#help me dear hive mind | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aka-indulgence · 1 year ago

Text

Illithid Kiss

So I caved. Immediately. Mind flayers are hot, bite me

Thanks to @llamagoddessofficial for showing me 1 (one) image of bg3 mind flayer and immediately going AWOOGA

Yes I made an ao3 link, I ‘ve been taken over help

(Mind flayer x Female!Reader

Mind flayer goes by he/him)

Vaussur took you in as his thrall for what feels like a long time ago. Despite being a mind flayer, for his kind, he had surprise you at every turn, acting unlike how you expected an illithid to act- like how the rest of the mind flayers in his hive acts. Lenient and forgiving with you, letting you roam with your mind free (for the most part), you find yourself unexpectedly getting attached to him.

What do you do, when all of a sudden your mind flayer ‘master’ asks you to tell him about human love? When he asks you to show him more directly? And most importantly…

Would you kiss a mind flayer?

Content warning: Mind control involved (consensual), suggestive themes, master/servant romantic relationship

—————

“Tell me, pet. What does it mean to love like a human?”

You’re snapped out of your musings at the voice, echoing both through the room and chambers in your mind. You look away from the window, from the alien society outside. Vaussur was looming behind you, a curious glow in his eyes that looked soft, somehow.

In the shadows of the room he looked ominous, almost spine-chilling. Illithid armour glinting in the faint light, while the rest of his body was merely a silhouette save for his glowing, golden irises. It reminded you of stories people back home used to tell you when you were young: to close and lock the doors at night and close the windows lest a monster sneak into the room. You didn’t know what a mind flayer was, back then, but seeing him now, he fits the stories perfectly.

Yet, he keeps surprising you with his curious mannerisms- his strange questions. You turn to face your ‘master’.

“Why do you ask?”

“As you might guess, it’s not something I can speak of amongst other illithids,” he says matter-of-factly, with a bit of humor in his eyes. “But its still something I’m personally interested in, nonetheless.”

You giggle. “What do you mean? Do you study humans?”

Mind flayers don’t have mouths. But from the way his tentacles moved, it almost looks like Vaussur was smiling at the sound of your giggle. But he answers seriously.

“I have been, as of late.” He gives you a meaningful glance. “Of course, illithids are the superior race and our ways of living are equally superior. … But I find myself becoming curious. We don’t have such customs in our society, and what I’m about to say is unbecoming for a mind flayer, but…”

You look at him curiously as he struggles to speak his words.

“I… envy you.” He whispers. “You have no idea how exquisite your mind tastes, my dear thrall. … How tender, the sweetness in every drop of thought in that delectable mind of yours, the warmth and comfort your memories radiate… You come from a world where a small, innocent, kind thing like yourself could flourish and bloom- thrive, even. How can such a world exist?”

The way he describes your mind in frightening and alien detail, reminds you of what he is- an illithid, a being that literally has a taste for brains. But even so, the way he described yours, though a little unsettling, almost sounds like a poem, words woven carefully just for you. Try as you might, it sounds like a compliment to you.

“W-well,” you stutter, staggered by his flowery words- coming from a being that has never seen much of life in the sun. “I think humans are more social than mind flayers. You communicate out of necessity, working together like a hivemind for the elder brain… right?”

“Right. You remembered what I told you? Smart pet, you prove me again and again why you’re my favorite thrall.”

“Um!” Being called a thrall wasn’t flattering, but still you feel your mind spin from the praise. “Thank- thank you. As I was saying, humans communicate and cooperate too, but we don’t do it just out of necessity. We find joy in the comfort of other humans- and other beings too, if they’ve formed a bond. We do it because we like it. We make bonds with people in our families and our communities, for companionship and… sometimes more. We can work alone, but most suffer from being solitary.”

You don’t know what kind of love Vaussur was asking you for, but you thought keeping it general was a good start at least. And the safest option, considering the other possibility.

“Interesting… not unlike illithids.” He comments.

“Really? How so?”

“As a non mind-flayer, you would not know this, but… it’s very unhealthy for a mind flayer to be completely alone.” You raise your eyebrows in surprise while Vaussur continues. “No elder brain, no other illithids, no thralls. Mind flayers are surrounded and connected by thoughts. To strip the familiar away from them… I’ve heard stories where they’ve gone mad.”

“Wait- mind flayers can go mad?”

