#every full moon this beast wakes up and is like god where the FUCK are we now. why are we always somewhere new and unfamiliar and scary.

[sokovianfortune]

jack thinks the wolf is a dangerous killing machine. the wolf, however, thinks that jack is perhaps the most baffling human he has ever encountered which is saying a lot because those things are already weird as hell.

[avintagekiss24]

polar | ari levinson

|| pairing: ari levinson x black!reader

|| word count: 1,827

|| warnings: pure pwp, smut, sex, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering, over-stimulation, crying, multiple orgasms, nipple play

|| note: this was one of the ari headcanons i got when i requested that y’all send me some. hope you like!

You throw your towel to the floor as you turn off the small lamp next to your bed. The moonlight washes into the room as you push open the wooden shutters to let in some of the cool air moving in from the ocean. You take a breath, inhaling the fresh scent of the sea as the water crashes up on the beach. You chew on your bottom lip as you stare out over the dark water, squinting a little to see if you can catch a glimpse of their boats moving towards the coast - but there’s nothing, just miles and miles of water. 

Your mind starts to drift to something dark, something tragic, but you turn away from the window quickly to push them away. He’s fine. He knows what he’s doing. He’ll be fine. You climb into bed, pulling the thin sheets over your naked body and close your eyes, trying to relax enough to the point where you can actually get some sleep. You roll over onto your side, push your hands underneath your head and pillow, and let out a focused breath.

He’s fine. He knows what he’s doing. He’ll be fine.

----------

It’s late now. The moon is high in the sky as the waves continue to crash against the beach. You’re breathing is deep and rhythmic as you sleep, your body still. You’re sleeping so soundly, that you don’t hear all of the commotion as Ari, Sammy, Jacob, and Rachel burst into the lobby. You shift a little as the pressure changes in the room and a sudden gust of wind washes over you; but still, you don’t fully wake.

You let out a breath as the bed dips from a new heavy weight that presses into the mattress. You’re rolled over onto your back roughly, the sheets suddenly pulled away from your body. Moaning, you roll your head back and forth, still not coherent, teetering between your dreams and reality. You roll your back against the mattress as your legs are spread open and then hiked into the air. Hands pushing into the back of your thighs. 

You’re eyes flutter, catching quick glimpses of him as he hovers between your legs, his lips mere centimeters from your naked sex. His hair is messy - disheveled - his shirt buttons popped damn near down to his navel. His face is flushed, his eyes dark - it must not have gone well - but then again you can never really tell. He just gets like this sometimes. 

“Ari,” you breathe, “Baby.”

“Shhh.” He coos, wrapping his arms around your thighs. 

“Baby,” you continue to press as you push your hands into his hair, “Are you okay?”

He doesn’t answer. He drags his tongue between your folds before he closes his lips over your clit. You nearly choke on your breath as his tongue starts to swirl, his lips sucking on you softly. A light moan falls from your lips as your hips start to roll into his face. He tightens his grip around your thighs, digging his fingers into your thick flesh as he moves his head back and forth. 

You can hear your wetness bouncing off of the walls of the room as he makes a snack of you, his lips smacking like he’s devouring a peach. Your fingernails scratch at his scalp as you pull on his long hair, bucking your hips into his face. His tongue pushes into your opening, stroking your insides before he drags it up along your clit again, flicking at the sensitive bundle. His beard scratches against the inside of your thighs as you close them around his head, heightening the sensation. 

You grab your breasts with your hands, squeezing your flesh gently before you start to pinch and roll your nipples just as he pushes his fingers inside of you. Your hips jerk at the intrusion. You grunt, snarling your lip as he pumps his fingers quickly, pressing his large thumb against your clit as he leans back to watch. You push your hips down, meeting every thrust of his fingers hungrily as you grow louder - becoming unrestrained - not caring who hears. 

He peeks up at you from underneath those long lashes of his, through strands of his hair that fall in his face, from between your quivering legs. The moon highlights the flexing muscles of his arms as he fingers your cunt with every ounce of passion in his body. He leans in and kisses your sticky flesh - a light kiss - one where his lips barely touch your skin. He then puckers his mouth to blow on you, closing his eyes as he pushes warm air onto your balmy sex.

You pinch your nipples harder, “God,” you sound, bucking your hips into his mouth and nose, wanting his lips and tongue again, “Ari,” you choke. 

He chuckles, quiet and low - you shiver at the sound. You love knowing that he loves fucking you. He returns his mouth to you, pulling his tongue through your folds again as he curls his fingers inside of you, stroking your tight, slick muscles. He sucks your lips into his mouth before he releases them with a smack, only to pull your clit into his mouth next. You feel the tip of his tongue, outlining, pressing, flicking and flattening against you - everything that makes you wild. 

You’re writhing now. Your back arches from the mattress. Your legs close around his head and neck. Your whole body starts to shake, quick ripples of the impending apex flooding through you. You push your hips from the mattress, somehow wanting him deeper, closer. Your voice is unrecognizable as you curse and howl, your heart in your throat. You’re so close you can taste it, but you’re also so close it hurts. 

Your sex quakes. Your thighs and hips and stomach burn from the strain of you keeping your lower half thrust into the air. He sucks hard on your clit. His fingers pound into your constricting cunt. You flick your hard, thick nipple as tears start to slip down the sides of your face. 

You start to pray.

“Please!” you whine, your voice strained and thick, “God- please! I jus’ wanna-”

Your hips jerk hard and the beast is unleashed upon you. Your toes curl as you scream into the night, your hips rocking into his face as your body trembles with bliss and release and rapture. He pulls away from your cunt, his teeth biting down into his bottom lip as he rubs his fingers over your convulsing, jumping clit. He growls slowly, before inhaling sharply - he loves to watch you come. 

You hear a zipper, the ruffling of clothing and then - oh, and then -  you’re suddenly full again. Your cunt now full of his warm, hard cock as he threads his fingers with yours, pushing into you deep. Your body isn’t even finished with the first orgasm and he’s already trying to bring on another with long, hard ruts. Unforgiving drives of his hips into yours. 

You’re sobbing. Crying out to the heavens, the angels, the Gods, the devils, the demons above and below as he pushes, pushes, pushes. He leans in to kiss you, moaning into your mouth, chuckling as you cry. He knows. He just knows that he’s the only one that can break you like this. Turn you into nothing, just because he can. How heavenly. 

He kisses you again, his tongue sweeping across your lips before delving into your mouth. He sucks on your tongue as he continues to fuck you senseless. You can’t breathe, you can’t speak - you can barely open your eyes. There’s only sounds. The sweet sound of his cock shoving into your sex - that slick, wet squeak filling the room. The sound of your strangled sobs. 

He pulls you up into his lap as he sits back on his knees - chest to chest. He spreads his long fingers across your back, holding you to him as you bounce up and down. You let your head fall, your face tilted towards the ceiling as you whine. You feel his eyes on you all the while, just watching. Waiting. He feels you shudder again, your legs clamp around his sides and he knows. 

He fucks into you harder, but this time, you’re not the only one who’s on the brink. He leans forward as you stretch back, unable to keep yourself up straight. He kisses between your breasts as he rocks into you, his hot breath drawing goosebumps out on your skin. His teeth nip, his fingers dig - scratching into your flesh. 

“Come on baby,” he breathes, low and husky, “Come for me. Please?”

As if you needed him to ask. Within seconds of the words spilling from his lips, you completely shatter. Gripping onto his shoulders, you slam your chest back into his, screeching and howling as you're possessed again. You bounce hard and fast onto him, pulling on the ends of his hair as you come for the second time in as many minutes. He’s close behind, rutting into your tight, wet cunt until his own release blooms. He slams into you one last time and then holds you there, pushing his cock deep as he spills, wanting to fill you to the brim - not wanting you to waste a drop. 

“That’s all for you,” he pants into your ear, “All for my girl.”

“All for me,” you murmur as the jolts of your orgasm still flash through you. 

He lays you back onto the mattress and falls on top of you, your damp skin sticking to his damp skin. Fingertips brush along the inside of your arm. Hot lips press to the side of your face. Sweet words are whispered in your ear as he brushes away the emotion underneath your eyes. He hooks one of your legs over his hip as he nuzzles into you, his ear pressed to your chest, his fingers replicating your heartbeat against your skin. 

Your body is still hyper - jumping, shuddering, jerking with each little touch from him. You still cry, the tears hot as they roll off of your face. The waves of the ocean are loud, his breaths loud, your thoughts loud. You feel everything - feel fuzzy all over, like radio waves or tv static - overstimulated. His fingertips continue to trace your arm, he continues to whisper - trying to alleviate it.

The next thing you know, it’s morning. The sun is high, the breeze warm, the sound of distant voices float towards you from somewhere down the beach. 

A leg is pushed between yours. His hand grips your hip. His warm breath washes over the back of your neck. I love you falls from his lips as he fucks into you from behind - different from last night - not so needy, not so stressed. This is soft and slow. This is gentle. This is for you, not him. 

The dichotomy of it all. 

It’s why you’ll never leave.

[tokoyamisstuff]

Scandal Ch. 6 - Loki x Reader

Summary: In that most crucial moment, how will Loki decide? If he doesn’t take this last chance your husband will be beyond redemption.

Warnings: Violence, Death, Mentions of Torture (just the same amount as in the original movie)

Words: ~1300 sorry it’s so short

I Story Masterlist I General Masterlist I

Taglist: @catlover092402152, @hi-there-x, @haloangel391, @misssilencewritewell, @babayaga67, @accioremuslupinn, @mochimommy2002, @just-someone-who-likes-to-write, @damalseer, @bethanystan, @loser-alert, @star017, @nina1800, @queenariesofnarnia, @n1fangirlsblog, @vengefulsokovian, @lunamoonbby​, @freyagallileaevans, @emmojoy​, @literate-lamb​, @aninnai​, @justsomerandompersonintheworld @spicy-avocado​ 

“You have your mother’s eyes...”

Even in the face of destruction, Loki could not avert his gaze from the little being in his arm. It had been way too long since that fateful night - and this time, your husband wanted to imprint every little detail of his son’s face into his heart.

“Liam...” his name was a sacret prayer on his lips, “Yes, she chose your name well. You will grow to be the strong warrior that protects our new kingdom.”

The baby took a hold of his father’s finger, making him gasp in awe and adoration - this was everything he had wished for. “How could I ever doubt my love for you?”

Loki took firm steps onto the balcony of the Stark Tower, as if the death and destruction he caused was not still happening, right there under his feet.

Countless screams and cries were unsucessfully dringing to his ear, yet not his mind as he invested himself with what he thought most important.

“Your mother and you will have everything you need and more” he cooed confidently, gesturing towards the flames igniting the city. “Out of the ashes, I  will create a new kingdom. I promise to make our wildest dreams become reality, to care for and protect you for all eternity!”

"Don’t fucking touch my child with your filthy hands!” Startled by the familiar voice, Loki finally managed to look up from his son’s face. “Take your hands off of him!”

“Oh, my...” he uttered, his trademark grin decorating his face. Just a small bit of magic was needed for him to teleport Liam a safe distance away, holding the sceptre in his hand now. “What a foul mouth you developed, my love. You sure have stayed on Midgard far too long.”

You had only awoken mere seconds ago, broken by the dramatic scene unfolding right in front of your very eyes, with your husband blissfully unaware of those consequences of the atrocities he was committing.

And if only you knew that he had stabbed Thor out of jealousy for taking his place, just before throwing him down the tower...

“Look around you, Loki!” Even though your tone was full of anger, you never stopped believing that your husband could still have a change of heart. “Wake up from that unjust dream! This is madness!”

You grabbed his shoulders, shaking him ever so slightly. “Please, can’t you see how the people are suffering? Is this a world in which you want Liam to grow up in?”

“Why can’t at least you understand me?!” your husband now shoutet at you, and you would never get used to seeing him like this. “Together, we can make a better, greater world! Where no one has to go through the same misfortune that we had to! These sacrifices are necessary!”

However, just as he was voicing his reasons, a sole tear escaped his eye - and when he blinked, that same shady blue was shining in his irises.

“Snap out of it, Loki! I beg of you!” Frantically, your lips found his, hoping for your healing aura to reach through to him. “Do it for us, your family!”

“If you fail, there will be no realm, no barren moon or crevice where he can’t find you.” Just when Loki was about to win the battle he was fighting inside of his heart, the words of Thanos and his cruel torturer shot through his mind like a painful lightning stike. “You think you know pain, Odinson? He will make you long for something as sweet as pain...everyone you love will die right in front of your eyes, in the most gruesome deaths imagineable -  starting with that woman and her child!”

“I-I cannot stop, Y/N!” His voice was shaking, struggling internally if he could really doom so many people just to know you safe. “I want- no, need to do this, for Liam and you!”

“That’s just your fear speaking, Loki! Your mind is betraying you!” You clung onto him for dear life, trying to make him understand. “Whoever did those unspeakable things to you so you’d work for him, we can beat him! Together!”

“It’s not that easy!”

“Can’t you for one damn time trust me?!?” Every syllable of that sentence hit his heart like daggers “I do, Y/N, but-”

“No!” Never before, no matter how sad or frustrated you were with him, you had raised your voice - but now you were practically screaming on the top of your lungs. “If this is your final decision, then do it: Take me under your spell. Because I couldn’t live with myself if I’d allow this to happen.”

You grabbed the handle of the staff, pressing your chest against it’s tip. “The Avengers will defeat you, and take care of my child. At least them I can trust!”

“And this is where she is right.” The voice was Tony, god knows just how long he was listening to that scene from behind the bar. The Hulk had appeared outside of the building as well, while the other Avengers were still busy evacuating the civilians.

“Y/N, I would never...” Loki completely ignored the threat at hand, still devastated by your declaration. “Be sure of my unconditional love, at least!”

“He’s slipping!” you yelled towards the team, waving for them to come over. “Loki is only doing this due to the Tesseract manipulating him! We need to destroy it!”

“Easier said than done, sweety” Iron Man scoffed, “It’s leading this army towards humanity. We’ve been onto it this whole time.”

“Enough!” Loki threatened, baring his teeth! “We are gods! No one talks to my wife like that! And I will not be bullied by-”

At long last, the Hulk interrupted the Trickster God’s speech through sheer violence, and you could only cover your eyes at the sight of your husband being thrown around like a ragdoll without him making an attempt to fight back.

“Stop!” You screeched, sobbing as you ran towards the beast. “Please, he’s willingly getting beaten up! We yield, so stop!”

You fell onto your knees, gently putting your wheezing husband’s head onto your lap as you tried to tend to his wounds. “It’s over, Loki.”

“Ha...” he laughed weakly, “I knew you still cared for me.”

“Of course, you insufferable fool!” Tears of yours dripped down your chin onto his face, and you placed a forgiving kiss on his forehead. “Welcome back, my love.”

“The...the device-” you wanted him to spare his strenght, but he insisted that it was important. "All this time, I don’t know what happened, but- it was like being in trance...yetw I managed to slip a subtle order to that scientist, Erik Selvic - to make it imperfect. The machine can be turned off or even destroyed. It’s not too late, go!”

“I won’t leave you alone!” With your whole essence, every fibre of your being, you would swear. “Never again! We won’t get separated, no matter what follows!”

While the other Avengers were assembling again, ready to stop the apocalypse, you held your husband tight. His mind was still messed up, like waking up after being in a dream-like state - but he would pull himself together and stay strong, for you.

Yet subconscious, he had always been present that whole time. "Everything I have done, I-I don’t know where to start. Someone like me doesn’t even have the right to apologize.”

“I think you have wallowed in your own pity long enough, am I not right, my love?” you scolded him harshly, yet still with a hopeful smile on your face.

Carefully helping him back up, Loki would collapse right into your welcoming arms once again. “Will it really turn out to be alright?”

“Yes. We will figure everything out, and then you will continue living - so you can apologize to me, Liam and everyone you have hurt every single day. Do you understand?”

[heli0s-writes]

crystalline*

A/N: Instead of attending to the rest of my WIPS, here’s 1.6k words of Bottom Bucky and Service Dom reader. Throatfucking. Erm. Cathartic crying. 

Warnings: Bucky working out trauma. Please stop reading if you are not 18+

brooklyn after dark masterlist

You teach him how to want things again.

His pieces from the past, the joys he used to have taken too soon— you tell him he can have it all back.

It started with food, predictably. No longer being tube-fed slurry, Bucky quickly embarked on discovering all the new flavors of the 21st century.

Chocolate alone was a month-long passion as he attempted to scrub out the standard issued combat rations haunting his tongue. Chalky cuts like cold pressed gravel— fuck that. The first time you broke off a square of unroasted, dark, sprinkled with Himalayan sea salt chocolate, Bucky’s head hit the back of the couch with a pathetic mewl and a million things rushed through his mind of all the ways he could keep feeling this good.

Sleep came next— something he thought he’d had enough of, but the difference between getting perma-frosted every decade and lying face down in whatever memory foam’s made out of is lifetimes apart.

Bubble baths. Streaming apps. Nice clothes.

Attention and affection. Kisses. Braids in his hair. Tickles for extra laughs. His ego’s in overdrive because he has half a thought about anything and you’re fulfilling it like his personal genie. You say he needs all the dopamine he can get and you’re gonna give it to him.

And you give it to him in spades.

Orgasms. Jesus fucking Christ, he’s spoiled rotten.

Morning sex, afternoon sex, sex before bed. Blindsided in hallways and under conference room tables. The compound pool’s been properly christened more than once, and if Tony ever found out just exactly how many of those precious luxury cars have seen the imprint of Bucky’s ass, he’d set them all on fire.

But, reconciliation comes for him eventually. Spend long enough feeling all good he figures it was about time he starts screwing it up. He turns greedy, he starts wanting for too much. His girl’s an insatiable little beast, but even beasts have limits.

-

Bucky went shy when he asked, stuttering about how it’s okay if you didn’t—if you weren’t—it’s kinda strange— but you’d put your hand over his and tilted his chin up.

“Bucky,” you said fondly, “Baby,” and then a sweet smile curled over your pretty pink lips like spun sugar, “I’d eat your ass like a five-course meal. I’ll let you fuck me on the moon. What is it, huh?”

He could’ve kissed your dirty mouth silly.

“I want you to use a toy—"

“We do all the time.”

“—on me.”

And that sweet candy pink smile turned red hot and wicked. No limit in sight.

-

You approach the bed like a fever dream and all the blood in Bucky’s body congregates south.

Nothing on but the 2-day-shipping-because-the-phone’s-a-genie-too leather harness sitting snugly on your hips and a grin. The heaviness between your thighs hangs like both an offering and a weapon.

He asked for it. He wanted it. Just—maybe, to start— can you be rough with him. Then, stuttering once more because he doesn’t know how to justify why. It doesn’t make any sense and it’s hard to say out loud that with all the things you let him have, that after nearly a century of being out of his own body, he… wants to give it away.

He’s messed up, baby. Sick down to his rotten core.

You only shushed him. If it’ll make you happy, I’ll rough you up real fucking good. No why’s necessary.

Fleshy weight brushes against your inner thigh, swinging idly from one side to the other. “This okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes, still dressed at the edge of the mattress, skin beginning to prickle, nerves taking a hard left into arousal. When your hand finds rough landing in his hair, he thinks he must be the luckiest bastard in the entire world.  

Bucky drops on his knees like dead weight, nearly tearing off his clothes, feeling the upsurge of heat in his cheeks and chest. His eyelids are fluttering, your face going fuzzy but he can still see that look of adoration you reserve for him.

He’s pondering if that old saying is true—if there can be too much of a good thing, if he’s become spoiled sick, or if he could overdose on pleasure when you start thumbing the edge of his mouth.

“Pay attention,” you say with a glimmer in your eyes. “Open.”

He’s tingling when you put two fingers in, moving around his tongue, scissoring them against his inner cheek. They explore for a while, bolder each passing second. He can tell you’re getting excited too, your chest heaving gradually, watching him with curious intent.

“You like this?” You ask, lip between your teeth, and Bucky nods, leaning further in, spit following the path of your hand down to his neck. You palm the cock like it’s always belonged to your body and he’s mesmerized at how it rises from your grip, moving over his face to rest on his cheek.

“It’s big, baby.” You warn, full on now. You stroke the outline of his jaw with it, leaving a burning path in its wake. “You sure?”

He quietly likes that you ask—honey-toned and patient, needing to hear it, knowing that he needs to hear it from himself. All those things he’d been made to say with his body and not with his mind.

Now he gets it back, as you said. Gets a part of himself back, too.

“Yes—ah—yes.”

Bucky’s words are slurred into your hand, but he’s begging with his eyes. Yes. I want it. Please let me. Please make me. Please fix me.

You replace your fingers, sluicing up the cock with his spit. Then, you fuck his mouth slow, feeding it to him inch by inch before dragging it away. Bucky’s lips are quivering for more, jaw slack, panting hoarsely. He feels overcome at how you stand over him, mesmerized by him, too.

“Yeah, honey,” you croon, and Bucky’s heart swells with pride. “You’re doing so well, pretty boy.”

He’s licking blindly and sucking between ragged gasps when he attempts to say your name, knowing full well he’ll never get the whole word out before you wedge back into him. And god, it’s hot. It’s dirty and filthy and so fucking sweet.

You grasp the base of his skull, keeping his head still and laying into his mouth rhythmically. The cockhead hits Bucky’s throat, pushing into the soft palate, reaching further. His eyes are rolling, whimpers catching where the toy ends, caught in the breath of air in his mouth.

“Take it, baby,” you command, and Bucky gags. One hand scrambles for your thigh, other clawing his own, pressing red crescents into the flesh. It hurts. It hurts good like it never did before and Bucky chokes it down, eyes squeezed shut now, tears prickling from the ducts and collecting at the corners.

“Oh, you’re so good,” and his body just keeps lighting up. “You good boy. You perfect, perfect boy.” And he’s nodding desperately, needy, gut coiled tight like a spring.

“So fucking dirty,” you hiss, pulling hard on his hair, “Look at you— leaking all over yourself.”

He is. He’s a goddamn mess, sticky lines of precome down his shaft and collecting at his base.

“Drooling all over my cock like this. You’re hungry for it, aren’t you?”

“Uhhngg— hnnng—” He moans weakly at the things you do to him and for him.

“That’s right, you are. Keep going, show me how much you want it.” Jesus, the way you make him feel— like he could be exactly who he is and never have to apologize for a goddamn thing. Broken and ruined but you’d still give him the whole fucking world.

The noises Bucky’s making are muffled and obscene as he fists himself, shuddering and pumping erratically. One more final drive from your hips and he’s bursting at the seams, shattering to pieces, coming with a strangled cry.

You don’t let up, taking his throat unrelentingly, watching him sob and fall apart. He’s going limp in your clutch, letting his eyes well up like pools, your smiling face so beautiful in the crystalline light.

If he’s sick, then you must be the fever he can’t sweat out. The fire burning through his bones until he’s nothing but smoldering bits of debris afterwards. Grains and soot of him floating in the steady flow of your faithful current.

When he’s made a perfect mess of himself, come-covered and quivering, you finally let him breathe again, pulling out wetly.

“There you go,” you say, kneeling to kiss his panting mouth, “Did that feel good?” 

Your lips are a cool balm on his swollen ones and Bucky hums a response, body still thrumming. “Yeah,” he sighs, sensitive like a wound, raw and open and tender. “Real— good.”

You rub his back and run your fingers through his hair, letting him rest in your arms. You wipe away the tears on his cheeks and over his trembling eyelids.

Gentle words tumble from your lips. Promises of love and of good memories to replace the bad ones. More kisses. More affection. More reclamation.

All those little granules of fractured time, you collect in the soft surrender of his mouth. Wet and salty, they fall together there, and Bucky feels himself clicking into place. Perfect and whole and treasured like an iridescent pearl.

[ichayalovesyou]

~Act One: In Denial of Pon Farr~

Blood Moon~by Saint Sister, Madrid (Album)

“To return home, and take a wife… or die.”

