#behind his love of monsters. the escapism he finds in them. is Hatred.

[sillyandquiteawkward]

i for one absolutely LOVE to see hate win </3

[icyowl]

Fields of Dolos

Pairing: Leander x reader

Synopsis: Leander sees your curse in action for the first time. You tend to his wounds while he tends to your heart.

Request: none

A/N: Help this man has made me feral. How can you expect me to wait 2 and a half years to find out his secret?!

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

You'd love to say you were surprised, that you'd never expect yourself to be facedown in the mud, choking on street water, with a man's knee pressing down between your shoulder blades and forcing the remaining air from your lungs. . . but you'd be wrong. Why were you blessed with such a gravitation towards trouble?

The burly man's arms pinned yours to the ground, making it impossible to do anything other than thrash helplessly. He was huge — tall yet thick, his neck bordering on a triple chin. “We saw you with that horned demon. Conspiring to bring the soulless in here and massacre us all? Huh, worthless little wench?”

“That's not. . .” You wheezed. Lack of air was robbing you of your sight. After facing off against monsters from beyond your most twisted nightmares, it would be a slobbering, balding, pig of a man that would end you. How cruel. How ironic.

One comment by him shocked one final, desperate wave of adrenaline into you: “What're these bandages for?”

Suddenly your fight grew more desperate. “Don't! I'll hurt you!”

He seemed to take it as a challenge. “You? Don't think you're in any position to be making threats.”

Words were nearly futile, he was still bracing most of his weight on your back. Still, you had to try, especially when his fingers began to dig under the bandages. “'S not—” your demands turned to pleas when he began to reveal your darkened skin, “please!”

“Whoa, looks like we got ourselves a bonnefide freak here, boys,” he said to the chuckling grunts behind him, “your mom sleep with a monster or something? Bet getting someone to love an unsightly thing like you has been a real chore.” He ended with a laugh, tinging your fear with humiliation. Your mind threw up a brief image of Leander, the only person you'd been able to touch, the only one who put so much effort into showing you kindness. Would he care when he found your corpse?

“Hold her arm still, gents, I wanna take home a souvenir.” You could just catch the gleam of a knife—from what you could see with your head buried sideways in the ground—and struggled with everything you had left.

“No!”

The three of them together took your arm in their hands, the one on top of you bringing the knife to rest on your skin, causing blood to well from under the serrated edge. He had just begun to cut, eliciting a scream from you at the terrible plain, before the madness took hold of them, and brought the whole struggle to a screeching halt. The earth stilled, so too did your heart, until time began to pick up at twice the pace.

By some stroke of luck, as the insanity began to plague their minds, the men turned on each other rather than you, lunging and ripping at one another in a brutal frenzy. You could finally run. And run you did.

Their hideous cackles sounded behind you as you hastily scrambled for purchase in the mud and took off down the streets. Anywhere was safer than here. Were they following you? You didn't stop to look. The only thing you could process as you tore down the alleys was the overwhelming desire to run, to escape. Water obstructed your already impeded vision, burning hot with emotions you couldn't hold back: sorrow, hatred, regret. You'd just condemned more souls to insanity. It didn't matter that they probably deserved it, it didn't matter what they called you or wanted to do to you, it only mattered that you'd brought more trouble than you were worth and you despired your existence for it. Why couldn't you—

—you narrowly avoided colliding right into the man rounding the corner towards you, careful to clutch your arms close to your body until you took in the shocked lichen-colored eyes of the man you trusted most.

“L-Leander?”

He placed gentle hands on your shoulders. “I've been looking everywhere for you—what's wrong?” He added, clearly seeing your terror. You didn’t have the time to answer. If they chased you down, if they caught up… you dreaded to see the aftermath. People affected by your curse not only grew mentally fractured but physically unencumbered by basic human limits. They turned beastly, inhuman, unrecognizable, and the last person you wanted to witness that was Leander.

“They’re coming, we have to go,” you begged.

“Whoa, slow down…”

Icy dread enveloped your burning lungs at the sound of maniacal laughter and rushing footsteps. The three men had indeed tailed you, and now appeared from behind the corner, sporting horrible grins and distorted cackles. They moved at you in a trance; your attempted escape probably provided the instinct to chase you down through the sprawling streets. Frankly you had entirely forgotten Leander was there at all until he pulled you behind his large silhouette, causing the men to slow and become wary at his gaze alone.

They slobbered through enormous smiles until it fell from their chins in fat globs, giggling and mumbling all the while. It was a painful sight to watch but one you were far too familiar with. Just as scared as you were for your own life, you too worried about Leander. Three against one? Three against two—if you could be any help—still didn’t seem like a favorable outcome. There was no way—and yet, Leander looked like he certainly would try.

His hands lit up with the same bright swirls you first saw in the Wet Wick, but the feel of the energy was a far cry from what you’d seen before. Now he felt dangerous.

You voice trembled. “I’m sorry, I never—“

“Stay behind me.” Leander growled lowly. Had he always sounded so commanding? Guilt enveloped you to the point of resigned silence. It was one thing to deal with problems of your own doing, but now you were bringing in others too.

There was a momentary standoff while Leander kept them at bay with his aura alone, enough time for you to be engulfed by guilt to the point of pain. It was one thing to deal with problems of your own making, but now you were dragging in good, innocent people. People that would lead simpler lives without your presence.

Before you could think anymore the three men jumped on Leander. Or, tried to. Your companion transformed into a skilled, tactical fighter, keeping three grown men at bay with his fists, dagger, and waves of magic. It seemed to be going in his favor until the numbers game and their natural ferocity began to play out: as good as he was, Leander wasn’t winning against six tearing hands and burly adults with no regard for personal safety. They went at him like animals.

In the fray, Leander tossed one unwittingly close to your feet. You prayed you wouldn't be spotted, you really did, shrinking back against the alley's decrepit walls. The man's eyes were far too familiar.

Despite the broken jaw, courtesy of Leander, swaying to and fro, the man held you still with a gross and wicked grin. You could tell he had a broken leg, too. It didn't matter. He only stood, forcing the bone protruding from his shin farther out into the open air when he put his weight on it.

Fear? Absolutely.

Guilt? For sure.

Resignation, maybe even relief, that you were about to be put out of your misery? That was there, too.

It seemed like you were meant to suffer, so why not get it over with?

You stared while the man got down on all fours and lunged like the animal you'd turned him into. He flew at you, mouth agape and serrated teeth gleaming with saliva. It would have been the last thing you ever saw if it weren't for Leander, who, in one move, yanked you against his chest and turned so his back took the brunt of the attack. You both shifted as the enormous weight crash into him — he had to brace himself against the wall with his free hand to stay on his feet — yet he held tight, and you remained upright, protected, and unharmed.

A grunt gave away Leander's pain, yet he refused to loosen his grip on you. His voice was tight when he spoke. “You okay?”

You looked at his calm and gentle eyes, mouth wide with shock, and then to the man still biting into his back. Leander didn't wait for your answer. It was probably a good thing — words had escaped you entirely.

By now the savage man had wrenched his teeth free from Leander's shoulder, eliciting a spray of blood, and moved back to assess his options or plan for another onslaught. Leander adjusted the dagger in his grip. Sure, he looked like he could look after himself, the other two already dispatched and laying in the dirt off to the side, but all you could look at was the burgundy blood ebbing from the back of his shoulder and staining his cloak. Your chest shrunk two sizes.

Frankly you should have been used to violence by now — you certainly had seen your fair share — but still you closed you eyes when the man charged at Leander, somehow convinced your skilled friend would meet his end and unable to watch it happen. When you opened them, he was holding the man back with nothing but his hands on the man's arms, pushing him off balance and using the dagger to swiftly and precisely cut across his jugular. The man stumbled, gurgled, and smiled until he dropped dead in a limp heap.

The air began to settle. Dust floated back to the ground and the alleyway had gone silent except for the mildly labored breathing of Leander. He didn't even sound like he'd broken a sweat.

Finally your body felt safe to worry about breathing again. When before you'd been silent with fear, now you took in loud, gasping breaths like there wasn't enough air in the city to fill your tight lungs. Leander was on you in a second, hands trying to ease every jump of your shoulders.

“Easy, easy.” He said.

“I'm so—you shouldn't have had to—I—they—”

You should have been used to instances like this, you were used to instances like this, but what you weren't used to was the sacrifice he had made to keep you safe. Never before had anyone done something like that, and now he was bleeding because of it.

Your eyes found the tears in his cloak where he'd been bitten. It was one thing to know about your curse, to hear about it's side effects, but now he'd seen, with his own eyes, what it could do; he'd bared the brunt of it, too. He had accepted the fissured skin and skittish tendencies, but fighting off deranged men with horrible grins and getting bit in the process as if he were fighting off animals. . . you tucked your chin to your chest, full of dejection. You didn't want to confirm what you knew would be there: anger, disgust, fear, and rejection. A gentle grip on your hands drew your attention. Leander ducked to meet your eyes and you saw nothing but concern for you. It made you feel even worse.

“I,” you began.

“Your panic is consuming you. I need to get you to calm down before your heart bursts.” Leander didn't mean it seriously, but still you did as told. The last thing he needed was to look after you like a child. It took time, and the occasional word of encouragement from Leander, but eventually you were stable enough to stop taking in strangled gulps through your mouth and breathe through the nose like a normal person.

“Focus on your breathing,” he continued, pausing to use his gloved hand to tenderly wipe the mud from your eyes and cheeks, “here, let's get you cleaned up.”

When he was satisfied, he disappeared to get water, and when he was done with that, he walked you back to your room at the Wick, briefly telling a bloodhound to 'tend to what's behind Merda street' while you hide you exposed arm under your cloak. You didn't have the energy to tell Leander that he didn't actually have to help you up the stairs. Before you could get your key in the door's brass lock, Leander's hand was hovering over your arm.

“You're hurt.” He said. For the first time, you looked at the cut you'd received from the man's knife. One clean, crisp line of red bubbled up from your skin where your wrappings had been unwound. In truth you'd forgotten about it entirely.

“It's nothing.” You replied, rushing to open the door and get some space between you and the warm, inviting, chivalrous man crowding your body and mind. The room was small—just a bed, two chairs and a table, and a nightstand—but clean. Better than you'd ever remember having, anyway.

Leander entered the room and shut the door quietly behind him. “It's natural to be scared. They could have killed you.”

“It's not that,” you said hastily. Where had these tears come from? They were invading your eyes and welling up in your throat against all wishes. When Leander grazed your shoulder, sensing something was wrong, you jumped. He saw the look in your eyes. You looked at him like you had the first day you'd met: like you could hurt him.

“Or,” you continued, hand on your forehead to perhaps keep you from falling apart, “or it's just that. I don't know. It's just. . . you saw. You saw what I do to people. Out of everyone, I somehow kept this curse from affecting you, and now it has. Now you have proof how inhuman I am.”

Your other arm inherently covered your body. Anything to be smaller, to disappear. When you spoke again, it was watery with emotion, and you gestured to the wound taunting you from atop his shoulder. “And now I've hurt you—”

Just as you broke down, Leander was there to piece you back together. He pulled you right against his front, close enough that your feet knocked into his, and thumbed away your tears with gentle touches, knowing how sensitive skin could get under his rough gloves. Leander even guided your head back to look at him when you attempted to back out of his hold. Somehow he had laughter in his tone even when you were wracked with guilt and shame.

“You think you could ever hurt me? That I'd blame you? Ais does worse than this on the monthly! And I know you have eyes, I know you've seen that I've been through much worse.”

His gaze was intense with many emotions while he gave you time to look at the scar on his face. The one you'd touched and revered just as he was doing with you now. Leander was right: the scar on his face was proof that he'd endured much more than a bite wound. He still hid much of his past from you; he never talked about himself, always putting you as the center of his attention, and whenever you tried to get him to open up, he deflected smoothly.

No close friends. No long-term relationships (Kuras had told you that much). No real connections apart from you. At least, you thought it was a real connection.

“I'd still like to help tend to it, if that's okay.”

His eyes widened as it dawned on him what that would entail. “Are you sure? I can go to Kuras—”

“Please?”

Leander appraised you for a long moment, looking for what, you didn't know, but eventually he nodded and moved to sit on your single bed. The bed creaked loudly under his weight and he fixed you with an expectant gaze. It dawned on you at that moment that this was the first time you'd see him shirtless.

“Uhh,” you struggled, “I'll g-go get some medical supplies.”

Your trip down to the bar for a small bucket of water and other necessary items was just as much to give you time to work through your thoughts as it was to actually get some water. Would he already be shirtless when you got back? Why did it matter? What if you didn't do it right and he had to leave to find someone else? How did this become such a big deal? Was it a big deal or were you just making it out to be one? No way Leander worried about this as much as you, the guy probably did this with another woman this week. Would you be mad if he had?

The bartender had to say your name twice to get you out of your thoughts.

You returned -- pale, towels, and bandages in hand -- up the creaking stairs to your little room just at the top of the landing. The narrow wooden door, worn with gouges from years gone by and darkened in the grain, stared you down and pinned you still. It felt unyielding.

The brass handle elicited a shiver when you took it in hand.

If you had to guess, you'd expect Leander to have taken his shirt off, and yet, there he sat where you'd left him when you finally opened the door. Clothed, relaxed, smiling.

“I was starting to get worried.” He said.

“Yeah, I. . .” You trailed off awkwardly. Sensing you needed some help, Leander jumped in again.

“I might need some help getting this coat off. If you're still—”

“Yeah. Sorry.” You rushed to put the bucket down by his feet at the bottom of the bed. When you straightened, his eyes were a vibrant jade, comparable only to the precious stones you'd seen the occasional diplomat wear on your travels, and you stepped back, suddenly aware of the close proximity. Leander touched your arm gently to try and prevent you from back away, and showed no reaction when you instinctively flinched. You were still wary of any touch to your arms — you'd been through too much to overcome it so easily — but Leander had been endlessly patient with you. He'd been that way from day one. It was a gesture you were endlessly grateful for, even if your nerves prevented you from voicing it.

There had been one of two people that had been similarly kind, only to reveal their true intentions: kill my enemy, let me experiment on you, help me threaten my family. No one had shown you the genuine kindness that expected nothing in return. No one.

Leander stood, letting you walk around his side to the wide berth of his back and shoulders while he pulled his gloves one finger at a time and tossed them on the bed. "I wish I could help, but," he caught your eye with a mischievous glint in his own, "I think you'll have to undress me yourself this time."

"This time? This is the first time."

"There can always be more."

You decided to ignore his quips in favor of gripping the collar of his coat in your hands. The shudder that overcame him at the feel of your fingers brushing the back of his neck went unnoticed by you.

Leander groaned when you tried to relieve him of his cloak; he couldn't lie, the tugging made the bite mark flare dangerously with discomfort. The guy really got him good.

"I'm sorry--"

"Don't be, just -- be gentle, baby. I'm a sensitive guy." He added with a laugh.

Leander did his best to suppress a grating hiss when you pulled one sleeve down past his elbow. Sure, the wound was on the other shoulder, but the radiant pain was no joke. Twisting his shoulders in any way sent more blood from the wound like it was excited to leave his body. Just ridding himself of the coat was a slow, laborious process. First one side, then the other, then back again, every tug on his skin pushing more blood out into the air. He was thankful for your patience while he carefully bent this way to shimmy free. After one last pained moan, you were finally able to rid him of the cumbersome jacket and toss it on the bed.

You'd never seen Leander without it before. Even with all the clothes still remaining, you couldn't help the nerves catching fire under your skin, and Leander couldn't help but watch you take him in with a barely-concealed reverence.

Your eyes, after finding Leander's gaze too powerful to maintain, drifted back to the wound and gaped at the clear damage he had to endure. No way would a regular set of teeth do this much damage. "Did this guy really have serrated teeth?" You asked incredulously.

"Some gangs of Lowtown will do it as initiation. They believe it emulates the Soulless and makes them more intimidating."

Well, it proved far worse than simply intimidating. To penetrate his jacket, the leather gorget underneath, and his shirt? Another wave of guilt consumed you. You were no better than the Soulless or those you cursed if you let people around you get hurt. Should you leave town? A painful twist deep in your gut told you how much it would hurt to leave those who were perhaps the first -- the only -- people who cared about you. If it kept them safe, though. . .

"Hey," Leander pulled you quietly from your reverie with soft words and a gentle thumbing of your chin with his good arm, "I could never blame you for something like this, understand? You looked so scared. . ."

You nodded, at a loss for what else to do, having yet to meet his eyes. Leander wasn't convinced, leaning down until there were scarcely a few inches between his face and yours. No way he didn't feel your heart galloping behind your ribs, and yet, the color of his eyes alone and the emotions flickering within -- you dared to think you might have seen adoration -- were almost strong enough to distract you from your own overwhelming reaction to him.

Whatever he was looking for, he must have found it. You'd just begun to taste his exhale on your tongue before he pulled back, allowing you to breathe and clear your head in the cool air that took his place. Had your mouth always been this dry?

You were trying to regain your bearings when another one of Leander's agonized grunts tore you back to the present. What didn't he understand about I'd like to help? In a rush you were on him, reaching up to loosen the straps of his gorget. The buckles were pliable after so much use and were easy enough to undo. Subtle clinking from the metal was the only thing breaking up the otherwise quiet atmosphere. One by one they gave way until all that remained was the one at the back of his neck, holding the collared portion flush against his neck.

Now it was your turn to close the gap. Your heartbeat accelerated with a vengeance, and your fingers trembled as they so often did around him, but still, your persevered. Leander was kind enough to lean forward to make it easier to reach the back of his neck. Kind enough to put your heart into overdrive, more like.

Hurry up. Don't mess up. Hurry up. Don't mess up. Hurry up. Don't mess up.

He only continued to stare down at you, smiling all the while, as you fought to remain calm and keep from fiddling too much with the buckle. At this rate, you were practically embracing him -- something you'd done with others -- so why couldn't you stop worrying?

From here you could watch the unruly strands of his hair tickle his long lashes. A set of criminally stubborn eyebags taunted you from beneath his otherwise vibrant eyes. How had they never gone away? His smile was so easy, so casual, even with the dark circles and the deep scar embedded under his eye and down his neck. Only now did you notice the intense color on his cheeks; how had you gotten so brave?

You stepped away as soon as you were done, embarrassed, only for Leander to catch your arms in a soft grip of his own and meet your eye -- giving you plenty of time to protest -- before deftly beginning to reveal the rest of your cursed hands to the open air. Even the room's stagnant air felt cool against the skin you diligently kept covered under layers of bandages.

"When are you going to worry about yourself?" He asked, carefully inspecting the slash on your forearm.

You resisted the urge to pull back. It was a strange dichotomy: you were so accustomed to keeping to yourself, drawing as little attention as possible, and putting up walls between you and people who would no doubt betray you if it meant bettering their own circumstances; you also felt an intense desire to bear yourself to the man in front of you and be encouraged to do so honestly. If you had the wherewithal, you'd be concerned.

"Uhh," you said faintly. He saw you eyeing the gorget and finally acquiesced to your silent request. The leather came off easily under your grasp. Now in just his shirt, what little of his physique normally kept hidden by his coat now left little to the imagination. Leander was broad, solid, and physically imposing. The remaining leather straps across his chest and stomach only made your mind wander farther faster. When those were gone, you then only had his black shirt to remove.

Then, after some struggle, that was gone, too.