“Of course. We are superior but not perfect- even I can admit that. Mind flayers can’t thrive in isolation, we must rely on another living being. It’s a disgrace for a mind flayer to accept it, let alone admit it- especially to admit they rely on thralls so heavily beyond labor.”

“I didn’t know that.” You remarked, seeing the illithids in a new light. Most of what you’ve heard from when mind flayers were merely myths and legends, and from what you’ve seen directly from their society indicates that they’re a self-sufficient, self-aggrandizing people. To know they could be attached to anything other than themselves, or at least to their elder brain… and Vaussur had so easily conceded this information to you.

“Wait, if it was a disgrace, why are you admitting this to me right now?”

“Because I’m no different. And it is no disgrace to say that I need you to stay with me.”

Your mouth hangs open at his honest confession, like it was factual. You try to ignore the little flips your stomach is doing, and whether or not it was a good feeling.

“I’ve also heard that there are different types of love. Platonic and romantic, I think they’re called.”

“Yes, yes there is, it’s-” you stop yourself, even as you quieten the excitement in your chest at the mention of the other type of love (to your puzzlement). “How do you know about that?”

“During my time on a reconnaissance mission. I was looking for possibles hosts to implant with tadpole.”

You fail to hide the distaste on your face at the mention of ceremorphosis. If Vaussur saw it, he doesn’t react.

“I heard them talking about it. I think they were discussing whether what they felt for each other was one form or the other. Their discussion about the romantic one became particularly charged.”

He refocuses on you, and eagerly asks, “What is… romantic love?”

He was trying to sound calm and analytical but you could hear it: excitement. But why would a mind flayer be so interested in romance, of all things?

“It’s… like I said earlier,” you swallowed. You don’t know why you felt so bashful about it, like you were in a group of children talking about your parents kissing like it was a scandal. “It’s when people have more… intimate relationships with another. It’s not very different from platonic love, but different nonetheless. It’s…”

How do you explain romantic love to someone who doesn’t know what it is? How is it different from platonic love? Just having to explain what love is to him proved itself quite confusing to you, as the more you tried to grasp the definition of love to you, the more it slipped away.

“It’s like…” you grasp again, “romantic love is when you meet another person, and you feel a, a… a spark. It’s more intense than platonic love, where you just feel this… attraction to the other person, where you want to be as close to them as possible, and just their presence can make you really happy. You do things with them things you wouldn’t do with any other people you have in your life, intimate things. Someone you want to share your life with.”

You feel a little helpless as you clasp your hands together, trying to convey what you think love looks like to someone who’s never experienced it. Even with your loose explanation, Vaussur is rapt with fascination, his luminous glare unblinking.

“I’m sorry if this is confusing to you…”

He shakes his head. “That’s more knowledge than any mind flayer knows. And… if it proves hard for you, pet, maybe you should show it to me.”

“I… show it?”

You were about to ask how, but as soon as you thought that, a word echoes in your mind.

With a kiss.

Your eyes widen, and unfortunately, it looks like your mind was loud enough for Vaussur to notice.

Without skipping a beat, he asks you, “Can you… show that to me? Kissing?”

Added with his forwardness, you fluster, but you try to calm yourself. Vaussur is a mind flayer. He’s never experienced any kind of love, let alone romantic. He really is just curious, he’s not trying to charm you… right?

You try to explain it to him.

“I c-could, but… kissing you would be more… romantic. One of the intimate things people do together to be romantic.” You said that twice. Your mind is tripping over itself. “You have to- no, you should do it with someone you care about deeply, the one you want to keep in your life. At least, that’s how you make it more meaningful.”

Vaussur doesn’t speak, not immediately. A strange look washes over his face, his brows furrowing. Subconsciously, he brings his hand to a tentacle, stroking it thoughtfully.

“I don’t see the problem. That describes how I feel about you perfectly.”

Everything goes quiet for you.

… “What?”

Vaussur doesn’t skip a beat.

“That’s how I’ve felt about you since I took you as my thrall. That is not a strange concept. I’m intimately familiar with that feeling.” He pauses. “Unless this is hesitation because I’m a mind flayer.”

“I- no that’s not it,” you say, the ice freezing your tongue melting. “It’s, I just- do you… love… me?”

“Perhaps. If that really what love is, then yes. But illithids don’t have ‘romance’ or ‘love’. So I need you to show me what it is.”