Spock is feeling anxious and unusually lonely, more resentful of his complex heritage than usual. Feeling rejected, but not by Jim, he finds his thoughts wandering to T’Pring. Who he feels deep resentment toward, she hasn’t contacted once him in the two decades he’s been gone from Vulcan. He has yet to realize it is the beginnings of Pon Farr.

“I am sure, you craved me once before. When I think of all the fruit I’ve found, and how easily you left it on the ground.”

Evening On The Ground (Lilith’s Song)~by Iron & Wine, Woman King (album)

“I hoped that I would be spared this.”

Spock’s yearning and loneliness transforms into anger and frustration. He knows Pon Farr has begun, and he hates it. He has no desire to return to Vulcan, worse still, he loathes that he yearns for someone who he does not know. Worse still, she’s not the only one he’s longing for…

“We were born to fuck each other one way or another but I’ll, only lie, down by the water side at night”

I Want You (She’s So Heavy)~(Originally) by the Beatles, performed by the Cast of Across the Universe, Across the Universe (Album)

“How do Vulcans choose their mates… Haven’t you wondered?”

Spock cannot bear the tearing between Human & Vulcan halves that has come ferociously to light under the stress of Pon Farr. His duty is to that man on the bridge, but the call of Koonut Kalifee is only getting louder. He has no desire to burden Jim with horrible display of emotion. Yet desire is quickly becoming all that he can think about.

“I want you, I want you so bad, it’s driving me mad, it’s driving me mad.”

~Act Two: Blood Fever, The Nightmares of Plok’tow~

Howl~by Florence + The Machine, Lungs (Album)

“To have their logic ripped from them, as this time does to us.”

The first, foreboding rumblings of Plok’tow have begun. He dreams of a hunt, he’s chasing someone, he does not know who. Each time the blood of this faceless, slaughtered, ravaged victim is a different color, every time he turns around, green, red, green, red, green, red, green, red…

“Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins, I want to find you, tear out all your tenderness.”

The Horror of Our Love~by Ludo, You’re Awful, I Love You (Album)

“It strips away our veneer of civilization.”

The dreams are getting worse, more violent, detailed, intense. He knows his quarry-

Jim.

He tears his captain apart in a thousand visceral, grotesque ways, physically, mentally, no love, no hate, no want, just blinding hunger. And the most frightening part, he enjoys it. He begins withdrawing from Kirk, for fear of what may happen should dreams threaten to become reality.

“Carnivorous and lusting, I’ll track you down among the pines.”

Become the Beast~by Karliene, Become the Beast (Album)

“It is the Pon Farr, the time of mating.”

The last of his Blood Fever dreams occurs after Kirk confronts him about his behavior. This one is, much to Spock’s relief, not violent. The lyrics are spoken through the faces of fellow Vulcans- T’pring… childhood tormentors… Sybok… his cold and disapproving father… T’pau… Surak… himself.

The rage and hunger has cooled into ice rather than fire, for now.

“Do I terrify you? Do you feel alive? Do you feel the hunger? The desert howl inside?”

The Woods~by San Flemin, Jackrabbit (Album)

“You humans have no conception.”

When James Kirk grabbed the shiv from Spock’s hand in their confrontation, a shard of Spock’s Blood Fever came with it. Spock was spared a nightmare this final night, but not Jim. The dream even dared to be pleasant initially, alone together in the woods. Before the arena of Koonut Kalifee erupted violently around them, as did Spock. Yet, before Spock could deal the final killing blow, Kirk found himself sinking into the sparkling sands below. He startles from his slumber, feeling suffocated.

But he does not remember how, or why.

“The nights are lovely dark and deep, but I’ll appear when you’re asleep. You’ll wake up with a sudden hurt, your mouth and nose all full of dirt”

~Act Three: Kalifee, the Death of A Friend~

Take Me Down~by Brother, Pax Romana MMV (Album)

“I’ll get you to Vulcan somehow…”

All Jim knows is that Spock is getting worse, and that he needs him. Not knowing, and not daring ask whether the shiv was meant for himself or Spock haunts Kirk, as does the ghost of his forgotten dream. He does not know what will come of this wedding. Only that he will do whatever it takes to make certain Spock lives. No matter what, it’s a race against time.

“The powers that be, the powers that run you through, I’m taking a stand I know what it comes down to, God knows I do.”

Hunting Grounds (feat Joe Cotela of Ded)~by In This Moment, Mother (Album)

“He is deep in the Blood Fever, he will not speak with thee again.”

Kalifee has begun, Spock has completely lost himself to the Blood Fever, and Kirk must fight for his life. He finds himself outmatched by the environment, and by Spock’s rage. He knows two things, he has no desire to die, but he cannot, under any circumstances, kill Spock. (I imagine this duet could be as seen as Maria Brink=Kirk, Joe Cotela=Spock)

“Like a predator sink my teeth into your neck.”

Die Today~by The Txlips Band & Guitar Gabby, Queens of The New Age (Album)

“Kill Spock? That’s not what we came to Vulcan for is it?”

The Kalifee has been an intense drain, Kirk knows, deep down, that not even the “Triox Compound” could save him in this fight. He feels his life flash before his eyes, he bears no ill will toward Spock, he’s not in control of himself. He reflects on their relationship, and how much it has meant to him, and accepts, that for Spock to live, he has to die.

It was worth having known him, saving a friend isn’t the worst way to go out…

“If you die today, if we die today, at least I’d be in your arms.”

Pearl Diver~by Mitski, Lush (Album)

“You may find, that having, is not so pleasing a thing as wanting.”

Spock is absolutely distraught, he’s disgusted with himself, he loathes every single Vulcan he’s ever known, but most of all he is angry with Kirk. That he had to be the moth to his flame. How dare he want to get close to him! How dare James Kirk ever have the stupidity, the courage to love him?! The wanting had driven Jim to his death, and himself to murder. It was illogical, and he will never, forgive either of them for it. Curse having, curse wanting, and curse himself too.

“But hunter you were human don’t forget it and go safely. And I? I’ll live without you, though the struggle will be daily.”

Sweet Dreams~by JOSEPH, I’m Alone, No You’re Not (Album)

“I shall do neither, for I have killed my Captain, and my friend.”

Spock languishes in the agonizing hours between the Kalifee and confronting Bones about what must be done. He prays for a short and cruel life… and dares ponder the question, do Humans have Katras?

“I’ll return to my sleepless night, dreaming with my eyes open, watch the shadows play on the ceiling.”

[The final act is a little on the smutty side, here’s a read more just to be safe.]

~Act Four: The Need is Met~

To Be Alone~by Hozier, From Eden EP (Album)

“I shall offer no defense, their is no excuse for the crime of which I’m guilty.”

Though overjoyed and relieved that Kirk is alive, Spock continues to anguish over the reality that had Bones not intervened, he would have killed him. Jim knows better this time, he will not let Spock continue down this path. A tender and honest conversation puts salve to Spock’s fears. In any event, while the Kalifee burned away the Blood Fever, it becomes clear the needs of Pon Farr still remain. Kirk suggests, delicately, to put a new Bond in place of the old.

Spock accepts.

“You don’t know the hell you put me through, to have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you, to feel your weight in arms I’d never use.”

Mermaid’s Calling #2~by the Cast of The Lure, The Lure (Album)

“The ancient drives are too strong, eventually they catch up with us.”

The thrum of Bonding needs no words, it is not just a joining of minds, but of bodies as well. They complete one another, no thoughts, no voices are required. They soon find that the physiological differences between them can be more than a little… fascinating.

“…”

The Deep~by PHILDEL, Wave Your Flags (Album)

“One touches the other, in order to feel each other’s thoughts.”

The tangible, physical world of course has it’s pains and pleasures, to be joined physically is one thing, to be joined in soul and mind alongside those sensations is a different ordeal entirely. If this, completeness, is what it means to be Bonded, Kirk now understands why Vulcans go mad over it.

“Give me a sign ‘cause it runs through my mind like your heat, caught in the web you’re so easily lead to the deep.”

The Mermaid~by Kate Rusby, Life in A Paper Boat (Album)

“In this way, our minds are locked together...”

Unbeknownst to anyone else in the universe, James Kirk & S’chn T’gai Spock are now Bonded, and neither has ever felt less alone. For once, it does not matter to Spock that he is of two worlds, here, he is home. For once, Kirk does not feel as though he is forced to live the Enterprise’s life, this time, she helped him live his. A shining, blissful moment in the vast, expansive sea of stars that they have devoted their lives to exploring.

For them, the journey itself, is home.

“In peace now, the sea it comes, and peace now, in her arms where I’ll be love, sleeping in the sea.”

[midnightmoonkiss]

Painful Stings & Sweet Apologies

Yandere! Izuku Midoriya X Fem! Reader

Summary: Rage fueled by failure, Izuku finds comfort in a bar, only to come home to a broken promise and a furious darling. He didn’t mean for this to happen.

WARNINGS!: blood, violence, alcohol (Izuku under the influence)

Category: Angst, one-sided fluff

Word Count: 9k+

A/N: This is my first yandere fic! I’m nervous as hell, I have no idea if I got this right lol. Though I did spend months perfecting it to the best of my abilities! Hope you enjoy~

Just To Clarify:

You’re both adults

It’s Friday

It’s cold and rainy (naturally--)

Izuku’s bedroom has a walk in closet and a bathroom

the kitchen is off-limits

THIS IS A YANDERE FIC!

Izuku is an obsessive yandere~

Cold, burning liquid rushed down the male’s throat as he gulped at the drink within the short glass.

Whiskey, or more specifically - a Jack Daniels, the honey-brown alcohol that delivered a bitter slap to all those who drank its refreshing nectar. 

It wasn’t his usual drink, and certainly not one he’d ever guzzle like a parched beast.

Hell, who in their right mind would do that? Even with a single sip, it left your chest burning with its heat.

But desperate times call for desperate measures, right?

Or, more of, self-loathing times call for a quick, one-way ticket to Forget-Me Ville and Cringe Island.

The bar he sat at was lively, filled with drunken laughter and slurred speeches of men and women who have been out for far too long.

But it was Friday night, so who cared?

A rainy, cold, sucky, depressing Friday night, one of which his friends tried to make a bit better by taking the pissed off, green-haired hero out for drinks.

They certainly hadn’t expected Izuku, an innocent little guy who couldn’t handle his liquor for shit, to shoot down an entire glass of whiskey.

At first, he ordered a simple beer - a starter drink if you will.

It didn’t take but ten minutes for him to gulp that glass down, and he was onto his next drink - a sangria wine cooler. His typical drink. He always was more of a fruity guy, after all, preferring the sweet tang over the bitter bite.

But as the night raged on, and so did his inner turmoil, he kept ordering stronger and stronger drinks, until he got to the whiskey. You could say he lost his sense of reason a while ago.

He was still seething with rage, not as much as before but the mixture of anger and frustration swirled hotly with the alcohol pumping through his veins and sitting in his belly.

You could say it was keeping him warm in this lifeless atmosphere.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t think of you, his precious little darling. He could barely think straight, mind occupied with too many thoughts to be able to understand any of them. It was all a garbled mess, one he chose to ignore.

Was that a good or a bad thing? He’d find out later.

But for now?

He needed another drink.

In the beginning, this Friday seemed like it was going to be one of the best he’ll ever have.

For months this pro hero has been working alongside detectives with catching a murderous villain known by the name “Ghoul.”

They were sick and twisted, their motives unknown, their trail hard to tract.

He had only one encounter with them, but he was too late to catch them.

That’s the day he was brought in to help aid the case.

But, that day haunted him for weeks. He knew that if he had arrived at the bloody scene sooner, he could have captured that cannibalistic fuck, brought justice to those who had already died by their mangy hands.. and prevented the deaths that would ensue after.

He’d known horrible villains before, but this one was different. Their teeth were sharp, blood permanently stained their clothes, and they gave off a wolfish vibe. Yes, a hunter. One who tore flesh from human bones and munched on it until someone screamed in terror for help.

For months he helped gather intel, piece puzzle pieces together, aid with location predictions and stakeout missions, until finally - they found that bastard.

It was more of a hunch than anything really, that Ghoul would show up to that site.

Ghoul, while hard to track, left a pattern in their wake. They avoided certain areas, thrived where the poor were at their weakest. The murders always seemed to happen at the exact same time behind run-down fast-food restaurants.

It was unclear if the sicko liked a hearty human meal with their victims own stomachs filled with greasy, fattening food, or if it was just convenient to them, either way - the perp was too damn sloppy.

To regular ol’ police personnel, the murders would just always happen there, behind restaurants.

But after Deku’s team began tracking where each and every murder occurred, it was quite easy to tell they were drawing, funnily enough, a circle around the city’s map.

It was stupid, childish, and downright idiotic, but damn if that didn’t lead the team to find the cold-blooded killer.

Adrenaline and pure hatred for the villain fueled Deku’s onslaught of attacks, each seemingly more powerful and less calculated. His mind was muddled.

He was filled with rage, finally being able to see the shitty excuse of a human again, but it affected his movements. He was being hasty, careless, not his usual calculated self.

And that’s what brought him his demise.

His shoulder was harshly bitten, razor-sharp teeth tearing through the fabric of his suit and shredding up the skin on his shoulder. Their quirk pumped through his blood instantly, making him collapse onto his knees, paralyzed. He hissed in pain as the sickeningly warm liquid flowed down his arm, unable to stop himself from face planting onto the dirty gravel of the alleyway.

He had lost, and Ghoul got away.

He still remembers it, after all, it was only hours ago that it happened.

The sun had long since set, the crescent moon hung high in the sky as her stars shimmered around her. His wound was stitched up and healed by doctors, leaving only a bitter scar to remind him of his failure.

He failed not only himself but those who counted on him.

God, he sucked.

And so, he ordered another drink.

He wanted to forget. He didn’t want to feel the failure sting at his fragile heart anymore.

It was too much to take.

What type of hero let the villain get away, knowing full well that they would kill again?

They couldn’t track Ghoul’s trail anymore, for the circle had been completed - and they were left with nothing with the numbing feeling of brutal loss.

Hours blurred together as his mind went hazy. His speech slurred together, dull, green eyes unfocused and mouth blabbering out nonsense to his friends that he couldn’t even really hear. It just- came out. 

Soon enough, he was being dragged out of the bar by his annoyingly sober friends.

The night had gotten colder since they first entered the warm bar, rain pelted down like freezing bullets flying from a machine gun. A dirty old awning kept them dry as they stood still at the front of the bars entrance, the loud music bouncing off the walls inside echoed down the empty streets.

Heavy streams of salty rainwater poured off the edge of the awning, splattering down into a mud puddle that emptied into the sewer grate below.

Who doesnt love the musty stench of rain on asphalt?

Hell, the smell itself, combined with the strong yet savory scent of the Korean barbeque joint across the street was enough to make him nauseous. He had drank far too much, and his stomach was suffering the consequences. He should have eaten more before drinking. How foolish.

 “It’s pretty late, you should head home.” Reasoned his best friend, Todoroki, puffs of condensation leaving his mouth as the warm breath met cold air, pressing a freezing hand to the back of the freckled boy's sweaty neck to jolt his drowsy, drunken self into a more alert state. Nothing but time could sober you up, but damn if that hand didn’t help slap some energy into him.

“Yeaahh, ye-yeahhh.. I gooht you Todooroe.” God, he sounded like someone high on anesthesia after being awoken from a surgery - which he definitely would be able to compare this experience to. Being a hero meant at least a few surgeries a year. Comes with the job.

Plus, this wasn’t the first time he’s been drunk.

He sure as hell hated the aftermath, but some nights it felt as if the hot burn of alcohol was the only thing that could keep him sane.

This was just one of those nights - or perhaps it was multiple nights slammed into one from just how stupidly drunk he was. The world was blurred, and Izuku doubted he could even walk straight at this point.

The half and half hero waved down a stray taxi, street water splashing up onto the sidewalk as the yellow vehicle came to a screeching halt.

“Get home safe.” Todoroki sighed out his nose at seeing his friends out-of-it state, helping the giddy and jelly-like hero into the back seat.

Izuku pouted, grabby hands clinging onto his friend's shirt in protest.

With a half-hearted chuckle, Todoroki pried himself free from his grip, handing the cab driver more than enough yen to get the drunk boy home.

He gave the taxi driver an address, and soon the car was rolling off down the street, Izukus flushed face pressed against the cold, fogging glass and staring with eyes full of tears at his friend.

Though, it seemed as if he had forgotten a promise he made to someone very important to him. Someone who he devoted his entire life to.

Someone who he risked everything for.

You.

His princess who had been locked in a small, dark room all day, wrists tightly cuffed to loose chains on the wall. The only light provided was a rusty oil lamp Izuku had gotten at a yard sale one day. The flame was dull, and left the room covered in shadows.

The tile below was as cold as it had been since the morning when Izuku had forcefully chained you there for misbehaving the night before.

You had deserved this punishment for disobeying him.

That’s what he tried to convince, anyway.

He was only trying to keep you safe! He hated punishing you, hated the way you thrashed and screamed at him in protest - that only meant he had to be rougher with you. You had broken into the most dangerous room in the apartment, afterall.

The kitchen.

There were far too many harmful objects in there!

Knives that could slice your delicate skin to shreds, forks that could jab into your body, hot stoves that could leave you with a nasty burn, and canned food stored too high up on the shelf that could fall and hit your head.. It was for your protection that the kitchen was off-limits to you!

Plus, Izuku, your oh-so kind and sweet boyfriend, had no problem with cooking you meals to eat together. In fact, he loved it!

He felt accomplished whenever you'd hum in approval at his cooking, or even turned on if that slutty mouth of yours just so happened to moan around your utensil. 

Those were the nights dinner was forgotten.

But you had been foolish, entering the kitchen for a midnight snack whilst Izuku was out on patrol. Your sneaky little self thought you were clever, leaving no trace of your betrayal.

Until you were awoken hours later by a green glow, blood running cold as a pair of murderous neon eyes stared into yours.

It had to be one of the scariest sights to date.

His pupils were shrunk, green electricity buzzing around his large body. He hovered over your trembling body, a wrapper in between his two gloved fingers.

He was so close, your noses brushed together.

You swore he could see into your soul, as well as see the fear in your (E/C) eyes.

“What is this, (Y/N)?” He had asked innocently, hurt coating his words.

“I-” you wanted to make an excuse, protest, say it wasn’t yours, but every single letter died on your tongue as his face pressed closer, a sadistic smile overtaking his features.

“You didn’t.. You didn’t go into the kitchen, did you?”

His hot, minty breath blew all over your face as he spoke, and you shriveled back in fear as insanity crossed his expression in that way you were far too familiar with.

The giggles bubbled in his throat as he tried to fight logic with delusion, “It wasn’t you, right? Someone broke in, didn’t they? You wouldn’t break my trust, would you?”

His voice was cracking, fingers digging into the flesh of the bed beneath you as his eye began to twitch.

He stared down at you, curly green hair brushing against the sides of your face, waiting far too long for an answer he would never get. His bottom lip wobbled, feat tears welling up in his eyes and falling onto your pale cheeks as his body shook with anger and sadness.

He was already stressed about the following mornings mission, and to come home to his princess betraying his trust was not something he enjoyed.

And so, you were punished.

But he had promised you wouldnt be locked in there for long, he knew how you feared the dark. He had conditioned you to fear it, after all. It was his greatest accomplishment.

You were always so willing to cuddle into him when the lights were off.

A few hours turned into nearly an entire day, the only indication you had of this was past experiences, skin around your wrists rubbed raw from the metal cuffs, and the unusual sting of your ass and bare legs burning from the freezing tile beneath you.

That was the least of your worries, though.

Worst of all - the flame, which was holding you together and keeping you from crying out for help to those who might hear you in this soundproof room, which would no doubt get you a harsher punishment, was about to die out.

That flame, albeit small, was your only hope of surviving this.

Izuku was typically a very reliable person, it was strange for him to not keep his word to you. He devoted his being to you, worshipped the ground you regrettably walked upon, why would he break his own promise?

The thought of being trapped in the dark, the echo of your chains taunting your delirious mind had you close to tears. You didn’t want to be alone here anymore.

You watched in horror as the flame got smaller and smaller, tears now rolling down your cheeks as you pleaded under your breath for it to last longer.

The air vents around you provided enough oxygen for it to survive, but that damn oil..

Where was he?! 

Suddenly, the door to his apartment flew open, giggles seeping through the house and teasing your ears.

Then, there was no more light.

A screech tore from your throat, a desperate call of his name as you thrashed around, tears pouring from your eyes.

You felt as if you couldnt breathe as your head whipped around the space, desperate for more air and light as your lungs seemed to scream.

You couldnt feel the cold chill of the floor anymore, body numb as adrenaline pumped through your veins.

What was in the dark?

How big was this space again?

Rather, how small was it?

What was that noise?

Did something just touch you?

There was wind, there was wind, no. A cold chill?

Oh god what was that-

Loud, clumsy footsteps made their way closer and closer to the locked metal door. You sobbed as your heard the jingle of keys, metal scraping against metal as he fumbled with inserting them into the lock.

Until finally, you were basked in the honey-dew glow of the bedroom.

You fought to control your breathing as he dropped to his knees, taking far too long for your liking to get the cuffs off.

But at least now you know why he took so god damn long.

You could smell the putrid miasma of alcohol wafting off him the moment he stepped into the darkroom, tainted with the salty effluvium of rainwater as it dripped onto your skin from his damp, messy hair.

Rage bubbled inside you as he giggled once more at your tear-stained cheeks, “D-did yoou miss mee?” He slurred, a giddy smile on his face as the stale stench of what he had been drinking all night circled around your head like a rotten wreath.

Instead of answering, like you knew you should have, you turned your head towards the door, soaking in the light you were previously deprived of. Even if it was just a mere minute.

At your silence, his smile quickly turned into a frown. Big, forestry green eyes welled up with sadness, bottom lip trembling, “(Y-Y/N)?” He couldnt help but reach out, scarred fingers wishing to wipe away those stray tears from your face.

You missed him.

That’s why you were crying, surely.

He wanted to comfort you, say that he was there now and that you could both cuddle until twinkling dawn.

You weren’t alone anymore.

He was all you needed, and he was right beside you.

He’ll always be there for you, and you’ll always be there for him.

Because you love each other.

“D-Don’t cry-”

His cold hand was smacked away, and his usually sturdy body was shoved back so that you could scramble out of the freezing closet.

You needed space.

More room to breath.

To be on flooring that didnt feel like ice cutting into your flesh.

Hell, you were sure the skin that had the unholy misfortune of touching the floor were burned red at this point from how long you had to sit there.

Not to mention your poor wrists, you couldnt even bear the sight of them being so raw. You were pretty sure they would bleed if you even touched them. Your body was screaming in pain, stomach growing for food, mouth parched from not being given water so that you wouldnt make a mess on the floor.

You were weak, shaking, and afraid.

That bastard had the gall to say not to cry, to look concerned when he knew damn well how much you absolutely despised the dark.

At first it was a childish fear, but the moment he snatched you from your regular life, that fear became a reality. There were countless nights you’d be punished by being left alone in the dark.

He didnt want to hurt you, no, and he never has, but damn if he hasnt conditioned you to be afraid. 

Storms were the worst.

What was once a peaceful white noise turned into a terrifying nightmare once the moon rose in the sky.

There were times you were locked in that closet during violent storms, screaming and begging to be let out.

Sometimes you were, other times you werent as lucky.

Though it was only raining right now, each pitter-patter of the droplets against the window or balcony made hairs on your neck stand up. The sound was previously muted in the closet, but now it was hitting you like a freight train on a track that never seemed to end.

You heard him scramble to his feet as you wiped your tears away, the creak of the floorboards as he stumbled towards you.

A subtle bang made you jump, his foot no doubt hitting the chest at the end of your bed. Everso the clumsy one, even in an illuminated room.

Suddenly, he was right behind you, arms wrapping tightly around your middle as his head dropped to your shoulder, nuzzling his cheek against your neck.