The torrent of emotions sloshing in your stomach churned and roiled. Leander was so clearly damaged, and yet so, so beautiful. You hated staring and yet couldn't bare to look away. What had once been a sizable scar on his cheek and arm now revealed itself to be one massive, monstrous scar across his entire left side. It ran deep (how could he even survive something like this?) a covered his arm, shoulder, pectoral, and neck in a criss-crossing web. There were plenty of other nicks and scrapes and smaller scars, too. The man -- always so sweet and compassionate -- had clearly endured intense pain.

Yet even with all of that he remained devilishly handsome. Toned, muscular. . . he obviously spent a lot of time honing his physique and had great genetics to boot. Unfair, really.

Your admiration meant you'd been openly gawking for some time. Leander laughed a little to try and ease the tension. "I heard chicks dig scars."

That got you out of your funk very quickly. He shushed your rushed apology (you had done that too much today) and waited patiently while you procured rags and soaked them in the bucket of water. His wide back took up most of your sight when you moved to sit behind him on the bed.

"It's gonna sting." You said. His substantial shoulders hunched and flinched when you began to clean the bite wound on his back and shoulder. Now that you'd seen all he'd been through, the bite seemed meager in comparison, despite how it looked like it came from a rapid dog rather than a person.

You worked in silence for some time. Who knew there'd be this many tooth marks? Leander hissed quietly when you pressed on one, causing blood to ooze freely down his back.

Guilt took your heart in its claws and squeezed. Why did you feel so bad? He'd clearly been through worse before. You began to spiral. The emotions from the alleyway -- perhaps now that you finally felt safe -- raced up from your gut and into your throat and mouth. In no time at all water pooled at the bottom of your eyes and you were having a hard time staying silent. No one needed to deal with your silly emotions.

"Hey."

It was Leander. His good arm reached over his opposite shoulder to grasp your hand in a warm grip. Such a gentle caress put your heart on life support. A steady roar of blood erupted in your ears, turning into a cacophony when he let go of your hand only to carefully wipe away a tear that had escaped.

"Breathe." He urged.

How could you?

Regardless, you tried. It became easier when you focused on the jade light softly emanating from his eyes. He continued to thumb at your jaw, cheek, and chin, almost undoing all your progress with the simplest of actions.

"I'm so sorry," you said again, "for what happened, for me, for-"

"You," he interrupted, leaning in and kissing your forehead, his lips a little dry but nonetheless reverent, "never need to apologize for something you have no control over, okay? No one blames you, and if they do, tell them to talk to me."

He smirked. Against your will, the corners of your mouth lifted ever so slightly.

"Okay."

The rest of the cleaning went off without a hitch. It did, however, slow down considerably when you had to bandage the wound. Because of it's odd placement, you would need to anchor the bandages by wrapping around his arm, chest, and shoulder. Did you even have enough to fit around his bulky frame?

Your arms wrapped closely around him every time you wanted to pass the bandages around his front. Thankfully, Leander spared you from any of his usual teasing. You'd probably burst if he hadn't.

Heat continuously ebbed off of him and into your hands. It felt criminal for someone to look like this. . . and more criminal to hide it. How did Leander not have women hanging off his arms at all times?

Then again, the barkeep hinted that he did. Where were they? How was this man not married yet?

You tried to focus on your work instead of wondering about his private life. It wasn't hard, really. After all, Leander's physique was about all you could see. Large trapezius muscles held together toned shoulders, his arms were built, and his forearms veiny. His body fat must have been in a single digits, and his back muscles, prominent yet smooth under lightly freckled skin. . .

Again, criminal.

You swear you were doing final adjustments to the wrappings. You weren't intentionally stroking the large scar on his opposite shoulder. It just happened that you touched it accidentally.

Leander shuddered and worked through a shaky inhale. You retreated, afraid you did something wrong, only for him to quickly ease your worries.

"You're okay. It's just. . ." he exhaled, "sensitive."

Against better judgement, you moved to touch it again. How had Leander become the one person you were brave enough to get close to? He could have anyone, anytime, and yet, here he sat, patient and prone while you satisfied your curiosity and the overwhelmingly natural need for human connection. Your hands spanned the extend of the scar. First, his arm, which he lifted a little to give you better access. Your fingerpads danced up his tricep, almost fascinated when it turned and flexed. Then, you moved up to his shoulder, gently brushing the lines of scar tissue and ghosting along the changes from light to dark skin. The juncture of his neck and shoulder seemed to get the worst of it; so dense was the hatchings of scar tissue you could scarcely see any unharmed skin at all. What could have made such marks? Could it have been something physical, or magical?

Leander couldn't take it anymore when your fingers wandered to where the scar wrapped around his throat. If he let you continue, he didn't think he'd be able to keep himself in check.

Quickly he took you hand in his, dismissing your worries by rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. "Careful, sweetheart. We're supposed to be taking it easy. You can't rile me up like that."

Shame made you retreat. Getting off the bed, you moved to gather the unused materials and set them across the room. Your back was to Leander, and yet, though he made no sounds, you could sense him closing the distance behind you. It made the back of your neck break out in tingles and shivers. You could feel the heat from his bare chest at your back when you stood.

For a moment you didn't dare move, acutely aware of the imposing figure behind you. It made your skin zing.

Leander all but whispered your name into your ear. When you turned, somehow expecting danger, all he did was take your arm in his hands and move to inspect the cut you'd sustained.

"Can you tell me what happened?" He asked.

You swallowed in an attempt to ease the dryness at the back of your throat. "I - the guy, from before, he. . ."

For a moment you thought about lying. To ease his worries, to get this over with, to satiate some irrational fear that getting him angry would have dire consequences, who knew, but in the end you decided the truth would be best.

"They saw me with Ais. Wanted to teach me a lesson, I guess? They saw the bandages - I told them not to, I did - but they unwound them. When they saw my curse, they tried to - to cut off my arm, as a trophy."

You couldn't meet his eyes. It surprised even you how nonchalant you sounded. After all, this wasn't the first time someone had something like that; it wasn't even the worst you'd heard.

Suddenly Leander took you in his arms and pulled you into his chest, arms deftly securing you against him. You were shocked, to say the least, and rigid. Only when he rubbed your back and you'd gotten a chance to inhale his scent did you manage to relax.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there sooner. I can't imagine what that must have been like. If I could, I'd never let out of my sight."

That would be impossible. You knew that, and yet, the sentiment alone was enough to force you into a moment of vulnerability.

Nestling into his skin should have been embarrassing, but he merely held you tighter when you did it.

"I think you can imagine." You said, muffled into his skin. He pulled away, fixing you with a look of confusion, head tilted in question, until he saw your eyes glancing at his scar.

"Oh, this?" He tried to brush off with a laugh. "Its really not that bad. I just-"

Leander stopped. When you looked at him, you saw that he'd begun staring off into space, unmoving except for the rapidly increasing rate of his breathing. His eyes didn't move even when you called his name. Then, they began to glow. At first you weren't sure, but now, without a doubt, you watched them brighten until they were as intense as candlelight. With one touch of your skin to his, he erupted into an explosions of movement.

His hand flew up to cover his nose and mouth and he turned away, creating space however he could. You tried to bring him back to face you, to help however you could, only for him to snatch his hand away.

"Don't touch me!"

Pain tore at your heart. "Leander? I don't understand? Did I do something-"

"No!" He interrupted, his face obscured by his hand and the hair falling over his eyes. "You didn't - just - you need. . ."

"Need to do what? Should I get someone?"

"No, no. I'll be fine. You need to leave, now."

Kicking you out of your own room? You'd never seen him act anywhere near as bad as this. It was such a turn that you didn't even think this was a way to somehow be rid of you. If it was, there'd be no way his pain and anguish would be this believable. His shoulder line rose and fell swiftly, like he was laboring every breath. He'd begun to shake violently, too. Despite his words, you didn't make ay attempt to leave. He'd done so much for you. How could you leave him in a clear state of distress?

Just as quickly as he regressed, Leander now settled into a calm stillness. The breathing and shaking disappeared entirely. Too calm. This was too calm. The hairs all over your body rose defensively. You backed away when he stood back up to his full height. Even if you wanted to leave, he was now between you and the door. No place to go, no way to bring back the caring soul that had left you behind.

Shakily, you ventured one word into the open air, realizing you were giving yourself up to the creature across from you. "Leander?"

[thediaryofriversong]

ok ok ok hear me out

this is how Hannigram (Hannibal 2013) is paralleled as Frankenstein and the Creature from Frankenstein (1816). *Spoilers for both*

Frankenstein and references to Frankenstein are made a few times in the show, and there are a lot of parallels and similar themes, such as playing God, creation and destruction, betrayal, revenge, and more.

In my head, for the most part, Will mirrors Frankenstein and Hannibal mirrors the Creature, or "Adam", but I think it also makes a lot of sense the other way around. Frankenstein is entirely human, often unstable, and drowns in his emotions constantly. He feels constant regret, remorse, and hatred for his creation. He set out to create something beautiful, something awe-inspiring, and reality defying from his imagination, but ended up creating, or discovering, a huge darkness both within himself and his creation. This directly parallels Will and Hannibal's relationship, with Will looking for help and stability, and when he opens up, Hannibal helps Will create, or discover, the same darkness within him.

When Frankenstein realizes what he's created, an ugly, horrible thing, he abandons it, betrays it, even though the Creature is vulnerable. He simply can't accept something so disgusting and hideous. He leaves it totally alone because he fears, for his own life and dignity. In Hannibal, when Will discovers what Hannibal is, he betrays him in much the same way. Hannibal lets Will understand him, "see him", and becomes vulnerable with him. But much like Frankenstein, Will simply can't accept what Hannibal is, and turns him into the FBI.

Both Will and Frankenstein come to regret their actions, as the Creature and Hannibal seek revenge. After Frankenstein returns to his life, he finds that the Creature has killed his brother, and indirectly, one of his childhood best friends. Frankenstein is heartbroken, and vows to destroy his Creature, no matter what it takes. Hannibal mirrors this as well, as when Hannibal finds out Will has betrayed him, he kills someone equally important to Will, Abigail, as well as almost killing him. This also builds Will's hatred for Hannibal, and his desire to kill and destroy him.

As both stories progress, Will and Frankenstein look for their monsters, while also moving on with their lives. They both get partners, a wife or fiance, and are almost content with their lives, except for reoccurring thoughts of their monstrous counterparts. In Hannibal and the Creature's plots for revenge, they attempt to kill Will and Frankenstein's partners. The monsters share a common goal of destroying everything in their enemies lives that they care about, whether that be lovers, friends, family, or careers.

However, deep down, the only thing the "monsters" want is to be understood. They both have such a deep understanding of rejection, of betrayal, and of isolation that all they long for is to be fully and completely understood by someone. Their true desires, behind the ruthless violence, is someone who loves them completely, who can ignore their flaws and accept them, even if society can't. For Hannibal, he desires to be loved and accepted by Will, and the Creature wants a "bride", both someone as equally ugly, horrible, and evil as themselves, someone who understands them because they have experienced the same societal rejection as them.

Near the end of both stories, both sets of characters run away together, with Hannibal and Will escaping after the staged jailbreak, and with Frankenstein chasing the Creature to the Arctic. Eventually, Will and Frankenstein accept their fate, that they must die, literally or metaphorically, in order to take down their monsters. They both come to an understanding of their creatures, and even though they despise them, they have to die to take them down, and sacrifice their sanity, family, and everything left of their old lives to prevent any more destruction.

And finally, at the end of these stories, our characters die, metaphorically or literally. Frankenstein dies, with his last wish being to make sure that the Creature dies as well. Soon after, the Creature discovers his death, and upon his realization that he has doomed Frankenstein, he decides to join him in death, fulfilling his final wish. Similarly, in Hannibal, Will realizes that he "can't save himself", and accepts his fate. After their final fight, he decides that the only way Hannibal will go down is with him, so in a final sacrifice, they "die" together, in a final embrace, finally fulfilling his wish to "kill" him.

Of course, this could also work the other way around, because Hannibal "created" Will, much the same as Frankenstein created his monster. There are so many more parallels, and of course, contradictions, but I think these stories are great mirrors of each other. Both are gut-wrenching stories about love, revenge, creation, and death that beautifully display aspects of the human condition, and are very much worth reading or watching.

anyways thank you for listening to my Ted talk :3

[suckerforcate]

Protecting Brienne

Pairing: Brienne of Tarth x Reader

Word Count: 914

Warning: some swearing, that's all

My Christmas Present to all of you, love you!

A/n: So this is my first ever request, I really hope you liked it and that I did your idea justice!! It's a bit shorter than my usually stuff, I hope you don't mind. @pastanest

You were walking through the camp the soldiers had built just a few hours ago, talking to Brienne. You were always quite fond of her coming to these things, even though it also meant you'd be immensely scared for her whenever she went out to fight. You knew she was great at fighting, but maybe, someday there'd be someone better than her.

But you didn't want to think about that now. At the moment you just enjoyed talking to her and making her laugh. Considering she rarely laughs a real, deep laugh. But the chuckles and smiles you got out of her were enough for you to be happy. So when she stopped smiling and looked a little uneasy, you directly noticed and tried to find out what the reason for that was.

At first, you hadn't heard it, but after you had stopped talking you heard it very clearly. A few soldiers, standing in front of their tent, looked at you disgustedly and didn't even try to hide that they were talking shit about Brienne.

You directly walked towards them and even though they were much taller than you, nearly as tall as Brienne, you weren't scared of them and stood your ground.

"What did you just say?" You looked up at them with hatred in your eyes.

"I said, that this monster there," he pointed at Brienne, "shouldn't be allowed to fight with us. Not just that she's a woman, but she's a disgusting one as well." He looked at his friends and grinned stupidly, like he was proud of what he said, like it was the most innovative thing. Even though it was the most uncreative, stupid bullshit you had ever heard.

"I'm sorry?! That "monster" as you call her, has a name. Her name is Brienne, and I swear to the old and the new gods, if you say one more thing about her, you will not see the sun rise again. Ever. Is that clear?" He just laughed. You knew it was probably because you were a woman, and you were so much smaller, but you were fierce.

"You think that's funny?"

Brienne still stood a few steps behind you and just looked at you shocked, it was hard wrapping her head around the whole situation.

"(Y/n), I think that's enough. Let's go."

"Look, poor Brienne is scared. Yeah, let's go (Y/n)." the guy looked at you mockingly. But you didn't think of it as funny at all.

"Fuck you. Brienne is a better and truer knight and soldier than any of you could ever be. She is stronger, better, faster and definitely more fearless. I swear, if you don't stop laughing." You took a step forward and for a split second it actually looked like the guy flinched. You were ready to risk it all.

But in the same second that you back out to punch him, you feel strong hands grab your waist from behind and pick you up. Brienne had enough of this nonsense. She threw you over her shoulder and left.

"Let. Me. Down. Brienne!" You hit her on her back and kicked your feet wildly through the air, but nothing helped. She was strong and determined. The laughing in the background just made you even angrier.

She carried you into her tent and let you down inside. Knowing you fairly well, she knew you'd try to escape, so she blocked the entrance and held you back as you tried to run her down. Unsuccessfully. Of course.

"Why did you do that?" That's when you stopped your wild movements and unsuccessful attempts to escape. That was a stupid question. Why would you not defend her.

Still in rage you answered: "Because I love you, obviously, now if you'll just let me pass my fist has an important appointment with that fucker's jaw, and it cannot be missed...why do you look so confused?"

"What do you mean, you love me?"

"Well, I don't really know what's not to understand about that. I mean I put it quite simple, didn't I? I. Love. You. The only other way to say this would probably be that I'm in love with you. But that doesn't quite put it right, I feel like that makes it sound like I'm still a teenager that..." you couldn't go on, because you suddenly felt lips crash onto yours. Brienne easily picked you up, and you instinctively wrapped your arms around her neck and your legs around her torso. She moved away from the entrance and sat you down on her desk.

Against all your wishes you broke the kiss and looked at Brienne.

"You really didn't know, did you? I kind of assumed you knew and just wanted to take it slow. But considering what just happened I don't think you want to take it slow."

Brienne had to laugh at that, a shy, flustered laugh. But a real one. A true one.

"No, I didn't know. How would I? You never said anything? I don't just go around assuming people love me. I'm used to assuming the opposite." You smiled at her apologetic.

"Well, I thought it was quite obvious. I think you are just really oblivious. But I like that, just like I like the rest of you. All of it." You gently caressed her cheek and pulled her closer again. This kiss felt less passionate and less stormy but for sure neither less true nor real than the one before.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (16/?)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Word Count: 2975

Story Summary: Lady Arianwyn Targaryen, the Lady of Runestone, was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royce, as a desperate grasp at revenge.

Ignored by her father, and alone following the death of her mother, she is raised in King’s Landing alongside her cousin, Prince Aemond Targaryen. As they grow, the two find themselves indelibly bonded. But their lives are far from the fairy tales they read, and as tensions in the family rise, they find their paths may diverge.

Will they be pulled apart when the dragons dance?

Chapter Summary: After being reunited after so long, Aemond has one request of Arianwyn: to read him a story.

Warnings: None.

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @thelittleswanao3 @trap-house-homiecide @50svibes @literishdegree99 @dc-marvel-girl96

The Legend of Gahaelon and Aeremys

After a long moment spent with her face pressed against Aemond’s cheek, savoring the feeling of his strong arms around her and inhaling his scent of parchment and steel, Arianwyn finally opened her eyes and pulled away from him. Still, he did not break contact, sliding one large hand to her shoulder while the other stayed cradling the back of her head.

She could have stared at him for hours and never grown tired of the sight, but movement in the training yard below them drew her eye. The moment the distraction of Vaemond Velaryon’s bombastic arrival faded, the attention of the crowd turned once again to the Prince and the Lady of Runestone.

It was not the attention of dozens of knights and courtiers whose names Arianwyn did not know that bothered her, but the stares of her stepbrothers.

Luke still cowered behind his brother, fearful now that the uncle he once mutilated had become such a fierce warrior. But Jace was far less intimidated. His glare was filled with the promise of retribution, and Arianwyn knew that as soon as he had the chance, Jace would report everything he had seen to Daemon.

Desperate to escape those dark, prying eyes, Arianwyn looked back up at Aemond. “Do you need to return to your training?” she asked, “I believe Ser Criston is waiting for you.”

For a moment, she thought Aemond would not respond. He was still so entranced by the sight of her that he struggled to process her words. But he gathered himself, tightening his grip on her shoulder. “No,” he said, his voice low and soft, a rich, deep sound that seemed to rumble through Arianwyn’s chest. “I have been here since dawn; I believe I am long overdue for a break.”

With that, he took her hand and surged up the stairs, pulling her with him into the passageways of the Red Keep. Arianwyn was so delighted to be with him once more, her jubilant laughter echoing off the stone walls, that she did not realize where he was leading her until they came to the door.

Her door.

She released her hand from Aemond’s and laid it on the dark wood. With him standing behind her, she could not see his fingers, trembling slightly, reach to retake hers.

“Why have you brought me here?” she asked, tracing the Runes she had carved into the door years ago to ward off monsters and spirits.

Aemond’s brow furrowed, “They are your rooms. I thought you would be eager to see them again.”

She turned back to him, and his heart pounded anew. He would never tire of seeing that lovely face.

“Surely they belong to someone else now,” she said. “It has been six years.”

