body now faces another grey wall. He stops somewhere behind, and you close your eye at the metallic sound and as the fabrics slides down his flesh. The lump in your throat tightens even more as his hands now take your hair firmly, rolling it into a bun as you don't protest at all despite the slight pain. Then he releases it. Maybe if you do it it will protect you. Give you more chances to go back to Leia and the others.

Your eye shots open and you start struggling to stand up at the warmth spreading on your back, sliding from your nape down to underneath your top, running down your back as the General sighs in relief.

"Stay still." He groans before grabbing the top of your head, pressing it enough to force you to remain kneeling back at him. "Stay kriffing still."

The smell of his urine is not strong enough to make you gag, too diluted by all the water he had drank while interrogating you. There is this sticky sensation as you feel the pressure now targeting the middle of your back. The wet sound and this new warmth soaking your clothes combined relaxes your own bladder, your eyes opening in horror as the area between your thighs gets flooded in your own fluids, this time smelly due to your dehydration. Yours is almost burning your skin as the grip on your hair tightens, the General pulling your head back to stare down at you with a serious face. The dark bags under his eyes are more visible under this angle. His sharp jaw as well. This natural authority emanating from his stance too.

"Join us and you get access to a shower and a bed. Don't, and die there in your own piss and forgotten by everyone."

You open your mouth, ready to snap back at this asshole after what he's just done. But can you really struggle indefinitely against your survival instinct whispering you to get what he can offer ? At least your X-Wing in a battle gives you a fake sense of power and you don't have the time to see death coming to you. An explosion wouldn't make it painful for long. But between the General's hands ? Between his men's, so deep in the guts of this all-mighty spaceship bigger than some moons of this galaxy ? Then this voice comes back to you, more vicious.

Why wouldn't you infiltrate them ? Making yourself a parasitic presence among them. Grow stronger under their protection. Keeping your enemies close is one of the best strategies when you know how to use it properly. After all wearing their uniform is nothing if you don't let them melting to your skin.

"I accept."

The firm slap on your cheek get you falling to the ground, now soaked in the mix of your urines, your hair bathed in it.

"Liar. I know that gaze. You start tomorrow morning. Not as a Commander, I hope you understand. I still have to think about it."

Soon, the man turns around sharply, washing his hands with some water before putting his long black coat back on, staring at you with a stern gaze. He doesn't look amused at seeing you in such a pathetic position. He doesn't look like he cares at all, like it's normal to him to express his disdain like this.

"Please ma'am." He starts with a smug grin as he adjusts his collar. "Stop glaring at me like that. It's not a way to address your superior."

"That's what you think." You spit before you can stop yourself.

Shut up you think as you keep this eye contact with him. Dameron just chuckled before leaving the room. Briefly. Is it bad ? Certainly. The two Stormtroopers get closer, a sigh muffled from one of their helmets as they try to drag you by an unsoiled spot of your outfits.

[beauregardlionett]

hands and tears and bedsheet fears

AO3 Link

Yasha wasn’t sure why she was leading the way to Beau’s room, but it felt right. Beau was so clearly eager to keep going, to lie in bed with Yasha and find infinity. But there also remained a quiet hesitance to everything Beau said and did around her.

Especially tonight.

Yasha knew Beau didn’t want to push her too far too fast—which was sweet—but Yasha was in the mood to be a little dangerous. She was in the mood to press Beau into the mattress with her body weight alone, to taste the salt on Beau’s skin, to chase the pleasure of her tongue. Call her reckless, but Yasha sometimes did better that way.

Besides, they had the whole tower to themselves. Yasha figured they could afford to be a little stupid for one night.

She turned to glance over her shoulder at Beau, a giddy grin tugging the corners of her lips upward. Beau looked somehow soft and wild all at once, her visage sending a shock of thrill through Yasha’s veins. There was a flush high on Beau’s cheekbones, her bright blue eyes glinting with unshielded desire. But Beau was also drowning in Yasha’s tunic, her bare legs only visible from just above her kneecaps down. Her hair fell loose and damp, leaving dark patches of water against Yasha’s shirt.

Yasha squeezed Beau’s hand where their fingers wove together, chest full of indescribable emotion.

They pushed open the door to Beau’s room at long last, Yasha tossing aside the bundle of their mismatched clothing. Beau barely stepped through the door before Yasha had her pushed up against it.

Without hesitation, Yasha’s lips pressed against Beau’s, kissing her with the same fervor as before. Months of repressed feelings and desires that she had attempted to funnel through stunted conversation and longing glances poured out of Yasha. Her lips were the floodgates and Beau’s the receiving river.