Perhaps it would have been pleasant, comforting, even, if he wasnt soaked to the bone. The cold water from his dark grey, long-sleeved sweater was now seeping into your own thin clothes, freezing wet hair sending shivers down your spine and it presses against your heated, sensitive skin. Some drops even went down your back, ripping a gasp from you.

This wasnt comforting at all.

This was suffocating.

You squirmed in his grasp, desperate to get the hell away from him.

You were already pissed, and him wrapping around you and squeezing you tight like a snake to its prey was the cherry on top of your disastrous sundae.

With a grunt, you used the rest of what little strength you had left to rip yourself free from his ‘hug,’ nearly tripping on your own two feet as you rushed away from him.

He pouted at you as you shoved yourself into a corner of the room, finding comfort in being able to see all around you, no surprise attacks from behind, only what was in front of you.

Your breath was heavy as you glared at him, nostrils flaring and jaw clenching.

Truly, you had some nerve.

But it was hard to help it.

He broke a promise.

He never does that, and yet in your time of need- he wasn’t there for you.

For once.

He knew damn well you were locked up, scared shitless, expecting him to return home in a few short hours, yet here he is - looking absolutely clueless as to why you were suddenly so angry at him.

Tears streamed down his drunkenly flushed cheeks, hurt by how you shoved him away again.

All he wanted to do was snuggle you, his body exhausted yet numbed by the alcohol still burning in his tummy.

“Where..” you started, voice low, scratchy, and dripping with venom that reached deaf ears. “Where have you been!”

Just as he was about to open that mouth of his, no doubt about babble nearly incoherently - form logical excuses with evidence to back him up, say he lost track of time which you know damn well he never did, you shut him up.

You hated dealing with him when he was drunk, hell - you hated dealing with his obsessive ass most days.

But drunk? Drunk he got worse. He was clingy, more emotional, and worst of all? He didn’t have a filter.

He always managed to hide those more sinister desires under that sweet mask of his - until alcohol brought it out.

God, the smell of it made you sick to your stomach, but luckily you didn't have any food to throw up.

No thanks to him.

“What the fuck, Midoriya?!” You leered at him, noticing quickly the way his eyes darkened in that way they always did when you referred to him by his family name - the name he hated being called by you of all people.

“I’ve been trapped in that room all goddamn day! You said it’d be a few hours? What the hell happened to that! Look at the fucking time! Nine hours! Nine hours I’ve been stuck in my own personal hell! I can’t feel my fucking legs because of you!”

“I-” he attempted to start, the firm grip he had on his sanity quickly loosening with every shout you threw at him.

You cut him off, again, pent up rage now overtaking your sense of reason and fear, “What the hell happened?! You know what! I don’t even care! Not only did you,” You pointed a trembling finger at his stilled body, “break a promise! Something you swore you would never fucking do, you also had the nerve at laugh at me as I was trembling in fear!”

You looked like a mess, body shaking and bent over itself, one arm clutched around your waist as if to hold yourself together as that accusing finger stayed trained on him. Your hair was messy, frizzy, soaked with sweat and oily as hell from being denied a shower. Your clothes, thin and girly - much to your utter distaste, but to his satisfaction - now damp thanks to his carelessness.

All of this was because of him.

It always was.

Every single thing that went wrong in your life always seemed to be because of him nowadays.

You couldnt believe you let yourself fall for that misleading smile all those years ago, only to end up like this.

A mouse in a lions den.

But hell if that would stop you from squeaking your heart out till his razor-sharp claws ultimately caged you back in.

“Do you see my wrists?!” with a strangled sob, you held up both of your arms to show him the mess he already knew was his fault, “look at them! They hurt so fucking much because you left me in those disgusting handcuffs! This is all your fault!”

Your knees were wobbling so bad you swore your legs would give out at any second, but you’d be damned if you didnt hold your ground to this lunatic.

True, some days he was nice, normal, even. But days like these, or days much worse, you were reminded of just who he really was.

A monster was stretching it. He never intentionally tried to hurt you, your friends, or even your family.

No, he just stole you from your apartment in the dead of night, convinced the reason you were crying was because of the thunderstorm and not because some psycho snatched you from your window like some sort of 1970’s movie trope. That night he cradled your thrashing body to his hard chest with his strong arms, cooing at you and whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you begged to be let go. You were just scared of the storm~ He would keep you safe~ He is the number one hero, afterall~

That was all utter bullshit, straight from the beginning.

And even now he was still wrapped in the delusion that you loved him as much as he loved you.

A fated pair.

Please.

But you still held on to the pathetic hope that one day he’d snap out of it, return to the Izuku you knew from the beginning and not the person who now stood a few feet in front of you, staring with cold, emotionless eyes.

“I’m sorry.” he says impassively, face as blank as a new canvas - unreadable and dangerous in every way imaginable. It was hard not to feel as if he was just waiting to strike, already calculating his next moves like he always seemed to do. It was far easier to deal with an angry Izuku than one where you couldn’t read his already complex emotions, thoughts, anything. He was the definition of expressive, and it truly took a fuckin bullet to the back of his head for him to be like this.

So clearly, you hit a nerve.

Wonderful.

“Oh?” Despite knowing the implications of the situation you found yourself in, it was impossible not to laugh at such a pathetic fucking apology.

Knowing him, he probably was sorry, deep down inside. You knew he didn’t like seeing you hurt, especially if it was because of his doing, and yet- you pressed on. 

Pent up anger was a nasty thing to deal with, especially since it’s been brewing inside you for so long.

“Are you now? You don’t fucking seem sorry! If you were really sorry, you wouldnt have done it! But look where we are! You’re such a fucking-!”

“Shut up.” he growls out borderline maliciously, stumbling slightly as he turns to walk out the door. He was clearly fed up, his strong hands clenched into threatening fists, but so were you. Even if you were undeniably frightened to confront him, you wouldn't let that stop you from pushing yourself off the wall - your safe space - and wobbling after him.

“Look at you! You can’t even walk right! How drunk are you, huh? Washing away your feelings again, are you? What about my feelings! Huh?!”

You were pushing it.

You really were.

The entire house felt it, the air chillingly still as Izuku had to grind his teeth together so as to not lash out at you. 

He didn’t want to.

That was the last thing he wanted to do, but all that stress and self-hatred previously washed away was coming back up to the burning surface that cages his discretion.

Heavy breaths blew out his nostrils as he made his way to the living room, desperate for you to get the hint from his hunched over body that he wanted you to fuck off.

Yeah, he messed up, deep down he knew he did but currently his mind was far too clogged to even begin to comprehend it.

You were like an annoying mosquito, your words morphing into a persistent buzz.

He was ignoring you, and that made you livid.

He always ignored you when your problems were deemed irrelevant, or when he found you were being far too vexatious.

He always did this, always.

You were trapped in a cell with some asshole who didn't even want to listen to you.

Obviously, you had enough.

Typically you’d back off, go fume in another room or punch the wall till the skin around your knuckles tore open and dripped blood everywhere, making him snap out of whatever state he was in just to suffocate you in his toxic love.

Oh how life proved to be full of surprises.

A low growl of your own slithered passed your teeth, eyes practically burning red as if you prayed you had a quirk that could do something against him.

“You’re a selfish bastard! You fucking piss-poor excuse of a hero-!”

SLAP!

A shrill scream tore from your raw throat, the echo of skin burning against skin dizzying you as you were thrown back onto the floor.

Boiling hot tears streamed down your face as you sobbed out of pure fear, body shaking uncontrollably and you shuffled backward, desperate to get yourself as far away from him as you could currently manage.

It had all happened so fast, you didn't even have time to register it as it occurred.

One moment his hands were gripping the back of the couch with such strength you could see his knuckles turn a ghostly white, and the next, crackling, neon-green lightning surrounded his body, illuminating the dim apartment in a slimy glow. Before you even had a chance to register just what happened, he whipped his head around, his eyes, typically blown wide with sickening love and sparkling under delusional illusions, were narrowed and glowing in a way that sent shivers of immense regret down your spine. His arm whipped back with his hand, the very hand that delivered a painfully paralyzing slap.

He always spoke with his hands, and you just happened to be too close to him at that moment.

The reddended skin of your cheek burned, and you swore you could feel more than just tears streaming down it.

You were stuck shaking on the floor, imaginary bile rising in your throat, and all you could do was stare at him with wide, bloodshot and terrified eyes.

He had never laid a hand on you like that before, you didnt know what to think.

He always promised to do you no intentional harm, to never lay a finger on you with intentions of making you cry out in pain.

He had never acted so feral and out of line before.

It.. it scared you in a way you never felt before.

The gap between you grew, you really were just a mouse trembling in a lion's den.

“P-princess-” he shakily called out, voice weak and uneven, quirk diminishing into thin air like it never was there in the first place.

His own eyes were wide and filled with immense regret, tears already pouring down his flushed, freckled face.

He took one step forward, and you scrambled back, hand coming up to touch at your cheek, shock making you feel faint at the sight of blood coating your trembling fingertips.

You felt sick once again, empty stomach feeling as if it was collapsing in on itself to push even the tiniest bit of nonexistent food out.

You didnt know what to do.

Choking on your own sobs, you tried desperately to shuffle away from him, but he only came closer.

You cried out the moment he dove at you, your hands clasped together tightening against your chest as if to hold yourself together as this bear of a man wraps his arms cold, soaked arms protectively around you, his large shoulders violently shaking as he buried his snotty, tear stained face deep into your unruly tresses.

The stench of alcohol burned your nostrils, edging you on to try and push his heavy chest away. You tried, but you failed miserably, resulting in his arms pulling you even closer to his sweaty and damp body. It was disgusting.

“L-let go of me!” you wailed, your own tears stinging your eyes as your vision blurred and you could no longer tell just what you were staring blindly at, the dimness of the living-room paired with the suffocating embrace of your captor swallowing you whole.

You couldnt take it.

You could barely breathe at this point.

“p-p-ple .. plea-s-se..!” your cries intertwined with his own desperate ones as he babbled nearly incoherently on about how sorry he was, how he never meant to do something so horrible.

“I’m not a monster!” he howled out, desperate words seeping with ululation.

He was desperately trying to convince himself of that.

He wasn’t talking to you at all.

He was talking to himself.

He wasn’t a monster.

He wasn’t a monster.

He’s not like him.

He’s not like that piece of filth.

No, he’s so much better.

He’s a good man.

No, no, he’s not a monster.

He’s your hero.

He could never purposely harm you.

No.

It was an accident.

An accident.

You’d understand.

He knew you would!

You always understood him.

You were like two peas in a pod!

You forgave him, surely.

Yes.

Yes!

You did the moment he hugged you, the moment he started comforting you.

He was a good man.

How could you not forgive him?

He loved you so, so, so much.

You knew that-

You knew he would never do such a thing.

His breathing was even, eyes wide and straining as he stared at the floor, a crooked smile on his face as he repeated the words over and over again in his twisted mind.

He never met to hurt you.

No.

He didnt.

“Plea-” you tried once more, biting your wobbling lip as he squeezed you even tighter.

“No, no, no, no, no, no..” he heaved out, hand coming up to gently pet your oily hair as if to calm you. His head shook back and forth in your hair, “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m so sorry, honey.”

There was nothing you could do.

You were stuck alone in a mouse trap, the cold, metallic bar snapped down on top of your frail neck.

There was no escape.

There never was.

His form of ‘love’ far too strong for you to even attempt to.

And so, you gave up. 

Just like you always did.

There was no point in resisting him.

Sticky blood trickles down your raw cheek, dripping down onto the chilled bare skin of his neck, still cold from the damp clothes he wore, instantly catching his wondering attention.

“You.. you’re bleeding?” he whispered guiltily, already feeling a new wave of salty tears building up in the corner of his eyes.

His large left hand trailed up the skin of your neck, idly collecting the thin trail of red liquid onto his fingertips and smearing a path up to your jawline, stopping the moment your shivering form flinched.

He frowned at the red mark taking up half your beautifully innocent face, a small cut resting in the middle of it where no doubt the ring he foolishly wore as an accessory swiped.

Guilt made his stomach churn, the familiar burn of acid rising in his throat.

A deep inhale, and he swallowed it down, arm still wrapped around you, languidly rubbing your back as he stared with nothing short of pity at your wrecked state.

Your lips wobbled, holding in a reply as you force yourself to look into the vast abyss of darkness that was the hallway of your apartment instead of his orbs gleaming with concern.

Concern.

Concern for something he caused.

At least he had a heart, but you were still scared shitless and wanted nothing more than to run away. You were still fighting to regulate your breathing.

His thumb suddenly pressed against the slap mark, ripping a yelp from your throat as your head flung back to avoid any more contact. It was then that you noticed a pounding headache echoing inside your skull, yet another reason to aid in the water running down your face. Pain consumed your body, and you wanted nothing more than to escape this shell you were trapped in.

Openly chewing on his lip, both of his arms went back around you, cradling your delicate form to his chest.

Without a word, he stood up, practically forcing you to have to wrap your bare legs around his waist to keep yourself steady, something you were trained to do by him. He loved it when your legs were around his waist whenever he picked you up.

It became a regrettable second nature.

Heavy foot steps brought you back to your bedroom, and then into the bathroom connected to it.

Your fears crept up your spine at the pitch black room you were forced into, remembering how you were in a similar position just a few minutes ago.

When would this cycle end?

Ah. 

It wouldnt, would it?

You were set delicately down atop the cold marble counter as if you were a fragile piece of glass, which, in many ways, you were. The tears had at least stopped, but your body continuously shook like a chihuahua, your breathing still hard to control as fumbled around mindlessly with your fingers to serve as a distraction.

He flipped the light on, momentarily blinding your sensitive gaze with its bright light.

Sniffing, you wiped at your nose, watching as he walked about the bathroom, grabbing a wash cloth just to run it under cool water. The rain was still heavily pouring just outside the wall mixed with the loud splatters of the stream against the white sink. It would have been calming had cold water not splashed up onto your bare thighs, making goosebumps prickle along your skin. Your thighs were nearly numb at this point.

After ringing most of the water out, he held it up to your cheek, staring at you.

Taking the cue, you hesitantly took the cool, wet cloth from his grasp and gingerly pressed it to the swelling skin on your face. You hiss out in pain, dry sobs wracking your body at the stinging pain and the fact that he was still far too close for you to currently handle.

The pain on your cheek paired with the numbing cold was a good distraction.

You chewed on your lip as you squeezed your eyes shut, freehand gripping tightly at the hem of your shirt as you listen to him fumble around in the cabinet hanging over to the left.

You jumped the moment you felt his larger fingers ghost over the ones holding the cloth to your cheek, cautious (E/C) eyes opening ever so slightly as you looked over at him.

You couldnt help but feel idiotic as you suddenly felt flustered at the intense gaze he was giving you, eyes now gleaming viridescent in the white light of the bathroom almost staring right into your soul.

It was like he was reading you, pulling words off your own frail pages just so he could recite them to you.

He did this often.

Keeping silent, staring for long periods of times as he tried out scenarios in his head of the words he was going to say.

It gave you chills, but yet, it made you feel like you were the center of his drifting attention.

The sun his planets revolve tirelessly around, repeating the same cycles like a record forever skipping on repeat.

In these moments, though, he became an enigma.

Not exactly something your fragile state of mind entirely needed right now.

You shivered when his palm came to cup your soft jawline, thumb absentmindedly tracing over your parted lips.

His mouth opened, ready to say something, but he stayed quiet.

Mouth shutting, he leaned forward, tentatively bringing you into another hug.

“I’m sorry.” he repeated, the words nearly as quiet as your stilled breath, but you had nothing to say to it. And he knew it.

He was used to you staying silent.

He would prefer it most of the time.

So he could sink into his fantasies, the deluded fantasies that you loved him wholeheartedly, that you chose to stay silent as to not hurt his feelings, and always forgave him no matter what.

That you would forever and always be his.

He wouldnt give you the choice not to be.

He wouldnt let you leave when you’re his favorite person in the whole wide world.

The only one he needed.

And he was the only one you needed.

Yes.

Of course.

You didn’t need anyone else but him.

And he didn’t need anyone else but you.

So what if a few more people died because of his mistake, he would capture Ghoul eventually. Regardless, he would always come home to you.

Always.

And that’s all he needed.

He chucked against your neck, having buried it in the crook as his mind slipped through his shaky fingertips.

The Big Bad Wolf and his Little Red Riding Hood.

God how he loved the comparison.

Perhaps he was addicted.

Addicted to you.

Even now, as he inhaled your sugary sweet, natural scent stained with the metallic smell of dried blood.

Pulling back, he gazed into your hesitant eyes, delicately resting his forehead against yours.

His hair, now dry and no longer dripping with salty rain, tickled your skin, making you involuntarily take in a deep breath.

Closing his eyes once more, he soaks in the moment of your warm body in his frigid embrace, nothing else mattered to him.

Just you.

Only you.

“L-let me see your cheek,” he asks softly, words not as wobbly as before,  afraid that if he spoke too loudly in such a thin atmosphere, everything would shatter abruptly like glass.

Your body moved on instinct as if you were used to doing as he asked immediately no matter what, pulling the cool cloth away from your burning cheek.

Resisting the urge to sniffle and flinch away, you allow him to rewet the cloth, holding still as he dabs lightly at the small wound.

“I know it hurts,” he breathes out, “shh, shh, it’s okay.” it was always so strange how his voice still managed to calm your nerves even after all you’ve been through.

Deep down, you knew he was still that loving and energetic boy you met back at that coffee shop.

If only you knew how sinister and twisted he could really be.

Perhaps.. perhaps you wouldn’t be in such a situation now.

But there was never any point in pondering the what-ifs.

All you could do was fight your mind from seeking normalities in such a relationship as this, if you could even call it that.

You wouldn’t succumb to his desires like you always did.

You wouldnt lose yourself.

No.

You couldn’t let that happen.

Or was it too late already?

You hissed when you felt the stinging seer of rubbing alcohol dotted onto your cut, cleaning the wound.

“It’s okay.” he repeats, cooing to you with a reassuring smile that should have made you feel sick all over again.

You let him apply antibiotic ointment and a small cheek bandage, his hands shaky yet careful. You could say he has experience in applying bandages.

It was uncomfortable as it sat on your raw skin, but it’s not like you were going to go and rip it off. That would feel like ripping off a wax strip on a sunburn.

Humming, he gingerly wipes away the dried blood on your neck with the same washcloth, not minding how blood-stained the innocently white fabric became. 

Next came your still aching wrists. There wasn’t much he could do for your legs, but at least he had roll-on bandages on standby.

Turning the cold tap on, he lets you run them under cool water before gently dabbing the stray droplets away, careful not to press too hard.

He really needed to invest in softer handcuffs, it’s just- those were the only ones he had, and he didn’t use them often. Besides, it never got this bad before. But that wasn’t a good excuse.

He’d have to order some online tomorrow..

Applying more ointment around the area, the kind that offers instant relief, he wraps your smaller wrists up as best he could, cringing himself whenever you’d flinch.

He’d make it up to you.. Pancakes in the morning, perhaps?

Izuku then begins to sluggishly put away everything he brought out of the cabinet, tossing what needed to be tossed into the trashcan.

He was slow, almost as if he was trying to keep his balance, which he no doubt was. 

Standing in front of you once again, he wrapped his arms around you, whispering “up” in your ear.

It was something he would always say when he wanted you to wrap your arms and legs around him so he could carry you like a baby.

But who were you to refuse?

It wasn’t as if he couldnt pick you up without your limbs wrapped around him, it was more for your comfort rather than his convenience.

So, tentatively, you wrapped your still shaking arms around his neck, doing the same with your legs around his bent waist.

“Good girl.” he praised as he began walking back into the bedroom, stopping just at your side of the bed to place you down at the edge.

Numbly, you let him remove your rain-soaked clothes from all the hugging, sitting on the bed in just your panties as you watched him toss the clothes in the hamper by the door

It wasn’t the first time he insisted on treating you like a child who needed help changing, but at least you didn’t have to walk.

It was hard to remember if it was a good or a bad thing that you didn’t care about being nude in front of him anymore, not even bothering to hide your chest as he came back over with a fresh set of clothes - the strawberry patterned pajamas he always seemed to adore you wearing.

You always looked so innocent in them. The shirt is far too large for your frame, the sleeves hanging off your hands and the large v-neck exposing your collar bones and parts of your shoulders. The bottoms were the regular run of the mill pajama pants, soft as cotton and comfy as hell.

The top truly was the part of the look that tied it all together.

He couldn’t help but smile as your arms immediately raised as he pulled the shirt out of the pile, making quick work of slipping it over your cute head and helping your arms into the sleeves.

He liked to take care of you.

You needed him to, after all.

You were his innocent, helpless little darling, after all.

Pulling your pants up, he guided your body down into a resting position, dragging the thick, grey, and black patterned comforter over your stilled body.

Such a good girl.

He tucks loose strands of messy (H/C) hair that fell across your face behind your ear, being mindful of the wound.

He stares at it for a moment, his expression holding that of worry and regret.

Pushing off the bed, he stumbles his way to the kitchen in the dark, having turned off the light as he went, the layout of the apartment burned to memory so he could easily avoid furniture.

In the kitchen, he opened the freezer and grabbed an ice pack, one he would commonly use on his own sore muscles and bruises. It hurt his heart knowing he was the reason you had to use it for the first time.

After wrapping it in some paper towels, he trudges his way back into the dark bedroom, eyes wracking over your balled up form, covers bunched over you like a shell.

“Put this on your cheek..” he whispered, placing the pack just in front of your face.

He would love to be the one to hold it to your cheek, but his mind was still hazy, and his words were still slurred. Events could sure as hell sober you up a bit, but damn did that nausea always come back crashing in through the brittle window full force when you’d least expect it.

Rummaging through the drawers once more, he picked up some of his own fresh clothes and made his way into the bathroom again.

All he wants is to sleep, but he also didnt want you to smell dried sweat and rain on his being throughout the night.

He knew you missed him, him and his warmth, you always did, right? No question about it. You must be longing for him even now. 

Wanting him to hold and comfort you just like always.

Numbed adrenaline pumped in his veins as he stepped into the shower, letting the warm water wash away his filth and regrets.

God, it felt so good to be able to somewhere warm for once.

The entire night he’s felt nothing but cold.

Not even the fire in his belly or the breath stolen from his lungs could’ve warmed him up.

He was mad at himself. Mad that he lost control and hurt the one thing that mattered the most to him.

Mad that he let himself get disgustingly drunk.

Mad that he walked in the rain like a dumbass just to soak your clothes and make you feel as cold as him.

But at the moment, too many thoughts were flying in his mind for him to properly think, no, he couldnt really even say he was thinking at all.

He was just letting the water splatter on the back of his neck, forehead resting on the cold shower tiles and he watched as water swirled down the drain like a whirlpool. His hair stuck to his cheeks like glue, but he couldn’t find himself caring.

Absentmindedly, his fingers brush across the fresh scar on his broad shoulder.

He swore the longer he stood there, watching the clear flow of water, the looser his grip on himself became.

He couldnt really say he felt anything at all anymore.

When did he lose himself?

Was he ever even really found?

Ah.

With you.

You were the missing piece in his complicated and skull biting puzzle, the one who made him whole and lit up his dull life. You were the reason he felt things anymore, you were the reason he still managed to get up and save people with a clear conscious.

You always had such a positive impact on his life, and he knew he had just as good a one on yours.

A wobbly smile tore his flushed face in two, you both really did need eachother.

He was so happy to have you in his life.

Knowing you’d never leave him.

Turning the boiling hot water off, he stepped out, the plushness of the bath-mat embracing his wet feet as water continued to pour down his nude body.

It felt, it felt so hot suddenly.

His breath came out in exaggerated pants, hands sweeping his hair from his face as the burn of bile rose in his throat.

Lunging for the toilet, he emptied his stomach into the glistening white bowl.

Gasping for air, Izuku whipped his mouth on the back of his hand, still trying to catch his breath as he fumbled to flush.

God, he needed to sit down.