A thrilled grin spread across his face as he reached around her to open the door. Then, he stepped back and motioned for her to enter. She did so, hesitantly, half-expecting them to be walking in on some strange family’s afternoon tea.

They did not. Her solar looked precisely as she remembered it.

Her old cloak, made of thick brown wool and lined with bear fur, was still draped over her favorite reading chair. Two ancient bronze swords, their fullers engraved with Runes, still hung above the fireplace. Hanging from their handles, tied with faded green ribbon, were scraps of parchment bearing Aemond’s writing – the translation of the Runes they had written years ago.

Arianwyn approached the mantle, reaching out to read the hastily scrawled note. The paper was brittle with age, but the ink had not faded. For the first time, she realized that it contained not only her translation but also a small drawing of a figure, whom she could only assume was the Prince himself, wielding the blades as he protected a long-haired maiden.

“How?” she asked, unable to tear herself from the artwork.

Aemond came to stand beside her, “Ser Gerold tried to empty it and bring everything back to Runestone after he and Lady Arryn failed to secure your release.” He did not look at the swords, nor the note. Instead, his eyes were on the wild curls of her hair, and he had to clasp his hands behind him to stop himself from combing through each wave with his fingers.

“I would not allow it,” he murmured. “Though he and mother lost hope after that, I knew that eventually, you would return to us.” To me.

She, at last, looked away from the note, but remained with her back to Aemond as she stared into the long cold ashes in the fireplace. “I came close to losing hope as well,” she said. “I would have, were it not for your letters.”

For the second time that day, Aemond was at a loss for words. Should he tell her that the letters they exchanged had been the only thing stopping him from unleashing Vhagar on Dragonstone and plunging the realm into war? That he dreamed every night of driving his sword through Daemon’s black heart as revenge for stealing her away? That he was entirely, painfully, helplessly in love with her?

“What is that?” she asked with bright, wide eyes and excitement in her voice, breaking him from his trance. He followed her gaze over his shoulder and to the far corner of the solar, where a massive pile of books was neatly stacked, so high they nearly reached the ceiling.

As Arianwyn’s mouth fell open at the sight, Aemond could not help but laugh. He had been so caught up in her being here that he had nearly forgotten about it.

“That,” he said, setting his hands on Arianwyn’s shoulders and leading her across the room, “is six years of reading for you to catch up on.”

Arianwyn let out a barking laugh. “You cannot be serious!” she exclaimed, craning her neck back to take in the entire pile. It was so tall that at her height, she would not be able to reach half the books without assistance. She took a step back, coming to rest against Aemond’s chest. “You’ve read all of this since I’ve been gone?”

“I’ve read more,” he replied with a smug smile. “These are just what I thought you would like, or what I wanted to discuss with you, or…” he trailed off, grateful that she could not see him blush. “Or what I wanted to hear you read aloud.”

At that, Arianwyn turned around to face him, the corner of her mouth quirked up in a wicked grin. She raised her brows in an expression of mock pity. “Are you still struggling with the big words?”

Aemond did his best to scowl at her, but her overly exaggerated pout brought such warmth to his heart that he could not help but fall into laughter with her.

“Not for years, Aria,” he said with a low, teasing voice. As she continued to laugh, he laid a hand on her waist, guiding her backward until she was pressed against the wall of books. Her laughter faded when he pressed closer, raising one arm above her head. He was so close; their lips were so near to meeting – she only had to lift her chin.

But before she could truly consider doing so, Aemond pulled away. He held a small grey book in his hand, a green ribbon hanging from within. He tugged on it, coaxing it open to the page he had marked. “There are some stories that require your voice to do them justice.”

Arianwyn glanced down at the book. It was a collection of Valyrian myths, illustrated with lovely gilt illuminations. The title was one she did not recognize: The Legend of Gahaelon and Aeremys.

“Will you read it to me?” Aemond asked, as reverently as if it were a prayer.

Entranced by the intensity of his gaze, Arianwyn nodded. She slipped past him and walked to the velvet couch where they had often read together. The fabric had faded slightly, but had been kept clean enough. Holding the book to her chest, she lowered herself into the middle seat. After a moment, Aemond sat on her left.

The inches between them crackled with unspoken words and buried feelings as she opened the book once more. Then, with one more furtive glance at Aemond, Arianwyn began to read:

“The island of Aethios was one of the greatest jewels in the crown of the Valyrian Freehold. The sands of the beaches sparkled as if made from pure gold, the forests grew lush and green, and the dragons raised on its shores grew large and strong.

This paradise was ruled by the dragonriders of House Cephaeos. Its Lords ruled wisely and justly for hundreds of years, making the island the greatest power in the Narrow Sea. It was even said by some that the Cephaeosi had made a deal with the Merling King to ensure that the tides were always in their favor, for no man alive could remember a ship bearing its blue-scaled sails ever meeting a bitter end. 

But so many years of good fortune so easily won often breed weak leaders. At the height of Aethios’ power, rulership fell to the Lord Aeravon – whose most demanding trial came when he had to settle a dispute over the ownership of four crab traps. Aeravon was a boastful man, certain that the glory and honor won by his ancestors was also his to bear.

One day, Aeravon was feeling particularly prideful and boasted to his court that so great was the might of House Cephaeos that even the smallest of his family’s dragons – the young beast with scales the white of sea foam which his daughter had only just claimed – could surely best and devour any of the Merling King’s monsters.

The court fell silent. Surely their Lord would not be so foolish as to provoke the wrath of the Merling King? Aeravon’s advisors begged him to rescind his words, but it was too late.

A great wave, taller than the topless towers of Valyria itself, crashed over the castle, bringing the pale stone roof down upon Aeravon’s court. When the dust cleared, the Merling King himself stood before Aeravon’s throne.

“You test my patience, boy,” the Merling King said, pointing his three-pronged spear at the prideful Lord. “You have no respect for the sea which I command, nor for my children, who you now insult without shame. For this, you shall pay the price. Bring forth the dragon of which you speak, and we shall see how it fares against the youngest of my children.”

The Lord’s daughter, Aeremys, pleaded with her father to apologize to the Merling King so he would spare her beloved dragon, but he ignored her desperate cries. He had been issued a challenge in his own castle, and his pride would not let him refuse.

The young dragon was brought to the throne room bound in heavy chains. The pitiful beast trembled in fear with its rider when the Merling King lifted a clawed hand to summon his child.

The court all cried out when one massive, webbed foot, the size of a fishing boat, seized the side of the cliffs behind Aeravon’s throne. Another followed, and the blood-red head of the Caetus came into view. It loosed a horrible roar from its mouth, filled with jagged teeth longer than ballista bolts. The ladies of the court all fainted as the beast hauled its enormous body over the edge of the cliff, propelling itself towards the castle with startling speed.

All that is, except for Aeremys, who continued to cry out for her poor dragon. As the creature was devoured, chains and all, by the fearsome Caetus, it was said that her wail shattered every pane of glass on the island.

Lord Aeravon looked on with unbridled terror at the dreadful might of even the Merling King’s youngest. His skin paled as white as his hair when the Merling King again pointed his spear at him.

“Foolish man,” the Merling King said. “To think that your feeble dragons could even pose a threat to my children. You and your people will suffer for your vanity.”

Even Aeravon cried when the Caetus reached out and grabbed Aeremys, carrying her away from the castle and the island as quickly as it arrived.

“You shall watch as your innocent child is devoured by my sea,” the Merlin King decreed. “Only when your heart is broken, and you cry out to your fickle gods to save you, will I grant you the mercy of death. You. Your family. Your people. Your very island shall fall to my power.”

The ground beneath the island rumbled, and great spouts of water began to spray from the cracks in the throne room tile. But Aeravon was blind to the suffering of his people. All he could see was the stone pillar that had emerged from the sea, where his daughter Aeremys lay naked and chained, exposed to the roiling storm that had formed around the island.

He cried to the gods, begging them to spare her, begging them to spare him and his people, and the island of his ancestors. They did not listen.

Aeremys had resigned herself to a painful death, anticipating the sting of salt water in her lungs or the burn of lightning on her skin. But death did not come.

Her eyes, which she had kept tightly closed since the slimy hands of the Caetus closed around her, opened to find not even rain falling upon her. Instead, she beheld the gleaming silver scales of the largest dragon she had ever seen, set aglow by the flashes of the storm.

Astride the dragon’s back was a fearsome warrior she had met once before. Gahaelon of House Belaerys, The Silver Knight of Valyria. He had flown the entirety of the world atop his steed, Tyvaros. There was no monster the legendary knight could not slay.

As if it sensed the prowess of the new arrival, the Caetus again emerged from the sea, diving with an open mouth towards Gahaelon and his dragon.

“Dracarys!” Gahaelon shouted, and his dragon obeyed. A great cone of white flame enveloped the monster, boiling the water from its very skin. As the Caetus wailed for its father to save it, Tyvaros charged, allowing Gahaelon to carve it from tooth to tail with his greatsword, Aemandra.

Before the two halves of the beast could even fall into the water, Gahaelon had leaped from Tyvaros’ back, using the bloodied sword to cleave Aeremys’ chains and set her free. He held her close as they mounted the silver dragon and wrapped her in his cloak to hide her nakedness.

“Come, let us save your father!” he declared as he grasped the reins.

“No!” Aeremys shouted. “He has made his choice. Let him suffer the consequences.” Gahaelon needed no convincing beyond the heartbreak he found in her violet eyes.

The Merling King watched as the silver dragon flew away from his storm. Though he mourned the loss of the Caetus, he remembered how Aeremys begged her father to apologize and how she had cried when her dragon was devoured. He watched as Gahaelon gently kissed the tears from her cheeks with a love the Merling King had not felt in millennia. Such a love deserved mercy, he resolved.

Then, the Merling King unleased his ultimate wrath on the island of Aethios, reducing it and its people to stones and sand that sunk to the bottom of his sea.”

Arianwyn was unsure when she had moved, but as she closed the book, she found herself pressed against Aemond’s side. Her head rested on his shoulder, and his chin against her head. A gentle tug on the back of her head brought her attention to his hands in her hair.

At the feeling of his fingers in her hair, snaking further and further down until he again rested one hand on her waist, Arianwyn could not help but lean back against his firm chest. Though her heart raced, she felt calmer and more at ease than she had in years.

Letting the book fall to her lap, Arianwyn pressed a hand to Aemond’s chest. “I never thanked you for the book of Runes you sent.”

Aemond took her hand, bringing it to his lips and giving her soft fingers a gentle kiss. “There is no need to thank me, Aria,” he whispered. “If anything, I should be the one to thank you for the gift you gave me.”

“Do you have it with you?” she asked, gazing at his eyepatch as if she could see what lay beneath.

“I do,” he answered, though he was unsure if he wanted to show her. The last time she had seen what remained of his eye, she had fainted. He did not want her to be as afraid of him as so many others were.

But then she looked at him with those perfect silver eyes brimming with fondness and reached with hesitant fingers for the edge of his scar. “Can I see it?”

How could he deny the woman he loved? How could he ever think she could fear him? Keeping one arm around her waist, he reached for the patch.

The moment his fingers grazed the leather, the door to the room swung loudly open.

In an instant, Aemond realized how they must look, entangled in each other, alone in an empty room. Suddenly desperate to protect her reputation, he hastily uncoiled his arm from her waist and stood from the couch, leaving Arianwyn dazed by his sudden retreat.

Turning to the door, he was greeted by the sight of a smiling Queen Alicent, followed by Helaena and her children.

Perfect timing, he thought wryly as he forced an innocent smile to his face.

Next Chapter

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for refusing to give up on my friend?

Hi! I (13M) have this really cool friend group. Or at least… I did. The other members were F (13F) and K (13M), and we were super super close. We met at our middle school.

But… we’re not normal middle schoolers. I was the first one to find out. I’m actually the reincarnation of a super cool super-powered alien (who was not actually an alien, but it’s more fun to describe it that way) who died 15 years ago.

I know I’m him, btw. I’m not just making it up. Dude was a super big public figure, and I have tons of his memories. My teacher (who was one of his students at one point) (30m) even agrees with me. He thinks I’m the real deal.

F is the reincarnation of someone, too. Specifically, someone I knew in my past life. In our past lives she was a normal, albeit REALLY NICE person who inspired me a lot… someone who I accidentally got killed. I was heartbroken when I remembered how she died and super stoked when F told me she was her. That’s not why we became friends, of course— F has always been my ride or die, but I was so, so happy my dear friend had been alongside me all this time.

But while on the topic of how F… died in our past lives, I should probably mention what my job was before I was an alien.

I was a serial killer. I called myself an assassin, but that’s giving myself too much credit, really. Ultimately, I was just a murderer— and an INFAMOUS one, too. I had a kill count in the thousands. I was an honest-to-god no good, selfish, terrible guy. It makes me feel sick to even think about.

I even had an apprentice in killing, and one I treated like garbage. I stole him away from his bad family and instead of showing him love only showed him more hatred. I treated that boy like trash.

The only reason I stopped being a serial killer is that he handed me over to authorities. And authorities… well, for reasons I still don’t really understand, they handed me over to this… guy. I’ll call him Y. Y was a no-good, rotten, nasty piece of work. Every bit as bad as I was… and that’s saying a lot! He instantly began to perform extremely painful human experiments on me, doing so with the excuse that no one would miss me.

But it wasn’t all bad. In Y’s custody is where I met F in our past lives. She was working for him. And he treated her like garbage, too. He’d hit her and call her names and make her feel so unsafe. She was miserable when she was around him.

I… tried my best to help, but there’s not a lot I could do from behind a glass screen. Still, I came to empathize with F, and it was actually becoming her friend that made me want to give up killing.

Eventually, I escaped Y’s lab, but at a terrible cost. I turned into a alien monster and went on a horrific rampage— killing tons of people. And even worse, F got killed, too. Like I said: it was an accident, a result of a trap that Y set up, but at the same time it really, REALLY felt like my fault. I hated myself. Both in that life and now when I learned about it.

Still, I lived an okay life after that. I ended up taking in some students that F originally cared for and nurtured them. And I treated them right, unlike I treated my original apprentice. Because of them and F, I learned to love. Eventually, I died, but only after sending Y into hospice and getting to say goodbye to my beloved kids.

I was content with that.

But... here I am now.

Originally, I didn't remember all of this. I just remembered being a cool superpowered guy. Learning how messed up all of it was really, REALLY scared me. I was glad when I learned that F was... well, F, so I could apologize to her, but that didn't fix everything. After all, there were still so many people I hurt. I felt like an awful person who didn't deserve to be alive. My friends and family tried to comfort me, but it was... really hard, for a time.

And even worse than that, soon after, K started drifting away from me.

I know I haven't talked about K much, so let me describe him a little. He's a real stand-up guy. A little cowardly... but he has a big heart. He was always-- and I mean ALWAYS there for me and F, even as we learned all the weird stuff about our past lives. He's funny and sweet and supportive. The kind of person I'd do anything for. I really, really loved him, and so did F.

So... things were stressful when he started to pull away. He stopped hanging out with us. Kept giving us the cold shoulder. I didn't understand why. I thought maybe it was because he was scared of me now, but that wasn't fair to F. I confronted him and told him that if I was a bad person then F shouldn't have to suffer for it. That he was really important to her, and he should keep being her friend, at least!

But that's when K told me something, and it was something I NEVER expected to hear.

...K was Y.

He told me he just remembered recently. That he really didn't know. He broke down in tears, telling me that that's why he pulled away. He remembered abusing the two of us and felt like he no longer deserved to our friend. It was well and truly heartbreaking to hear.

Because... here's the thing. I hate Y. Like really, REALLY hate Y, but K is nothing like him. K is one of the best people I know. He's never treated me like anything less than a superhero. He wouldn't hurt a fly.

I told him it was alright. I told him I didn't care. I told him that the past was the past and that Y was dead now and he was someone new. He was shocked, but I really, really believed it. And for the first time, in saying so, I actually felt alright about myself. I realized that if K wasn't responsible for his actions in a past life-- if he never asked to be born, then neither did I. I realized that if I didn't hate him, then maybe... I didn't have to hate myself.

I gave him a BIG hug and told him we could go back to being friends. I told him it didn't matter. And I thought everything would be alright.

But K... also wanted to tell F the truth.

I get why he did. He kept saying she deserved to know. But at the same time, F is a pretty... standoffish person. She's not like she used to be-- all kind and forgiving. It took me a very long time to befriend her. She gets angry easily and she makes a lot of snap judgements. I was so certain she'd get upset with K.

And F... really needed me and K, I think. She had a bad life. Her parents weren't at all nice to her and she had a lot of self esteem issues. K and I were the only friends she had. I knew that if she ditched K, then she wouldn't have anyone. No-one would be there to support her.

And I'd be asked to take sides. How could I possibly do something like that?

So I convinced K to hide it. I told him that he was a new person now and F didn't need to know. All telling her would do is break her heart. I didn't want to hurt her like that.

And so for a while, the secret remained between us.

But then something really bad happened to K's family. I won't go into details, 'cause I'm not sure it's my place, but it was something truly awful. He nearly lost a parent, and even worse... he was convinced it was his fault. He CERTAIN that the universe was punishing him in some way for being Y, or at the very least, for not telling F about it, and that if he didn't spill the beans then even worse stuff would happen.

...So he did. He told her.

And F reacted just like I thought she would. Angry and crying, she said she couldn't believe she ever trusted him. She accused him of just pretending to not know... and manipulating her so he could hurt her. She was pissed. She punched K in the face and told him she never wanted to see him again.

I tried to reason with her, but she wouldn't hear me out. And when she learned I knew about this before she did... that I suggested hiding it from her, she got even more upset. She told me that I was taking her abuser's side over her-- someone that I'd been friends with for two lifetimes now, and that she never wanted to see me again, either. She called me a selfish jerk and ran off sobbing.

And... that's where things are at. Our little friend group's torn apart. I really want to fix things, but I don't even know where to start. Did I do the wrong thing? By taking K's side? By telling him to hide the truth? I just wanted to protect he and F... I really love them both. But now I'm being expected to choose, and I hate that.

Even K thinks I made the wrong call. That I shouldn't have told him to hide it and that F had every right to react how she did. But at the same time... I just feel so sick. I know he's better now. He's my friend. He has to be better. If he's not, then I'm not. I'm just a no-good killer. Why can't F just see that? Remember all the nice stuff K's done for her?

What do I do? How do I repair things? I feel like if I were still the guy I was in my past life then I'd know how to. But instead, I'm clueless. I feel lost and useless. I'm really, really sorry and afraid.

AITA?

[misslavenderlady]

The Boy is Mine 🤬

Michael/Female!OC

Summary: Michael has had enough of Sis stealing the attention of David, so they hash it out and get very aggressive. But while they certainly hate each other, they can at least show a little love~

This is a collab I did with @ghoulgeousimmaculate. It features her OC from Party The Pain Away, but takes place in an AU where Michael is still in the Lost Boys. This has references to her stuff, and takes place in the modern world, not 1987! We did equal work for this, so please like and reblog Ghoulie's version!

WARNINGS: Nsfw/18+ Readers Only, Dark Fic, Jealousy, Anger Issues, Physical Aggression, Rivalry, Insults, Verbal Abuse, Physical Violence, Fighting, Vampire Powers, Flirting, Vaginal Fingering, Pussy Spanking, Dom/Sub, Riding, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, Missionary, Choking, Risk of Sub Drop, Aftercare, Hurt/Comfort

Credit to @skeletonfumes for the vamp gif

August of 1987. That's when David came into Michael's life and completely changed everything. What was supposed to be a simple move to a beach town turned into a whirlwind of horrors and bloodshed as he learned that his friends were actually vicious vampires. His transformation into one of them happened in such a short amount of time. 