You shake your head, you can’t believe the situation you’re in, looking at the floor. The mind flayer that’s called you his thrall might very well love you- even be in love for you. People have described mind flayers as soulless, one of the defining characteristics they were often associated with, something you’d accepted as fact, until you were captured by one. Despite his illithid tendencies, the air of superiority, lack of care for non illithid lives, and strange fascination with brains; for what he is, Vaussur’s acted with more humanity than what you imagined a mind flayer was capable of.

You’ve noticed that most of your favorite qualities in him come out when you have his attention.

Though he’s always been imposing and quite frightening, you can’t believe that you’ve… thought what it’d be like to kiss him. At times when he seems to go against his natural instincts, like keeping you away from the feedings, how he praises you when he defends you from other mind flayers, how you were precious to him, and the way he held you protectively whenever you needed to cross their domain.

You’re amazed at yourself when you answer him with “... Alright.”

When you pick your head up from your musings, you startle from how close he was to you. You could see the patterns in his illithid armor, the intricate swirls and spirals, turning to complicated geometries as they reach the edge of the armor, extending from what looks like a mind flayer skull in the middle of the collar area. Long, dark purple robes extend from underneath, covering most of Vaussur’s skin. You withhold the urge to trace your fingers over the shapes.

You look up, way up. You were no stranger to this- even among mind flayers, Vaussur was particularly tall. He loomed over you, your head only reaching somewhere in the middle of his chest, and you’d have to crane your neck whenever he commanded you. But now, with the prospect of… kissing him, he seems all the more imposing. The closes thing you could to kissing him properly would probably be on one of tentacle.

“Um…”

Vaussur makes a strange sound, a sound that tickles your brain. A laugh…?

Before you could worry about what you were about to do, you feel a magic presence all around you, like someone was holding you. Your feet lift off the floor as you’re picked up by his psionic energy, bringing you face to face with him. There’s expectance in his burning gaze, something that makes you feel small and defenseless. You feel his thoughts seeping into your mind, mixing with yours: the want to be closer, of warm affection… and something possessive. You’re not sure if he’s trying to make you feel the same things for him, or if he’s simply communicating with you the way a mind flayer would with each other. It scares you a little, especially feeling his more foreign emotions- but whatever it is, you know he’s being genuine. You don’t sense a hint of malice in all the rush of feelings he’s emanating.

Despite your timidity, you can’t say those feelings were wholly unpleasant. You find you’re actually leaning into it, closing your eyes to try to feel it coursing through you. When you open them, you find the courage to brace your hands on his plated shoulders. Brilliant citrine eyes glance down at them, and you realize how small they must look to him.

Your brows furrow a little as you look for a good place to… kiss an illithid. Your fingers curl, and you try to position your head a bit to the side. You could feel him watching your every move, and you swallow.

You lean in. You could smell him, somewhat like vanilla and something else, and you’re surprised that you like it. Your lips press to the side of his face, above two of his tentacles, and kiss him. Vaussur closes his eyes and hums- you could feel him physically and mentally relax. His skin was strange, smooth and slick with a thin film of something; but you didn’t dislike it.

You pull back, parting with a little cup! as you did. Vaussur looks a little more… floaty, like he was dreaming.

“... Can you do that again?” He murmurs

You purse your lips together, hands letting go to twiddle your fingers, not quite knowing where to look.

Apparently Vaussur takes your hesitation negatively.

“I feel your nervousness, puppet. What’s the matter? … Did you not like it?”

You didn’t know mind flayers could even sound hurt, but he did, though he tried to hide it from you.

“No, no!” you stressed, “I’m just! It’s! … I’m just… shy.”

His eyes widen. You know what he must be reading from your mind right now: curiosity, interest, maybe even… fondness.

When you look at his mouth you feel a mix of emotions. Were you afraid? Were you excited…? … No you don’t want ot think of what that meant, it’s too much. You stare for his mouth a moment longer while you try to gain the courage to kiss him.

You decided to work up to it.

Your hand reaches for a tentacle tentatively.

“Can I…? Touch your..?”

The tentacle flexes. Vaussur seems clueless as to what you want to do with it, but he lets you have it.