Shakily turning the bathroom faucet on, he washed his hand, making quick work of brushing his teeth before lazily drying himself off.

Ignoring the other clothes he brought in, the toned hero simply pulled on a pair of black boxers before walking out of the bathroom.

Green eyes immediately looked at your form, just to see the soft rise and fall of your chest as you soundly slept, the ice pack sitting comfortably on your cheek.

You looked so adorable.

You always did.

Smiling once more, he walked over to the bed, pulling back the sheets just to slide his larger, warm body in and next to your own.

He sighs blissfully the moment he tugs you into his embrace, relishing in the feeling of your soft body against him.

Removing the icepack from your cheek, not wanting you to awake to a cheek burning from the cold, he places it on the nightstand before snuggling closer to you.

You always fit so perfectly in his big arms.

You were meant to be by his side.

And you loved it, didn’t you?

Eventually, he fell asleep, soft snores echoing around the quiet room filled with the downpour of rain still pouring down outside the large glass windows,

But you were still wide awake.

It was hard to remember the last time you got a good night’s rest, especially when the room was spine-chillingly dark..

Hard to remember what life was like before you even met your own personal nightmare.

You were used to the exhaustion, the dark circles kissing at the skin under your eyes becoming normal the day you were brought here.

Oh, how foolish you were.

You should have locked your window that fateful night.

But heroes are quite stealthy, aren’t they?

Was this even reality at this point? Or all just a figment of your imagination, protecting you from the true horrors before your very eyes.

Either answer wasnt one you wanted.

But you never had a choice.

Tears slipping from your eyes like they always seemed to do, you stared longingly off into the distance, the warmth pressed against your back pulling you further into your own bubbling madness.

All it took was a signal thought for this to all become normal.

For the pain to wash away with your tears.

‘Maybe this is ok.’

[popculturebuffet]

Amphibia: Night Drivers/Return to Wartwood Review “Many Happy Returns”

Hello you happy people. And Amphibia is back and that means my reviews are back! As for why this reviews a bit late despite it leaking, I wanted to wait for today, and long story short both focused on finishing a review that WASN’T time senstive, instead of finishing it Sunday, and overestimated how much time i’d have to do two reviews on a day that included my first covid shot, grocery shopping, helping mom clean the car, and my friend coming over to watch Judas and the Black Messiah. Excellent film by hte way, as was the Sound of Metal which we watched after. Point is I done goofed and I will try to at the very least actually get the reviews of the episodes out on the same day they come out. 

But slip up or not i’m happy to be back in the saddle, and back to Wartwood. I’m pumped for the heavier second half, with more secrets to uncover, some zelda style temple action, and some heavy drama with just a whiff of keith david, as well as to see the supporting cast from Wartwood again after far too long. So how’d the mid-season premire pair fair? Join me under the cut to find out. 

Night Drivers: I was really excited by the Road Trip idea when first announced for season 2. A chance to expand the world and get the plantars out of their comfort zone was an amazing concept and it did lead to some really great stories and interesting locales.. mixed with episodes that had interesting locations but no interesting plot or character stuff. It was a mixed bag, and disappointing after close to a year’s wait to continue the plot that it really didn’t outside of “Toadcatcher”. Anne never really dealt with her trauma and the show never dealt with hop pop’s poularity or anything else. Again there were GOOD episodes and ideas but it felt like the show stalled for a good chunk of the season till we got to Netwopia which while still having tons of slice of life stuff felt a lot fresher with it, and had a lot more fun playing with stock plots and gave us a fresh new setting to dig into. 

So I was a bit hesitant to go back to the road for an episode.. even if it was just one episode. Thankfully I was very wrong there as Night Drivers was a pretty good episode and would fit well among the best of the road trip arc like “Truck Stop Polly” “Fort in the Road” “Anne Hunter” “Toadcatcher” and “Wax Museum”.

The plot is straightforward: Sprig and Polly are excited that their almost home to wartwood and if Anne and Hop Pop drive all night they’ll be there by morning. Polly will get pillbug pancakes and Sprig will see Ivy again. This is part of a long tradtion of “skiping over the journey home because we’re tired and we wanna go home” in fiction. Jokes aside it’s a resonable device used to prevent ending fatigue and in this case to free up episodes for the second half. We already saw the journey once, we usually don’t need to see it again. To Amphibia’s credit they have valid reasons for it: The journey is LITERALLY sped up, as Hop Pop and Anne have been driving for 20 hours straight.. and their on a timer. As was established last time.. well the last time that wasn’t a spooky halloween episode, The Plantars have to get back for the harvest and really don’t have time to sightsee, while they all have to be there for whenever Marcy comes back to take Anne to the first temple. They’ve also traveled these roads before so while their going a whole other directoin, they know what perils to avoid. 

But as anyone whose taken a long cartrip can tell you, you can’t shotgun it forever and the two eventually tap out with Hop Pop telling Sprig and Polly not to night drive as it’s dangerous and blah blah blah standard parental warning that will be swiftly ignored. So once Hop Pop and Anne are conked out they swiftly ignore it after we get their dreams.. which are the best gags of the episode: Hop Pop has a dream with weird, really cool looking monsters that represent his faults, only for it to turn Lucid and him to start flying and take his shirt off and whip it around Muscle Man style. 

While Anne’s is about a yogurt world where there’s only one flavor... BLACK LICORICE. Yeah it quickly turns from Shopkins to the Lich From Adventure Time really fucking quick. 

So while Anne has a nightmare and Hop Pop becomes unto a god, Sprig and Polly drive all night, repreadtly running into a creepy hitchiker and realizing it is as dangerous as they said with bolders, even worse creatures than usual because of course theye’d be a lot of nasty things lurk in the dark why wouldn’t they on froggy death world, a nightmarish fog and nearly dying on said foggy road they took to evade the hitchiker. Naturally the scary hook handed hitchiker.. is a friendly one, simply trying to help them and saving them from going over a cliff. They do make it three miles from Wartwood and Hop Pop wakes up angry to find they disobeyed him.. but Anne gets him to back off as they clearly learned their lesson from the sleep deprviation and nearly dying, and our heroes head for home. 

Night Drivers isn’t an exceptional episode, but it is decent and still does belong with the other good road trip episodes, with some good dream sequences and a nice dynamic between Sprig and Polly. It was nice to have an episode with the two that was good unlike Quarallers Pass which made me want to run full speed into my nearest wall until I was given the sweet gift of unconciousness. While the Hook Handed man thing was a bit obvious it lead to some great gags. It’s a nice breather after the tearjerking mid-season finale and while we’ve obviously had months and a haloween episode between that, the creators rightfully realized a lot of people will be binging the series in the future. The issue I had with the first quarter of the season was it was ALL break and only a little plot progression. Here we’ve had a lot of plot progression in the last episode chronlogically, and are going to have a lot in the coming episodes with ‘After the Rain” coming next week. It’s nice to take a break and see the forest for the hook handed ghosts.

Return to Wartwood: I was excited and terrified of this one. I was excited because I missed the supporting cast from season one, mostly Ivy and Maddie, and was delighted to see them again in full. But I was also worried the show might pull out a melancholy breakup plot and having gotten attached to Ivy/Sprig and Hop Pop/Sylvia I was worried. And I was delightfully wrong as instead it’s another breather episode and an utterly fantastic one after the simply decent one above. 

Our heroes return, without being drawn by rob liefield or replaced by the Squadron Supreme first, and are happily greeted by the town. Aformentoined fears died a happy death as Sylvia squeezes Hop Pop and as for Sprig, Ivy unsuprisingly ambushes him. Everyone’s back and the Mayor, who I also badly missed is back using Toadie as a gong to get everyone back to buisness, with Swampy inviting them for a big dinner at his diner that night to celebrate and welcome them back.. and to give out their gifts. 

Sprig and Anne are equally confused while Polly and Hop Pop are sweating bullets. Turns out when they got the Fwagon they agreed to get a bunch of stuff for the town and forgot and now everyone’s on the hook for it and want to lie their butts off to solve it. In a nice show of character development, Anne has learned that the lying never solves anything “I think we’ve learned that lesson by now”. After SO many plots of the characters lying and it going terribly, it’s nice to have someone speak up. Sprig also wants to lie but only becuase he’s deeply afraid Ivy will break up with him as she wanted a Red Sun shell to go with the blue moon shell she gave him. Awwww. And oh crap. 

So our heroes head home to plan and kick Chuck out (“I grew tulips”). So they do the natural thing... and decide to summon an edltich beast from the necronomicon... which of course Maddie gave Sprig as a present (”Aww that’s nice”. Agreed Polly, agreed.). I also can’t help but love the line “We’re all cull with practicing the dark arts to solve our problem right?” So our heroes get the proper summoning horn, thing to go with the horn and some candles.. i’ts not part of the ritual but Anne says it helps with ambience and it’s right. 

So our heroes summon the Chikalisk, an edltich god that’s naturally basalisk in all but name, which dosen’t attack unless attacked and goes after gold. So they fake some golden presents, and the beast attacks at the party.. but the town naturally fights back, and our heroes are forced to help fight the monster as it stonifies people. So we get a truly glorious battle sequences as the whole town shows off how badass they are, with Maddie curing people, Sylvia showing she can keep up with Hop Pop and Ivy showing her already established badass bonafieds. It’s just awesome. Also the Mayor uses Toadie as a shield not realizing he’s turned to stone which can only remind me of this. 

Once the townsfolk are freed they get into Chickalisk formation (”We have a formation for that?” “We have a formation for everything!”) And it’s offended enough to just nope out. The townsfolk are depressed though the presents got destroyed and Anne glares the family into coming clean. And while the mayor seems mad at first... he just laughs with everyone taking it in stride: It was boring without them getting into trouble and learning lessons every week, and they missed them.  Ivy likewise dosen’t care about a gift she just missed her boyfriend.. and asks Sprig to take her on a proper date and smooches him on the cheek leaving both him and Anne catatonic, with Polly dragging Anne away and sprig just falling over before Maddie hits him with the potion. It dosen’t work that way, end episode. 

Return To Wartwood was a standout episode, with tons of great jokes, pacing and a nice plot that showed growth in anne. While Night Drivers was decent, this was the show at it’s : Sweet, deranged and adventurous all in one episode. While Night Drivers was a good appitizer this was one hell of an entree. Or an appetizer sampler which I often use as an entree. Great episode and a nice high note to start on. 

Next Time: We get an Ivy focused episode!

And Hop Pop is finally forced to own up to his lies!

As the twin kermits sooth you if you liked this review, follow me for more, check the amphibia tag for more reviews from this season and join me on patreon. If I get another patreon, i’ll add reviewing season 1 to my 25 dollar stretch goal so look out for that and my next one at 20 dollars, only 5 dollars away, nets a monthly review of a darkwing duck episode. Check it out and i’ll see you at the next rainbow. 

[bluehairedtracii]

Too Good For Me. || Din Djarin X Jedi! Reader SMUT*

Part of the Best Obsessions AU!

Masterlist

Requested: aksjdjksld

Warnings: Swearing! full blown Sex, oral both male and female receiving, unprotected (pls be safe irl!),edging, anal, slight degrading, kissing, some fluffy aftercare, No helmet Din,  Blindfolded for some parts, touch starved Din, Force reacts inappropriately sometimes with reader, established partnership, made something up so I could kinda waltz around the creed’s code, shh dont hurt me pls. (hopefully I didn't miss anything)

Parings: Din Djarin x reader

Authors Note: Okay so now this is really my first time writing a full smut. I hope you enjoy, I low-key was imagining that one gif of Pedro in Narcos for this. I hope this is good!The Next parts i want to be full of angst, jealousy, fluff, and lots of more kinks and fantasies to be played out (cough cough I might add a daddy kink into it but shhh))) 

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! :) 💕

Summary: Din kept his promise and he wants you to know just how much he’s been thinking of you. Training went well, but after what you did to him, he wants to throw scouting out of the window and show you everything now.

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“Good, again.” You jumped over his back and rolled over his shoulder. Ducking under his punch and you strike him in the shoulder, your knuckles only slightly bruised. and he snips you on your side. “Watch your form!” He snarls at you and tries to trip you by sweeping his leg, but the force favors you and tells you “Jump!”, so you do. His grunts were seeping into your ears. Unbeknownst to him, sleeping that night after he left was nearly impossible. So you were fired up but nearly exhausted, this was almost your 6th round training with Din today. You clipped his body with your side and tossed him down.

When he hit the floor he let out a grunt and then laughed a bit. You straddled him and laughed, both of you taking a moment becasue of how out of breath you two seemed to be. “Another round?” you huffed before realizing your position and quickly get up to help him by holding out your hand. He took your hand and raised himself, once up he put his free hand on your upper arm squeezing tightly. “Nah, let’s take a break.” “Freshen up and meet me in my cot, I have to show you something.”

“o-okay” was all you could muster out. He left, leaving you there dumbfounded. your mind was racing, what was so important? He never stops training this early, the sun is still out and the moons are far from setting. 

So you do what he told you, you freshen up by splashing your face with cold water and you let your hair down. Just for now as you think that you two will continue training later. 

It felt good to be back on the ship for now, it felt like home. Sure you like Sorgan and it feels good to be on a somewhat stable planet. but you can’t beat the feeling of where you spent majority of your life for the past couple of months with your makeshift family. 

You sigh and exit the refresher making your way into Mando’s room. You knock once and hear the modulated voice respond “Come in.” 

when you enter you can’t seem to find him. “Turn around” the force calls out faintly. You try, but you feel a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t turn around.” he says.

“Y/n? Do you trust me...?” he says statically. “Of course, always.”

 “Good.”

“Now I need you to trust in me, blindly...” His arm reached in front of you and he showed you a black makeshift blindfold. “Will you do this for me?” 

That sent a shiver down your spine. “y-yes”

“Good.” 

He wrapped it around you and you were enveloped into darkness. you heard multiple things going on around you. Was this part of training? Are we gonna go scouting soon? 

Your mind was racing

Then you heard a large bang of metal hitting the floor. 

It scared you to say the least, but nothing in you was alerting you to anything bad, it was just a quick scare.

“D-din? I-” you were shut up when you feel kisses up your neck. “u-uh” you tried to hold back a moan, but it came out louder than expected. you feel a hand snake up your thin tank top and it sends shivers down your spine.

 “That night...” he said in between kisses, his fingers rest on your breast. “I know what you really wanted...” “Maker... I think you may have known what I wanted too...” he gave it a gentle squeeze over the lace bra.

He gets to the most sensitive part of your neck and your whimpers bleed out of you. “I-I did?” you breath out. He stopped and pushed you gently against the wall. You could feel him right on top of you and he plays at the hem of your shirt. 

“I want you...” 

“Do you want me too?”

“I want you so bad...I need you.” you moan into the words as they drip from your mouth.

He grunts and presses his lips to yours, you kiss back and tangle together. Finding his soft locks with one hand and trail to the tent in his pants with the other. 

Then you realize; His armor... the beskar is gone. Maker you hope that this isn't a dream and you’d wake up any moment. You wish you could see his face. But just feeling him on top of you made everything worth it. 

He asks you for permission to undress you and you audibly said yes. He took off your shirt and you helped him shrug off your pants and undergarments.

“Fuck. look at you, look at how fucking perfect you are...” he trailed off, if you weren't wearing the blindfold, he would have seen your eyes light up and the lust turn deeper in you. You were embarrassed, but in a good way, and the force felt it in you. It manipulated the blind fold and tried to lift it past your eyes, but you took your hands and brought the blindfold back down before you saw anything.

Din chuckled “It’s okay Cyar’ika, I trust you.” he lifted your chin with his finger and he slipped the blindfold off of your head. You kept your eyes closed. “But what about-” “I can show my face to those I have a strong and deep emotional connection with. Someone I trust in more ways than one...” “So, open your eyes cyare..” 

You do and the first thing you do is catch his brown eyes... 

In awe, you bit your lip and your eyes sparkled as you took in his face. You closed the gap in between you both and wrap your arms around his neck. “Fuck you’re so so hot...everything I've ever wanted... everything I ever imagined.”

That’s what set you both off and he threw you onto his bed as he stripped from his clothes, leaving on his boxers. He crawled onto you and went down into your heat.

“Din…Din please..” you moan and drag out the last word gripping the sheets of Din’s bed. You gasp and and grip the sheets harder as you look down and see him in your heat, a pile of dark curls on his head as he works his magic in between your legs. You move your hands to his hair, pulling on his curls and he grips your hips tighter. You can feel the way he moves and it’s nothing like you've ever felt before. 

Suckling on your clit and then he circles it. Your legs shake and you curse. “O-oh Ssshit!” Everything he does and every way he moves puts you deeper and deeper into a trance. Even his facial hair adds to the immense pleasure you feel.

You feel your climax and moan louder than before. “D-din i-im” he picks up the pace moving one hand to your heat and using his fingers to help you finish, but before you came he kissed up your body to your neck his soft lips moving with vigor. Pumping in and out faster and faster. You really hope that this isn't another dream...You tremble and he kisses your jaw. You melt into him and your high is near. 

 “what do you want?” he snarls out. You try to respond but you’re a mess. He slows down causing your climax  to be stopped and you whimper. 

“Again, what. do. you. want.?” 

“Y-you Din... I-I want you to fuck me...” That sent him off the edge and he drilled his fingers into you. His grunts filled your ears again. You were in euphoria, a complete mess and he helped you ride out the high. “Fucking fuck.” you breathe out. He laughs lowly, and cleans you up with his fingers. “You’re so good for me...” you turned him around and climbed on top of him. 

“I’m about to show you how much better I can be.” bringing down his pants, his cock sprung from underneath the fabric and you bit your lips. God it was like you were ravenous...nearly aching for him to be inside of you in all of his length.

You finally saw that your dreams were a reality.

giving him a tease you circled the tip and could already see the magic you were causing in him. Pre-cum was already sitting at the top with you only having touched him slightly. He was melting in your hands. cupping his balls, you took him in, making a show out of it. 

He tensed up and moaned out “fuck yeah baby, that’s my good girl y/n...” He was tensing up and you could feel that he was close to his high by the way his cock twitched in your mouth. 

So you teased him by stopping for a bit.

It was your way of payback for what he did to you moments ago when you were about to reach your high, but he stopped you. 

“c-c’mon cyar’ika.. please.” He begged you. To be honest you liked the way he was begging you, maybe you’d drag it on a little longer. 

wiping your tongue across the tip made him growl like a beast. Maybe he;s had enough now.

while finishing him off, he grabs your hair and helps you by thrusting his hips farther into your throat. Now he’s the mess. He lets out one last grunt and he releases himself into your throat, the hot and sticky mess you gratefully take and swallow. He releases with a sting of lewd curses. 

Maker, you didn't know how but that turns you on even more.

Again, he’s everything you’ve ever imagined him to be and he tastes fucking fantastic. 

He pants “Oh, you’ll pay for that.” he flips you to lay on your hands and knees. You feel him hovering behind you. One hand cups your throat lightly and the other is on your hip rubbing your ass. “you were such a good girl.. but you turned naughty... All to see the look on my face. Tell me Cyar’ika, was that punishment for what I did to you?” he whispers into your ear and lightly slaps your ass. You moan to reply.

 ”Well, you know how we make up for that right?” 

“With your cock?” you moaned while biting your lips. “There’s my smart girl...” 

In a blink of an eye he inserted himself into you slowly. His length filled you and he let you adjust, while he kissed your neck and positioned himself to fit you by placing both of his hands on your hips.

He started to move in and out. You couldn't even think straight. The room was filled with moans, grunts, and swears, almost like a symphony. Then he came by your ear again. “Tell me y/n, is this what you dreamed of me doing to you all those times?” he thrusted harder into you. “Oh you have no fucking idea.” you gasped when he brought you up and kissed your neck while thrusting at full speed. “Fuck yeah, right there Din f-fuck!” you bit your hand trying not to spill anymore slurs and brought the other to frame his head behind you holding onto the back of his neck. 

His words were right in your ear the whole time. Your highs were approaching. 

“D-Din!” 

“That’s it be a good girl and cum when I tell you, but I want to hear you, let this godforsaken planet know you’re mine.”

yo both moved in unison the sound of pleasure seeping out of the room, his hips where ramming into you at full force and you were about to collapse from the pure pleasure. He felt you twitch, your walls starting to tighten around him. 

“Good girl, not yet...”

You whimpered needing to release on him and he chuckled lowly seeing you ache in pleasure was his favorite. 

“Now.”

you gasped and slurred, releasing onto him, basically screaming his name, and a mountain of pleasure took over your body, the knots once in your stomach were now undone.

Then Din let himself out, “Oh maker, Y/N” you both collapsed on each other trying to catch your breath.

He kissed you again and you rolled off one another, cleaning each other up and smiling. He place you under the covers and snuggled up to you. wrapping a strong arm around your waist, and kissing your forehead. “wow” you both let out and unison and laughed. “I've been dreaming of doing that forever.”

“really?” you questioned him with bright eyes. “I mean, so have I, but we hated each other at first... I never thought you’d feel the same way...” 

“Maker, it’s true I couldn't stand you at first, but then, i guess it escalated into something more in my heart after really getting to know you.” 

You giggled and kissed him, but when you pulled away you lingered, just staring at each other and admiring him in all of his beauty.

“Not what you expected?” “More than what i expected, I've always been so close to seeing you in my dreams, but would always wake up, but a dream cant make up this much handsomeness on one face...” he smiled and brought you back down for one more kiss. you yawned and nuzzled yourself into his chest.

You drew circles on him, 

“So Din, what does this make us?”

Best Obsession Taglist: @kiaralein​  @captainskyline @thisis-theway​  @answer-the-sirens  @spaces-geek  @laviipopii

[septembriseur]

You guys know that I’m back to working on Transposition. But it is, frankly, a challenge, and I feel a lot of pressure to put something out there and prove that the story will be finished. So I’m posting what is essentially some AU tidbits, because it’s a draft of part of Chapter 52 that I threw out and totally reconceptualized. It is not particularly good, but here it is!

Telford trades the tel’tak to a junk dealer in the P3S-805 system and ends up in a ratty little cobbled-together half-Kerobottri exoship that shakes when you try to engage its makeshift FTL drive, but, hey, it comes with no questions asked. And it’s not like he has any reason to be picky; he’s just trying to get a couple of gate-trips ahead of Kiva’s people before he finds a spaceport and settles down to get drunk.

The place he ends up in is a shithole clustered around the North Pole of a medium-sized planet in the Formalhaut Debris Ring, about twenty-two light years from Earth. It’s a frozen, sandy desert with a dozen tiny speckling moons above it, and not a single building more than three stories tall. It caters to frack miners running hot crews through the debris ring, which the LA’s First and Second House periodically squabble over, and the occasional Goa’uld war criminal hoping to lay low. That makes it a good place for Telford, even if the liquor is shitty. So he hauls out some of the raw data crystals that he stripped off the Sixth House tel’tak and pays enough to dock his ship, then keeps paying until the barkeeper at the watering hole hands over the bottle.

It’s whatever the latest thing is that the Lucian kids are cooking up out of kassa. It doesn’t really taste like anything; just like ethanol and antiseptic. He hunkers down in his ship and knocks the stuff back without a chaser. And again. And then again. For a while, grimly determined, that’s all he does: limiting his world to the fumes that he breathes out, and the back of his throat, where the mucous membrane is burning.

He doesn’t have a jacket anymore, but he’s got what the bounty hunter threw in with the exoship: a couple of Himalayan-looking blankets made out of knotted-up fibers, and a hooded coat lined with some kind of animal fur. So he puts the coat on, and, after a while, the hood too, then drags one of the blankets over his shoulders and breathes into his cupped hands. He can smell the coat’s earthy leather, and whatever it is that fur smells like. The air smells like naquadah and ozone. He looks out over the bulks of the ships, great beasts sleeping in the desert on every side of the outpost-city, some as tall as the buildings and twice as big. The dim light of the sun, filtered through dust clouds, glints off the shinier of their surfaces, along with the occasional scattered fleck of a moon. They’re like shrapnel wounds, that spray of moons— not quite regular enough to be strafe-marks, but deep enough that you can see the inside of whatever it is that was punctured.