35 years later, Michael was still stuck in the body of an eighteen-year-old. At first, he was furious with David for making him what he was now. A monster that roamed the streets only at night, constantly hearing whispers from strangers talking about how he wasn't one of them. He should hate this life. Sometimes he really did. 

But as hard as he tried, he couldn't fight the connection he had with David. Decades ago he would have laughed at the idea of soulmates. Now he felt he would die if he ever left David's side. The sense of Stockholm Syndrome was strong, but he didn't care. He was David's and David was his. 

That was until a certain girl from Baltimore came into their undead lives. 

Sis. David’s wife and a constant thorn in his side. He and the boys met her at a concert about four years ago. They initially marked her as a meal, but fate had other plans. By sheer dumb luck, she escaped and left them with empty bellies for the evening. It was rare for a meal to slip through their fingers, so naturally, David and the boys became obsessed with hunting her down.

Thanks to Marko’s social media prowess, they were able to find the girl and invite her on a date. Michael came along for the ride for the food, but the evening ended with the ebony beauty cradled in David’s arms, blubbering about her demons. 

David loved innocence and vulnerability. All the boys did, hence why that one moment of fragility drew David to her. Fast forward and now Michael had to share his soulmate with his wife and 2-year-old daughter—an eternity he did not expect when he made his first kill back in the 80s.

Michael's hotheadedness had followed him into his second life. While once upon a time his anger and frustration were put on David, that temper was now focused right on Sis. He could handle sharing David with all of the Lost Boys. He could handle David fucking any pretty young thing that came their way before going in for a bite. 

He couldn't handle Sis. 

There was a deep hatred for the girl. It boiled and simmered in his core, slowly growing with each passing year. In his eyes, she had stolen the love of his life. She turned David into her own personal hubby, and it broke his heart. Michael would always put on a happy face for David, but under the surface he was consumed by pure anger. 

He would often glare behind her back, staring deeply as he tried to figure out what made her so special. Was it the cutesy voice? The long locs? The soft skin? The voluptuous body….

Okay, so there were other feelings for Sis in the mix, but Michael would never in a million years admit to it. She was the enemy in his eyes. He hated her. If he wasn't careful, all of that jealousy was going to get the better of him. 

One night, Sis strolled into the room, gliding in that tantalizing way she always did. The so-called Queen had returned from a hunt—her full lips and chin smeared with blood. The gore on her skin and the stench of lust filled the room as she traveled. The brunet vampire couldn’t help but watch her hips sway as she walked, temporarily becoming mesmerized by her seductive gait. 

He snapped himself out of the deadly trance after a few moments. He rose to exit the room, a coping mechanism he’d adapted to keep his sanity when the vixen wandered too close. Michael hadn’t made it to the door before he heard a sultry coo that caused rage to boil in his chest.  

“Good evening, Daddy,” Sis purred as she boldly perched herself in David’s lap before kissing him on his nose. “Did you miss me?”

David absolutely adored hearing her call him that. For Michael, it was like nails on a chalkboard. 

Michael wouldn't lie, he had his own set of daddy issues from his father's emotional neglect and lack of desire to take custody of his kids in the divorce. When he got more comfortable with his sexuality, Michael found himself calling David that name in bed quite a bit. It just fit the leader all too well.

So when he heard Sis call his beloved that, it made his blood boil. Seeing her sit on his lap like a spoiled little princess was making him fume hotter than the fires of hell. 

It didn't help that David was completely focused on her. He smirked devilishly, taking out his handkerchief to wipe her stained face. The way he caressed his wife's cheek made Michael feel extra possessive. He should be the one getting touched by David. Not her. That little bitch.

Michael seethed, glaring at the spectacle in front of him. The sight of seeing her fawn over his mate drove him insane. He was sick of it, and tonight he was going to put her in her place once and for all. 

He turned on his heel, strolling over as the little tramp giggled and ground her ass on David’s lap like an animal in heat. Michael boldly cleared his throat, standing in front of the couple with his chin up and chest out. 

“Sis, may I speak to you for a moment?” Michael requested to the fledgling vampire, sporting a look on his face that said he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

The curvy woman giggled, waving Michael away as she nibbled at David’s neck. “I’m busy at the moment. Maybe later.”

Oh no. He wasn't going to be having any of that bullshit.

In that moment, Michael felt the fire burning hotter and brighter inside of him. If someone were to look close enough, they would probably see smoke coming out of his ears. He wasn't going to play second fiddle to some bimbo. 

In a flash, he reached out and grabbed hold of her shirt. He yanked her off of their mate's lap, tugging her upward like she was a doll. She squealed in surprise at such an action, and David watched Michael with curiosity. 

Long ago he had done something similar with David when he was looking for Star. Now Sis was the one that was going to feel his wrath. 

"I don't think so, little girl," he growled. Michael was older, stronger and far more devoted than her. He was going to make that perfectly clear right now. 

"Playtime with Daddy is over. My nest. Now." 

Sis looked at Michael with doe eyes, her inner submissive momentarily triggered by the dominant action. But she quickly gathered herself and yanked her blouse from Michael’s grasp before standing on heeled feet. She smoothed her skirt, petulantly looking down her nose at the grumpy brunet. 

“What’s got your knickers in a twist, lover boy?” Sis cooed as she eyed him from head to toe. “This better be important to interrupt the—ahem—massage David promised,” she giggled, shooting a mischievous glance to David before strutting past Michael towards the tunnels. Sis disappeared into the darkness, leaving only her scent trail behind. 

Michael followed suit, leaving David to ponder the tension between his two most prized possessions. He had an inkling about what was going on. He’d keep an ear out because that’s what a good Alpha does, but he figured the two would quickly air their grievances and pound out their frustrations. He lit a cigarette, crossing his ankle over his knee as he nosily waited for what he knew would come. 

Meanwhile, Sis sat crossed legged in a wingback chair in Michael’s nest. The large furnishing dwarfed her petite frame. With her striking good looks and elegance, she looked like the Queen she was.

But Michael wasn't going to be swayed by her beauty. He was just as much of a powerful vampire as the other Lost Boys. He was going to make it abundantly clear to her what was going to happen. No more nonsense. 

"You think you're real fuckin' cute, don't you?" he asked, eyes narrowed and arms crossed. 

"I dunno, I've been told I'm downright adorable quite a bit~" 

Sis smirked back at him as she nestled into the chair more. It pissed Michael off seeing her so comfortable in his space. It was like she was trying to mark her territory or something. 

"I don't like you. Ever since you showed up, you've been nothing but a pain. I only went along with the flirting because I wanted to hunt your ass and make you dinner. You really pissed me off when you seduced David all those years back." 

That certainly caught her attention. Sis raised an eyebrow and sat up straighter. She was growing quite curious at such a bold confession.

"Oh is that right, Mikey~?"

"You're goddamn right it is!!" Michael snapped. "David was mine first! I fell in love with him before you were even born!"

The more he went on, the more Michael's temper worsened. His mother would be furious to see him talking to a lady like this. He was usually so respectful of women, but right now he was just thinking about how much Sis got on his nerves. His words grew harsher as he went on. 

"You have no right to throw yourself at him like some slut! Just because you dress like one doesn't mean you can act like one too."

Sis laughed, letting out a deranged saccharine cackle before addressing Michael. “Looks like someone’s jealoouuss,” Sis sang in a crazed tune as she leaned forward in the chair, her mannerisms mimicking Marko’s melded with David’s. “How dare you speak to me that way. I’m your Queen.”

“You’re my pain in the ass.” Michael spat.

“Am I really?” Sis taunted as she stood to her full height, crossing the room to stand in front of Michael. “Because that tent in your pants tells me otherwise. Looks like you have a thing for me after all.”

Michael growled, towering over Sis to emphasize his displeasure. His power over her. “Watch your mouth, little girl.” 

Sis laughed, smirking up at Michel with her baby doll face. “I will do no such thing. You wanted me, and now you’ve got me, so I’m going to tell you about yourself. Because I see you for what you are. You’re jealous. A jealous little Mama’s boy with Daddy issues. You lost your first Daddy in the divorce, and now you’re afraid you’ll lose this one. But the caveat is you already have. David is mine. And deep down inside, you know that, and it drives you crazy because you can’t see what he sees in me. Can’t see why I’m the keeper of his heart.”

“Damn right I can’t, you bitch. What makes you so fucking special?” He whispered with malice. “All those years. All those years I put in, and you come along and get a ring? His hand in marriage?”

“I can easily show you,” Sis enticed with glowing golden eyes, her hand slithering to stroke his manhood through his pants. “There are many reasons why David’s addicted,” she flirtatiously teased.

Michael hissed, flustered from the titillating sensation that her dainty hands caused. He felt his loins stir beneath her palm, and he was disgusted. The nerve! Michael stepped back, adjusting himself through his pants. He glared at Sis after, baring his fangs as she wheezily giggled at his expense.  

“Flustered by little ol’ me?” She jabbed as she batted her eyelashes. “Such a shame for a big bad vampire to be afraid of a little fledgling. What a willowy spine you have. And if you’re wondering, that’s another reason why David chose me. Because I’m strong. Daddy wanted someone with a backbone.”

“That’s rich coming from the woman who withers like a flower in the rain when she’s in Marko’s presence.”

Sis scowled, hissing at Michael with rage. “Master may make me weak in the knees, but when I was human, I fought a better battle than you ever did. Now run along,” Sis dismissed as she waved him away again. “Star probably needs you to kiss her boo-boos. Daddy promised to massage me from the inside, and that’s where I’ll be until sunrise.”

Sis haughtily brushed past Michael, pettily knocking into him and throwing him off balance for a moment. She strolled towards the exit with a click of heels and a whole lot of attitude as she dismissed Michael for the chump she thought he was. Despite his advanced age, she saw him as beneath her. She was Queen. She was David’s wife and the mother of his child. Michael couldn’t compare.

Still, he wasn't going to let her go without a real fight. 

"Oh no you don't, you little bitch!"

In a flash, Michael latched onto Sis' wrist, dragging her back into his room and throwing her up against the wall. He made quick work to box her in. His hands pinned her arms up to her sides and he stuck a knee in between her legs. Sis let out a squeak when the muscle brushed against the lining of her underwear. 

"One, if you ever talk about Star like that again, I will break your neck like a goddamn toothpick," Michael hissed, fangs on full display. "Two, you must be really stupid if you think David likes you more than me."

Sis growled, feeling riled up and feisty from how Michael manhandled her. If it were any other Lost Boy, she'd cower in fear before submitting. Michael didn't hold any command over her, so she wasn't going to bend to his will.

"Release me, asshole!"

"No. You're gonna listen to me," Michael continued. He tightened his hold on Sis as he pressed his toned chest to hers.

"Unlike you, David wanted me since day one. He stared at me across the boardwalk like I was the most perfect thing he'd ever seen. You ever seen that Jim Morrison mural in the cave? He clearly prefers tall, strong types with brown curls. I'm his perfect mate. No amount of bargain bin dresses and stripper heels is gonna change that, girlie. 

Michael leaned in, whispering into her ear. He wanted his words to be heard loud and clear.

"And that pisses you off, doesn't it?" 

“What pisses me off is your lack of a fashion sense. The last time I checked, Valentino wasn’t bargain bin. It was high fashion. Let’s start there. A desert rat like you probably can’t even spell Valentino, let alone know what style is,” she sassed him. Sis was ready to verbally tear Michael a new one.

“And it’s not just about looks, Mikey. It’s about wit and intellect. Yes, David may enjoy a nice big hunk of stupid meat every once in a while, but you’re an intellectual bore otherwise. David may have wanted to take a bite out of me, but my mind kept him engaged. Keyword—engaged. Because once again, if you were the perfect mate, he wouldn’t have married me. He chased me across the country just to keep me by his side. And by his side is where I’ll stay because I sacrificed too much to be with him and the boys. So I don’t give a shit about how you feel about me. As far as I’m concerned, you can twirl on splintered wood.”

“You’re not that bright, princess, you didn’t know they were vampires for six months.”

“And you drank blood out of an unmarked bottle the first night you met because the boys peer pressured you. You’re not exactly an intellectual god yourself.”

Both of the vampires felt the familiar urge of a fight brewing. The urge to spill blood and wrestle one another until there was only one victorious winner. The more they battled with their words, the more they wanted to fight with fists. 

"How about I show you how I've got plenty of brawn over your ditzy little brain~" Michael growled. 

With the might of his vampire strength, he spun Sis around, throwing her off the wall and back towards the massive picture hanging from the wall above his bed. Billy Idol. Something that reminded him of David and a piece to honor the leader's own musical tastes. Sis crashed into the picture, cracking the glass as her back hit the rocks behind it. 

Michael's eyes flashed a bloodshot gold and his fangs dripped with saliva. His claws were out and ready to scratch her up some more.

Sis was letting her own wild side out. She had fallen onto the floor below, small flecks of glass caught in her hair. It didn't frighten her and neither did Michael. If he wanted a fight for David, he got one. 

"You're gonna get it now, pretty boy!" 

Sis sat up. Her eyes blazed and danced with madness. Rage. Her manicured claws and fangs elongated as she rose from the floor to confront Michael. The brunet vampire had 35+ years on her in strength, but she had agility to her advantage. She tapped into her speed, crossing the room and punching Michael square in the nose. Appearing only as a blur when she did so. She sent him flying, the stunned vampire landing flat on his ass by the entrance of his nest. 

“Let’s try that again, Mikey. Where I’m from if you wanted to survive, you had to have hands."

Michael stood up, licking the blood that dribbled from his nose before lunging at Sis. She met him midair, the two snarling and snapping at each other as they wrestled for dominance. Michael had Sis by the throat again, preparing to toss her across the room once more, but she swiped him across the face. Michael growled dropping his rival on her back, his bed breaking her fall. 

He threw himself on top of her and they rolled around on the bed. Both refusing to stay down for the count. Sis growled lowly as she grabbed at Michael's shirt. Her nails dug into the fabric, tearing them to shred as she scratched down his back. He shivered from the sensation, reminded of how David had scratched him the first time they had a brawl. 

He forced her hands off of his body, pinning them by the wrists above her head. With the other, he grabbed at her shirt too, tugging her upward and destroying the material. Both of them were exposed, as there was no fabric left to stay in place. 

They both breathed heavily, chests heaving as they glared at each other with sinister, inhuman eyes. 

"Homewrecker."

"Bastard."

"Cunt!"

"Jackass!!"

The two of them were practically spitting their insults in each other's faces. Their cheeks were flushed and with every moment, they were getting closer to one another.

"I hate you, Sis."

".....then why is your dick poking me~?"

Michael froze, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. Sis was right. He was hard as a rock. He couldn’t deny it.

“I—um…”

“Oh, Mikey…” Sis cooed as her bare bosom heaved. “I think we’ve gotten to the root of our problem. Sexual frustration can be a bitch,” she teased as she trapped him between her shapely thighs, locking her ankles tight. “When was the last time David tickled your pickle?”

“It’s been a while because you’ve been a greedy little tramp.”

Sis giggled. “Awww…I’m sorry. Could you ever forgive me? How about I make it up to you?” She sultrily cooed as ground her pelvis against Michae’s manhood. “I have a feeling I can make you my best friend.”

Michael was utterly failing at finding the right words to say. He loathed how his body was betraying him. Sis was clearly proud of herself for making him act with such arousal. He wanted to tear her throat out for this, but he also couldn't deny that her grinding felt so good. 

It took a while to get used to the polyamorous nature of the pack. Human expectations of monogamy had lingered for a while, but he grew comfortable with sharing the pleasure with the others. Sometimes it still hurt a bit to see Star bouncing on Paul's lap or David swapping spit with Dwayne or Marko. But at the end of the day, he was a vampire. And vampires needed to share their love. 

Fighting back the attraction for Sis was the hardest adjustment. She really was a bombshell, even if she stole David's heart. The frustration certainly was there and he needed to get it all out. 

Fine. He would have it her way. 

"You are not my friend," Michael sneered. 

Even with his cold words, he grabbed her hips and pulled them towards him in a heated fit. He ripped her skirt as if it were wet tissue, growling when he saw the curvy figure underneath the clothing. 

"But if fucking is what it's gonna take to make you shut up, then so be it."

Michael spit on his fingers before diving his hand down into her panties. He was going to make her scream as loud as possible. 

He slipped his fingers between her plump folds, seeking out the swollen little gem that was her clit. He traced his thumb over the bundle of nerves, sending a shiver down the Sis’ spin. Michael teased her, rubbing her in delectable circles only to pull back when she really started enjoying herself. The sadistic vampire within him wanted her to beg. To see her sniveling beneath him like she did with the other boys. Just to prove that he could. 

So he toyed with her, flicking her nub and vibrating his hand. Sis wiggled and panted. The most adorable moans faling from her pouty lips. Michael didn’t want to admit it, but it was a tantilizing sound. One he could definitely get used to. He hated her voice—everything about her. But that moan she released when he was in control stirred something deep inside. 

Michael kept up his devious ministrations, while Sis bucked her hips, desperate to find release when he pulled back. Her clit and her walls feeling horribly neglected. 

“Say the magic word and I’ll let you cum, princess.”

“Fuck you.”

"Fine. Guess we're doing it the hard way."

Michael ceased his motions altogether. Before Sis even had a moment to whine about his hand moving away, he brought it right back down. With a firm, open palm, he slapped her pussy as hard as he could. The smacking sound echoed off the cave wall.  

"Aahh!!! Fuck!!" she screeched, a pathetic whimper falling from her mouth. 

"Thought you liked getting spanked, ya little whore~" 

He slapped the sensitive, wet area again, hitting even harder. Sis was shaking like a leaf, the pain of the strike and the stimulation of her sensitive pussy blending together. She hated seeing Michael so smug, but his domination was only bringing out her submissive nature even more. 

Michael's palm was getting bright red. His skin was glistening from her wetness. The mewls of pain and pleasure were only making him harder. It felt like his cock was going to tear the fabric of his pants. 

"Say. It."

"FUCK. YOU."

Sis roared out as she fought back for control. She wiggled out of his grasp and grabbed at Michael's hand, stopping the spanking right away. Her inhuman strength clenched at him hard, threatening to break the bone.

Her speed aided her yet again, and she threw Michael off of her, pinning him down underneath her. She planted herself right on top of him and pushed her hands on his toned chest. Seeing that wild look in his baby blue eyes made her cunt ache more than the spanking. 

"The queen is in control now, fucker," she hissed. 

Sis tore the thick denim of Michael's jeans right down the middle, destroying his briefs in the process as well. His cock practically sprang to life when she did so, showing off each and every delicious inch of the massive size. 

Sis licked her lips. “Not bad,” she purred as she eyed Michael’s impressive manhood. Sis loved to be filled and all of the boys were blessed with Dwayne being the KING. She was pleasantly surprised to see that little Michael wasn’t so little. “Maybe that’s reason why David keeps you around,” she cruelly jabbed. A little payback for Michael’s nasty quips.