You give it a feather light touch, tracing a finger down its length. You realize how… sensual this feels, and you wonder if mind flayers ever enjoyed the pleasures of the body…? If they could? Vaussus gasps quietly, the tentacle reacting to your touch, twitching closer to you.

You’ve found yourself imagining what it was like to stroke his tentacles, of what would happen. Vaussur closes his eyes, letting you run your hand down. It’s smooth and slick with illithid mucous, cool to the touch, almost slippery. You think you like it. The other tentacles start to curl and sway closer around you, as if looking for your attention. You feel a sudden sense of pride fill you, at the effect you had on this mind flayer, just by touching him lightly.

His tentacles start their own exploration of you; timidly at first, but they quickly gain confidence and start to lavish you with tender caresses. One prods and brushes your cheek. Another traces along your collarbone curiously. The third free tentacle slides behind your back and holds you steady. The one you’re holding- clearly enjoying what you’re doing to it, curls around your arm.

You tittered. It’s like they had minds of their own. You wondered… what would happen if you kissed him on the tentacle?

You lift it up to you and give it a gentle peck.

Apparently, they were sensitive because as soon as you did, claws closed around your back and hips and pulled you flush against Vaussur’s chest, squeaking as he did. He lets out a deep, pleasurable sigh that turns your cheeks red while he grips you tightly, wantingly. You’d always assumed that a mind flayer’s body would feel cold, but even though his skin was covered in fluid, he was warm. Very warm.

So were you.

His golden eyes were glowing brighter than ever, his tentacles caressing you and start to float and curl languidly around you. His mouth is open before you, and your breath mixes with his.

You don’t feel fear.

“Please, my human,” he implores, “teach me. Teach me how you love.”

You didn’t hesitate this time. You felt naturally drawn to him. Willingly, you lean into him, his body, his feelings. You wrap your arms around his neck and somehow, your lips found his mouth and you started to kiss him.

As you expected, kissing Vaussur was nothing like the kisses you’ve experienced with other humans, or even other humanoids. You aren’t sure how to describe it, it felt you were kissing all around you rather than on one single spot, he surrounded you. His tentacles start to wrap you more tightly- around your head and neck. Though the thought of how vulnerable you were in this position with a mind flayer- that he could eat you so easily- did cross your mind, it only did so briefly. You were worried earlier that kissing a mind flayer with their mouths that opened four ways accompanied by lamprey teeth, meant to suction and grind into skulls might feel horrible but… you’re delighted that that wasn’t the case. The sensation of having him surround you and hold you so lovingly tightly was quite pleasant.

He hums, the sound vibrating around you. He starts floating backwards with you, slowly settling into his bed, his hands wandering, feeling you. You could feel him in your mind again, but he wasn’t intruding. It felt more like he was asking for your permission. You happily let him in, and you feel yourself cradled by his thoughts: soft, warm adoration for you.

Despite what the natural order tells you, you felt safe with him.

Vaussur had seemed confused earlier, not knowing what to do with himself while you spoiled him with your kisses, but he’d started becoming more confident, evident from the way he holds you and the tentacles’ affectionate touches. He starts taking control, sitting up a little and folding you backwards, reciprocating your kiss with new fervor, deepening it. His claws start to dig into you possessively, and you squeak, his power overwhelming you.

A flood of satisfaction floods your brain, and it isn’t yours.

I like those sounds. Vaussur’s voice purrs in your mind. Give me more.

You gasp and mewl, squirming in his hold, which only excites the illithid more, tentacles winding around your head tighter. One hand manages to stray from the tangle of limbs, only to quickly get reclaimed by his slender fingers, entwining with yours.

Don’t be scared, sweet human. He teases diabolically, I promise I won’t eat that delicious mind of yours. You’re safe with me.

You don’t know how long he kept you like that, hungrily taking your mouth while his hands and tentacles wander. When he was finally sated, Vaussur gently pries his tendrils off your face, and lets you go. You take a gasp of air, the blood in your head slowly draining away, and you cool down. You could feel warm imprints on your face where his tentacles and mouth were. Already, you find yourself missing the closeness you shared, his warm mouth on yours.

It felt like he was sucking your face in the best ways.

… You feel scandalized by your own thoughts, and you cover your mouth bashfully.

“I felt that.”

Damn it!

Vaussur chuckles, his eyes flickering with smugness. His gaze wanders over your face, like he was admiring his ‘work’.

He looks happy, eyes crinkling at you.