Yasha eventually came up for air, forehead pressed to Beau’s as they gasped in each other’s space.

“Bed?” Yasha asked, breathless.

“Bed. Definitely,” Beau agreed, giddy and hoarse.

Yasha laughed, soft and clear, as she ducked in to seal her lips against Beau’s neck. A low noise of pleasure slipped past Beau’s lips as her fingers sunk into Yasha’s messy, damp hair. Fingernails scraped lightly at Yasha’s scalp and she doubled her efforts, hands moving to hold the underside of Beau’s thighs. She straightened up, bringing Beau with her. Beau yelped at the sudden shift before hooking her ankles together around Yasha’s waist and leaning her weight into Yasha’s mouth so she didn’t fall backward.

Yasha turned and carried Beau further into the room, humming her approval against Beau’s carotid she had captured between her teeth.

Her bare feet against the cool stone of the bedroom floor echoed dimly against Beau’s quiet sounds of approval. The fabric of Yasha’s tunic clung almost uncomfortably between their damp and sweaty chests, the only barrier to them being skin to skin. But Yasha found she didn’t mind so much since Beau was wearing her shirt.

Yasha’s knees eventually knocked against the edge of Beau’s bed. She took a moment to firm up her grip on Beau’s thighs before tipping them both onto the mattress. Beau’s breath huffed from her upon impact, dissolving into a moan when the jarring motion caused Yasha to bite at the spot on Beau’s neck she had been attending to. Her fingers tugged at Yasha’s hair with unsteady desire—an encouragement.

Yasha kept at her task of pressing the most obvious hickey into Beau’s neck for another handful of moments before pulling away. She deemed her work satisfactory and grinned down at Beau’s flushed countenance, inordinately pleased with herself. The color in Beau’s cheeks and the dazed but excited light in her eyes gave Yasha all the reassurance she needed. Teasing her fingers against the hem of the tunic, she pushed the garment up and off Beau’s chest.

Beau’s hands moved faster, circling Yasha’s wrists with gentle pressure, but enough to halt the movement.

“Wait,” Beau’s hoarse voice stopped Yasha.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Yasha’s instinct was to fret, to worry that she had made a mistake. The hesitation that had so quickly overcome Beau’s expression left a terrifying chill that settled like a rock in Yasha’s gut.

“Yeah, I just…” Beau rolled her head to the side as she looked away. Her hair—loose and damp—splayed out on the pillow like a halo, her skin still glowing with a light shine from the hot tub. For all that Yasha bore the blood of angelic ancestry, Beau was a celestial vision. (Perhaps her bias was glaringly obvious, but what did that matter when your lives were at risk in a frozen wasteland?)

Yasha slid careful fingers against the sharp line of Beau’s jaw and cupped her cheek, drawing Beau’s attention back to her. All the confidence and bravado that Beau usually wore was absent; left in its place sat everything tender and vulnerable that she kept secret and safe behind the innumerable walls of her daily facade. Yasha knew it was an honor to be privy to Beau’s honesty, one she refused to take for granted.

“What is it, Beau?” Yasha murmured. “Talk to me.”

“This date has been…incredible,” Beau whispered after a moment, tone awed as much as it was hesitant. “And I know this is what others might think is the natural conclusion to a date they have a good time on. But I don’t…want you to think this is an expectation. I meant what I said earlier about no expectations, no matter what we confessed earlier.”

Yasha blinked down at Beau, stunned. They truly must be the biggest fools in all of Exandria. She could see it all now, in hindsight. The glances, the lingering touches, the blatant concern for each other piled and slid between healing hands and violent acts of protection. They had been pining after one another for months. The tension reached a breaking point ages ago, but they somehow stalled the shattering until now. And here Beau was, keeping their fragile composure held together with her bare hands. The jagged edges digging into her palms from the desire to transform into something new, but held back just in case.

All for Yasha’s sake.

Beau seemed to take Yasha’s stunned silence as some kind of confirmation because she started babbling reassurances.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d love to do this if you want to, but I don’t want you doing it because you think I expect it. And if you don’t want to, we can stop here. We can go to sleep. We also don’t even have to sleep in the same bed—or even the same room. Hell, we can sleep on different sides of the tower if that would make you feel more secure. I mean—”

Yasha scooped her hands beneath Beau’s back and lifted her up, holding her close as she turned to sit on the edge of the bed. Beau’s legs straddled Yasha’s, her knees either side of Yasha’s hips. The movement silenced Beau, her lips clamped shut, eyes upset and guarded all at once as her fingers clung to the damp skin of Yasha’s shoulders. She looked down at Yasha before her gaze flicked to the side, looking almost ashamed.