He takes another abrupt swig of the liquor.

He thinks his first step should be to take stock of what he has left. The Hemingway is gone now, and the Dostoevsky. The— assorted personal knickknacks that he hadn’t needed anyway. He took enough shit off the tel’tak to last him a little while if he barters, but when he’d made his elaborate back-up plans, he always assumed he’d be leaving from Earth. So he hasn’t got a whole hell of a lot of assets out here in deep space. He can always sell intel, but that comes with the risk of someone back-tracing the information. Or he can take the sensible option and just turn mere. It’s what a lot of guys did on Earth, anyway, after they’d left the service, if they’d gotten deep in debt or just couldn’t fit in.

He’d tried to imagine it himself, when he was younger: leaving the service. Retiring. Consulting. Security. A house, a car, a wife, a couple of kids. On some level that language didn’t reach down to, the thought had always repelled him. He’d thought that if he tried it, he would end up like one of those guys you heard about who just went missing, just up and walked away from their lives one day. They turned up twenty years later running a tackle shop off the coast of Alaska, or flying prop planes in the South Pacific, or else they didn’t turned up, and stayed question marks forever, strangers who had sealed whatever secret they carried so well inside them that they had taken it, totally unknown, to their graves.

It was possible to do that. It wasn’t a failure. Maybe it even meant that you’d won. Whatever was inside you, you’d kept it: pure and unsullied, a hard bright crystal, a fuel you could burn. It was uncontaminated and yours forever.

He can feel it inside him now: a pain in the region of his chest, close to but not exactly contiguous with the heart.

He drinks and watches cosmic dust catch the amber glow of the distant sunlight.

A cold wind shifts and rattles the sand.

***

An ice storm in the morning, with no rain: only hailstones rattling like pebbles against the walls of the exoship. He wakes from a restless sleep still wrapped in fur and heavy blankets. He feels like God has picked up the box he’s hiding in and shaken it right next to His ear to hear if anything left inside still scuttles. He thinks about Rush explaining Wittgenstein’s beetle. There is something alive in us, though it may be a very singular creature. It may not be what other people thought— hoped— it was.

Still. Something scuttles. Insect legs against the siding.

He erases his travel history in the ship’s computer and swallows down another couple fingers of kassa liquor for breakfast, tunelessly humming Mahler under his breath, then throws it up an hour later courtesy of his hangover.

When he stands, he sees starbursts against the array of evening. It’s not really evening, of course; there’s not really night or day, this close to the magnetic pole of a planet, unless you count the constant half-dim polar twilight. One long night lasting half a year, deranging the little rock’s temporalities like every other kind of measurement was deranged by the location. Get too close to the axis of something, and you lose all sense of how to chart it.

He’s familiar with the problem.

***

Ships come and go like fireflies in a summer time-lapse, their engines burning off into the dusk.

It’s fall on Earth, he guesses. So: no more fireflies, which: fuck ‘em, anyway. They only last a few months before they’re done. Like humans, when seen from an Ascended perspective. Little chips of mica; little specks of dust. You could lose a fistful and not notice, so why should they matter?

He thinks of Rush sinking his hands in the floor up to the wrists, as though he could reach down and reclaim the mineral flecks trapped there for eons. As though the whole universe were just water, none of it yet set in stone around him.

It should’ve been me, Telford thinks. It should’ve been me who—

But he hadn’t had the genes.

Always something missing.

***

He doesn’t speak English out here. He speaks the degraded Babylonian of Sixth House. Or at least that’s what Jackson had always said it was— the bastard child of Akkadian and Aramaic, mixed with the Hebrew dialects of the Asar planets, sort of like what might have happened if the Babylonian Empire still existed. He’d had to learn it from scratch when he went undercover the first time, in case the translation matrix ever encountered a glitch. It was hard work, but he was good at it, at least according to Jackson. Jackson had seemed faintly surprised; Telford had said, “You thought I’d be as dumb as a brick.” “No,” Jackson had said, but his eyes had slid guiltily away. Telford had smirked, grimly pleased by the implied admission. Jackson had said, too hurriedly, “I didn’t. II wasn’t surprised because— I mean, I wasn’t alluding to— obviously that’s not what I meant.”

What he’d meant didn’t interest Telford. At forty-two years old, he’d had every version of that conversation, the one that was all ellipses. The last thing he wanted was to rehash them again with fucking Jackson. So, instead, he’d said, “Aramaic in space. Doesn’t it ever make you wonder?”

Jackson had looked uncomfortable. He’d adjusted his glasses with both hands. “Wonder what?”

“Oh, don’t play coy with me. If Jesus was— you know.”

“Extraterrestrial, you mean? A Goa’uld? The idea’s been floated.”

“And?”

They’d been sitting in an empty conference room, waiting for some meeting to start; it had been late, Telford thinks now, or very early; there had been this hush, like sound was suppressed. Sometimes late at night there, he’d feel like he was under the ocean: the pressure deforming his eardrums, till all he could hear was the rush of his own blood. Jackson had toyed with a pencil, balancing it on the side of one finger. Unbidden, Telford had been reminded of the Egyptian scale of justice, where your heart was weighed against a feather after you were dead. The image had seemed apt; Daniel, he’d thought, what a fan-fucking-tastic Eternal Judge you’d make, sitting there with your schoolboy pout and your moralizing.

Without looking up, Jackson had said, “Oh, I don’t know. Not really the Goa’uld modus operandi, is it?”

“No? Render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s; forget about getting what you deserve, and God’s going to magically provide you with loaves and fishes?”

“That seems like a very thin interpretation of the Gospels.”

Telford had half-laughed incredulously. “You’re going to come over all Christian on me, Jackson?”

Jackson flattened his pout out into a thin line. “I hardly think it has to be Christian to suggest that the impulse behind one of Earth’s major religions, and a full interpretation of its sacred texts, is about more than just the redistribution of resources.”

“So— what, then?” Telford moved restlessly in his chair.

“Divine justice,” Jackson said. He had the air of someone offering a challenge. “The idea that there’s something beyond us, some truth, some ultimate harmony or knowledge. Something that we’re a part of, if we want to be— if we want to be good.”

Telford had felt incredulous. “Knowledge,” he’d repeated. “Ultimate knowledge.”

“You don’t think that’s what God is? Knowledge?” Jackson seemed genuinely curious. His forehead was furrowed.

“Well,” Telford said, “for starters, I don’t think God is good.”

“I can’t tell you how amazed I am to hear it.” Jackson’s mouth gained a sad quirk. He looked down, at where the pencil was perfectly balanced on his finger. “So: not harmonious, but maybe— maybe still knowledge.”

Telford had shaken his head— slowly at first, and then faster, like a round of sardonic applause building. “Don’t get me wrong, Jackson— I know you’ve been a floating space octopus of pure light and shit, and gotten the sublime wisdom of the Ancients, but to paraphrase a much wiser man than myself: kid, I’ve flown from one side of this galaxy to the other, and I’ve seen a lot of strange stuff, but I’ve never seen anything to make me believe that all I need is more information, like a giant celestial textbook is going to make it all make sense.”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Jackson said.

But he looked hurt; stung, somehow. His face had closed off. He curled his fist around the pencil. Telford had felt a brief surge of triumph; he liked defeating Jackson. At the same time, he had recognized Jackson’s expression. Back then, he hadn’t known why or what it meant. Now, he remembers it and senses some vague association with the dreams in which he tries to find the Chinese room. He wants to trust that there’s a place in which the answers will all be provided. He wants a dictionary that will teach him how to be a man. Unlike Jackson, though, he doesn’t think that one exists. There are no universals. There is no truth that we are trying to uncover in the only way that Jackson would’ve understood— the way an archeologist sifts through layers of dirt, patiently looking for the pieces that were once part of a coin, a corpse, a kettle, before the annihilating storm of history blew through. There’s a churning mass that has never had a meaning. It isn’t moving towards or away from something. It just is what it is.

When he was undercover, speaking Babylonian had helped; he’d felt like a different person. He’d felt like he was moving through a different world, one that wasn’t organized according to the same kind of principles he’d grown up with. There was no right or wrong to it; just a different set of facts. He took to it like a fish to water, once he’d mastered the language. The sense of alienation was familiar to him. When he went back to Earth between assignments, that was the strange part— standing in his own house, his own kitchen.

And now he never has to go back there. Never has to speak English again, if he doesn’t want to. He can move through different languages, different truths, like putting uniforms on and taking them off when you’re finished.

“Shkarum,” he says to the bartender, tapping the bar with two emphatic fingers. “Ak shkarum yahab, vakash.”

His accent is very good.

***

[mrsunderhill678]

Ya girl’s writttttinnnnn’

“My name is written in storm clouds and rainy days, I am the lightning licking the waves and the storm pursuin' the fucking sailor.” - Zafavri Holts

“Look at the truth, how it molds and twists, in this long life I've lived I've learned truth kills the kindest 'a men. You thought lies were damning? Just wait until you see the truth that slinks in the damn shadows.” - Zafavri Holts

“You've heard of Jack the Ripper, Ted Bundy and the Axeman of New Orleans, and you'd think the scariest thing about em would be their killer deeds. But the most horrifyin' thing about the darkest 'a men is, they were once normal, men. They was kids, playin' in the grass, fools runnin' after girls in the fifth grade, dreamin' of sunny days and sunflowers castin' beautiful shade.” - Zafavri Holts

“Your power is in words and hearts, mine is in blood and howls.” - Zafavri Holts

“I was once, just like you, dreamin' of better days, smilin' as my wife walked through the door, tuckin' my kids inta their beds. But the truth took the good man I was in it's stride, and replaced me with a sinister specter 'a all the killers before me. I am Jack the Ripper and Ted Bundy, the Zodiac Killer and the Axeman of New Orleans, but worst of all, I'm Zafavri fucking Holts.” - Zafavri Holts

“My father once said he's one dead dream away from blasphemy, and with a life of screeching dreams and dying nightmares I must confess, I fear I myself am blasphemy.” - Polaris Cougar

“I lost my mind in the confines of my skull.” - Barlo Brick

“I spin this chamber 'gainst my head and wonder why it ain't gone off. Perhaps fate holds her finger against the hammer, daring me to make a move against her.” - Barlo Brick

“I play games with my life, rolling these dice, playing these shitty cards as if they were a good hand. I'm an addict of fate and destiny, playing moves against her so she'll play fatal moves against me. I tease fate with promises of my doom, praying she'll take a lowlife like me.” - Barlo Brick

“I'm a reflection of my father's sins, drowning myself in the lights of the casino.” - Barlo Brick

“I walk, I talk, I breathe like me, but I ain't me.” - Tommy Graves

“Me father once told me, that if ya've got a board full 'a pawns, and the foe's board is full 'a kings, you play a tricky game of Queen's Gambit.” - Tommy Graves

“I'd say I've made friends with my demons, but they've made friends with me shadows, leavin' me an outcast in my own damn mind.” - Tommy Graves

“I'm startin' ta fear that all my thoughts are all my friends, and I'm me only enemy.” - Tommy Graves

“If my mother could see me now, she'd shake 'er damn 'ead. She'd say, "Tommy, with thoughts like these, you'll end up yer last damn name." - Tommy Graves

“Even when you don't seek it, destiny shall arrive all the same.” - Baron Xaverkit

“Karma rewards those who love with destines of joy and valor. Be more than a resistance against the dark, be a war of light and joy, love and heartful karma. Be the blade that spares the king, be the coin that sets the hangman free, and be the man who when stricken by his enemy, offers the other side of his cheek. You shall know no greater joy, other than loving others as life has loved you.” - Baron Xaverkit

“I am a mere flicker of a wolf, an ember of a beast. I am the cold afterglow of the beasts that made me, and thus, I am nuthin' but cinder and the pale spark, strivin' for the darkness 'a the night sky.” - D’Angello Campbell

“Look at these stars gazin' at me, some will for me ta reach em, others gather their rifles and prepare for war.” - D’Angello Campbell

“As I stare my enemies dead in the eye, and watch their smiles flicker like old film, I realize it is a mirror I stand before. Those are my hands grippin' the porcelain sink, and I wonder where the blood drippin' from the faucet came from.” - D’Angello Campbell

“My son has stared me in the eye and declared me the devil, he looks at me with rage in his eyes, the same betrayal the lord must'a felt as the devil swore ta rise above him.” - D’Angello Campbell

“This flicker of a wolf is slowly learnin' how ta fade.” - D’Angello Campbell

“In the hollow cracks of my smile I have found regret so deeply interwoven with my heart that it flows as blood through my veins.” - Bellamy Cooper

“I lie awake in bed, reaching for memories that are not there. Regina, my love, she tasted like home and everything I'd never had... I saw so much when I looked at her... I saw a sheet of twinkling stars, the sun bringing warmth... But most beautifully, I saw that woman dancing under the light of the moon, as if she was drunk off it's pale glow, enjoying the way the world spun. But I don't dance any more, I don't hold her hand in mine, she does not hold my scars. Fate has torn us from each other, and though every night, we star up at the same moon, I have to wonder, do the stars look at the same people?” - Bellamy Cooper

“The stars may gaze upon me and wonder, oh bastard dove in the pale moon glow, who have you become?” - Bellamy Cooper

“I carry this sin on my shoulders as if it was a part of me, as if it was the flecks of white in my hair and the love that once wept in my smile. But these sins were never apart of me, just things I did.” - Bellamy Cooper

“As my love looks to the moon, and knows it is the same moon I gaze upon, I hope she knows, it does not gaze upon the same man.” - Bellamy Cooper

“All my enemies were first my heroes.” - Paviro Le Rouge

“I could murder a drink for all these sins at my back, they've weaved themselves into the fabric of my coat, and though the devil on my shoulder is nothing more than stitches on my jacket, I listen to the whispers of the damned man upon this sinner's coat.” - Paviro Le Rouge

“All the candles have flickered out, the wind ripped the flame from the candle's wick, leaving nothing but the wax to remember the warmth of the flame.” - Paviro Le Rouge

“I once believed my heart held value, but it is my belief that it's only value is the ending of it's beat.” - Paviro Le Rouge

“Do the gods wish to serve me to fate on a silver platter? Am I a toy to destiny? I am a mortal vessel of higher powers, these whispers in my head tell me, "You will defy destiny, she will crawl at your knees and weep," but what of my, destiny? How can I defy destiny yet follow her road?” - Paviro Le Rouge

“To defy destiny is to succumb to eternity.” - Paviro Le Rouge

“A man once asked me, if I ever thought that I'm not myself, that to die would be to finally be me. And I must confess, if the void were to take me now, I'd find peace in that.” - Howdy Woolen

“Everyone thinks they know me better than I do, but if they spent one day in my mind they'd scream, shout and beg that someone would let them out.” - Howdy Woolen

“My demons share my name and my face, but with those crooked smiles, how could they possibly be me?” - Howdy Woolen

“I look to this ash around me, these scorched dreams and ashen nightmares, and I beg my father to forgive me. But how can he forgive me for killing his own son?” - Howdy Woolen

“Chaos is fair in da fact dat it kills all.” - Aggemuth Williamson

“God knelt ta me level and told me dat all men were created equal, in da fact dat all men die.” - Aggemuth Williamson

“Death cares not for who we are, it don't give a bloody fuck whether you're youn' or old, it'll rip through ya and call ye alive.” - Aggemuth Williamson

“I am a wicked wolf who knows chaos is da forest in which I strive. Dese shadows are death, da light flickerin' from da trees is nuffin' but false salvation, for just above da trees lies a wicked beast. Red rain falls from da forest leaves, remindin' us dat in chaos' forest, we are all nuffin' but blood to be spilled and graves ta be fuckin' dug.” - Aggemuth Williamson

“Eden only 'eld me down, da snake in da garden was me, I was da forbidden fruit, I was Eve and Adam. But most wicked 'a all, I am da heavenly father that placed secrets in paradise, and damned innocent men for the fings I did.” - Aggemuth Williamson

“Blood and death for peace will never be true order. We live a lie, believing hate can drive out hate.” - Shaymelina Demablossom

“I am willing to walk a mile in a bad man's boots if it meant I could see the world through his eyes.” - Shaymelina Demablossom

“ We are not creatures of blood and death, we are butterflies soon to soar, cats playing curiously in the field. We are dogs, chasing the cat because we think it wants to play.” - Shaymelina Demablossom

“Evil comes from brokenness, but so does strength, so why choose cruelty?” - Shaymelina Demablossom

“I am a reflection of my enemies, a sinful projection of my fucking vengeance. As I stand before heaven's gates, all that shall be left are three corpses on the floor and two empty fucking six shooters. After all, an empty chamber and blood pooling beneath my feet is the sinful mark of revenge.” - Jake Warden

“This heart beating in my chest is no symbol of love, tear into my ribs and you'll find the pitch black night sky, for the moon crashed hurtling into the Earth, leaving nothing but vengeful stars, mourning for the home they lost.” - Jake Warden

“My sister told me to rebuild my bridges, but how am I to do that when I leave nothing but fire in my wake? I only seek for those behind me to crumble on the ashen bridge. May they follow my footsteps, only to drown in the roaring river below the bridges I fucking burnt.” - Jake Warden

“Oh Roan fucking Scorpio, you are a beast amongst men, a wicked werewolf, but so am I, so am I. My fur has grown more ragged than yours, my coat more blood-stained than yours, yet still I seek this damning vengeance. You are a wolf of family and love, yet I howl of loss. I could drag you through the dark, and still, you'd fight for something less than yourself.” - Jake Warden

“My hands tremble 'pon a dead man's gun, and as I stare down the barrel 'a this rifle, I fear it's me I'm aimin' at. I see them burnin' wings, I recognize them howls as he falls hellbent through the midnight sky, cuz they came from my own fuckin' throat. But all I do is take aim, breathe in, breathe out, and shoot this fallin' angel from the damn sky.” - Roan Scorpio

“My oldest frien' always did say he was Icarus, I wonder if he found solace as he burned? We were both wolves in the field, strappin' wings to our backs, dreamin' 'a sumthin' greater.” - Roan Scorpio

“I'm a child 'a the streets and a warrior 'a the highways, cuz I stalk these forests, boundin' cross the road in hopes the cars will catch me, sendin' me blood-streaked across the damn grass.” - Roan Scorpio

“It's a big world out there, ya got sinners by the dozen and dwindlin' saints, but I spose I'm somewhere between that spectrum.” - Roan Scorpio

“Vengeance kills most men before they evah gain it.” - Roan Scorpio

“I know what it is to be a sheep, there were once pain in my name and tears in my smile, but as I looked through the eyes of me father, and saw his reflection in me own, I learned always was I a wolf, swindled in a sheep's soft fur.” - Bodean Clemegrine

“All who have been within the scope of my rifle have fell in spurts of crimson salvation.” - Bodean Clemegrine

“In death there is mercy, and in mercy there is death.” - Bodean Clemegrine

“If you've known fear, than you've known me, friend. For I carve myself into your darkest memories, and every thought of me shall be followed with shivers up your spine and cracks in your smile.” - Bodean Clemegrine

“I am the wolf in Shepperd's clothing.” - Bodean Clemegrine

“I've learned that monsters don't hide these days, they've too much courage for our own good.” - Terissa Dyste

“My husband wanted me to waste my hate on him, to rot away every moment of my day with crooked thoughts of his haunted bay.” - Terissa Dyste

“I can see regret in my angel's eyes, death flickers in his smile, and blood hides within the cracks of his heart. But I am here to fill them with love.” - Terissa Dyste

“Salvatore is no bloodthirsty beast, he is no wolf, he's the sheep with a heart too large for a single man to handle. He cares so deeply for others, that he would sacrifice himself to rid them of the pain they've been through. He causes his own pain to save others from it. He is no reflection of those he's killed, for they are bad men, and he is the knight in rusted armor, who has had his metal and valor tested again and again.” - Terissa Dyste

“I love him, despite the pieces of himself he calls ugly, I will twirl them between my fingers and call them lovely.” - Terissa Dyste

“I shall not suffer, I shall grow.” - Terissa Dyste

“You know, my brother once told me, in all his grief, that every time he closes his eyes, he can see the flickering of the fire and the sparks of regret, but I told him, that's just his bridges burning.” - Kindle Xaverthin

“We can't dwell on the past, it's where all our pain comes from, but if we push forward into the unknown, we'll find ourselves in bliss, for if we don't finish the race, how do we ever win? It doesn't matter what place we finish at, just that we do.” - Kindle Xaverthin

“I will follow the road less traveled if that's what it takes, but when needed, I will follow the populated road. I will walk in the crowds and find my purpose in the many.” - Kindle Xaverthin

“I refuse to believe that failure exists. Just temporary defeat. So long as we fight, so long as we strive for something greater, we'll survive. I don't care if your goal is to simply breathe another day or to get out of bed in the morning. That in of itself is strength. Set small goals and conquer them, and as time goes on, you'll realize you scaled Everest inch by inch, without breaking a sweat.” - Kindle Xaverthin

“My grief is a hungry wolf, prowling in my mind, dragging the good memories I had through the dark, ensnaring them in his bloodthirsty maw.” - Markain Hallows

“Turn your heart to the trail behind me, and realize they are lost prayers and dying verses. Behind me is a melody of the damned, and ahead of me is the end of it.” - Markain Hallows

“No wolf dragged me off in it's jaw, no beast took me in it's maw, for it was I who looked in the mirror and reaped all he saw.” - Markain Hallows

“I travel through the night sky like a regretful midnight dove, my feather's have been stained the color the of night I prowl.” - Markain Hallows

“You ever flip a coin and watch in horror as it lands on fate?” - Crow Abervith

“Fate has been controlled by the powerful, and though the lord tries to send a message to you and I, those in power turn it into a threat.” - Crow Abervith

“The dogs have been set free from the pound, and though they barked their warnings and bared their teeth, the wolves howled and left their blood to run on the streets.” - Crow Abervith

“The world is fading out, shouting it's final words, and all we can do is picture it's grave.” - Crow Abervith

“What is life but old wallpaper, resold and refurbished, sold as a chipped away dream?” - Shurrick Gray

“I can't stand these roses on the path, cause I'm a pessimist, I can only look at all those damn thorns.” - Shurrick Gray

“Secrets are barrels of guns and chambers, and I suppose the powerful pull the damn trigger.” - Shurrick Gray

“They tell us to think five moves ahead whilst they think ten. They tell us to charge into the smoke, for the battleground is clear, but this smog only ever hid our foes.” - Shurrick Gray

“My mother always told me, "It gets better, son, it gets better," But under these floorboards are where my memories linger, and in these halls are thoughts of home that force tears from my eyes.” - Shurrick Gray

“Look at me, selling my life as a chipped away dream, telling myself it gets better. But it doesn't, because the lights have kicked the stool, and this dream swings from a noose in the spotlight.” - Shurrick Gray

“I’ve spent my life with one foot in the grave. Life is a cruel and relentless teacher, whipping me upon every failure, demanding I give it my all.” - Juno

“My father was, everything to me... Really. He gave me the patience to find myself, he held my hand through the path and when needed... He let go. He's the strongest man I've ever known, he was the pillars to this castle I roam, and without him, I feel as if I am crumbling.” - Juno

“I am the damned savior of the human race, a hero who realized he was a villain all along.” - Cedric Popovici

“I 'ave been exiled from myself, I rattle the bars 'a this cell, shoutin' at the guards to let me the fuck out. But it's me guardin' this cell, I'm my own damn Alcatraz, and as I look at the world through diamond eyes I realize, I ain't the hero, just the terror who called himself such.” - Cedric Popovici

“The way I see it, I shook hands with the devil ta rid the world of a devil, only to realize it's my hand I were shakin.” - Cedric Popovici

“Every night 'a my life I see angels fall from the sky, and as the sun sinks I pray it takes me in her stride.” - Cedric Popovici