The brunet growled and Sis giggled as she gripped his dick by the base. Her golden eyes shimmered with mania. Michael paled, laying still. He may not have had a formal education like Sis in her human life, but he was intelligent enough to not taunt her while she held his manhood in her palm. 

“Smart boy,” she whispered as she hovered over his dick. “Smarter than I would have given you credit for. 

Sis lowered herself down, moving teasingly slow to prolong Michael’s torture. Payback was a bitch. Michael hissed as he was enveloped in the plush, velvety warmth of her body. The engorged ridges of her walls making his toes curl. He wasn’t even fully inside her and he felt like he was going to explode. Now he kind of knew why David liked her. 

Michael stared in awe as she engulfed him, her pussy devouring every inch of him. They both moaned as their pelvis’ met. Michael collapsed into the mattress and Sis threw her head back. Her eyes fluttered closed. Her long lashes kissing her chubby cheeks. 

“Oooo, Michael,” Sis whispered with distorted vocals. “You feel so good—but I know I feel even better,” she taunted as she leaned forward, her lips curling into a sadistic smile.

FUCK. Michael gulped. She heard his thoughts. Sis heard him. He was horrified.

But he couldn’t dwell on it. He was ensnared by mindblowing pleasure. His eyes rolling into the back of his head. Sis gyrated in his lap, manipulating her spine in inhuman ways. She growled like an animal, using her agility to ride a Michael in a way he’d never experienced.

"Fucking hell….~" Michael sighed out. By some miracle, he was able to get ahold of himself and fight the urge to spill inside her prematurely. He had given away his dirty thoughts to her, but he'd be damned if he was going to let her humiliate him like that. 

Michael was usually a very sweet lover. The first time he was with Star he made love to her, giving the most gentle touches while he took care of her. He was a pretty romantic guy, even if he was a little shy and awkward from time to time. 

But he wasn't making love. He was fucking. Sis was nothing but a warm body for him to enjoy. That's what he was telling himself as he grabbed hold of her hips. His fingertips were pressed in enough to bruise the skin. He wouldn't dare let go of her body while he was inside of her.

"Yeah…dirty girl likes getting her guts re…rearranged…doesn't she?" 

Michael took another shot at spanking her, his palm striking her rump while she rode his cock. The feminine sighs that poured from her mouth made his length twitch inside her. 

"David fucked me in the same…fuck…same position for our f-first time….said we…fi-fit perfectly together. Said my name soooo sweetly~" he taunted the vampire queen. 

But Sis didn’t miss a beat. She knew what Michael was doing. He was determined to hurt her. To so-called prove that David didn’t love her. But she knew the truth. David truly loved her. She could see it in his eyes when he caressed her cheek. When he slipped inside her. And when he held their child.

“Mmmm…” Sis moaned as she bucked her hips. “D-David told me that t-too…that we fit so p-perfectly…the n-night we made Eva.”

Michael snarled. That was one thing Sis did have over Michael. She gave David a daughter. An heir to the throne. 

David was an excellent father. You wouldn’t think being a parent would even interest his mate. But when he saw how hands on David was when Sis was pregnant. How he fed her. Cradled her when she was sick and in pain. How he held her hand as she gave birth. The look of joy on his face when he held the squalling babe for the first time. How he thanked her before kissing her sweaty forehead. 

Michael was already jealous of Sis, but when she gave birth that sealed his hatred for her. Seeing the three of them have their own little family—without him—was when he gave birth to his own offspring. Rage. He’d kept it bottled up this entire time. Leaving the pressure to become explosive. But he was ready to shake things up and remove the cap now. To finally erupt and let go.

Grabbing Sis by the throat, Michael quickly turned himself over, flipping Sis on her back. She squealed in surprise, her hands flying up to her throat to grab his wrists. She clawed at Michael’s pale flesh in an attempt to pry his hands from her petite neck, but she couldnt free herself. She had no choice but to lay under him while he pounded into her, the brunet now fucking her at a vengeful pace. 

“You think you’re so special because you can create life? All vampires can create life, you bimbo. You just need a little blood and the right kid. If David wanted more children, I could give them to him easy. How the hell do you think the boys got Laddie?”

Sis hissed, but it turned into a wail when Michael reached down inside her. Stroking her deeply. The brunet vampire smirked when he saw her bite her lip. Her large eyes looking into his with wanton yearning. He had unlocked the sub within her again. 

“That’s it. That’s the Sis I like,” Michael teased as he continued to ruthlessly use her body for its pleasures. “The quiet, docile one that’s afraid to go to the toy room.”

While Sis was slipping into her more submissive mindset, she wasn't as deep in as she would be for David or the other boys. There was still a spark of fight in her. It melted together with her need to please, and she did the only thing she could think to do. 

Sis reached upward, hands placed on either side of Michael's face in order to pull him in for a kiss. Michael made a noise of surprise, but didn't get distracted enough to stop his thrusting. For a moment, she was tender, but soon her kisses became fierce. Hungry. Eager to make him shut up.

The two of them growled and moaned, serpentine tongues rolling over one another as their bodies moved. There was a silent agreement between them to let this moment happen. Hatred, anger and jealousy were shared, but they wouldn't leave one another unsatisfied.

"Who's your daddy now, bitch?" Michael teased with his mental connection to her. 

"Not you, but I'll cream on your cock like you are~" Sis playfully responded. 

The firey spark between them was getting hotter and hotter by the minute, their loathing for one another acting as fuel to the fire. It was pushing them both closer to the release they needed. They could both practically taste the pleasure that was coming. 

The room was thick with the smell of sex. The lewd sounds of their lust reverberated around the room. Through the tunnels. When they reached climax, their little tryst wouldn’t be a secret. The whole pack would know of their affair. David would know.

But they didn’t care. All that mattered was this moment. The two of them and their bodies grinding against each other. Their lips crashing against each other. The pressure that built inside. And the bliss that came from it. 

They were so close. Sis tightened around Michael, her walls squeezing around his thick shaft, his engorged veins massaging her in the sweetest way. Michael pumped into her with vigor, ferally fucking her like an animal. His fingers kneaded her flesh. Leaving mottled bruises on her smooth ebony skin from his immortal strength. His hands marked her as his for the night. 

Meanwhile, Sis clawed his back. Leaving bloody slashes and welts down the pale flesh. Making him hers. 

"Aaah!! Mi-Michael~!" 

Sis hadn't planned to say his name. She wanted to keep it out of her mouth and just enjoy the pleasure as it was. But she couldn't stop it from flowing off her tongue. It sang out so beautifully as she finally came.

The clenching of her pussy and the overwhelming warmth was already too much for Michael to handle. Hearing the curvaceous beauty cry out his name was what triggered his own climax. She would definitely tease him for such a reaction later, but he didn't care at that moment. 

"Fu-Fuck…fuck, Sis..~" he growled while spilling inside of her. Warm cum painted her deep within, officially marking her. Michael trembled terribly as the aftershock hit him. 

Time slowed to a halt for the two of them. They were a sweaty, bloody, naked mess on top of Michael's bed. As they breathed heavily, the brunet boy slowly opened his eyes to get a better look at her. He could find another flaw to poke fun at while she laid out in her afterglow.

But any meanness was snuffed out when he realized that something was wrong. Sure, Sis was most certainly hit with the euphoria of her climax, but there was something in her eyes that told him she was at risk of a sub drop. They had been so harsh and cruel to one another, and now she was going to feel worse. He didn't even think before jumping into action. 

"Hey hey…it's okay," he softly hushed her. "Stay right here. I'll go get something for you."

Michael carefully slipped out of Sis before rolling off the bed. He quickly shrugged on his robe and ran to the cave’s emergency stash of blood. He grabbed a sleek glass bottle filled with the blood of one of the many unfortunate souls that came to the cave to ‘party’.

He quickly trotted back to his nest and slipped into bed next to Sis. The fledgling vampire had rolled over onto her side and curled up into a ball. Michael had to act fast. He carefully placed his hand on her shoulder, coaxing her to sit up so he could tend to her. She obeyed, rolling over and upright as he desired. Michael uncapped the bottle and held it in front of her full lips for her to drink, providing support like a parent would their newborn baby. 

Sis drank, greedily draining the bottle within minutes. Blood dribbled down her chin, and Michael grabbed a napkin, wiping her face just as David had moments ago. The irony, he mused. 

Michael chuckled, and Sis flashed a weak smile, thanking him in a tiny voice. She moved to leave his bed. To gather the shreds of her clothing and return to her own nest, but before she could, Michael grabbed her wrist. Authoritatively, but with a hint of tenderness. He could see she wasn’t fully herself, and she needed just a little bit more T.L.C.

“Hey,” Michael gently whispered, “you’re in no condition to head back yet. Lay down for a moment. It’s okay.”

Sis hesitated, prepared to fight back, but she eventually acquiesced to his request. Laying back on her side. Her back faced him. Not out of rudeness, but out of awkwardness. And Michael understood that. But he still inched closer to her and wrapped his arms around her body. Spooning her from behind. 

"You're surprisingly great at giving aftercare considering you said you hated me a few minutes ago," Sis softly muttered. Michael was actually relieved to hear the sass. That meant she was starting to get back to her normal self. 

"I may be jealous, but I'm not a monster. I wasn't gonna let you go without care after something so intense." 

Sis was grateful Michael was being kind. There was no way they'd be best buddies or fall in love after this, but it was still a kind gesture. Nestling into his arms as he gently held her solidified the temporary truce they had agreed to. 

The two of them had a lot more in common than they realized. The human lives they lost were still fresh in their minds, as was the pain of losing their identities. David had put them both through their own personal hell, yet they still loved and adored him. They even both held onto human values like vulnerability and kindness. Even if they would constantly fight for the attention of their mate, they could at least see eye to eye on other things. 

"You're a total attention whore…but at least you've got amazing pussy" 

Sis snorted at the lewd compliment Michael gave her. It felt good to be able to laugh again. Her body shook with the soft giggling. 

"And you fuck pretty damn good for an annoying little shit," she whispered back. Michael bit his lip but couldn't stop his own snickering. The good mood was just too contagious. 

While the two of them relaxed together, Michael pulled her a little closer. They would go right back to their rivalry after tonight. She would be David's doting, hot wife and he would be David's handsome pet. The two vampires would forever long to be their Sire's one and only love, but for now, that didn't matter. 

They were both part of the pack. No matter what you felt for everyone else, you took care of one another. That would never change. 

Tag list: @britany1997 @6lostgirl6 @juss-soupp @finalgirlm @american-idiot-jpg @michael-after-hours @nerdy-spooks

[abbygrabska]

Evolution of the Daleks

“These… humans will become like me.”

The Doctor and I slip behind some machinery

“Prepare them for hybridization.”

‘Happy Days Are Here Again’ begins playing and everyone stops.

“What is that sound?”

The Doctor and I step out, a radio in his hands, “That would be us.” He sets the radio down, “Hello. Surprise. Boo. Et cetera.”

“Doctor.” “The enemy of the Daleks.” “Exterminate!” “Wait.” Dalek sec stops them.

“Well, then. A new form of Dalek.” He walks forward, “Fascinating and very clever.”

“The Cult of Skaro escaped your slaughter.” “How did you end up in 1930?” I ask.

“Emergency Temporal Shift.”

The Doctor scoffs, “Oh, that must have roasted up your power cells, yeah?” He strides away, looking about, “Time was, four Daleks could have conquered the world but instead your skulking away, hidden in the dark, experimenting.” He takes a deep breath, “All of which results in you.”

“I am Dalek in human form.”

“What does it feel like? You can talk to me, Dalek Sec. It is Dalek Sec, isn’t it? That’s your name? You’ve got a name and a mind of your own. Tell me what you’re thinking right now.” “I…. feel… everything we wanted from mankind, which is ambition, hatred, aggression and war. Such… a genius for war.” “No.” I shake my head, “That’s not what humanity means.” “I think it does. At heart, this species is so very… Dalek.” “All right, so what have you achieved then? With the Final Experiment, eh? Nothing! ‘Cause I can show you what you’re missing with this thing.” The Doctor points at the radio, “Simple little radio.” He pats it.

“What is the purpose of that device?” “Well, exactly. It plays music. What’s the point of that? Oh, with music, you can dance to it, sing with it, fall in love to it. Unless you’re a Dalek of course. Then it’s just noise.” The Doctor aims his sonic at the radio and a high pitch wail emanates from it.

Sec holds his head in pain while the other Daleks act erratically.

The Doctor turns to us, “Run!”

Martha and I lead everyone through the sewers until we reach a point we don’t recognize.

“Come on! Move, move, move, move, move!” The Doctor rushes past us.

We run down a tunnel and find Tallulah, “And you, Tallulah! Run!” She starts running, “What’s happened to Laszlo?” The Doctor leads everyone to a ladder, “C’mon! Everyone up!” We are all gathered around a fire in Hooverville.

“These Daleks, they sound like the stuff of nightmares. And they wanna breed?” “They’re splicing themselves into human bodies. If I’m right, they’ve got a farm of breeding stock right here in Hooverville. We’ve got to get everyone out.”

“Hooverville’s the lowest place a man can fall. There’s nowhere else to go.” Solomon argues. “I’m sorry, Solomon. You’ve got to scatter. Go anywhere. Down to the railroads, travel across state, just get out of New York.”

“There’s got to be a way to reason with these things.” I wince, “No chance.”

“You ain’t seen ‘em boss.”

“Daleks are bad enough at any time, but right now they’re vulnerable and that makes them more dangerous than ever.”

A whistle is heard and someone comes running, “They’re coming! They’re coming!”

“A sentry. Must’ve seen something.”

“They’re here! I seen ‘em! Monsters! They’re monsters!”

“It’s started.”

“We’re under attack! Everyone to arms!” Solomon orders.

The men start passing out the guns and other weapons they have.

“I’m ready, boss, but all o’you! Find a weapon! Use anything!” Frank says. Some of the residents run off.

“Come back! We gotta stick together! It’s not safe out there! It’s not safe out there! Come back!” Solomon calls to them.

The pig slaves invade Hooverville, attacking those who try to escape.

“We need to get out of the park.” Martha tells us.

“We can’t! They’re on all sides. They’re driving people back towards us.” “We’re trapped.” “Then we stand together. Gather ‘round. Everybody come to me. You there, Jethro, Harry, Seamus, stay together.” The pig soldiers have forced everyone into a tight circle by the fire.

“They can’t take all of us.” Solomon starts firing.

“If we can just hold them off till daylight.” I look at the sky, “They’re just the foot soldiers.” Everyone turns and looks up.

“Oh, my God.” A Dalek is flying above, heading towards us.

“What in this world…” “It’s the devil! A devil in the sky! God save us all! It’s damnation!”

“Oh, yeah? We’ll see about that!” Frank fires at the Dalek but the bullets do nothing.

The Doctor pushes his rifle down, “That’s not gonna work.

“There’s more than one of them!” 

The Daleks begin to attack, firing upon the settlement causing explosions and starting fires.

“The humans will surrender.”

“Leave them alone! They’ve done nothing to you!”

“We have located the Doctor!” Solomon steps forward and the Doctor grabs him by the arm, “No, Solomon. Stay back.” “I’m told that I’m adressin’ the Daleks, is that right? From what I hear, you’re outcasts too.” “Solomon, don’t.” I tell him. “Abby, this is my township, you will respect my authority. Just let me try.”

Solomon pushes the Doctor away. The Doctor steps back, shaking his head.

“Daleks… ain’t we all the same? Underneath, ain’t we all kin?” Solomon sets his rifle on the ground, “‘Cause, see, I’ve just discovered this past day God’s universe is a thousand times the size I thought it was. And that scares me. Oh, yeah. Terrifies me. Right down to the bone. But it’s got to give me hope… hope that maybe together we can make a better tomorrow. So I… I beg you now, if you have any compassion in your hearts then you’ll meet with us and stop this fight. Well… what do you say?” The Dalek fires upon Solomon, killing him, “Exterminate!” “Oh, no!” The inhabitants of Hooverville scream. 

Frank rushes to Solomon’s side, “No! Solomon!”

“They killed him. They just shot him on the spot.” The Doctor moves forward, “Daleks!” Arms out to his side, he confronts them, “All right, so it’s my turn! Then kill me! Kill me if it’ll stop you attacking these people!” “I will be the destroyer of our greatest enemy.” “Then do it! Do it! Just do it!” He beats on his chest, “Do it!”

My heart drops to my stomach.

There is a small conversation that we can’t hear before the Dalek speaks, “I… obey.” “What’s going on?” He asks.

“You will follow.” “No! You can’t go!” Martha cries out.

“I’ve got to go. The Daleks just changed their minds. Daleks never change their minds.” “But what about us?” I ask.

The Doctor looks back at the people of Hooverville before facing the Dalek.

“One condition! If I come with you, you spare the lives of everyone here! Do you hear me?” “The humans will be spared. Doctor… follow.” I take his hand before he can follow, “You better come back alive, you hear me?” I take a shaky breath, “I can’t lose you to them.”

He nods, gripping my hand with both of his, and winks.

As he walks off, I see the psychic paper in my hands.

Martha is applying a bandage to a man’s arm when Tallulah walks in with a pot of water.

“Here you go. I got some more on the boil.” “Thanks.” Martha looks to the man, “You’ll be all right. It’s just a cut. Try and keep it clean.”

The man thanks her before leaving.

Tallulah leans against the wall, “So, what about us? What do we do now?”

“The Doctor gave me the psychic paper. He must’ve had a reason.” I pull out the psychic paper and show Tallulah.

“What’s that for?”

“Gets you into places. But where? He must want me to go somewhere, but I’m not sure where.”

Tallulah and Martha are searching through papers, while I pace.

“Wait a minute. Down in the sewers the Daleks mentioned this… energy conductor. Like a lightning conductor or… Dalekanuim! They said the Dalekanium was in place. But where?” I wonder. “Frank might know?” Martha suggests.

We exit the tent, and find Frank.

“Frank? That Mr. Diagoras, he was some sort of foreman? Got you jobs all over town right?”

“Yeah. he could find a profit anywhere.” “But where, though? What sort of things?” “You name it. We’re all so desperate for work, you just hoped Diagoras would pick you for something good. Building work. That pays the best.”

I turn my head to look at the Empire State Building.

We enter a service elevator of the Empire State Building.

“I always wanted to go here. Never imagined it quite like this, though.” Martha says.

“Where are we headed anyway?” Frank asks.

“To the top, where they’re still building.” I tell them.

“How come those guys just let us through? How’s that thing work?” Tallulah asks.

“It’s psychic. Shows them whatever I want them to think. According to this, we’re three engineers and an architect.” Frank takes the psychic paper and flips the empty paper over in his hands.

We enter the top floor.

“Look at this place. Top of the world.” I spot the architectural plans, “That looks promising.”

Frank walks over with me, “Hey, look at the date. These designs were issued today. They must’ve changed something last minute.”

“Daleks changing something? Seems impossible. We need to check this one against the others from before, find the difference.” “The height of this place! This is amazing!” “Careful, we’re a hundred floors up. Don’t go wandering off.” Martha tells her.

“I just wanna see.” Tallulah walks to the open area overlooking the city.

I spread the plans out on the floor side by side, studying them.

“I’ll go and keep an eye out, make sure we’re safe up here. Don’t want nobody buttin’ in.” Frank walks out a side door.

“There’s a hell of a storm movin’ in.” “I wish the Doctor was here. He’d know what we’re looking for.” Martha laments.