“Just like I promised. Your mind is still yours, untouched, undigested. Though… there are marks on your face. I rather like it.”

You don’t know how red your face is right now, fingers scrambling on it as if you could see it better that way.

“W-what?”

He chuckles again, and your frantic thoughts stop when a finger brushes your cheek.

“Thank you. For showing me that, puppet.”

Slowly, you smile, small and demure. “Your… welcome. Thank you for keeping my mind safe. I…” you swallowed, laughing nervously, “I liked it.”

Oh. Oh, he liked that.

“I did too. Immensely. You’re… incredible.” He praises you. “I would not be opposed to it if we did it again.”

You’re suddenly intimately aware of the fact that you were on his lap, practically straddling him, his arms keeping you close. He’s just invited you to another kiss, and you… like that idea. Sheepishly, you say the same.

“I… I wouldn’t either.”

You’re hoping you’ll get to kiss him again soon. Maybe more.

He lays you down beside him, and as he presses the top of his tentacles to your head, you realize it was his attempt at giving you a peck. You smile, and you instinctively curl into him, tentacles floating around you protectively.

Rest, human. He urges. You’ve done a lot today. Sleep.

You let him mentally compel you. It was nice, being able to sleep whenever you wanted without having to toss and turn before hand. You feel sleep quickly take you and your eyes fall close.

…

Vaussur stays up a bit longer after you, admiring his pretty ‘thrall’ that he feels lucky to have found. His fingers comb through your hair and behind your ear.

You’re… extraordinary.

You smile in your sleep as response. He thinks that might be the prettiest thing he’s seen in his illithid life: you being happy while you were with him.

He doesn’t think these soft, tender feelings are natural for a mind flayer. He wonders if he inhabits a human body.

You curl a little, trying to escape the chill, and Vaussur pulls a blanket up to you, and covers you. He needs to rest soon too, to shed his armor and sink into bed with you by his side.

His small… cute… vulnerable little human.

Whatever he may be in his previous life before the ceremorphosis, one thing is clear to him now.

He loves you.

And no one else can have you.

#aka writing #mind flayer #i imagined them in an established relationship #you’ve been his ‘thrall’ for a while #but basically only in name #he pampers you and keeps you close #hehe #mind flayer hot #unfortunately i dont play a lot of dnd and my dnd knowledge is limited #But of what I do know #some information #He’s “He” because he found it easier for thralls to refer to him as such #and he speaks with his mouth because reader finds it comforting :>#mindflayer x reader

186 notes · View notes

catoz0 · 7 months ago

Text

Hello! So the following paragraphs of rambling text are from an alternate au of sorts that I am currently working on, certain bits and ideas are sticking to the inside of my head like cotton so Ive decided to write some of them out in the hopes that it helps me in developing this universe further. For a quick and simple ( but not super accurate honestly) explanation Evan, Williams youngest son survives the incident with Fredbear and Michael does not, so he takes the place of his brother in this series and he is currently aiding Henry in his final plan when, ignoring Henrys protests he drops into the tunnels to fix one of the lures when he encounters a certain someone, I hope to be able to show more of this Au soon as its very dear to me, Enjoy!

A Hug From Dad

“Hello” Evan says for want of anything better.

The hallway is long and undecorated, a narrow expanse of unlit tunnels many feet underground.

Something built for function rather than aesthetic

It does make the situation more creepy especially given the other occupant of the hallway.

It was tall which coming from Evan didn't mean much granted but still. Once golden fur had decayed and rotted to a sickly green colour, made even more garish by the harsh light of Evans torch. Teeth bore in a permanent smile gleaming in the low light. Crooked and mismatched ears swayed as it tilted its head, its eyes despite not being submerged in the ray of light gleamed in the darkness anyway.

The rabbit did not respond to Evans call

Evan is clutching the radio in his hand so hard it he can feel the plastic creaking in protest. Ignoring the desperate rabbiting of his own heartbeat Evan speaks again.

“Sorry for disturbing you, I was just down here to do some General maintenance, mind if I get past you?”

Calm Evan thinks. he needs to stay calm. They expect screaming and when they don't get it it confuses them, it had worked with Hive ( at least for a while) so it might work here, he just needs to breathe

The rabbit doesn't answer him

It simply stands there drinking in the sight of him, eyes aglow in the darkness

Evan breathes out and then in he opens his mouth to try again again but before he can, the rabbit finally speaks

It simply says one word

His name.