“The executioner raises his blade and said, "When I raise this sword, so I wish this poor sinner eternal life." And as my head rolled from my neck, I realized I could blink, I could breathe, I could feel.” - Cedric Popovici

“The remnants 'a my soldier's cape flutters behind me, and it only stays on my shoulders cuz I hold a gun and pull a trigger. I wear this purple heart on my jacket, and I spose the only reason that bastard's purple is cuz'a the bruises I put there. We're all sheep, I's learned, eatin' from the dryer side 'a the pasture.” - Cedric Popovici

“I don't need a million dreams, just this one.” - Maliella Ryder

“Loife 'as beaten me down and shouted ta the 'eavens, "Allelujah! Da bastard's dead!" But as I stand, and raise moi fists, loife sighs, and prepares for anotha round.” - Billy Jenkins

“I dun't look back at failure, mate, I look forward at da success dat will rise from it.” - Billy Jenkins

“I stand by and protect me sister, she's been through a struggle 'a da mind and soul, and I reckon it's da battle fought wifout guns dat 'urt da most. She's strong, fo' bein' 'erself, and I reckon ta be yerself in a world full'a liars is da greatest achievement 'a all.” - Billy Jenkins

“I hold onta my ma's words, cause some days, I see her smoile in mine.” - Billy Jenkins

“Da sun will rise again, wif or wifout me, I cannot tell, but so long as it rises, I bloody smile.” - Billy Jenkins

“I check my vitals and find my heart still beats, and some days... I think that's unfortunate. My secrets will be buried below me, bury me six feet deep, my secrets deeper.” - Laverne Powell

“It's hard to get well when your mind poisons you with thoughts from years ago. Some days I fear my mind is still plagued by those damning thoughts.” - Laverne Powell

“If the past effects the future, then I fear what's to come.” - Laverne Powell

“Either I'm a broken saint, or a very bad man.” - Chad Broker

“I've let go of all I am, wonderin' why, oh why must I be the outcast, the hissin' cat in a room full 'a barkin', hungry dogs?” - Chad Broker

“I'd shatter the mirror with my fist ta kill my damn reflection. Fractures 'a me splittin' my knuckles and breakin' my bones.” - Chad Broker

“I stare at the waves and know they slip away just like me. I stand in this murky sand, watchin as the ripplin' water distorts my vision. Always looks like you're runnin' as ya stand in the ocean, but ya stay stagnant, don't you? I fear I'm damned, runnin' in the ocean, knowin' the hellhounds will catch me cuz I stand still.” - Chad Broker

“Jerome's always said he's my shadow, where once he was my light. He's just a lost boy, and I'm a broken one, and once ya mix the two togethah, ya don't get a man found, ya get broken glass, mixin' itself inta the sand.” - Chad Broker

“The mirror ain't nuthin' but a reflection 'a trouble comin' and my sins in the wind.” - Chad Broker

“I'm a freakshow, who made it ta heaven only ta realize ta higher powers I'm the damn jester.” - Chad Broker

“I live in the trenches, fighting for a better life, but those I love hurtle grenades and flashbangs into this broken soldier's trench, throwing fractured pieces of self hate and tainted love into my chest.” - Saiq A’Badula

“Beauty flees from war, the grass withers, the flowers die, and the birds forget to sing. Instead, the beauty of nature is replaced with our unnatural acts.” - Saiq A’Badula

“They tell me "You're a soldier, boy, weren't you taught how to march on?" All I can do is nod my head, but I was only ever taught to march into the pain, not away from it.” - Saiq A’Badula

“I am a soldier buried alive under the rubble of his soft spoken regrets and wrongly placed anger. Flowers will bloom from this damned soldier's grave, and it leaves me to wonder, is it when I die I'll finally know beauty? Will I find love in the rising of the roses and the daisies? And I wonder, is death a cruel force? Or is she a kind mistress, taking our hand and leading us to peace?” - Saiq A’Badula

“In my presence, the birds forget to sing, the sun forgets to rise. I am the dark that allows the light to exist, I am the shiver up your spine that whispers, "Run, I am the dark." Look at these pitiful gods, thinking they have me enslaved. They bind me but do not control me. I am seen as a children's story, a warning to be good, but as they speak of me I grow stronger, my strength comes from their fear and the shadows that frighten them out of sleep.” - Kragikul

“Long ago, Life told me this world was not meant for the dark, if that was so, then tell me, pitiful goddess, why do the stars shine? Why do you find refuge in the shade when the sun bares down, but fear it at night? Am I the defining factor of your fear?” - Kragikul

“I prowl this shade, I hear every prayer, every thought, I reside in saint's dreams and sinner's nightmares, I am the beast that monster's warn their children of. Have you ever seen the dark flee? As the sun rises it scurries, and if the monsters fear me, does that make me the light?” - Kragikul

“I am the original sin, the gods look upon me in sinking horror as they realize, peace is fading. My chains grow rust, these vines around me slowly wither, and all the dark has begun to flee.” - Kragikul

“You want peace? It cannot exist with violence such as I.” - Kragikul

“Life ain't gonna break me down, I'm a ramblin' man who finds peace in the dusty fields 'a wheat and crop. I live true and loyal like they used ta, the world may'a crashed down 'pon us, and most men may'a turned ta sin, but these morals 'a mine stand strong in the face 'a damnation.” - Timmy Dayfield

“We all one day find ourselves at a crossroads, and the devil tells us ta shake his hand. It's your choice ta stand unshaken or shake the hand 'a the man in the suit and tie. Cause the devil ain't a creature with pointy lil' horns and a pitchfork. He looks like you, frien', he looks like me, and everythin' you ever wanted. But are yer dreams worth the killin' 'a your morals?” - Timmy Dayfield

“I've walked many a mile in these boots 'a mine, and I've walked in the boots 'a others. When ya see the world through another man's eyes, you'll either see that you're right, or you owe the man an apology.” - Timmy Dayfield

“To all the other wayfarin' strangers out there, findin' themselves at the crossroads, I say. May the wind be at your back, may good fortune touch your hand, and may your resolve stay strong in the face of the shake of a hand.” - Timmy Dayfield

“Time isn't my lover, it isn't my friend, it kills me slowly and drags this life of mine through miles of tragedy ending secrets.” - Evangalice Caesar

“I can still see him in my nightmares, he is a conqueror of time and has bent it to his will. It refuses to take him, for he sits upon a throne of humanity's end.” - Evangalice Caesar

“I'm driven by this hate for beasts I cannot possibly kill, I'm mortal, time eats away at me, but it does not eat away at him.” - Evangalice Caesar

“I can hear his laugh by the light of the moon, I can hear is hauntings and warnings in my sleep. My worst fear is not death, it is the sinful beast, dancing in the light of our suffering. He looks at our pain, he looks at these flames ravaging us, and he calls it beautiful.” - Evangalice Caesar

“I will go up in flames and down in history, for my dynasty shall live beyond me.” - Madusius Crudellis

“Tyranny stands strong in the face of revolution.” - Madusius Crudellis

“These men and women killed are a part of my history, in my memory they are immortal, begging for mercy I don't know how to give.” - Madusius Crudellis

“In the thunder I can hear my dynasty, it is it's own entity. It howls and it barks, it rips into all who oppose it. A blood thirsty wolf, my dynasty is.” - Madusius Crudellis

“I, in of myself, am a dynasty, I am of bones-soon-to-be-broken, and flesh-soon-to-be-cut, it is my mortality that shall create my immortality.” - Madusius Crudellis

“I shall go down in history by force.” - Madusius Crudellis

“Darkness was a concept created before God, even he must bow to it.” - Deandra Cross

“My dreams have died to spite me, I am in a cell of nightmares, and the wolf I am stalks the corner. She's such a damned thing, I can see the rage in her eyes and the hurt in her soul, but to survive this world, I must become her. This wolf like mask must become me. I will stitch these threads into my skin until this mask becomes apart of me. I shall forget who I am underneath, for she was not strong enough to survive the world.” - Deandra Colt

“My sister once told me that the weak get by, the broken die off, but the strong survive and bring fear in their stride. And I guess in order ta survive I had ta be the one takin' lives in my stride.” - Hailey Colt

“All the lights that pollute the sky could not bring light ta the dark in my heart.” - Hailey Colt

“Your demons depend on you ta feed dem, so taunt dem and let dem starve on 'ope.” - Celeste Crinklaw

“Me feathers glow with love and rage, regret and joy, I'm a war cry 'a everyfin' I've evah been, and if loife's a war, give me a bloody blade, mate.” - Celeste Crinklaw

“In me dreams I see a pale white 'orse, 'e beckons me ta follow, tells me dat I can be born again, and everytoime I follow 'im, I see a face I've seen before. In dat pale 'orse's eyes I see someone I knew, but I can't place who. 'E beckons me toward da dark, tellin' me dat is where I belong, but I refuse ta rise from the ashes as sumfin' I ain't.” - Celeste Crinklaw

“I look ta dat pale 'orse in da 'orizon, all I ask, is, "Old frien', where's your rider?" A lonely horse, 'e is, da 'orse 'a my dreams, beckonin' me ta nightmares. 'E's lonesome, wearin' the remnants 'a his saddles and the remains 'a his scars on 'is hide. And all I ask, is where 'ave I seen 'im before?” - Celeste Crinklaw

"You cannot come to understand the depths of the world, you believe the shadows to be the darkest thing this world has to offer, but I have seen things darker than the nebula." - The Watcher

"I have seen things no man could ever dream, let along things that he would want to. All my life I have wished to be a hero, but it is gritty work, it drains away at the soul, and I must wonder how much of it I have left these days." - Ickden Harloff

"There are things in this world that we do not understand, sadly, they must be condemned for it is the dark from whence they came." - Ryan Sanzberg

"My vengeance is immortal, but sadly that must mean, as am I." - Warden Wickersford

"My hope left with the beatin' 'a my love's heart." - Travis Vekington

"When ya lose everythin', what're you supposed ta become?" - Travis Vekington

"Went through hell on a Sunday an' cursed the damn pews cause despite it all, they damn me." - King Wardown

"Cowardice kills people, I've learned, but alas, it keeps me alive." - Verez Vagawit

"You can throw me to the wolves, but I imagine I'll be alright. After all, they hunt to live and the blood on their teeth is of survival, not sport." - James Ace

"Most people can't change because they just don't God damn want to. You can't expect life to change if you don't evolve with it." - Darin Zollo

"I am losing myself, I fear. Faith and hope are hard to come by as your heart slowly falters to the shadow and forgets the warmth of light." - Shan'Bellwitz

"I wish to drift away from this place as nothing more than peace and smoke on the wind." - Shan'Bellron

"I was lost out at sea, trying to find me, but all I became was stranded, vying for something better, yet becoming sumthin' worse." - Ben Stilts “Every sinnin’ man fears the devil.” - Ben Stilts

"Scars leave us bettah or worse off. I reckon mine left me wif' glory." - Pugrish the Mountain

"What's belief without sumthin' to worship?" - Shonas Green

"Ya know what they do with broken men, Mortley? They put em all in this box, and they say, "This is all ya are, we ain't confinin' ya, we're just givin' ya a playground ta roam. But as we get older we realize the walls are sky high and they weren't built ta be fuckin' climbed." - Bortley Dekruiful

"It is in pain that we find a new identity, one which lives alongside the tears." - Mortley Dekruiful

"I'm not concerned about my importance to the world, just the fact that I lived in it, and that it was real." - Milton Modayne "My whole life has been screaming in a single pitch tune, yet I sit here and wonder, what point is there to a chorus when there was never a melody? I am plucking broken strings, expecting a soft song, but I suppose it's foolish, expecting music from a hurting soul." - Milton Modayne

"When you're born in the shade you begin to fall into the delusion that the light is something damning." - Natalia Shelvikit

"As humans we have an innate desire to feel something that is not ourselves, to be something other than we were meant to be. We have been trying to defy destiny for so long that we never thought to pick up the quill and write something other than fate within our lives. We seek to conquer destiny, yet it is what lies outside the realm of fate that we fear." - Ramazalo Shelvikit

"He who fights for himself migh' as well lay down his fists and le' the bullets rain down." - Gromkal Batterfist

"It's strange, how we damn those who fight for justice, but never they who we fight against." - Tovil Quinn

"Dreams are only a broken perception of reality, mate... And sometimes, we need ta wake da fuck up." - Jerry Benson

"Ze zing I fear ze most, iz zat death is ze end. And yet I know that it iz." - Thaddaeus Rediger

"Praying is not the solution to all burdens on the soul." - Jonathan Covaks

I's been carryin' a burden for some time now, you know 'ow crosses are heavy on the back, always pushin' ya back inta the graves ya try to dig, always findin' a new way to rip the skeletons from yer closet." - Mike Fausselkoff

"Sins, always catchin' us humans off guard. We tell ourselves we'll never be like Adam, we'll never be like Eve, but then that forbidden fruit comes along and we begin ta wonder. What does it taste like? We wrap ourselves up in all this curiosity, this wonder. We become our own snakes in our own little garden 'a Eden. Well, I spose that fruit came along." - Mike Fausselkoff

"Mr. Stilts, Mr. Skinwalker, karma is at your door." - Cortez Cloves

"A life of killing is better than a life of rotting." - Cortez Cloves

"If I were you, I would not tempt fate so cruelly. Fate is never in the one man's favor, it is always in the favor of the crowd, never he who flips the coin." - Borbasli Orgazi

[kumeko]

A/N: For the Eos Compendium zine! I’ve been dying to write Nyx/Luna since I’ve seen the movie, and took this as an excuse to just do it.

Summary: Nyx wasn’t sure if the past kings had something else in mind for him or if he was still clinging to life out of sheer stubbornness (sheer stupidity, Crowe would have called it). Either way, Luna was here and he was alive and this time, he wasn’t going to let her out of his sight.

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i.

 “Nyx.”

 A voice flowed over him like water, soothing the burns and lacerations that crossed his body. Every part of him felt like it was on fire, as though he was lying on a bed of coals. No, that wasn’t right—it was more like he was burning on the inside, a flame simmering just beneath his skin.

 “Nyx, wake up.”

 A heaven-sent balm, the voice continued to call his name. His eyes fluttered open, the bright light of the sun searing into his retinas before he squeezed them shut again. Fuck, he swore, but his throat was parched and the only sound that escaped his lips was a dusty cough. There was a tingle in his fingers and toes as he tried to wiggle them.

“You are alive.” A soft sigh of relief. Something warm and wet hit his skin. Cracking his eyes open an inch, Nyx slowly took in his surroundings. As his eyes adjusted, he could make out smouldering fires, jagged rubble. Hell, now that his body was awake, he could feel the cracked rocks beneath his back. The sharp points poked into his skin everywhere except for his head. A hand brushed his forehead, soft fingers hesitantly pressing into his skin. “Though I am not sure how.”

 “Your Highness,” he managed, opening his eyes now fully to make out the bent figure of Lunafreya Nox Fleuret. His charge. She shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be here. Dozens of questions ran through his mind and Nyx closed his eyes once more. Taking a deep breath, he started with the basic steps. Was anything broken? Not his ribs, at the very least. Nothing felt cracked, just bruised.

 And his skin, his skin felt like fire, like ash, like it would burn into nothing and flake apart at the slightest breeze. It was a strange feeling. An imprint of the ring was permanently scorched onto his finger and even though it wasn’t on, he could still feel the weight of it all. He breathed in. As he exhaled, Nyx opened his eyes and shakily started to rise.

 Luna quickly grabbed his shoulders, helping him up. Closer now, he could make out the dirt on her skin, the tear streaks on her face. “Be careful, I do not think you have recovered yet.”

 “As much…” His voice cracked. Nyx swallowed, his mouth still too dry.  “As much as I can be, your highness.”

 Not the response she was expecting, he was sure. Luna stared at him for long ten seconds, her eyes blinking owlishly, before she cracked a smile. “I suppose if you can talk like that, you are better than I expected.” Her slim fingers ran down his arm, leaving a trail of ice in their wake, before curling around his hand. Inspecting his fingers, she murmured, “Truly, it is strange. The ring has left barely a mark on you.”

 “No, it definitely left something.” Nyx winced—his body still felt like it was on fire, ever smouldering. What had the kings said? He’d have their powers until the dawn had risen? He had taken it to mean the next day, but here he was. Maybe there was some other dawn they wanted him to live to. Or maybe he was alive purely by willpower, his body kept together by the shear strength of his stubbornness. Crowe would have called it idiocy.

 She was probably right. He was too stupid to know when to die.

    ii.

There were certain aspects of life that Luna had resigned herself to accept: her death, the fate of the world, the fact that her struggle would be a long and lonely one. The second she had summoned the trident, had connected with the gods, she had known all of these things to be true, whether she willed them or not.

 The man following her like a loyal dog was not one of those things. Stopping in the middle of a muddy path, Luna turned around to face him. “You do not have to follow me.”

 “What else am I gonna do?” Nyx’s lips quirked into a smirk and she didn’t know if his expression or his tone was more infuriating. A mix of both, most likely. “I’m a dead man walking.”

 “Live your life, however much left of it there is,” Luna entreated, focusing on his scarred hand. Even now, she did not know how he bore the pain. His right arm was a mass of burns, thin flakes of skin chipping off here and there. The price of the ring was a steep one indeed, though not as high as she had feared. He had lived, at least. He should not be throwing his life away like this. “Meet your friend.”

 At that, Nyx flinched. His eyes lowered and he shook his head. “Liberatus would understand. It’s dangerous out here and I don’t think your trident will cut it.”

 “What I am doing is dangerous,” Luna corrected. “Whether you are here or not, my path is a difficult one.”

 “I can make it slightly less difficult.” Looking more serious now, Nyx pulled out his Glaive knife. A knife that was now useless to everyone but him. He balanced it in his hand before slowing wrapping his fingers around the hilt. “I promised King Regis to keep you safe.” Gripping the knife tightly now, he tossed it behind her and burst into a million refracted lights as he warped to the wild beast behind her. “It’s the only reason I’m still standing.”

 Luna spun around, watching as he killed monster after monster, his knife hurtling from one direction to another. It was a futile task. Even if they injured her, they wouldn’t kill her. Not yet. It wasn’t her fate to end here.

 It was her fate to die across the sea, in a watery grave. You can’t save me, her lips refused to form.

 Some part of her knew that he would try anyways.

    iii.

 The modest campfire flickered, just barely strong enough to survive the slight night breeze. Nyx quickly scanned the moonlit sky; with the bright full moon, anyone could spot them if they were looking hard enough. All it took was one magitech engine and while Nyx could take down a group, even he would have difficulties against that many.

 “Is something wrong?” Luna asked quietly. On the other side of the fire, she hugged her knees to her chest, her eyes half-closed, and she looked more like a lost child than a fierce, stubborn princess.

 “Nothing yet.” One last check and Nyx tore his eyes away from the sky. The embers flickered in and out of existence, the fire on the verge of dying, and he added another log to the pile. At least the smoke wasn’t too visible. “You should sleep.”

 “As should you.” Luna eyed him now, looking slightly more awake. “I do not understand how you are still standing. When was the last time you slept?”

 “…properly? Weeks ago.” Nyx shrugged, leaning back. “Maybe it’s the ring.”

 “Perhaps so.” Luna pulled out the chain from under her dress, holding it up in the dim light. The fire flickered on the dull silver, casting reflections that looked like omens of the future. “Though I do not know of any such properties. Moreover, only the king should be able to draw out the ring’s power.”

 “Prince Noctis,” Nyx mumbled, resisting the urge to spit out the name. Even now, he felt a surge of bitterness over all that was lost so the royal heir could survive. Over all who had died so a single boy and his entourage could make it to the next day. “When’s he getting the ring?”

 The wrong question. As soon as he asked, Luna’s expression darkened and she let go of the chain. With a guarded look, she answered, “Not yet—there are still some tasks before he is ready. He must connect with his ancestors and gain powers of old. He must form convents with the gods.”

 “And you won’t meet him till then?” Nyx clarified, though he already knew the answer to that before she nodded. This was a woman who had jumped out of a flying vehicle to help her king, a woman who kept pushing and pushing forward for a duty that wrapped around her thicker than any chain.

 “Yes. There is much to be done.” Luna paused before softly adding, “And not much time to do it.”

    iv.

 “Your highness,” Nyx softly started, watching her from the corner of his eyes as she slowly picked her way down steep mountain path. It had been hard to find an opening where the empire had no eyes, a path that only the wild animals knew.

 Before he could continue, Luna shook her head and cut him off. Firmly, she corrected him, “Luna.”

 “That isn’t—”

 “Insomnia is no more. Tennebrae was annexed.” Luna’s eyes lowered as though she was remembering some place, some time long ago, when neither of those were true. Her hand grabbed onto the nearby wall, keeping her steady as she found her footing forward. “All that I have left now is the trident and my name. There are not many who can still call me by it.” When he didn’t respond, she added, “Have we not travelled together long enough to drop such formalities?”

 Despite her light tone, her eyes were just as determined as they had been when they’d raced through Insomnia. Rubbing the back of his neck, he nodded. “Fine. Luna.” In his head, Nyx could already hear Crowe and Liberatus laughing. Quickly, he amended. “Princess Luna.”

 “Not quite what I was hoping for, but it is sufficient.” Luna smiled.

 “Anyways, about your brother...” Nyx trailed off. There was no easy way to say this. Biting the bullet, he forged on, “He’s alive.”

 “Ravus?” Luna almost stumbled over a rock, shock colouring her expression. Grabbing his arm, she stared up at him. “Are you certain?”

 “Yeah.” If there was one thing that remained true even after all that they’d been through, it was that news travelled fast and gossip even faster. The small towns that they had carefully bypassed were full of stories about a one-armed general and the rag-tag team that Noctis had managed to scrounge up. “He lost his arm, but he’s still there.”

 For once, Luna was like an open book. Joy and sorrow warred in her expression, her hand slipping off his to clasp her other one. “He is truly alive.” Her pace slowed, her foot scuffing the earth as she digested the information. “The old kings were very generous then, allowing both you and him to survive. Though, perhaps it would have been better if he had not. He will only obstruct us in the future.”

 “You don’t have to say that, you know.” Nyx looked away when she turned to him, staring instead at the center of the large crater they were heading down. “You can be happy about it.”

 “Can I truly?” Luna murmured, her hands squeezing tighter together. Her nails dug into her skin. “Even now, he is still with the empire, is he not?”

 “I was hoping he’d died.” Nyx shrugged. “It’s fine if you’re happy about it—no one else will be.”

 “Is that so?” Luna squeezed her hands one last time before finally dropping them to her sides. “I am happy, but also a little sad. I do not think he is my brother anymore.” She smiled ruefully. “I think my brother died long ago, I had just hoped otherwise.”

    v.

The Archaean roared. It took all of Nyx’s strength not to fall backwards at the sight of this god towering over them, at this angry being who looked ready to smite at a moment’s provocation. As it was, the heat was terrible enough without this added fear. Wiping his brow with his free hand, Nyx tightened his grip on his dagger.

 In the middle of a stone ledge, Luna regally stood with her trident. He was never sure where this courage came from, where all that strength fit inside of that tiny, frail body. Even as the Archaean glared her down, Luna didn’t back away. Determined, she held up her trident once more and beseeched, “Remember the covenant. The chosen king shall arrive soon to claim it.”

 A massive hand took a powerful swipe, his fingers just barely missing the young woman. Even then, she didn’t flinch, and Nyx raised his dagger. A god. He could take it on. Maybe. At least, it would give Luna enough time to flee. “Princess, I think it’s time to go.”

 “Stay back.” She didn’t turn around as she ordered him, her gaze steady on the god’s.

 “He’s—”

 “This is my duty.” Those words again. Her duty. Her sacrifice. What visions of the future did the gods send her that she had completely forgotten self-preservation? “I will see it through.”

 Nyx gritted his teeth. “Fine.” Crouching slightly, he kept his hand steady in case he needed to quickly drag her away. He could be stubborn too.

    vi.