“Beau,” Yasha murmured, her hands settled on Beau’s hips. “I want this. To be specific, I want this with you. There is no more hesitation on my end—I am all in. But if you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. I meant it too when I said no expectations.”

Beau seemed to deflate under Yasha’s hands, breath gusting out of her chest with a mighty exhale.

“I know that, and I want this, but—” Beau looked a little reluctant here, but she pushed on, gesturing to the bed over Yasha’s shoulder. “I’ve done this part before—quite often—and I know you’re aware that. There is the logical part of me that knows that you understand you aren’t just another one-night stand to feel something. But the other part of me is terrified of the morning.”

The pieces fell into place for Yasha. She firmed up her hold on Beau’s hips in response. Yasha leaned in, pressed her forehead to Beau’s jaw, and left a chaste kiss against her neck.

“It’s okay, Beau,” Yasha murmured with her lips against Beau’s neck. “I’m here. I’m staying.”

She thought she said the wrong thing when Beau choked on a sob above her. But before Yasha could pull back or say anything else, Beau wrapped her arms around Yasha’s shoulders and hugged her fiercely.

Yasha wound her arms around Beau’s waist and held her, let her cry into Yasha’s hair for as long as she needed. At some point, Yasha started rubbing a hand up and down Beau’s back over the tunic in soothing, even strokes. She kept up a steady litany of reassuring murmurs, hoping Beau would understand.

Yasha would not so easily leave again, not if she could help it.

Eventually, Beau’s tears subsided and Yasha got her to pull away so that she could thumb away the tears from Beau’s cheeks. Beau sniffled softly and murmured an apology that Yasha immediately dismissed.

“You do not have to apologize, Beau,” Yasha said as she brushed away another stray tear. “I want every part of you that you are willing to share with me. And that includes this.”

Beau looked like she might cry again, but there was also something lighter to the sheen in her eyes Yasha hadn’t seen before.

“I would like to kiss you again,” Yasha confessed as she continued to hold Beau’s face between her palms. “But only if that is okay with you.”

For all that she looked a mess and her voice croaked from crying, Beau’s answer was eager and immediate.

“Please. Please kiss me.”

They met in the middle, Yasha tipping her head to one side and Beau the other. It was easy and gentle, unassuming. They were content to linger on the other’s lips for as long as they both needed.

Yasha provided the inertia, however, when she moved her hands. Her fingers had gone a little numb where they rested against Beau’s hips. She slid her hands up Beau’s back, just to get her limbs moving, and her hands caught under the hem of the now dry tunic. The pads of her calloused fingers were a warm contrast against the small of Beau’s back, a comfortable heat.

Beau gasped into Yasha’s mouth at the touch, back arching slightly and fingers tightening on Yasha’s shoulders.

Yasha grinned up at Beau’s flushed face, amused and endeared. Perhaps a little reckless again as she put more pressure through her hands to Beau’s back.

Beau would never admit to pouting in that moment, but her lower lip stuck out as Yasha teased her gently.

The tunic didn’t stay on much longer.

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

back on my master+will wood songs bullshit. this is the timeless children:

Amen! I am only a man, howling at your face in the moon Hot damn! But no holy man, kneeling in the stained-glass tomb As all hell breaks loose, as all hells always do, aw what the hell can I do To have a little more heaven with you? Hot damn, you are a part of my plan Cataclysmic catechism catch 22 Your body, my temple, baby Your body, my temple So when the cattle fall dead and the waters run red I'll be your lamb's blood on the wall God isn't dead, but that's exactly what I've been dreading After all the meek inherited fuck all Jesus Christ, I will die for my own damn sins If you help those who help themselves My superstitions, your visage, my visions Furtherin' the fever of your fervor, for believing, I will Your body, my temple, baby Your body, my temple I'll be your blessing in disguise, whip the mask off my good side I'm all stripped down naked for you But still asking you to loosen up my buttons, baby You've got my whole world in your hands, got that little blue spot And you really ain't got no idea how much this thing orbits you, now, do you honey? Please relieve me of my dreaming I'm kneeling, begging, pleading, for my Savory-sweet release of death Oh, I wanna die, I wanna die, I wanna die, I wanna die, I wanna die, I wanna die So I can taste your name on my final breath Your body, my temple, baby Your body, my temple Am I supposed to call this flagellation? Trade confessions for questions, just us second guessing I guess now am I missing the message? Its essence goes over my head like a halo Like a halo Like a halo The wine in my veins fermenting my brain My body, my bread, they're all gonna rise again So be my golden calf life a fresh cut of veal After all we're both dead meat My forbidden honeydew, honey do you need a hot meal? Just save me half Yeah, I could eat