“So tell me, where did you and the Doctor first hook up?” Tallulah directs her question at me.

“Well, it was two years ago actually. And he looked a lot different back then. Big ears, big nose, affinity for leather jackets. He actually blew up my job, that’s how we met.” I smile sadly, “We had a couple months break before we met Martha. Our friend had to go away, it really upset both of us, so we went our separate ways for a bit.”

I suddenly realize what they did, “Gotcha! Look!” I point near the top, “There, on the mast. Those little lines? They’re new. They’ve added something, see?” “Added what?” Martha and I look at each other, “Dalekanium!”

The elevator doors open, I turn to see the Doctor and Laszlo, “Doctor!”

I lead him over to the plans, “We worked it out. There’s Dalekanium on the mast.” The Doctor grabs me and pulls me into a kiss, pulling away abruptly as the bell dings and the elevator doors close.

He runs to try and stop it, using his sonic on the panel, “It’s a deadlock seal. I can’t stop it.” “Where’s it going?” Martha asks.

“Daleks, and I doubt they’re gonna leave us alone up here.” I tell her.

“What’s the time?” The Doctor asks.

Frank checks his watch, “11:15.” “Six minutes to go. I’ve got to remove the Dalekanium before the gamma radiation hits.” I lead everyone outside.

The Doctor looks out on the city, “Oh, that’s high. That’s very… Blimey, that’s high.”

“And we’ve got to go even higher. That’s the mast up there, look.” I point up, “There’s three pieces of Dalekanium at the base. We gotta get ‘em off.” “That’s not ‘we’. That’s just me.” I look at him distraught, “Why not?”

“I need you to fight.”

We all are holding makeshift weapons.

“The elevator’s coming up.” “I shoulda brought that gun.” Frank laments.

“Tallulah, stay back. You too, Abby, Martha. If they send pig slaves, they’re trained to kill.” “The Doctor needs us to fight, we’re not going anywhere.” “They’re savages. I should know. They’re trained to slit your throat with their teeth.” Laszlo collapses to the floor.

Tallulah fusses over him.

“One man down and we ain’t even started yet.”

I hear the storm through the open end of the room.

“Wait a minute. Lightning.” I run to the other end of the room.

We start to arrange long metal rods from the outside across the room to the elevator, making sure they don’t touch the floor.

Tallulah speaks to us, “What the hell are you three clowns doin’?” “Even if the Doctor stops the Dalekanium, this place is still gonna get hit. Great big bolt of lightning, electricity all down this building. Connect this to the elevator, they get zapped.” “Oh my God, that could work.”

“Then give us a hand.”

Once we finish Tallulah asks, “Is that gonna work?”

“We’ve got it all piped up to the scaffolding outside.” “Come here, sit in the middle, and don’t touch anything metal.”

We huddle in the corner of the room.

The elevator arrives and the doors open right as the lightning strikes.

We all open our eyes, seeing the pig slaves dead.

“You did it!” “They used to be like Laszlo. They were people and we killed them.” Martha whimpers.

“No, the Daleks killed them. Long ago.” I rush outside, “What about the Doctor?”

I find the Doctor lying unconscious up by the mast, “Doctor!” I rush over to him and kneel beside him.

He groans, “Oh, my head.” “Hi.” I smile at him.

“Hi.” He smiles back, “You survived then.” “So did you, just about. We found your sonic halfway down.” I hand it to him, “Though I can’t help noticing… there’s Dalekanium still attached.” He gets up, “The Daleks will have gone straight to a war footing. They’ll be using the sewers, spreading their soldiers out underneath Manhattan.” “How do we stop them?” Laszlo asks.

“There’s only one chance. I got in the way. That gamma strike went zapping through me first.” I furrow my brows in confusion, before realizing with a gasp, “Oh, you clever man.”

He smiles at me before turning to the others, “We need to draw fire. Before they can attack New York, I need to face them. Think, think, think, think. We need some sort of space, somewhere safe, somewhere out of the way. Tallulah!” 

“That’s me. Three L’s and an H.” “The theatre! It’s right above them, and, what, it’s past midnight? Can you get us inside?”

“Don’t see why not.” She shrugs.

“Is there another lift?”

“We came up in the service elevator.” I tell him.

“That’ll do. Allons-y!”

We arrive to the darkened theatre.

“This should do it. Here we go.” The Doctor switches on his sonic.

“There ain’t nothin’ more creepy than a theatre in the dark.” Laszlo falls into one of the chairs beside her.

“Laszlo, what’s wrong?” Tallulah sits next to him.

“Nothing. It’s just so hot.” “But… it’s freezing in here. Doctor, what’s happening to him?” The Doctor is listening to his sonic, checking it’s frequency, “Not now, Tallulah. Sorry.” “What are you doing?” Martha asks.

“Drawing them to us. If the Daleks are going to war, they’ll wanna find enemy number one.” I tell her.

He holds up his sonic and turns it on.

“I’m telling you to go. Frank can take you back to Hooverville.” “And I’m telling you, no.” I argue.

“Abby, that’s an order.”

The doors to the theatre burst open and the human Daleks arrive, flanking us. “Oh, my god! Well, I guess that’s them then, hunh?”

“Humans… with Dalek DNA.” Frank moves to attack them but I pull him back.

“It’s all right. Just stay calm. Don’t antagonize them.” I tell him. “But what about the Dalek masters? Where are they?” Laszlo asks.

There is an explosion on stage and we all duck behind the seats for cover.

The Doctor stands slowly as we all peek over the chairs.

“The Doctor will stand before the Daleks.” The Doctor steps over a chair and walks forward on the backs of rows until he reaches the front.

“You will die, Doctor. It is the beginning of a new age.” “Planet Earth will become New Skaro.” “Oh, and what a world. With anything just the slightest bit different ground into the dirt. That’s Dalek Sec. don’t you remember? The cleverest Dalek ever and look what you’ve done to him. Is that your new empire? Hmm? Is that the foundation for a whole new civilization?” The Doctor asks. “My Daleks… just understand this. If you choose death and destruction, then death and destruction will choose you.” Dalek Sec tells them. “Incorrect. We will always survive.” “Now we will destroy our greatest enemy, the Doctor.” “But he can help you.” Dalek Sec argues.

“The Doctor must die.” “No, I beg you, don’t.” Dalek Sec crawls in front of one of the Daleks.

“Exterminate!” Dalek Sec stands just as the Dalek fires.

The Doctor speaks, “Your own leader. The only creature who might have led you out of the darkness and you destroyed him.” He turns to the human Daleks, “Do you see what they did? Huh? You see what a Dalek really is?”

“Warning. Dalek-Humans show increased levels of serotonin.” “If I’m gonna die, let’s give the new boys a shot. What do you think, eh? The Dalek-Humans. Their first blood. Go on, baptize them.” The Doctor holds his arms out to his sides.

“Dalek-Humans, take aim.” The Dalek-Humans cock their weapons and aim at the Doctor.

“What are you waiting for? Give the command!”

“Exterminate!” The Doctor closes his eyes. Nothing happens. “Exterminate!”

Still nothing happens.

“Obey. Dalek-Humas will obey.” “Not firing.” Martha looks to the Doctor, “What have you done?”

“You will obey. Exterminate.”

“Why?”

The Doctor looks at the former human. “Daleks do not question orders.” “But why?” “You will stop this.” “But… why?” “You must not question.” “But you are not our master. And we… we are not Daleks.”

“No, you’re not, and you never will be.” The Doctor speaks to the Daleks, “Sorry, I got in the way of the lightning strike. Time Lord DNA got all mixed up. Just that little bit of freedom.” “If they will not obey, then they must die.” The Dalek shoots the man.

“Get down!”

We all duck behind the seats and both factions fire on each other.

“Destroy the hybrids. Destroy!”

The third Dalek is blown up.

The first Dalek is blown up. The Human-Daleks stop firing. We all stand up.

The Doctor goes over to one of the hybrids, “It’s all right. It’s all right. It’s all right. You did it. You’re free.”

All the hybrids grip their heads and scream in pain. “NO!” The Human-Daleks crumble to the ground.

“They can’t! They can’t! They can’t!” The Doctor kneels beside one of the bodies.

Martha and I join him.

“What happened? What was that?” Martha asks.

“They killed them. Rather than let them live. An entire species. Genocide.” I whisper. “Only two of the Daleks have been destroyed. One of them must still be alive.” The Doctor stands, “Oh, yes. In the whole universe, just one.”

We enter the room, Tallulah and Martha helping to support Laszlo.

“Doctor! Doctor! He’s sick.” Laszlo is breathing, heavily, wheezing. They lower him to the floor, Tallulah cradling him on her lap.

“It’s okay. You’re all right.” Martha soothes him.

The Doctor approaches us and kneels.

“It’s his heart. It’s racing like mad. I’ve never seen anything like it.” “What is it, Doctor? What’s the matter with him? He says he can’t breathe. What is it?” “It’s time, sweetheart.” Laszlo tells her. “What do you mean ‘time’? What are you talking about?” “None of the slaves… survive for long. Most of them only live a few weeks. I was lucky. I held on ‘cause I had you. But now… I’m dyin’, Tallulah.” “No, you’re not. Not now, after all this. Doctor, can’t you do somethin’?” “Oh, Tallulah with three L’s and an H… just you watch me.” The Doctor stands and takes off his coat, “what do I need? Oh, I don’t know. How about a great big genetic laboratory? Oh look, I’ve got one. Laszlo, just you hold on.” He runs about the lab, mixing up a solution, “There’s been too many deaths today. Way too many people have died. Brand new creatures and wise old men and age-old enemies. And I’m tellin’ you, I’m telling you right now, I am not having one more death! Got that? Not one! Tallulah, out of the way.” He takes a stethoscope out of his pocket and puts it on, “The Doctor is in.”

The Doctor, Martha, Tallulah and I are waiting by a park bench with Laszlo bundled in an overcoat and hat.

Frank joins us, “Well I talked to ‘em and I told ‘em what Solomon would’ve said and I reckon I shamed one or two of ‘em.” “What did they say?” I ask.

“They said yes.” Tallulah hugs Laszlo. “They’ll give you a home, Laszlo. I mean, uh, don’t imagine people ain’t gonna stare. I can’t promise you’ll be at peace but, in the end, that is what Hooverville is for, people who ain’t got nowhere else.” “Thank you. I… I can’t thank you enough.” Back on Liberty Island, we look out at the Manhattan skyline.

“Do you reckon it’s gonna work, those two?” “I don’t know. Anywhere else in the universe, I might worry about them, but New York, that’s what this city’s good at. Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses, and maybe the odd pig-slave-Dalek-mutant-hybrid too.” Martha laughs, “The pig and the showgirl.” I smile, “The pig and the showgirl. Just proves it, I suppose. There’s someone for everyone.” The Doctor’s smile disappears.

He walks to the tardis and we follow.

“Meant to say… sorry.” Martha sighs.

“What for.” “Just ‘cause that Dalek got away. I know what that means to you. Think you’ll ever see it again?” He unlocks the door, “Oh yes.”We enter and the Doctor pauses in the doorway, “One day.” He comes inside and closes the door.

[xiphiaarts]

Good evening Mortals (or morning, as its well past midnight) i just finished re-reading a biography i wrote for Fell sans for an Undertale rp server im in, and i liked it so much i figure id post it here for you lot to marvel at, I hope you enjoy! And get some sleep, as much as you try to be youre not owls Underfell belongs to @/underfell (no dip)

Sans remembers a time when monster kind fought to escape their claustrophobic prison, when His father hoped to science monster kind out of the underground and the residents of the underground looked after each other as their own kin; all they had to combat the despair that made itself at home under the mountain. He remembers his fathers desperate attempts at clawing his way to freedom;with all of the monster race on his back, he remembers trying to lighten the load of his fathers responsibility by splitting it with him. Becoming an assistant to the royal scientist early in his life the gifted sans had a front row seat to the descent of wingdings’ madness. 

But he can't remember when things got so bad, when the underground lost trust in gaster’s methods; When monsters lost trust in their own kind and friends became foe. Perhaps it was after the first human fell, When Asgore welcomed them with open arms and the royal family gained a new member. It's only expected of monsters to blame the humans who trapped them in the first place for the downfall of their society, it's what the king would have them believe.

But what child as meek and kind souled as Chara Could turn neighbors and loved ones against each other? What child as considerate as Chara could be responsible for the hatred and distrust that transformed the underground from a bearable prison into a hellish deathtrap?  When the whispers of the death of the dear adopted human reached the royal subjects of the Dreemur family and news of the untimely demise of the beloved prince:Asriel followed, no monster blamed them for the world they’d left behind, 

A world where any one who pointed a finger at a newly divorced king was locked away, or simply disappeared, The slowly maddening doctor and the queen of the underground rumored to be victims of Asgore's new methods of ruling, Methods brutal enough to cost a disobedient subject their Sanity, or better yet, Their soul. 

Sans tries not to remember the palpable hopelessness that poured from his soul the day he stood before a haggard looking Asgore, tries to forget how time slowed down as he reached out his fluffy yet menacing claw and settled it on his suddenly leadlined skull. If sans had any breath to begin with it would have been chased out of him by the horror of what the weight of Asgore's greasy ruthless paw meant. 

He can't forget the shout in his ear canal, muffled by the fearful buzzing that had made itself known in Fells skull as he’d accepted his fate as fresh dust for the king's somehow flourishing buttercups to feed on. The memory repeats in his mind like a dvd scratched to hell..while the rest of his memories are choppy, or missing entirely, The force from being shoved backwards, The familiar firm voice of his impossibly brave little brother. The dread in Sans's soul when he realized his brother had dared argue with the newly homicidal king still sits heavy at the bottom of his culmination.

He now laughs at the confusion that then mingled with his fear, offput by the pleasant surprise in what he can hear of the kings voice, first chiding his brother for such foolish courage, then praising him for it in the same breath, offering his younger sibling a deal that sans could only try to warn his brother against. The continuation of his existence, for papyrus’ allegiance to the guard. To the King. 

Papyrus agrees before sans can find the words to protest. But of course, it's never that simple with gore. His iron fist couldn't leave Papyrus’s brazen retaliation unpunished, so he swiftly marred his brother's sins into his skull with the points of his dark claws.

He still hears the screech of claw against bone, His brothers pained sound hitting a similar pitch as he was used as a scratching post for an oversized tyrant. His soul still flares up with the same anger that engulfed him as Gores' claw wretched itself from Papyrus’s face. He still wears the sweat from shutting off when his brother snaps at him for such an attempt at insubordination. Especially when the damage was already done. The blood was already spilled, the change already made and irreversible, even if Sans risked his fragile life failing to teach the unhinged ruler a pointless lesson.

He can't shake the shame that clung to him as he followed his brother out of the throne room. He's ever heavy from the embarrassment of making his brother save his life; of making his brother join that lunatics ranks; Of letting his brother become a grimm mural of what bravery could get you in a kingdom like Asgores. 

Days since then have been a blur of red and black, of gold and green, days that slur together into the same one again and again, wake up, do the bare minimum, watch his back, watch his brothers back, get home alive, fight off nightmares, rinse and repeat. It's not so different than it was before when sans thinks about it. The passage of time that meant nothing but the approach of death. Not a matter of if but when, when someone would do to sans what he’d brought himself to do to so many other monsters. 

When his dreams of finding his brother the victim of someone like himself become a bitter and painfully tangible reality. 

Such thoughts never get a chance to escape the trap that was Sans's tired mind, locked behind an apathetically amused facade and a high wall he put between himself and others. In his effort to hide himself from the world, he managed to build a barrier that locked out even his only family, Family that resiliently tried still to scale his walls. But Sans would never come out from his protective fortress, his smile and tired sockets are all the former friends filling the fallen underground get to see. 

 But there is one stranger who doesn't see him. A mysterious voice behind the long forgotten ruin doors that laugh at his jokes and tell ones just as awful as his. A stranger that tells him their vague secrets and their inexplicit fears. Perhaps it's because they don't know the husk of a monster they spoke to on the other side, because Sans was convinced they'd never have a face to judge, only a tired voice. Maybe for these reasons Sans felt he could do the same.

But every now and again he dreams a human hobbles its way beyond the ruins doors, a wilted flower in their company..and once sans makes his way back to the suddenly foreboding doors, his customary Knocks are ignored; Or rather answered by the empty silence of a soul no longer present. 

[luveslasher]

A START OF AN OBSESSION WITH YOU PART 7

[sorry for the very late story! I'm already new to writing and I'm already flooded with work for school lol! but thank you all I have gotten a post of getting 50 likes! Thank you!!!.. I had this finished but my internet had to go off and not save my work 🤦]

After running to door to door.. your legs so sore aching in pain. You almost died! This is it.. you can feel it. Looking through the shelves you find lighter fuel, and a couple of bandages. Throwing the items into your pocket. Feeling so hungry and thirsty... How long has this continued? What if you been stuck in this hell loop for days?!

With many panicked thoughts flooding your mind. You enter the next room not looking at the number of the door, an entity with big bloody eyes and a toothy grin jump scares you. Right when your back was about to hit the ground, you feel your body be held gently to the ground.. what the hell is that thing.. and why does it look like that.. it seems like you entered a fake room.

DUPE

It disappears from your sight, you try to ignore what just happened. Continuing to enter the rooms, you turn around the knob and enter the very silent unusual room.

it's all completely normal so far.. that is until a dark purple entity jumpscared you, teleporting you to a different room. You fall to the ground in shock. The pixelated spirit looks down at you for a moment, your mouth agape sweat falling down your face. The entity disappears, leaving you on the ground... Unharmed? That was definitely different and normal.... Thank God it didn't hurt you like the others have done.

You stand up while stumbling a bit, still continuing on going through the doors. Right when you left the room, the tall dark purple entity GLITCH is behind you, checking you out. He always had been watching you ever since you came in. But unlike the others, he never came to interact to you. Only stalking you, he liked you very much, he hated how the others would get so close to you.

After hearing the others speak about your plan to escape.. he felt sadness inside of him. He didn't want you to leave, SEEK tried to make a deal with him to share you with him and to give information about you to him.

But he never agreed, his hatred towards SEEK only got much more higher after seeing him kiss you, while his hands were at your waist, face to face. Lips an inch apart. His veins were almost bursting, he swore to himself he will protect you.. to not let the others hurt you.. or get any close to you.. he feels so guilty.. he failed to protect you.. disappearing after a while of moping

You enter a short thin hallway this is new. A caged pole door, you see droplets if rain outside. Dashing to the door, you swing it open. A beautiful outside, trees around the place, and bushes.. it looked like a garden! Big yellow windows outside the one building.. this was odd.. this looked like a completely different area! the landscape of this hotel was not like this.. it was confusing. Short fences holding on the long pillars, a beautiful roof with lights around it. Protecting you from the heavy rain..

It seems like it hasn't been a other day.. still night.. it feels like days have passed in this place. A realization hits you like a truck.. these monsters have fallen in a love obsession with you in a day! This is insane.. you run out to the bushes and trees letting the rain fall onto you.

Feeling the cold water splash upon your face and body. Opening your mouth wide, drinking the few droplets of water to fill your thirst closing your mouth after a while.. your hands wide open in a T pose. Tears fall down your face.. finally cold water.. the outside... After going through hell in those hotel rooms, fresh air cold rain..

It felt so much safer here than the other rooms.. you're all alone.. maybe staying here for a bit won't be so bad.