 Luna pulled her jacket around her tighter. It was raining now, Ramuh sparking lightning and thunder across the sky, and they still had miles to go before they reached his location. In front of her, the meager fire Nyx had managed to make sputtered and died.

 “Shit.” Nyx leaned forward, shielding the weak embers. Using the dry kindle he had saved, he tried to coax the fire back to life. It was too late; despite the small alcove they were hiding in, the rain was determined to get in everywhere. With a sigh, he sat back. “Sorry, princess. Looks like we’re in the cold again.”

 Princess. She hadn’t liked the change in titles at first, but rolling off his lips, it sounded almost like a nickname. Curling up into a tighter ball, she sighed. “You tried your utmost. It is all I can ask for.”

 ��Still. Would have been nice to be warm for once.” Nyx leaned back against the wall. This close, she could make out the profile of his face, the rough scars that told stories she would never know. His usually neat braids were for once a little messy, unable to keep together in the constant rain. “I guess he got it?”

 “Got what?” Luna asked, startled back into the conversation. “Who?”

 “The Archaean. Noctis.” Concerned, he looked down at her. “You sick, princess?”

 “No, I am fine.” Luna rubbed her cold arms. “Noctis did achieve the covenant, the Archaean was appeased. There is a reason all that heat vanished.”

 “And then Ramuh had to sweep in and make everything wet,” Nyx commented blithely, a bitter expression on his face. “I guess it won’t go away till he gets here?”

 “Not until the covenant is forged,” Luna confirmed regretfully.

 “Then wouldn’t it be quicker if we just travelled with him?”

 “Not entirely.” Luna buried her head in her arms, listening to the rain as it fell. The large droplets were comforting. “I had considered it. Unfortunately, the gods require ample preparation time and it would be too dangerous for both of us to travel together.”

 Nyx said nothing. They sat in silence, listening as the thunder rumbled in the distance. Lightning flashed, crashing to the earth on a lone tree in the mountains. Luna could hear Nyx breath shallowly, his body tense and ready for a fight. He was always ready to jump into battle, to defend, to protect. She had almost forgotten what it was like to be with someone else and share a burden.

 “Do you want to see him?” Nyx asked, his voice softer now. She didn’t look up to see his expression.

 “Him?” She didn’t need the clarification, not really.

 “The prince.”

 “I do not know,” Luna answered truthfully to her knees. It was a little easier like this, when all she could see was darkness. She thought of the wedding dress she would never wear. “I have not seen him since we were children. I am not sure what difference it would make now.”

 There was a small intake of air. Surprised, Nyx pressed on. “Then your engagement—”

 “A ruse to ensure he left the city. To ensure I entered the city.” Luna closed her eyes, remembering the little boy who read stories with her. Who had left her notes in her exchange diary, the one small thing she had allowed herself to have. “At one time though, I think there could have been love.”

 There was a long pause. She listened to the sound of him breathing. “And now?”

 “Now there is no time for love, just duty.” Just a single duty. She had seen the images many times by now: Leviathan, a bloody dagger, a ring. A chance to save the world, to change its destiny in exchange for her own. “I am the Oracle, I must finish what I set out to do.”

 “You know, it’s okay to do something for yourself. For once.” His voice was awkward, fumbling. His kindness more so. “If you want to see him…”

 Did she? It was a question she both wanted and didn’t want answered. She feared what the result would bring. “Nyx? Thank you.”

    vii.

 A black dog darted out of the woods and Nyx resisted the urge to skewer the mutt. “It’s you again.”

 “Who?” Luna broke into a smile at the sight of Umbra and kneeled down to pet him. “I take it he received the message?”

 Umbra barked, his tail wagging proudly, and Nyx tried not to snort. A messenger to the gods? More like a magical dog.

 Unwrapping the package on Umbra’s back revealed an envelope overly stuffed with pictures. The snapshots spilled out, revealing its contents, and Luna lit up as she started to flip through them. “So it was Prompto this time, I take it.”

 Umbra yipped, laying down on his paws as he watched her.

 Curious, Nyx picked one up. Two men were smiling at the camera, a woman in black standing just behind them. “They look like they’re on a road trip.”

 “I am sure they did not want to send me sad photos.” Luna glanced at the one in his hand. “Oh my.” She raised a brow. “I did not know Gentiana could be seen like that.”

 Gentiana. Nyx blinked. The other messenger to the gods. He’d seen Luna talk to her when she thought he wasn’t listening, her voice low and calm as she discussed their plans. Or rather, he’d seen Luna talk to the empty air, since apparently Gentiana was invisible to all. The only thing he noticed was the waves of sadness that saturated the air during each meeting.

 “Maybe I should get a camera.” She was invisible to all but the lens, it seemed. He stared at her placid expression, her neatly clasped hands. She looked just as unhappy as he’d expected.

    viii.

 I’ll keep you safe, Nyx had sworn.

 On a boat to Altissia, Luna stared into the waves, the Glaive’s words echoing in her head. Part of her wanted to believe him.

 A part of her knew better.

   viii.

 There was a part of him that had expected this. Well, not all of this—it would take a prophet to anticipate the destruction of a city, the massive body of the leviathan, the endless troopers. And it had. And that prophet was now sitting in a pool of her blood, leaning on her trident as she struggled to stand.

 It had taken him a second to warp to her side, his hands carefully cradling her to his chest. “I’ll find a doctor, it’ll be okay.” The words rushed out of him, an unfamiliar sense of panic rising within him. His fingers shook slightly as he held her. “You’ll be okay.”

 “It’s fine,” Luna coughed, her voice already faint. A bloody hand rose up to cup his cheek, a soft smile on her face. “I knew this would happen.”

 And so had he, no matter how much he had wanted to deny it. Her words had been laced with goodbye since the moment he’d met her. “A doctor,” he repeated, getting up. Maybe he could find an evacuation team. Or go to where all of the residents were taken to. His mind was a mess, thoughts tumbling out of him, and he froze indecisively.

 “Nyx.” Weakly, she pushed his jaw toward her to grab his attention once more. “Noctis must be saved. The ring must be delivered. It is too late for me, but the world still has a chance. You know this as well as I do.”

 And he did, and he did, but there was a difference between knowing and accepting. Red blossomed all over her white dress, her skin growing cooler with every second that passed.

 “Nyx,” she murmured.

 “I know,” he answered, leaning down till their foreheads touched. His hand reached for his dagger.

    x.

 It ended as it started, with fire and water. The ring slipped onto Noctis’s finger and Nyx closed his eyes as the coals simmering underneath his skin erupted into flames once more. The kings had come to claim their pound of flesh. His body started to flake apart, like ash, like dust, like petals in the wind.

 Nyx, a voice called out to him, a voice like a soothing balm on his frayed nerves.

 Luna, he thought, and he reached into the void.

[creepyalienghost]

The return of siren head 

“I heard them again last night. The sirens.” Sammy told Doctor Mathew. The doctor that been had caring for him for the last 3 years since he was brought in from his original hospital. They moved him hear after people kept trying to get in to harm the delusional boy for killing his friends. It was more guarded and hiding from the patient safety. The nurses and his Doctor was well trained to help care for these poor lost souls.

“They were closer then the nights before...” Sammy said to inform him. For the last three years he thought he was safe there from that monster that murdered his three best friends and ruin his life. But two weeks ago he awoken one night to hear those sirens. It was the first time hearing it again and it frighten Sammy so much. Every night since he herd them all night long but no one else hears them. Just him. Last night though they were closer! That thing was growing near! He needed to get everyone out of here!

“Why is it do you think your hearing sirens again Sammy?” Doctor Mathews ask his patient

Sammy stood up, slamming his hands on the table in frustration. “Because he fucking found me!” He replied. “He found me and were all In danger!” Sammy starts crying and shaking from fear as the doctor just watches with a blank face of his.

“Sammy. I’m going to need you to calm down and for you not to use that language here.” Doctor Mathews ask politely.

But Sammy couldn’t caln down. Fear had taken over him. “No!” He shouted. “I’m not going to calm down when there’s a monster slowly approaching us!” He yelled out in fear. “Doctor Mathew! I’m telling you the tr-“ Sammy was silenced by the nurse giving him a sedated shoot from behind. Immediately his body begin to relax and his mind started to slip under. He couldn’t force his eyes to stay open for much longer. He was so sleepy from the drug.

The nurse and Doctor Matthews grabbed Sammy before he could fall and they both safely carried him to his room, placing him on his bed. By then Sammy was passed out asleep. The nurse made sure Sammy was tucked in nice and tight then they both left the room for him to sleep.

The drug slowly Dissolved from his blood Stream, waking him up hours later. Sammy sat up in his bed and listened. There was less footsteps out in the hallway. Meaning it was nighttime. He clawed outta bed and went to the window, pulling the curtain back to see if he was corrected. He was. The sun had sat and the moon was full. This gave him unwanted memories. Ones of his three bed friends last moments. Henry’s tore up body. Joey running out that door, being grabbed by that..thing. And Norman shooting at it. Sammy squeeze his eyes shut to try to suppress those memories then he opened them again.

He was about to leave the window when something out there caught the corner of his eye. He stopped in place and looked back out the window at the dark woods. He didn’t see anything for a long time. Just empty dark woods but his heart begins to race in his chest. He could tell something wasn’t right about the woods. Something was off! But he couldn’t spot the danger. Until he saw a tree move forward. He looked harder at that particular tree as he holds his breath and quickly notice it didn’t have leaves on top. It had sirens...and it was now 10 feet from the fence line.

Sammy backed away from the window, covering his mouth. That monster was here. It had found him! Everyone here was in danger. He had to warn them all!

Sammy sprinted out of his room, out into the hallway where a couple of nurses were checking in on the patients. “Nurse! Nurse!” He ran to them as they turned to him. “We have to get outta Here! That monster is right outside!!” He told them.

All three of them gave him a pity look but the main one was the nurse that spoke. “Sammy. Are you taking your medication, dear?” She ask him.

Sammy nodded. “Yes! But this isn’t what that is about! I’m telling you the truth! Please! You gotta believe me!!” Sammy begged them. “The monster is here god damn it!”

It all happened so fast. Before anyone of the nurses responded to his language that thing’s arm came though the windows next to them and grabbed the main nurse, dragging her out to her death. The other two scream in fear as they herd the main nurse get ripped up. Things escalated from there.

Sammy took off down back the hallway just as the things siren went off. People were coming out of there rooms to see what was happened, Sammy could hear that beast tear it’s way in though the walls, hearing screams of the dying and limbs being ripped apart one by one. He ran into his room and slid underneath his bed.

He stayed there as other patients try to run and hide for their safety. He had tried to warn them all about the monster and everyone though he was crazy. Now it’s here attack his new friends and he couldn’t do anything to help again. He laid there and covered his ear to block out the sounds but it doesn’t help. He was force to listen to them die!

—-

He didn’t know how long it had been since the sounds of death had stopped. Maybe half an hour? Maybe 2? He didn’t even hear the sound or the wind. He knew he had to get outta here though and quick. But was it gone?...god he prayed so.

Sammy slowly peaks out above him as he clawed out from under the bed. To his relief his room was empty. He pulled himself up from the ground and tiptoed to the door. He peaked out into the hallway and wanted to throw up from what he sees. So many body parts everywhere. And so much blood! But he held it down do to fear the thing would hear him.

Sammy tiptoed down the hallway as fast as he could without making a sound. But the beats wasn’t fooled by his tricks. “Sammy...” the voice of his old best friend called out to him. Sammy stopped apparently and turned around to an empty hallway. The monster was using Norman’s voice against him. “Come with me, Sammy. Everything will be ok.” It taunted.

Tears wielded up in Sammy’s eyes as memories flooded his mind. Sammy didn’t know if the beats sees him or was looking for him. But he did know it was toying with him. It took away everything he loved. And now it was fucking with him. Sammy took a deep breath then said two words to the monster before running. “FUCK YOU!!!”

Sammy ran like hell and didn’t look back. But he could hear and feel that thing coming up behind him. He ran though a hole in the wall desperately tried to escape but the monster jumped and landed in front of him, wrapping one of his large bony hands around Sammy, tightly.

The beats raised the powerless human level to one of his mouths. Sammy saw it’s mouth open revealing razor sharp teeth and a wicked tongue. He struggled hard to try to get free but even his hands was bound. “Everything’s alright Sammy.” The beat told him in Norman’s voice. “Just don’t struggle!” The monster sent out a high Pitch frequency from his siren, causing Sammy’s ear drums to hurt.

The sound was so loud and intense to his ears and brain but he couldn’t get his hands out to cover his ears. He was screaming in pain, at least he thinks he was. It was hard to hear though the high pitch. What’s harder was that he couldn’t think ether. He tried to think of a plan many times but each time it was harder and harder. It was like it was missed with his mind or something. The sound got more intense and soon Sammy wasn’t amble to think on his own. When when the sound was gone. All he could do it listen to the monster.

[sugar-petals]

:: BTS ◇ Being Their Werewolf Girlfriend

NOTE › @.btsxdoll​ reblogged a ‘where are the female werewolves in fantasy?’ post which inspired this. enjoy ♡

↳ warnings 🌙 dom/sub, smut, angst, marking, dash of humor

[ jimin ] ➝ He definitely knows that catchy Shakira song, even the Spanish version. But what a real she-wolf roaming his garden at 3 AM ends up being like will blow his mochi mind. Oh yes. It really is a whole new world. And holy shit, you are one hell of a gnarling beast on that lawn. Jimin will be honest with you: If he could, he’d probably brag on twitter all day that you have gigantic claws. That he’s allowed to touch them when you aren’t particularly wilding out somewhere in the local forest scratching pine trees or off to hang out with a fifteen-member, cigarette-smoking ghoul gang. 

But since it’s classified who you are, no tweets allowed. Sadly, he can’t meet the cool ghouls either. For obvious reasons though, he’d be too tasty a dinner, and he understands that you want to protect him. It’s already hard on you to have a kind of parallel life far from your control. Something so covert, scary, and taboo. Mingling with dangerous cemetary creatures for a night, only to return to a completely normal life. As if nothing happened! But cordial Jimin reassures you. Doesn’t make a hidden werewolf identity make someone the most interesting person ever? He couldn’t be a better boyfriend.  

[ taehyung ] ➝ It’s no secret that sweet Tae loves everything fluffy. The boy can’t lie, he likes your fur and muzzle. Every time you transform, he even keeps a diary entry on it. Keenly documenting everything he observes from characteristics to variations of behavior depending on the environment. You really could say he’s a werewolf biologist. He even discovers that if you eat red cabbage the with the moon waning, the transformation happens a lot faster than usual. Seriously, who could be better at dealing with any canine activity — large-scale, small-scale — than dog lover Taehyung. 

What he’s scared of and prevents a lot of cuddles are your, um, well. Huge dripping fangs and a bite force of five-hundred pounds per square inch to back it up. He has a reason to be careful. However, you’d rather devour some random suburb animals even in your worst of moods. Yeontan excluded. He likes you. It’s fun communicating with him. The world is interesting through werewolf eyes, but since it’s only for one night or two, Yeontan’s perspective is even more interesting since his form is permanent. Rascal sure knows a lot of gossip that would otherwise have never seen the light of day. 

[ jin ] ➝ Now, let’s set the record straight. If there’s one man on the face of this sordid planet who loves sizzling danger? It’s Worldwide Fearless on duty. Jin is the chosen one to have as a designated boyfriend. All his life he dreamed of eerie thrills like that, and it became true. Fate! The first night you were shocked to see your ears grow all fuzzy out of literal nowhere, but Jin knew he made the right dating choice. Your final form has the guy all fired up. He desperately wants to be bitten, growled at, paw-slapped, tossed around, walked on (!), licked head to toe. Long story short, he’s your #1 biggest were-fan.

But at the end of the day, no sexual feelings and acts involved. You’ve talked about that at length. To him, such conversations are normal, but which other couple ever talks about something as touchy. Jin would totally be a monster fucker if you weren’t completely beside yourself after transformation. So there is surely be no guarantee of what could happen. Especially with you being a very hungry lycanthrope raiding the basement. Which he neatly stocks up three days before the big event, and you can feast on it instead of turning this whole party into a literal “EatJin”. God forbid, you’d rather walk on him.

[ yoongi ] ➝ As cool as a cucumber. His mother raised a level-headed boy. When the moon is out there taking its monthly liberty to go off I guess, he sits on the porch with his phone’s lunar calendar and Rolex out, only waiting for shit to go down. Yes, he’s mastered all predictive methods. Sweet technology has made it easy for him. You always joke how Yoongi might as well open a ‘Were-Watching’ tourism business if the world were just a bit more open-minded and capitalism an ethical thing. Anyways. In the meantime, you’re busy hulking out in the cornfields and howling like there’s no tomorrow. 

Usually coming back for breakfast, hornier than the local elks in heat. Still with all rabid instincts half active, ready to pounce on what smells so good lying in your bed without pajamas on. Yoongi thinks he’s just one lucky dude not just getting all marked up, but occasionally salivated on when he’s waking up. Normally, sex would end up casual, but post-transformation banging is guaranteed to be energetic and sweaty beyond what he believed was possible. Which guy has his girlfriend plant herself on top of him baring her teeth like, well yeah, a fucking wolf? And he thought life would be endlessly boring.  

[ hoseok ] ➝ When you first approach him with your secret five months into the relationship, he thinks that you want to act out some hybrid fanfiction or roleplay. You say no Hoseok, I really am, y’know, huge and a dangerous ball of fur once in a while. But to no avail. To him, out of sight, out of mind. The oddly not-like-you-but-actually-you-shaped footprints around the garage don’t convince him. Hell, even the two-day ‘mountain vacation’ you take every four weeks doesn’t make Hoseok question that something very wolfy could be going on. “A wolf? Just drop by then!” he says, all nonchalant. 

So it takes the big wolf lady to knock on his window to prove that she’s not kidding and this is what he signed up for. He will take a while to digest things, reconsider his priorities. Is he prey, is he not? Tongue-in-cheek, you assure him that you only munch on the super built hikers who throw their trash into nature. You surely wouldn’t feel saturated eating a skinny guy. That does help Hoseok feel off limits in an unexpected way. There’s still much to get used to, but his chef talent can deal with your strong appetite surging every once in a while and he helps to remove the footprints so the neighbors don’t worry.

[ namjoon ] ➝ It’s like Fox Mulder seeing actual aliens land on earth. Hardly surprised. “Knew it!” is the final verdict when you confess to RM what’s going on. After some lightheaded pre-full-moon feelings make you rip up a sofa pillow at night. Entirely in a daze and pretty much close to howling already. Namjoon quickly understands the scope of peril and eventually opts for sleeping at Jimin’s if it gets a little too animalistic. Other than that, he’s well-informed. He might as well read ‘Mystic Creatures of Moderity′ in his favorite chair while you’re busy gnawing on a raw steak locking yourself in the kitchen.

Namjoon is happy to have something weird going on in his life to shake things up. It feels like a movie to him. Arguably, to others, it would be bizarre and both of you have to hide everything properly. Blasting funky disco music during your noisier transformations and such. Or pretending you’re a very well-crafted 3D robot Halloween costume which people do buy into. But some paranormal stuff happening in his backyard once a month? A whole lot of shed grey hair clogging the shower the day after transforming? Who gives a fuck, it’s just Joon’s girlfriend having a jolly good time. X-Files case closed. 

[ jungkook ] ➝ Admittedly... a bit obsessed. With seeing your full eight feet tall incarnation, doing some unhinged shit out in the woods. That’s sexy. But JK is also caring — you’re hypersensitive to anything silver and most other human interference, after all. Sure, his scent has been up close for a long enough time not to trigger you anymore, even in your full wolven form. But there are still risks involved. The angel promises to stay by your side regardless. And indeed: He’s gonna camp in a raised blind with binoculars to watch over you in the forest moonlight. No zookeeper will get their hands on you, promised. 

Jungkook really admires you in every aspect. No judgment. The animal enthusiast in him just can’t help it. Wolves in and of themselves are a huge interest to him, now he gets to know that you can grow paws, a tail and all that, the full package? Wow. He will never not be stunned. Jungkook wants to know everything about your kind. What you eat, how your heightened senses work, how you navigate your territory, what you feel. He also loves the thrill of adrenaline because boy do you go apeshit in the first couple hours of moonlight exposure. JK is a positive type of overwhelmed. The guy’s in love.

© 2017-2019 submissive-bangtan. All rights reserved. Do not repost, translate, or modify.

[nalgenewhore]

A Promise Is A Promise ~ Chapter Three

In a world in which Elide Lochan can only remember that she is someone’s prey and they will stop at nothing to find her, trusting Lorcan Salvaterre, a man whose past is as cloudy as hers is quite possibly the most sane thing she could do.

TW: Explicit death, past trauma, PTSD, traumatic amnesia, gore

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The white haired woman was sitting in a plush chair next to her bed when she woke up, the lamp next to her casting a shadow on her face that had her jumping slightly. The glimpse of her face that Elide had caught before the waves dragged her down again had shown high cheekbones and piercing eyes that seemed like they could draw blood with a single glare.

The woman blinked slowly, keeping her gaze on Elide. The colour was something she couldn’t remember if she had seen before, burnt gold that looked like it had been forged in the fires of the dark god’s realm. Something gleamed in them, an edge of iron to the flame as she surveyed her, her gaze scrutinizing. The woman frowned slightly at the dagger on Elide’s hip, an emotion close to fear flashing in her eyes before that cool, near boredom took over again. “Hello, Elide.” 

“Hi,” her throat felt like sandpaper and she swallowed past it. Her tongue was heavy and stuck to the roof of her mouth, rough and tacky. Elide tried to clear her throat and the woman stood smoothly, walking out of the room. She stared in bewilderment after her and furrowed her brow as her footsteps became lighter and lighter. With a sigh, she looked around the room, noticing that the light curtains were drawn back and the moon was high in the midnight sky, fat and full, looking like it would fall to the earth at any second. She felt a tug in her gut at the sight of it and that dreadful voice started again, slithering between her ears as it whispered to her the same words it had whispered in her dreams and brief waking moments. 

When she was a child, she had loved the moon, loved the way it hung way up high in the sky. She had sworn one day she would hold it in her hands and the Maiden would rejoice with her and claim her as one of her disciples, young girls who frolicked amongst the stars, danced along the constellations and feasted on the souls of the dead. 

She wanted to touch it. 

It was so close, close enough that Elide was sure she could reach it if she stretched her arms way up high. 

It was not entirely her choice as she swung her legs out of the bed and stood, walking slowly over to the window. She unlatched the glass pane and pushed it open wide, breathing in the sweet night air as it tickled her, lifting her hair up off her neck. The moon nearly blinded her as she stared up at it but she knew the Maiden would fix her ailments if she passed this test of loyalty and trust. 

Touch it. Don’t you want to feel the moon between your fingers? Don’t you want to taste that sweet milk and honey on your tongue? She’s waiting for you. 

Trust. 

Do you trust me?

Elide nodded and reached out, stumbling slightly and her heart raced when nothing caught her. Her arms windmilled and she rocked backwards, breathing hard as she gaped up at the sky. 

The voice hissed at her, Stupid girl. Foolish girl. She was waiting for you. 

She shook her head and panted, gulping down air as the waves rose again. 

“Elide.” 

She whirled at the voice, her eyes falling on the woman who stood in the doorway, a glass of water in her hand. Elide noticed the iron nails and her eyes widened, “The window w-,” she coughed, her throat sore and the woman crossed the room, clicking her tongue as she put the glass in Elide’s hand and guided her back to the bed. 

Elide sipped, the cool liquid an elixir as it washed down her throat. The woman closed and re-latched the window, looking up at the moon before saying a prayer under her breath. She walked back over to the seat, her feet silent on the thick carpet. “How are you feeling?” 

“Can you tell me where I am? And how did I get here?” 

The woman nodded, looking pointedly at the half full glass in Elide’s hand and she got the message, raising it to her lips and drinking until it was empty. The woman, she still didn’t know her name or remember her but the eyes, she had seen that colour before, somewhere. 