[serpentide]

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 ▬▬ there is familiarity in the artificial smile that brightens his lineaments with its gentle curvature, for it seems to have been birthed by the same sentimental chasm burrowed deep within her breastbone and that earnestly devours all and any source of warmth and luminescence. serpent listens to his words with the same fervor of a devotee that kneels in front of a stone - wrought saint, for it is in his vocalization that she searches for his true intentions: this is a truth that she has long since learnt, no one is kind to another unless their actions are maneuvered by hidden motives ( after all, what are humans if naught but the will - less puppets in the grip of a rapacious and ever - hungering puppeteer ? ) .

but she smiles, she almost beams amidst the scorching flames of delight. his hand is graciously taken in her own and serpent does ensure that her obsidian - lacquered nails will leave neither bruise nor bite 'pon his skin ; her hold is gentle, there is an unnatural attentiveness in the gesture ( she knows not how to touch another without tearing them asunder, she knows not how to touch another without condemning them to wilt and rot beneath the noxious kiss of her ichorous venom ) . and yet, despite her instinctive antagonism towards physical contact with others, the ophidian jester outstretches her free hand for the unique purpose of languidly brushing the pad of her thumb against the blood smeared across his face: it feels warm under her touch, she wonders whether this is how foolish worshippers feel when holy water is poured 'pon their bare, desert - like flesh.

❝ snakes do not crave the sweet taste of honey as much as humans do, ❞ is the serpentine vixen's first response. there is a change in her demeanor, however, even if she foolishly believes that it will pass unnoticed no matter how keen the gaze of her interlocutor may be: he finds beauty in the monstrous, and the sharp lineaments of her visage are set aglow and aflame ( even the feared crown of thorns may one day flourish and unfurl its petals, if it's given more than just castigation for the cruelty of its thorns ) . her hand finally moves back to her side, lithe fingers curl inwardly almost unconsciously. ❝ this is the first time that i've seen you attending our little show, so your timing must be god - given. who are you ? ❞

even the purest of intentions can turn vile in an instant / innocent curiosity gives way to bloodshed. that is the circumstances that led him here ; perhaps it was nostalgia for days past, a concealed but deep-rooted desire to return to simpler times — he misses the circus. there were monsters where he came from too, but only to the eye of the audience. no one treated any of them like this, he thinks, watching the scene play out from the shadows, out behind the crowds of people departing, the spectacle of lights && great, sloping curtains faded into the background. he is no stranger to the underworld either, dealings that happen in the dark, but the spark of rage in his chest that flares up upon seeing the way the men corner the young women is not tempered by familiarity.

so he does what he does best — emerges, moving swift as a shadow himself. two men thrown prone, landing hard on the ground, another knocked unconscious, && the fourth held tight in a vice grip, an arm locked around his neck ; the young assassin smiles at the two looking up at him in fear as he snaps the man's neck, && they scramble to their feet, fleeing as he watches them impassively.

when he drops the fresh corpse to the ground && looks up, there's a splatter of blood streaked across his face between two deep red eyes.

claire stanfield smiles warmly at the woman as she approaches him.

"it was my pleasure," he says brightly, as if he'd done little more than hold open a door. "not that i don't think you could've handled yourself, but, well, what kinda guy would i be to let them gang up on a lady like that? especially after you gave such a wonderful performance. i was entranced." he offers a hand to her. "your eyes are beautiful, by the way."

[arcadequeerz]

God, Your body, my temple is absolutely a Sammy Song. Just:

“So when the cattle fall dead and the waters run red I'll be your lamb's blood on the wall God isn't dead, but that's exactly what I've dreading After all the meek inherited fuck all Jesus Christ, I will die for my own damn sins If you help those who help themselves My superstitions, your visage, my visions Furthering the fever of your fervor for believing, I will Your body, my temple, baby Your body, my temple I'll be your blessing in disguise, whip the mask off my good side I'm all stripped down naked now for you, but still asking you to loosen my buttons, baby You've got my whole world in your hands, got this little blue spot And you really ain't got no idea how much of this orbits ya, now do you, honey? Please relieve me of my dreaming, I'm kneeling, begging, pleading For the savory-sweet release of death Oh, I wanna die, I wanna die, I wanna die, I wanna die, I wanna die, I wanna die, I wanna die So I can taste your name on my final breath Your body, my temple, baby Your body, my temple“

JUST. ABSOLUTELY SAMMY LAWRENCE.