You crouch down to the bushes seeing beautiful berries around the bushes. Without any thoughts you quickly eat them one by one, throwing them into your mouth. A sweet biter tastes on your tongue.. feeling so grateful for the fruit and water, you stand up to search through the trees.

Gorgeous red fresh apples all around hidden in the trees, they all pop out. Quickly grabbing on and taking a bite, the sweetness tingles your taste buds.. these apples tasted way better than normal apples!

Who on earth took care of these fresh berries and apples? Maybe these always have been here... But these fruits seem too fresh and new to be old.. but yet you ignore it, you are so thankful for this. Tears coming out of your eyes, blush on your nose. Feeling so much gratefulness you yell out "Thank you so much!" out of happiness not meaning it to anyone in particular.

But once again... The dark purple pixelated spirit can't help but smile and feel his heart be filled up again. He was glad you loved the fruits he planted. He knew how hungry you were the few doors you were in. So he planted some fruit and making it grow much faster and changing the taste to be much sweeter with his glitches. Not like it would change anything important in the future! It was all for you..

The tall dark purple entity standing behind the trees, observing your every movement, the droplets of water avoiding his body falling off away from him, still dry to the core. Still stalking you, GLITCH waits until the pills in the fruit start to hit.

You slowly bring yourself under the roof of the wooden fence gently laying yourself to the ground.. wrapping your hands around you like a blanket. Your eyelids closing, your mouth closed only leaving a little smile on your face. Breathing quietly and gentle.. taking a little nap won't hurt, you have been awake all these hours trying to survive. Taking a break will definitely help you. Just a few rooms and your free.the sleepiness takes over your body.

Falling into a deep slumber. GLITCH gets closer to you,softening after seeing you lay on the ground sleeping. You're so perfect and sweet,his fingers touch your face..he mumbles a little "sleep well.." with a glitch echoing in his voice.

He promises... He will protect you until you wake up. He won't fail you again!

END OF PART 7

[IM SORRY FOR THE LATE PART!!! My school gave me much more work in a few days and I'm still working on it! But part 8 will be the last until the doors finally has part 2 out! Which may take pretty long so cliffhanger sadly.. but I will be writing one shots and head canons of the door characters and other fanbases as well! Mostly the door entities but still!please tell me if I made any errors!! Im not good with grammar so I apologize:(]

[bluetortoist]

The Troll Maiden

When Bärta was born, she had a tail, tuft ears and tiny yellow eyes. Because of this, she was always treated differently by her family. Her mother always looked at her with shame and resentment, while her father completely ignored her existence, leaving home whenever he could. The only one who wouldn't ignore her was her big sister, Austra, whom would try to be kind and protect her like any sibling would.

However, as much as she clung to her sister, Bärta couldn't help but feel bitter at how differently their parents would treat Austra than with her. They would give her their attention and their warm smiles. They would praise her out in the open, while Bärta had stayed behind them and hide her monstrous features. It was like that for her entire childhood.

Poor Bärta was a misfit among her small village. As she got older, the more people would deem her a strange woman and unfit as a wife; unlike her sister, Austra, whom was set to marry the man she loved soon. Bärta did not like Austra's fiancee, and hated the judgemental eyes around her. The only time she felt relief was when she would cross an abandoned, lonely bridge and run off into the woods. She made a habit of even going into the night.

It wasn't until one dark night, she came across a passing troll, whom nearly tried to eat her, but suddenly discovered what she really was. She was what some called a troll-maiden, a rare creature being born neither completely human nor truly troll. Who can walk during the day amongst humans and can grow to the size and strength of a troll. They are born very rarely and can happen to any family. Finding this out, Bärta kept finding and following the troll nearly every night to learn more about him, much to his dismay then.

But after a time, the trolls have begun to welcome and befriend her, while Bärta felt a sense of belonging that she has never felt in a long time. But Austra was starting to worry about Bärta always going off by herself at night. She suspected that she was seeing someone in secret, but every time she asked, Bärta would never tell the whole truth.

The two sisters barely speak to each other anymore, their new lives and tangled secrets pushing them farther apart each day. Until one night however, Bärta overheard that her troll friends were getting ready to attack her village. She didn't want to believe it, torn between the two worlds she now lived in. She couldn't stop the trolls, but decided that she would at least try to help Austra run away.

Bärta used her new abilities to build a shield of fire around her village for protection and warning everyone to leave before the trolls came. However, instead of leaving, it made everyone despise her, throwing things at her and calling her a monster after discovering her true form. The villagers casted her out as they escaped their infernal homes. Austra joined with her fiancee, telling her "You should have never come back".

Heartbroken, Bärta trudged back only to find the trolls, already on their way to the burning village. "Bärta, what happened here?" said one of them. She said nothing, but joined them in their descent. She realized then that human kind never was and never will be her home. Austra had never really loved her, nor probably never will. Bärta, hatred in her heart, told the trolls where the rest of the villagers were hiding so they could feast on them all.

The villagers had fought bravely, but the trolls overpowered them and destroyed all what was left of their sanctuary. No one survived, all except for Austra and her fiancee. In her final attempt, Austra tried to reason with Bärta, but her troll-sister had become bitter and would listen to her words no more.

As a final rejection to her humanity, Bärta embraced her new, towering troll form...and ate her sister's fiancee in front of her. Austra could only stare, sobbing into her hands as Bärta finally turned her back to cross the bridge where her new troll companions were waiting for her. And Austra never saw her again...

Many more years have passed. Now tales and rumors tell of a strange but beautiful young woman who lounges by that same bridge. She would beckon men, women, and children to come near and tell her their stories, to help her with her chores, and play games with her. And every time, those poor souls have been snatched up and eaten, leaving nothing behind.

So if you happen to come across a bridge, be sure to keep your mind and be wary...of the troll maiden.

Finally gave my oc a name and story!

Hope you enjoy my girl!

[lyutenw]

ACOD| Chapter XVII

Tw: sa

"I wouldn't want to miss the departure of the princess." Ellian said as he stood next to Aria. He had come back that very morning, 5 days before he was supposed to be back. Aria had been surprised that he had done a trip back all that way just to say goodbye to Zaya. Aria wondered whether he believed that she would find a way to leave with her sister.

"As if I could..." Aria muttered under her breath, lost in her thoughts. Going back to Celenial would be a suicide mission for her as she had nowhere to hide from her cruel father. At that point Aria didn't know which fate was crueler; escaping to Celenial and being found by her father or going to the far away village trying to escape Ellian. She decided she was screwed either way, but at least in Oceana she had a fighting chance with Raven by her side.

"What?" Ellian asked and Aria realized she had thought out loud. She smiled forcefully and looked at Zaya who was walking down the large corridor to where they were. Her maids were walking behind her, each with a solemn face.

Zaya was fighting back tears as she run up to her sister and hugged her, not caring about the proper etiquette of a princess greeting a queen. They were sisters above all.

Aria hugged her back tightly and softly stroked her long brown hair, just as Zaya had done the previous night for her.

"It's going to be okay." Aria whispered in Zaya's ear and tightened her hug. Zaya's tears escaped her eyes as she nodded. They both knew that nothing would be okay for either of them. They had hope, but Zaya knew her fate.

After what seemed like minutes but was only seconds, Zaya let go of Aria and wiped her tears with the back of her palms, smearing her makeup on her cheeks. Aria softly cupped her sisters face and wiped the smears with her thumbs, trying to force a smile for her sister.

"I'll come to visit you again, sis." Zaya murmured so only Aria could hear and then turned away from her and walked to Ellian who was standing a feet away. He bowed before him, a deep bow as a sign of respect for the king of Oceana, despite a rotten one.

"Have a safe trip princess." Ellian said and half-bowed his head for her.

"Thank you, my king." Zaya answered and after her all the maids followed after bowing collectively before the king and queen.

As soon as Zaya was out of sight and the palace hall was empty apart for the servants and Ellian, Aria ran to her room. She didn't want Ellian to see her cry, despite it being a grief separate from him. Showing weakness once was enough, she didn't want him to take advantage of her ever again.

Aria realized that since Zaya was now gone, her hatred for Ellian had taken the first stage once again. It had been pushed back by the love for her sister and was now resurfacing again by seeing his face. What she truly hated was his eyes, those twisted pits of darkness. He was otherwise handsome, someone seeing him for the first time would definitely be charmed; just as Zaya was. That was until they learned what kind of monster he was, if they ever did, as it seemed he was only treating Aria like that.

Unbeknownst to her, Ellian had followed suit behind her.

"Not even a word to me, little doe?" Ellian asked as he locked the door behind him, Aria not noticing it.

"Why are you here?" Her words were as cold as her gaze to him; she had been able to quickly wipe away her tears, so he didn't see her crying.

"Is that a way to greet me, now?" Ellian's voice got deeper, and Aria ignored the chills that ran down her spine. She took a step back as he took a step forward, not wanting to decrease the distance between them. He was an unpredictable bastard, and she didn't want to deal with his sick and twisted games.

"You didn't answer my question." Aria raised her head proudly, standing her ground, despite the red alarm going off inside her head. Ellian quickly closed the distance between them and grabbed her by her neck, squeezing his hand tighter as the seconds went by.

"Don't get an attitude with me, little doe, or you won't like what happens next." He leaned closer to her face so that they were just a breath away.

"I won't be so nice as last time." He whispered but stressed every word, making Aria avert her gaze from his in embarrassment. She had tried to forget that night, her subconscious had shoved it into a dark place she rarely revisited unless she was asleep; and when she did it made her want to scream and break everything.

Despite her better judgement, and in a fit of rage and stupid bravery, she looked back into his eyes, her own gold eyes darkening to a liquid honey.

"How worse can it get?" She spat out and furrowed her eyebrows. Ellian chuckled, a heavy gurgle of his throat and leaned even closer, now dangerously close to her lips.

"I can break you like a doll, little doe." He leaned into her ear, his breath brushing against her neck, making the little hairs stand up, alert.

"I can fuck you so hard you will scream and beg, but no one will come to save you. I can choke the life out of you and only let you breathe a second before you pass out." As Ellian was talking, the momentary bravery of Aria was escaping. Now, she was utterly terrified.

"And don't get me started on knives, little doe. I don't think you know that about me." Ellian chuckled and let Aria's neck go. She gasped for air and brought her fingers up to her now tender neck. Ellian had a sadistic smirk plastered on his face as he took a step forward, then circled around her slowly like a vulture ready to tear her to pieces.

"I really love how a knife slices someone's skin. And, oh, the blood that comes out..." He stopped behind her, and Aria didn't dare to turn and face him; she was frozen in place.

"It's so delicious and gets me so hard." He whispered and took a step back. Every hair in Aria's body was standing up and repeated chills were running down her back. Once again, she had been rendered useless, paralyzed by the fear this man had instilled in her. In a deep part of her mind, she wondered how a young man like that could be so fucked up.

Aria stayed silent and frozen in place. Ellian was also not moving behind her, but she didn't want to turn and face him. Her breaths were slow and shallow, and she was sure that Ellian would do something to her; the atmosphere was heavy and sticking to her like a shadow.

"My meeting didn't go as planned..." Ellian trailed off and walked slowly back and forth. Aria let out a breath she hadn't known she had been keeping and her muscles relaxed a tiny bit.

"So, what are you going to do about it, little doe?" Ellian's smirk was apparent in his voice and Aria closed her eyes shut. She cursed under her breath, of course she wouldn't get off so easily.

"What do you want me to do?" Aria asked defeated, her voice a meek, lifeless, whisper.

"Get on your knees. Now." Ellian instructed as he untied his pants and let them fall to his ankles, then with a swift move shoved them away. Aria took a step towards him and slowly lowered herself to her knees, her eyes shut tightly. She didn't want to see more of him than necessary.

"Your eyes here, little doe, look at me." Ellian said as she also took off his underwear, revealing his hard dick to Aria. Aria despite not wanting to go against him, couldn't open her eyes. She heard Ellian sigh, and then she was quickly swept up from the floor by a tight grab on her neck. Ellian threw her on the bed like a ragdoll and paced to the dresser.

"Fail to do as I say, bear the consequences." Ellian raised his voice and grabbed a knife from the drawer. Aria noticed that that was her knife that her father had given to her by the jewels reflecting the light on her.

Ellian quickly got on top of her and sliced off her dress, revealing her naked body to him. Her body was paler than before and skinnier; her ribs were showing, and she had no more curves. Her breasts that were plump before, now were smaller.

Ellian hesitated as he truly saw how his wife had changed. The first time fucking her, she had been a woman torturing his dreams with her sexual body, now she was just a shadow of her past self.

One tear trickled down Aria's cheek and she breathed deeply. She knew the sudden sting of a blade slicing open her skin; she had been through it for so many years she had grown numb to it. But that had been years ago, she had almost forgotten how it felt, until Ellian reminded her.

Ellian slowly slid the cold metal blade down her skin, starting from the pit at her neck to her stomach and stopping just before her clitoris. Aria shivered from the coldness of the blade and flinched lightly.

"This is what happens when you refuse to do as I say." Ellian smirked and applied the slightest pressure on the well-sharpened blade, drawing a drop of blood right down her neck. He then dragged the blade down again, leaving a bloody trail along her whole body. Aria could see him enjoying it more as the seconds ticked forward. She lay immobile, not being able to do anything, not wanting to do anything.

"One slight move and you die, little doe." Ellian said as he brought the blade right up to her neck, close enough to her skin to feel the coldness, but not close enough to draw blood. Ellian grabbed her chest with his free hand and entered her quickly.

Aria bit her lip down so she didn't scream and tried to fall back into the pillow, so the blade of the knife is not so close to her. The feeling of Ellian penetrating her was painful and she could tell that he enjoyed it; he enjoyed making her feel as much pain as possible.

"You feel really tight today little doe... Maybe I haven't fucked you enough these days." Ellian said in between his moans and Aria didn't answer, just turned her head to the side. She didn't want to see him; she didn't want to see the face of pure joy and fun on his face as he was fucking her.

After a few seconds his moans grew louder and her pain greater, then she felt his warm semen in between her legs as he exited her. He took the knife away from her neck to reveal a cut that wasn't too deep and without saying anything he dropped the knife to the floor and stepped down from the bed.

He quickly left just as he had appeared and left Aria alone once again, but this time with no one to console her, or hug her. It was back to normal again.

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

Tag List: @angie-j-kay @mysticstarlightduck @boundedsea @pheonix-thefirebird @quillinhand @lottierae1 @puckpuckett @aalinaaaaaa

[animebw]

Short Reflection: Vinland Saga Season 2

A sequel can do a lot of interesting things to the story it’s a part of. A great sequel can catapult an already good story into greatness. A bad sequel can squander whatever potential the first part was building up, or be so inconsequential that you can just pretend it doesn’t exist. But the hardest sequels to talk about are the ones that do an excellent job following up on what’s come before... yet still feel like a downgrade in ways so subtle you’re not quite sure if nostalgia is playing tricks on you or not. Did this series always have these flaws, you wonder, and you were just blind to them before? Or is something genuinely missing from this otherwise fantastic continuation that makes it feel less special than that initial entry? It’s a question I asked myself last year with the final season of Mob Psycho 100, a show that by any other metric would be a knockout success but couldn’t help but feel overshadowed by the seasons that came before. And now that same quandary presents itself to me with Vinland Saga, back after four years for another round of bloody historical viking combat and deep ruminations on the dangers of violence and hatred.

To make my position clear from the outset: I fucking love the first season of VInland Saga. It’s one of the best written, most achingly mature works of storytelling in anime, a beautiful exploration of the humanity behind violence, the people who perpetuate it and suffer it alike, and the complexities of people in a world far too willing to sort everyone into ally or enemy. It was potent, it was sincere, and it was achingly beautiful (at least when the production wasn’t driving itself into a ditch). It also had Askellad, one of my single favorite anime characters of all time for how beautifully he blurs the line between monster and hero. So perhaps that’s the reason why I don’t like season 2 as much; Askellad dies at the end of season 1 and only shows up here for a couple brief visions. My sweet baby gone too soon from this sinful world, we shall never see his like again.

I kid, I kid. Obviously, Askellad’s story ended exactly where it needed to, and any continuation to Vinland Saga- much like Thorfinn- would have to find a way forward without him. And that listless limbo of living between worlds is where we first meet Thorfinn as season 2 kicks off. Far from the ravenous warrior he was in season 1, Askellad’s death and the thwarting of his revenge has left him a shell of a man, barely able to function day by day. He’s ended up a slave on the farm of a seemingly kindly slavemaster named Ketil, his life reduced to following orders like an automaton as he wonders what the point of living even is now that his purpose has been taken away, leaving nothing but the memories of the countless lives he ripped apart in pursuit of it. But that begins to chance with the arrival of a new slave named Einar, a man who lost his home and family to Vikings much like the ones Thorfinn used to serve. As the two strike up an unlikely friendship, the shattered boy slowly begins to piece himself back together from nothing, facing the trauma he inflicted on others and himself and searching for new purpose unshackled from the bloodshed than once ruled his life. But it’s only a matter of time before bloodshed once again comes knocking at Thorfinn’s door, forcing him to come to terms with what kind of person he wants to be... and whether or not it’s possible to truly escape a world that seems to worship violence as the only true way.

It’s a radically different direction for the story to take, but it’s really the only way it could have gone. From the first episode, Vinland Saga has always been an interrogation of violence and its effect on people, a cry for peace in a world where that might as well be a foreign concept. And is season 1 was a full dive into the heart of that violence itself, season 2 is all about the escape from it, what it takes for a person who’s lived their whole life bathed in blood to seek a better way forward. Appropriately, most of what’s been dubbed “Farmland Saga” is spent on conversations and quiet moments, characters working out their issues and finding peace beyond the reach of a sword or ax. And whenever violence does show up, it’s always in short, brutal spurts of death where no one comes out happy, a far cry from the bombastic battles we used to have. And while that change no doubt rubs some fans the wrong way, it’s the only honest way Vinland Saga could continue to explore its themes. You can’t exactly tell a story of a man leaving violence behind and embracing peace if you’ve got limbs and heads flying at the same rate as season 1. Thorfinn’s growth from an emotionally stunted boy into a fully realized man, and the ways the rest of the inhabitants of Ketil’s farm react to the role of violence in their world, is Vinland Saga, and it’s still the same damn powerful story it was telling back when blood ran thicker and death same swifter.

So no, the relative absence of violence is not the reason that season 2 feels somewhat lacking in comparison to season 1. But then... what is the reason?

The obvious culprit to point at would be the change in studio. And yes, I’m as sick to death of the endless Wit vs Mappa debates as you are. So many stupid takes on every side, all ignoring the fundamental issue that both of these studios are infamous for treating their workers like shit and sacrificing healthy production times for the sake of pumping out more content for their shareholders to make money off of. Seriously, all your animation issues with shows from both of these studios come from the same source of corporate greed favorite quick profits over artistry, bond over that and fight your mutual enemy instead of turning it into a fandom dick measuring contest. That said, it’s not every day that you get to see two different studios put their own touches on multiple different anime in such clear terms. And between Attack on Titan and Vinland Saga, I definitely think there’s a conversation to be had on how Wit and Mappa’s approaches to anime differ... and what effect that has on the finished product.