Elide pushed through the shrouds of darkness in her mind, searching and searching until the voice roared, Enough. Stop it.

She tried to brush it off but a pain like no other pierced behind her eyes and she reeled back, gasping. Her hands shook and the woman stood, gently taking the glass from her. There was something stiff about her movements, like she had never been soft before. “My name is Manon Blackbeak. I’m a very distant relative of your mother’s. You are in the Witch City, Elide.” 

Blackbeak, the name, she remembered it. 

She remembered the tales her mother would regale her with, grand stories of witches and brooms and wyverns and terrible beasts. Blue blood and wicked sharp iron teeth, a crown worn by the most deserving witch, the one who had brought their people home. A crown that held all the galaxies in the night sky within its confines. 

Manon continued, “We found you three months ago. At your parents estate, unconscious and covered in so much blood with couldn’t tell if it was yours or someone else's. You woke up long enough to speak in a language so old, we couldn’t find any recordings of it, no one knew what you said. You had a black knife of onyx in your hand, like the one on your hip.” A look of caution entered her bright eyes before it was swept away. “That was the last time you woke up until yesterday and the last time you spoke.” 

Elide stayed silent, trying to wrap her head around what Manon had told her. 

The voice stopped hissing at her and grew louder and louder, in its dreadful tone, Run. Get out. He is coming for you. He is coming for you. He is coming for you.

Foolish girl, thinking you can outrun him. 

Not forever. 

Not forever. 

She blinked hard, digging her nails into her palms as she fought to stay above the darkness that loomed below. “H-how long since they died?” Manon did not answer her and Elide looked up, staring deep into her eyes, “Tell me.” 

“It’s been ten years.” 

It was like someone had punched her in the chest, all her air knocked out of her lungs as her words struck her. 

She realized dully that she was nineteen or close to it, she didn’t know what month it was. Her entire life had been stolen from her, she had been robbed of everything that mattered. Her own body, it wasn’t hers because she should have been able to tell the stories behind every mark, every scrape and bruise and scar. She should have been able to tell what she had been doing three months ago before Manon had found her in her childhood home but she couldn’t and the fact that she didn’t know who she was, that she was living in a stranger’s body threatened to take her down. 

The last thing before that cold and dark room, the last memory of her mother. That man who had stood behind her as she bled out, his face was burned into her mind and it was familiar enough that she knew that the killing had not been an act of bloodlust but one of vengeance and near insanity. 

The voice cackled and drew her back in, holding her captive as she was helpless re-living the memory.

An arc of dark red blood sprayed as he dragged the blade across her pale throat, the red splashing onto her little shoes, sparkly and purple. A cruel laugh left his lips as she ran to her mother, the floor slippery and slick. 

Someone shook her and she startled, eyes wide as they settled on Manon. “The blade, the one he used to kill my mother, it was black. Black stone, like the one on my hip, it looked exactly like it,” she was rambling and the words poured out. “Please,” Elide cried, “Please believe me.” She couldn’t read the light of Manon’s eyes as she gently laid her back down and she lashed out, digging her nails into Manon’s arm. “I know what I saw. I’m not crazy.” 

She stayed silent, her face like a stone. 

“You don’t believe me.” 

Manon shrugged, shaking her head softly. “No, I think I might believe you but…” 

“But what?” 

“I misspoke. I believe you. Thank you for telling me, Elide. I suggest you sleep now.” Without another word, Manon left, closing the door behind her gently. 

Elide knew there was more she wasn’t being told and her thoughts spiraled as she slipped from bed and paced in front of the window, a lilting tone murmuring to her every time she glanced at the moon so she moved to pull the curtains shut. 

Just as she dragged them across the window, she felt a push at her shoulder and looked down, her eyes falling on a hulking man who moved like a soldier down the sidewalk, the shadows bending to his looming figure as he stopped at the building across the street. He glanced over his shoulder and for the first time, something clicked in her mind. 

A/N: if y’all wanna be tagged, lemme know and if you think of any other TW i could put, please please tell me

apiap masterlist ~ masterlist

@myfeyrelady @kandasboi @the-regal-warrior @highqueenofelfhame @rhysands-highlady​ @westofmoon​ @empire-of-wildfire @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tangledraysofsunshine @ttakeitbacknoww @tswaney17 @dayanna-hatter @lovemollywho @pilesoffriles @thephilosophyofblank @faellyrian-warriors @bat-wing-rhys @velarian-trash @chemicha @th-th-th-thats-all-folks @elorcanforever @littlehoneyybee @rowaelin-cressworth @mis-lil-red @lord-douglas-the-third @acourtofbookworms @ladydippinstone @flowerspringsea @sezkins79 @court-of-fuck-me-daddy @blogdaydreamerblr @over300books​

[jackadler]

TITLE: FUNNY, BUT IT SEEMS I ALWAYS WIND UP HERE WITH YOU. SETTING: Early morning, around 6AM. TRIGGER WARNINGS: Addiction, alcohol, depression, and drug mentions.

Fate is a cruel mistress. Who said that? Jack can’t remember. He thinks he might have heard it in a movie after a lover was scorned. That notion alone seemed fitting without the quote. 

Marion Stewart was a needle to Jack Adler’s emotions that came in the shape of balloons. Blue eyes stare blank and uncertain at a gas station across the way, one where a woman with a roundish face and long blonde hair trickles down her back, pumps gas into her car. Another balloon bursts and Jack focuses on something else as the contents of this balloon clamber to the ground inside his mind. Her car is blue, dark blue, and the windows were tinted. His own car is black and the windows were also tinted. The pavement is cracked and so is Jack’s beating heart.

A neon sign beside him blinks and blinks, all bright colors. Blue and red. OPEN, it says in large letters, across the front window. Jack looks to his right, hands still white-knuckling the steering wheel. The sign says open and it’s all so daunting, the little liquor store besides him holding the contents of every ailment come and gone. But had it really gone? Perhaps not as his troubles bring him here, itching to indulge in every horrible desire that festers within the pit of his belly.

One drink. Maybe two. What’s the harm? I want to settle down.

These are the excuses he musters as he steps out of his car and heads to the front. He’s clad in his usual attire, though this time he places a baseball cap on his head. A rather lackluster attempt at keeping a low profile. Somehow, it usually does the trick. The little ding from the overhead bell sounds through the air like a siren once Jack opens the front door and steps inside. A warm smile is sent his way from the cashier working this morning. Jack examines every detail just as he did before. He’s a man, pointy face, and a mouth full of teeth that look like they’re trying to escape his head. His hair is dark and receding though it suits him somehow. 

Jack was blessed with amazing hair, is what his stepmother used to say, a manicured hand running through his brown strands of hair. It was blond when he was born, which his biological mother always points out, though she loves his darker hair. He does too. 

This all weaves through his mind and he almost forgets he’s standing before rows and rows of alcohol. It all seems to slip his mind, Jack drowning in a certain dissociative state. He could have just been overly tired but the whole situation feels like a dream. The corners of his vision haze a tad, his movements sluggish but frantic at the same time. How was that possible? Jack questions mentally, looking down at himself from above. He was floating above his body but somehow present too. 

Jack grabs two large bottles of wine. Red. He brings them to the front, resting them carefully onto the counter before him. The cashier with the pointy face was still smiling as he begins to ring up Jack’s poison of choice. They’re placed inside two brown paper bags. Then the cashier states the price and nothing feels real. Even as Jack reaches into his pocket and plucks out his leather wallet, paying with cash. He thinks he mutters a thank you as he’s leaving the store but the second the moment passes, Jack can’t quite recall if he did or not. 

The bags are placed on the passenger seat before he starts his car. The blonde woman pumping her gas was gone and so was her car. Something about that makes Jack feel empty inside. People come and go, Jack, what’s the big deal? You didn’t know her. But he cried regardless, the kind of quiet cry where nothing comes out of it but tears and silence. He can feel them sliding down his face, beard, and neck but he does nothing to wipe them away. 

The singer arrives at his home in no time and Jack sits in his driveway for what feels like hours. Really, it was probably only fifteen minutes but within this hazy state, time has a way of wrapping itself around him strangely. 

There’s also an itch all over his body. You’d think he’s broken out into a rash by the way he suddenly squirms uncomfortably inside his own skin and scratches at his arms and neck. But, really, it’s an internal itch, one he can’t quite reach. Only booze can ease it or a bump of cocaine or a couple pills. He can’t get those here, aside from alcohol. Not yet, anyway. Jack always finds a link somehow and maybe he will after downing these bottles.

Wait, are you going to down these bottles? Jack, why? The little angel on his shoulder asks, coming in the shape of himself but with a pair of white wings. They look tattered though and somehow bruised. His face too, worn down and tired. He feels bad for the tiny angel version of himself. He was trying so hard but to no prevail. Oh, can it, you stupid piece of shit. Look at him, he deserves a drink. You deserve a drink, Jack. Drink. Now the devil version of him is quite the opposite, scorned in a different way. He’s hurt too but comes in the shape of a beast. He still has Jack’s face but he’s nuzzled inside the body of a large bear. His face isn’t tired, not like the angel version. Devil Jack just seems angry and defeated. He looks for any excuse to indulge in poor behavior, that much was obvious too.

Jack spends the next ten minutes like this, going back and forth, before he reaches for the paper bags of wine and heads inside. 

Before he knows it, he’s sitting in his living room, both bottles of wine uncovered and placed before him. Blue eyes stare at them as if he’s waiting for them to speak. Maybe they will, who knows. Nothing can quite shock him anymore especially when it comes to the state of his fragile mind. He’s still crying, his bottom lip quivering every once in a while. This time it’s not as silent and comes in the form of quiet sighs, sniffs, and huffs. He can’t bring himself to wail and sob, though that might help him currently. 

He’s not sure why but he can feel eyes on him from all over. 

Or maybe that’s just the shame and guilt that pools through him. Shame that stems from more than just being a recovering alcoholic who plans to get to drunk and pass out on his couch. No, this shame also comes from the fact that he’s allowed himself to be lead on by someone he loves. At thirty-eight years old, you’d think these things would have come and gone already. You’d think he’s already endured enough heartbreak to last a lifetime. Yet, here he was, trapped in the same heartbreak he’s been tending to since he was a teenager.  

He hates that he still thinks of her even now, right as he’s about to spiral completely. Flashes of the night before clutter his mind. Jack thinks of when everything was just blonde hair, warmth, and a bed beneath them. Bliss. But was it bliss or denial? Perhaps they were the same thing in hindsight. 

It’s then he realizes his nails have been digging into his own palms, earning crescent moon-like shapes to form on the delicate skin of his hands. The pigment there has begun to fade too, just as it does around his fingers. It’s a pale white compared to his natural complexion which was a tad more neutral-toned and darker. Jack found a little vitiligo spot on his neck a little while ago too that wasn’t there before. 

God, why was he thinking about this? He might have his little angel to blame, that version of himself doing everything in his power to distract Jack from what was really about to happen. 

But even that wasn’t enough to scratch the itch. With that, he reaches out and begins to frantically peel away the wrapping around the top of the first bottle of wine. Then he unscrews the cap and brings the opening to his mouth before...

RING RING RING RING RING.

His phone vibrates and makes noise from inside his pocket. For a moment, Jack listens to it, finding comfort in the sound before removing it from where it resides. Mom is the name staring back at him now. He freezes, eyes wide and afraid. 

Jack sets the bottle down and answers, “Hello?” The brunette says quietly into his phone now pressed to his ear, “Oh, baby, you’re up? Did I wake you? I’m sorry for calling so early I just wanted to check-in. I had a weird feeling in my stomach and I thought I’d call. How’s everything out there?”

It’s then he realizes it’s Monday and Julia, his mother, always calls on Monday.

Now the two bottles stare at him this time, mocking him. He feels like they were shaking their heads at him even though they didn’t have heads. They were fucking bottles of wine. 

“I’m — I’m okay. I, um, I was awake. I haven’t slept yet actually.” At least he’s telling the truth. Not entirely but it was still something. “You see, that might be it. I always know when you’re not sleeping well. I feel it in my belly as if you were still in there. You never slept well in my stomach, you were too excited to get out!” Julia laughs on the other end and Jack does too, faintly. He can hear sizzling in the background. Samantha, his stepmother, was probably making breakfast. 

Jack was really crying now. A silent sob. He has to muffle it so his mother doesn’t hear. His hand is clasped over his mouth, eyes squeezed shut as he listens to her. “Baby, you still there?” She says, her voice gentler this time. “I’m here. I’m really tired, sorry. I’ve been um, working on a lot of things. Music. For the new album and everything. You know how I get.”

“Listen, honey, get some sleep and I’ll call you later on, okay? Me and mama love you very much. Get some rest or I’m coming down there and tucking you in myself, alright?” Jack can only nod, even though Julia couldn't see him. Though he feels like she’s there somehow. He sniffs before speaking, “Okay. I love you too. Very much. Bye.”

So, he hangs up and transports right back to where he was before. Though this time the sun is peering through his windows, casting lines of light onto the hardwood. Birds chirp signaling the start of a new day and newfound tiredness blankets Jack. He looks to the bottles and almost gags from shame. Suddenly his entire body is heavy and the lump in his throat grows and grows. He grabs them and heads for the kitchen, almost stumbling on the way there but he somehow stands his ground. With all his might, he turns them upside down and dumps them into the sink, aggressively shaking them to remove every ounce of booze inside each. 

Blue eyes watch as the crimson liquid glides through the sink and down the drain until there was nothing left. The bottles are dropped into his trashcan located inside a nearby cabinet. Jack turns the faucet on and removes any excess wine before shutting it off once again. 

Again, he stands there longer than he should before padding over to his bedroom. Along the way, he removes his pants and his shirt, clad in nothing but his boxers, and crawls into bed. His bed. Alone. Jack smells the familiar scent of himself embedded within his pillows and sheets. It’s nice, better than he remembered. He feels like he’s lived six thousand lives before settling back into his original skin, his original existence. 

Usually, he detested himself, this stemming from deeprooted insecurity. But now he doesn’t mind it. He was too exhausted to be insecure or impulsive or sad. Even though he knows it’ll come back, it always comes back. 

But, for now, new morning light leaking through his bedroom, he’s okay being his only one.

[shadeofazmeinya]

"Easy, easy there" with Monster AU

(im not exactly what you meant by monster au, so i went with @sorcererinslytherin ‘s supernatural fahc au. which features witch!michael and werewolf!jeremy. this ended kinda long so i hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: torture, gore, body horror. I tried to go a bit dark but the worst is done to nameless rival crew members)

words 2k+

“Jeremy,” Michael whispers, trying to lean over to touch him. Nudge him, comfort him. Trying to get a better look. But the bindings on his arms and feet keep him stuck in the chair he’s been dumped into. The ropes have been digging into his skin at this point, rubbing it raw though he doesn’t stop straining. Bruises and cuts litter his body from an overzealous rival crew that seemed far too excited to have gotten their hands on some Fakes.

“Jeremy, wake up. I could really use that fucking wolf strength of yours now,” Michael says, a little louder. “We probably don’t have much fucking time before they come back. I know you’re breathing. I know you’re not asleep, you piece of shit,” he says this but his voice cracks a bit, getting louder as his heart twists. “Jeremy, come on.”

Jeremy stays slumped in his chair with his head hanging, only a faint growl being given in response. He’s been like this since they were brought in. Somewhere since being knocked out and brought here, something happened. Michael wants to break free, get him out, save him from whatever the fuck is happening to him. But he isn’t able to do anything, pathetically pinned in place and removed from his magic since they took his wand. He could try to create a fire or something, like he once did chaotically before he could focus his magic. But he couldn’t afford to hurt Jeremy further.

Michael’s interrupted as the door slams open, several figures stepping into the bare, concrete floor and plastic sheets under them. The two of them have been brought to some abandoned warehouse, most likely a distance out of the city, from Michael’s guess. A fucking stereotypical setting, no imagination, but it does leave them unfortunately isolated.

The rival crew files in, an ugly bunch of tough looking fuck-heads who glare and smirk down at them. One dumps a bag on a small, metal table and rolls it open to reveal an array of torture devices Michael recognizes from Trevor’s own collection. They had some idea of what they were doing. A promise of more pain to come for Michael. But Michael can hold out. He has to, for Jeremy.

“The fuck did you do to him?” Michael snarls to the guy who steps forward, putting on a pair of leather gloves. The man has a permanent smirk, a few scars crossing his cheeks and arms. Definitely a rough looking dude, but Michael doesn’t give a fuck. He knows he’s tougher. While he talks he continues pulling at his binds, trying to work a small break in the ropes he can build off of. He needs to get them out of here. If he can pounce this guy, hopefully he can get to his gun and take out the others too.

“You think we don’t know who you are?” the man says smoothly as he hovers over the tools, looking for which one to pluck. “What you are?”

Michael’s heart quickens, but he keeps a neutral, furious expression. They shouldn’t know about them. They can’t know about them.

“We need to dampen his strength. Silver would’ve helped but we didn’t have that nearby when we grabbed you. But, lucky for your puppy, we had a little wolfsbane on hand,” he says, mouth twisting into a disgusting smirk.

“You fucking poisoned him?” Michael twists in his chair, wishing to be able to wrap his hands around that smug neck and snap it.

“We just needed to keep him more… docile while we do our work.  Which we’re going continue, since I still have a few more questions to ask.”

Another growl from Jeremy, a twitch in his chair. It’s hard to tell how aware he is, behind the pain clearly raging through his system. His hands curl, shaking as his eyes are screwed tight. The tips of his claws threatening to come out as his muscles spasm.

“Well its your lucky day, motherfucker,” Michael glares back at the scarred man. “Because I’m not telling you shit.”

“We’ll have you singing in no time,” the man chuckles darkly, stepping forward. He’s holding something from the table that Michael doesn’t recognize until it sparks on one end, electricity crackling in the air.

Michael doesn’t get any warning before the cattle prod is being plunged to his chest. Michael grits his teeth, stifling a scream that chokes him as the energy painfully contracts every muscle at once. The world flashes white, nothing exists in the moment but agony and torment. He wants to howl, but he can’t let them know they’re hurting him. He won’t give them the fucking satisfaction.

The rivals don’t make it easy, shocking him for longer and longer periods of time. Michael groans and twitches with the shocks, as the pain seizes every muscle, every thought until it passes. Michael’s left panting after every prod though unable to catch his breath before he’s being filled with convulsions. But he doesn’t give them a fucking word. Not while there’s still hope for the others to find them, for Jeremy to be ok.

So long as the attention and torture is on him instead of Jeremy, he can bare it.

The man pauses at one point, throwing the rod across the room in frustration. Michael gets his own smug satisfaction hearing it clatter to the ground after he’s refused yet another question about his crew’s whereabouts or where their base is. Though he can’t gloat fully as he hunches over, gasping for breath. He glances to Jeremy, who’s sweating from his own battle. Looking even more sickly with pale skin and sagging weight.

“You can’t do this forever,” the Scar Face says, stepping towards Michael. He grabs his hair, painfully yanking his head back. “You’re going to give up at some point. You or your fucking-“

A rumble sounds through Jeremy, bursting as he twists more violently, wildly. The wood chair groans under his weight and force. Michael can see hair starting to grow, muscles straining and getting larger. The first signs of what’s to come, bursting out even if he seemed to be trying to hold back. Finally, Jeremy raises his head. His eyes, deep, boring, look up to face their captures. His irises glow a dark, blood red.

Michael’s blood runs cold. He knows what that means. And knows it’s too late.

Michael hasn’t been witness to many of Jeremy’s shifts. Jeremy is often alone during full moon shifts, running off towards the more isolated places in their territory so he doesn’t put the rest of them at risk. From what he knows, it’s always painful and agonizing when it’s forced from him. And Jeremy has little to no control over the Wolf.

The transformation now happens all at once, terrifying as it’s ripped through him. A low, deep growl racks through Jeremy as his arms elongate and grow larger, claws ripping apart the bindings and chair. His teeth sharpen, jaw bursting and lengthening as he roars. He falls over to the ground around the splintered wood, still growing, shifting with breaking and snapping bones.

Michael would smile, laugh and goad to tell this other crew how fucked they are. But there is only fear in him. Even with his magic, he’s pretty sure he’d be helpless against a full transformed Wolf. Tied up and wounded, he’s the one who’s fucked.

A gunshot echoes in the room, a wild miss, but it’s all it takes to set the Wolf off. It pounces in a blink, teeth digging into a man’s neck and ripping the throat out in one fluid motion. Michael ducks from the splatter of blood that coats the floor as the beast jumps to another man, claws and teeth out

Then there is only the Wolf’s snarl and ripping, yelling and cut-off screams from the crew that doesn’t stand a chance against the power of a feral werewolf. In minutes, the room is silent. Michael hadn’t realized he closed his eyes until he’s carefully blinking them open to a world of carnage and ruin. The floor is coated in blood, bodies ripped to pieces and tossed about. And standing there, the Wolf, panting. It’s fur matted, teeth dripping as he muzzles over the last body, still working to make sure it’s dead.

There’s another growl as it lets the body plop from its mouth. And then the Wolf turns to him.

“Jeremy,” Michael says, trying to make his voice calm though it still shakes. He swallows, hands starting to work at the rope faster, harder. “It’s me. You know me, Jeremy.”

The Wolf sniffs, paws as big as Michael’s head trudging through the gore. The claws click on the floor, tail flicking with its ears pressed to the back of his head. It starts moving towards him, teeth barred. Michael’s heart sinks.

“Easy,” Michael says, trying to move back, feet yanking on the binds. “Easy there. Don’t do this. Jeremy, I know you’re in there. Listen to me.”

The Wolf doesn’t stop though, coming right up to him. His nose comes right up to Michael and he can hear every sniff. Michael can feel his breath; the rancid smell hot against his neck. He flinches, straining to keep him throat away from him though he knows he has little luck. The chair starts to tip as Michael leans back, hands straining as they are losing feeling, close to breaking.

“Jeremy,” Michael breathes, voice hitching. “Jeremy, fucking don’t-“

Michael’s eyes screw tight, expecting pain, dreading it. A horrible death. But then, something warm and wet swipes across this face instead. Michael blinks, turning to see the Wolf’s golden, brown eyes staring back at him. There’s gives a low whine as he bumps his head into his chest.

Michael doesn’t cry. But it gets pretty damn close.

“Jer,” he says softly, dropping his forehead to rest against his. “Thank fucking god, Lil J. Can you get me out? We need to get the fuck out of here.”

He gives Michael’s face another lick before pulling off. Michael feels the ropes giving way next, flopping onto the floor with one flick of claws. Michael shakes his arms, stretching and rubbing the raw skin. He makes quick work of the bindings on his legs before pushing himself to stand. The second he does so, the world sways violently. He stumbles, about to fall, before he feels fur pressing to his side, catching him.

Michael hisses through his teeth as he adjusts back to his feet. The pain was stronger now that he was standing, the ghost of the cuts and electricity still fraying every nerve. He glances down to see Jeremy watching him and Michael can read the concern even in this form. The Wolf gives another whine, bumping his head to his shoulder. “I’m alright,” Michael says, brushing through his fur. “Just needed a second. C’mon, let’s find my fucking wand and call the others. Let’s get the fuck home.”

Jeremy huffs, but keeps besides him to let him lean on him as he limps out. Michael can feel shivers run through him, the poison hasn’t finished its course yet. It pulls a frown to Michael’s face, but they can’t do anything about it now. They just have to get out and get home. The others will know what to do then. Or at least Michael can get to his healing potions to help.

They walk out through the horrific scene, stepping around devastated bodies from those who dared to hurt them. Michael finds and plucks his wand from one of the bodies. He adds one insulting kick to the torso, spitting on the man who cut and electrocuted him, who poisoned Jeremy. The lump of meat barely moves but Michael doesn’t fucking care as he grips his wand tightly and staggers away.

Michael sets the place on fire after they step out, the flames quickly encompassing the building. But pressed to his werewolf’s side, shoes covered in blood and body sore and aching, Michael has never felt safer.