To vastly, vastly oversimplify what I’ve observed, I’d say that Mappa tends to focus more on detailed animation, while Wit prioritizes cinematic direction. Whenever Mappa flexes its “budget” (yes I know that’s not really what it is I’m oversimplifying for time bear with me), it tends to be with intricate shots of richly detailed characters, every crease and line in their skin shaded and expressive. A single image or quick action cut, when given the time it needs, can feel so weighty and expressive, like you can actually reach out and touch it. Wit, meanwhile, tends to put its best foot forward with the way its camera brings its stories to life, sweeping CG-assisted tracking shots or gorgeous tableaus spilling out across the screen. They may sacrifice the finer details sometimes (and let’s be clear, there are moments where Vinland’s first season looks like aaaaaaass), but the visual imagination behind how they frame and present their anime captures that elusive feeling of cinema that few TV anime manage to achieve. Wit embraces anime not just as an animated medium, but a truly visual medium, one where every choice is make to sweep you up in the beauty this art form is capable of. And that’s a level of imagination, sadly, that Mappa doesn’t always measure up to.

In regards to Vinland specifically, the part of season 1 I always come back to is episode 14, which is framed almost entirely in claustrophobic, horrifying close-ups as we witness the slow-burn destruction our protagonists bring upon an innocent family. Everything is so close to your face, almost blotting out the frame, shoving your face in the horrors the story’s main characters are capable of committing and refusing to let you turn your gaze away. It’s one of the most gut-wrenching episodes of anime I’ve ever experienced, and it’s all thanks to how thoroughly Wit embraced the tools of this medium to drive home that horror. Moments like that are what made Vinland’s first season such a cinematic marvel, even when the production was clearly suffering from poor time management. By contrast, most of the big experimental moments from season 2- dreams, nightmares, near-death experiences, visions- are shot and framed rather conventionally. In fact, pretty much every scene in season 2 has the most basic “camerawork” imaginable. Mid shots and long shots and close-ups and detailed action cuts, all in their proper places, yes, but there are no moments like episode 14, no moments where the visual language rises to that same level of brilliance. It’s all individual moments of beautiful animation (and some rough patches as well because again, Mappa and Wit have the same problems with overwork affecting the final product) with nothing that truly takes flight and shows off the true power of the medium as an artistic form. Still achingly effective thanks to the strength of the writing, performances and soundtrack, but if anyone at Mappa has the same sense of cinematic joy and creativity as the folks at Wit, well, they were probably working on Chainsaw Man while Vinland season 2 was in production.

But technical differences can only explain so much. Attack on Titan also had a rough start switching to Mappa, and it still managed to be pretty much as electrifying and incredible as always. Which means we need to dig a little deeper in the writing of season 2 and figure out what isn’t clicking quite as well this time around. And thankfully, the answer is actually pretty obvious, so I’m gonna come right out with it: the dialogue in season 2 kinda sucks.

See, telling a slow-burn story that’s mostly conversation is a totally fine way to explore your themes, even if the actual plot remains fairly still for the sake of intricate character work. But there is an art to writing a slow burn without making audiences long for something faster-paced, and it is not an art that season 2 pulls off well. Almost every conversation boils down to characters talking explicitly about the show’s themes for minutes on end, repeated and re-repeating themselves as they endlessly ruminate on violence, peace, the nature of war, the nature of hatred, trauma, forgiveness, moving forward and choosing the hard way over the easy way until they all start bleeding together into the same indistinguishable soup. These conversations don’t feel like people engaging with heady ideas, they feel like the author was terrified of even a single audience member not getting the point. There are some really powerful themes season 2 is working with, but they start to feel less special when every episode is full to bursting with characters doing nothing but talking about those themes for the hundredth time.

And just to make sure, I re-watched an episode of season 1, and it didn’t have this problem! The dialogue in season 1 flows so much more naturally, characters seamlessly weaving between plot-relevant exposition and interpersonal relationship-building and interesting, quirky asides and heavy, climactic confrontations. Perhaps it helps that season 1 also has a lot more moving pieces, so it has countless ideas it can juggle throughout a single episode without getting bogged down in a single mode for too long. The occasional thematically explicit speech or monologue becomes a lot more powerful when used sparingly, interspersed with other story beats that advance the story and its themes through less direct methods. “Show, don’t tell” is a common piece of writing advice for a reason; most of us find stories’ ideas far more engaging when they’re revealed through characters actions rather than (or at least in addition to) their words. But with so few actions to “show” throughout season 2, pretty much all of its thematic weight relies on characters “telling” us what we should think about the experiences they’re going through. Thorfinn tells Einar about his trauma, Einar tells Thorfinn about his perspective on life, Canute tells his weird ghost dad head (which, I’m sorry, this thing just looks goofy) about his increasing moral rot and the weight of the king’s crown, and all of it really starts to drag when there’s nothing else to change things up. No wonder some fans grew tired and started to beg for a return to the bloody action.

Which I seriously want to drive home: Vinland Saga season 2 not being violent is not its problem. This show has always been a plea for peace, so exploring the aftereffects of escaping a violent life in a mostly peaceful environment for Thorfinn to find himself again is exactly the direction it should have gone in. And in the moments where stuff actually happens in season 2? Where the endless slow-burning conversations give way to action, violent or otherwise, on part of its characters? It’s just as heartbreaking and awe-inspiring as anything in season 1. The only reason I’ve gone so hard on critiquing this season is because I know just how fucking fantastic this show can be at its best, and when season 2 is at its best, it absolutely lives up to that high bar and more. Going peaceful isn’t the problem; the problem is that it just isn’t as good at being a peaceful story as it is a violent war story. Not bad at it, just not as good. Vinland Saga’s first season explored its themes so well by balancing so many different factors and making them all sing in harmony, delivering a propulsive tale of blood and swords that drove its ideas into you like knives while still being an entertaining story capable of effectively delivering those themes in the first place. Season 2, meanwhile, puts almost all of its eggs in a single basket, and suddenly it finds itself running into problems it can’t fix without betraying the core of its narrative. It’s like trying to build the same house twice but the second time you only have 10% of your toolbelt available; the fact it even ended up as great as it did is something of a minor miracle.

And make no mistake: Vinland Saga season 2 is still great. For as much as I’ve complained about it, it’s every bit the change in direction this story needed to carry forward. And while the execution wasn’t perfect, it was still able to lay me out on the floor like few shows even come close to. Vinland Saga is a colossus. Vinland Saga matters. It’s so rare we get stories this mature, this thoughtful, and this widely beloved in this crazy medium we call home. And if Mappa’s planning to stick with this one until the end like Attack on Titan, I hope, much like that show, future installments are able to find their footing and push it back to the top of the heap where it belongs. Until then, I give season a score of:

8/10

And so begins the Spring 2023 round-up. Look forward for more seasonal reflections to come!

[theartifxce]

The Killing Kind - AU

Replying from this:

A normal young man would’ve been consumed by the atrocity he had just committed; his hands quivering, palms clammy. He would have condemned himself, been frozen by the guilt and grief that blood was spilled out of the irrationality of the mixture of emotions that gripped him so tightly; fear, love, anger and hatred. But Johan had since danced with the devil when he was just a boy. Killing to ensure survival became second nature; the first being the unyielding desire to protect his twin sister. In retrospect, the two natures often intertwined, laced together perfectly in coats of blood.

- Which is why there wasn’t a flicker of hesitation on his trigger finger; his index finger curving effortlessly along its cold raven arch. 

He had watched the scene unfold with a chilling calmness, as his sister rushed headfirst to once again protect him from the pig that made the mistake of kidnapping them. And even though there was a role to be played, a façade to be had of the frail, placid and kind older brother – Johan could not afford to hesitate. If he had to choose between his sister’s physically safety over her mental stability; he would choose to have Anna hate and fear him over and over as long as it meant she would live.

He exhaled deeply and quietly, the wisp of breath he held in his chest when he had accepted the possible reality that he and Anna would no longer have the fake bond of love he manipulated and built over the years. It was then he finally broke his silence and whispered; “There is no time…” and a glimmer of emotion pulled at his words when he spoke, the nameless monster now pooling within his unforgiving blue eyes. Her protests would fall on deaf ears. His heart had no strings to pull on – it was either Anna or them and the choice was painfully clear.  Just before he went to lift his gun to shoot the man on the ground, another had barged through the flailing door and it was he who caught the first bullet. 

Johan was quick and effortless, shooting him in the head and then quickly moving to shoot the other through the skull with cold precision. Anna couldn’t even shout another word, her breath caught in her throat. Johan wasted no time and marched over, grabbing her by the arm and proceeded to drag her backwards. As she dragged behind, he peeked through the door and watched as the last man standing was hesitate in making his way down the hall. He could easily shoot him but that wasn’t necessary at the moment. Johan stopped to consider what if there were men waiting on the outside that would prevent them from escaping? Johan glanced at the two bodies and considered looting them for more weapons but given their position, the blond knew he would only overly expose himself to be shot at and the reward was not worth the risk. He turned on his heel, dragging his sister silently now by the hand, his cold skin becoming warm with hers. Her grip was loose and he noticed this – but he didn’t dare speak another word until they found a way out. Johan glanced out the shattered window and observed the area before him. They were taken to a station of abandoned factories. The stretch of buildings had fire damage and its tall iron gates were locked. The only way out was to run to the other side and find a hole through the brick walls which surrounded the area. Johan looked down and decided it would be safer to make it across by staying inside the maze of buildings.  He did just this, moving onto building two and remaining on the ground level, running. 

Anna apparently had enough of his silence and being lead because she pulled against him and shoved him harshly, all while demanding his attention.  “Anna…” He called out solemnly, reaching out to her only for her to slap his hand away. Her rejection stung until he saw what was in her eyes. She looked scared and angry – remnants of tears resting just as her waterline. But was it because of his vicious acts or the fact that the man who stood before her seemed more like a stranger? 

Johan stared with disinterest, ears and eyes focused on his surroundings. But he knew, the only way to get her to cooperate was to entertain the emotional outburst and breakdown she was having.  He decided to cave; after all he wanted to poke the nest for answers. He knew this day would somehow come; that the peace which blanketed their anarchic life would come to an end. The blond wondered what thoughts were spiraling in his beloved sister’s head, anxious to know how distorted her view of him became. 

Johan finally parted his lips and callously spoke, 

“Tell me Anna, why should I care to regret and dwell over the choices of others?” He paused and narrowed his cruel gaze at her. “Especially when they didn’t care enough of the consequences?” He took one harsh few step towards her, as if to conquer the comfortable space between them, “Do you think they would have spared you from the deplorable acts they had in store if given the chance?” Another step forward, “Would you have cared enough about their lives to find out dear sister?” He spat bitterly, the anger swelling in his chest from the mere thought of it. “Is it really inadmissible that I would do anything to protect you?” Despite the cruelty behind his words and the monotone which delivered them, Johan delicately gripped her shoulder with his right hand as he took his one last step forward within her space just before his left hand brushed away the blood dripping from her forehead as he went to cup her other cheek. His tone softened, asking delicately, 

“Does that make you afraid of me?”

@xxxangeleyesxxx​

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Hello 👋 I'm seeking to find another gem. Throughout the years I have only found a few fics I'm in love with these are: distrub the universe, birthday sex, six ravens, and come what may. Does anyone have recommendations similar to these sort of fic genres?

Thank you 😊

Here’s some of my own recs you might like, other admins feel free to add on. Modern royalty is a guilty pleasure may I add.

Absolutely Lovely (ao3) - Autumn_Kismet

Summary: His friends and family think he's acting strange, they're worried that he's depressed again, but Dan doesn't see it. The only thing he sees is the new guy at school, the quirky one with the black hair and stunning blue eyes, and that's bad. So bad... because he likes him, and Dan can't like him. Dan can't be gay. He'll lose his family, he'll lose his friends... he'll become just like his father, and that's the last thing that he wants in the entire world. It's a scary thought that he doesn't think will ever go away and if there's the possibility of that happening, of him becoming the disgusting monster that his father was, or is, then maybe the world is better off without him, regardless of what PJ's dad, his mum's new husband, has to say.

Believe in Me (ao3) - Elleberquist6

Summary: Dan Howell is living at home while he’s saving money for college, which isn’t easy since his parents don’t understand him. Unlike them, he loves dogs, is a vegetarian, has no interest in the family business, and he despises the supernatural. He struggles to accept things that are illogical, even though he is a kitsune. Kitsune are foxes whose powers involve the ability to cast illusions, but Dan just wants to be normal. Phil Lester has just moved to London, where he works as a dog walker. When his path crosses with Dan, Phil is eager to get to know him. Unfortunately, Phil soon finds that being friends with Dan is far more complicated than he could have imagined.

Desires (ao3) - A_Million_Regrets

Summary: What would you do if you were suddenly hauled from your inauspicious life and dumped into an unforeseen catastrophe with your worst enemy?

Dan Howell and Phil Lester completely and utterly hate each other. They fight every time they meet, and all of their friends are tired of it. But one day, these two hot-headed, reckless men stumble through a secret passage in a mysterious old house and wake up on a strange island uninhabited by other intelligent life forms. They only have each other and no way to escape. Will they fight to death, or will they learn to trust each other in a world where no one else exists? Can they put aside their mutual hatred for each other to survive this misfortune?

First Impressions (Perhaps I Was Wrong) (ao3) - Ablissa

Summary: Phil Lester goes back to university for his third year, expecting to live in the dorms with his childhood best friend PJ. That's how it's been for the past years, after all. However, due to a mistake of some sort, he finds himself with a new roommate to spend the semester with.

Daniel Howell, three years his junior, has rich brown eyes, a laptop to hide them behind, and not more than two words to spare in Phil's direction. Phil is no fortune teller, but he foresees the upcoming months will be filled with a whole lot of awkward silence.

Unless, of course, Dan proves him wrong...

Could one little mistake lead to something entirely life-changing? Perhaps it could. After all, nearly everything changes when Phil meets Dan.

pastry chef attempts to steal phil's heart (ao3) - sierraadeux

Summary: If anyone asks, Prince Philip's sneaky morning journeys down to the royal pastry kitchen are for nothing more than the perfect cup of coffee.

The Slave Boy (ao3) - Phandiction

Summary: On his eighteenth birthday Phil receives a quiet and timid slave boy as a gift from his father. Phil intends to make Dan his friend more than a slave but social status and pressure from his father forces the two to keep an emotional distance when it comes to being in public. Behind closed doors though the Master and his slave become close. Phil is expected to take over his father's business and marry a prestigious young girl but this isn't what the young Master wants. What he wants is something he can't have in his world, his slave boy.

They'll Tear Us Apart If You Give Them the Chance (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Dan and Phil are both princes and they've been taught to hate each other their whole lives. They meet in a forest.

(TW) Those Who Trust (ao3) - theshyauthor

Summary: Dan used to be a submissive and now he’s just a broken shell of a man.

Trust Me, I'm Broken Too (ao3) - natigail

Summary: The Lesters – the royal family of his homeland – was nothing like Dan thought they would be. Well, the King was just as horrible as he had heard but the King’s brother’s son, who was third in line for the throne, was nothing like Dan thought he’d be. Dan had been adrift for three years going from one “place of employment” to another, only his life was seen as worthless and he was more property than an employee. He had never imagined he’s end up as the property of Prince Philip.

The Prince had no intention of ever taking on a personal servant, which was a fancy name to disguise the fact a law essentially enslaved people. Phil often had to do things he didn’t want to or risk being removed from the succession to the crown. If that happened, who knew who his tyrant of an uncle would pick as a successor? When pressured into the choosing, he’d wanted to go for the most innocent, young girl, but hard brown eyes caught his attention instead.

-Rae

[undertalepinkhorsepro123]

TrueSwapTale

So uh, finished writing and putting together an idea for an AU and wanted to share-

Long ago, two races ruled over Earth.

HUMANS, and MONSTERS.

One day, the humans filled with fear over the monster’s possible powers, a war between the two races was started .

In the end, the king of monsters was able to absorb 7 human souls and defeat the human King.

The monsters, made of love and compassion, wished to put it all in the past, and live in peace with humans once more.

The king, filled with nothing but hatred, bigotry and paranoia, refused their offer and forced what remained of his people into the underground caverns of Mt. Ebott, sealing it with a spell so no monster could ever enter. 

Now a complete monarch, he turned the underground into a place filled with hate, torture, rape, slavery, and no hope. The rich took advantage of the poor, and orphans were no more than things to use, abuse, and slaughter.

Several decades after the war, a small human child had managed to escape. The human, injured by their time in the underground, laid by Mt. Ebott, weak and sure they were to die.

But they got lucky.

Prince Asriel had gotten curious and decided to explore the mountain, managing to find them. He helped the human back to his home, where they were healed and spared from their pain. The king and queen adopted them as their own child, and the human was finally happy.

One day, the human and Asriel returned to the mountain, searching for buttercup flowers that grew about for their mother’s birthday. They were attacked by guardsmen who had been searching for the human, who all but slaughtered her.

In the human’s dying breath, they begged Asriel to absorb their soul.

Asriel did so… but not for the reason the human wished for.

They did it so they could grab their sibling’s body and run, they wished not to attack or hurt anyone.

They managed to grab their body and run off the mountain, but not without being mortally wounded. Covered in injuries. The prince didn’t make it far before he collapsed, clutching his best friend’s body as his dust spread upon the flower’s around.

The King and Queen were filled with grief, and ordered every monster to not go anywhere near the mountain.

The journey to reach the surface was hard and treacherous, but the journey to than climb down the mountain and pass the thick jungle to a monster was usually too much, for the children who were often starved, wounded and weak.

A little girl, about 5 managed to make it out of the barrier, then immediately collapsed and was too weak to continue, leaving behind her toy knife and blue ribbon.

A boy about 12 made it out in better shape, ready to fair the jungles.

… was unfortunate enough to be caught in a freak snowstorm, burying him alive his boxing glove and bandana becoming trapped in the hard rock on the descent down. 

An 11 year old girl was quick and nimble enough to slowly make her way down the mountain, but unfortunately had her leg shatter from a sudden nasty fall, and was left to starve. Her broken ballet shoe and tutu left as reminder’s at what she didn’t get to achieve.

A ten year old sweet girl, though badly wounded was able to slowly and carefully make her way fully down.

The jungle, thick and hard to navigate, made her lost often. Starving, she didn’t realize that the berries here could be poisonous. She died in less than an hour, her pan and apron a reminder of the meals she never got to make.

The second oldest, a 14 year old was tactical, making their way down the mountain and able to make their way through the jungle.

… they were about a day away from safety when they met a hungry tiger, who simply tore them apart. Their cloudy glasses and notebook stained with blood tell their story, and how they got lucky.. right until the end.

The 6th human, a 16 year old boy, was the only one who made it

… but right as he came to the end of the jungle, a snake bit him, and poison was too strong for even him to fight. The monsters tried to save him… but they got to him too late

Even so, at least he was treated with the upmost care in his final days.

The humans all lost hope of trying to escape, simply accepting their fate for thousands of years

…. Until an 8 year old with a striped shirt, attempted to escape with their 6 year old cousin.

They managed to escape, but the younger one was captured… and they were the only human who had quite a powerful tool at their disposal.

Determination, they were determined to find the monsters, ask for their help in saving their cousin, and end the tyranny that was the underground.

Well… the determination might not be the only help someone so young has to be able to survive the horrific journey.

~~~~~~~~

AN- This is the main story for this AU! I came up with this a LONG time ago, and decided it was about time to fully develop it! I’ll definitely be drawing character sheets later on- hope you all enjoyed!