Evan stops, freezing on the spot.

Yous see the thing is Evan doesn't know for a certainty who is in there, he knows for a certainty that it is haunted by someone he has theories and suspicions but with Fazbear entertainments tendency to keep certain things for ever reaching the public getting numbers our accurate stats from them is next to impossible.

Certain stats like say, how many staff have died under their employment

As loathe as he was to admit it being an Afton occasionally had its perks, but even that hadn't been enough sometimes.

Something among many he really doesn't like to dwell on

Evan takes a breath again, in and out. He just has to stay calm.

“Did Hive tell you my name? I'm guessing they were mumbling about me, I think they're still at mad at me because of”

“Evan” he says again. “Evan darling”

Evan stops, stops completely. Horror is engulfing him. Pieces of a picture coming together to an image that Evan doesn't want to look at. Memories and images spiralling together to a truth that he cannot deny or escape coming up to consume him whole

Spring Bonnie was always his favourite

“Dad” he whispers hoarsely

He seemingly takes that as his cue to begin walking towards him, he walks as if it takes effort lurching forward at a pace that Evan thinks he could outrun. Evan is quicker than he looks small and nimble, if the rest of his movements are as stilted and awkward as his walk then Evan should be able to dodge past

He could

He can

Evan doesn't move

His Father reaches him, Evan still has to crane his neck up to meet his eyes

He reaches out to him, and Evan doesn't flinch. Even as his rotted hands encircle him.

Even as his hands pull him in, slowly and gently.

Either Evan was on to something with his movements being stilted and awkward or he's savouring the moment

He pulls him against his chest Evan bring his hands up automatically fingers digging into the suits rotted fur, some of it detaches completely clumping under his fingernails. Evan shudders at the feeling but otherwise still doesn't react. His fathers pulls him even closer

His grip isn't quite painful but its close.

One of his hands begin to card through his hair, bone and metal gently tangling through the mess of curls on the back of his head as he clutches him close

Evan is still, eye pinned wide as his fingers dig into his fathers suit, the smell is abhorrent but Evan just cant move

He feels the costumes mouth gently touch the top of his head jaws opening slightly, a mimicry of the kiss his companion had gifted him with so long ago

And that, that is what breaks the moment, breaks the moment of calm and Evan suddenly cant breathe hands twisting into the suits ragged surface as his eye fills with tears, breath coming in gasps.

His father makes a sound, something quiet and desperate as his grip tightens on him and it finally vaults over the line of uncomfortable and lands in painful, ribs protesting against the treatment.

But then the radio in his hand shrieks a wave of noise that causes his Father to recoil, enough for Evans thrashing to set him free, pulling away Evan turns and bolts

Evan Afton with tears in his eyes and fur under his fingernails runs from the desolate silhouette of his Father

As he is turning the corner, Evan not consciously aware that he's doing it turns his head to look back. Some part of him, a part that sounds a lot like Charlie is hissing for him to stop to just keep looking ahead and keep going.

He looks back anyway

Later that night as he curls in bed and traces the dark shadows of his fathers affection bruising his ribs Evan will think of that final image

The image of his Father illuminated in the twilight of the hallway, head tilted.

With one of his arms outstretched delicately waving goodbye.

#evan afton #fnaf #fnaf au #william afton #springtrap #digital art #art

19 notes · View notes

notstarcey · 10 months ago

Text

She Magnus on my archives til I

I itch all the time. Deep beneath my skin, where the bone sits, enshrined in flesh, I feel it. Something, not moving but that wants to move. Wants to be free. It itches, and I don’t think I want it. I don’t know what to do.

You can’t help me. I don’t think so, at least. But whatever it is that calls to me, that wants me for its own, it hates you. It hates what you are and what you do. And if it hates you, then maybe you can help me. If I wanted to be helped. I don’t know if I do. You must understand, it sings so sweetly, and I need it, but I am afraid. It isn’t right and I need help. I need it to be seen. To be seen in the cold light of knowledge is anathema to the things that crawl and slither and swarm in the corners and the cracks. In the pitted holes of the hive.

You can’t see it, of course. It isn’t real. Not like you or I are real. It’s more of an everywhere. A feeling. Are you familiar with trypophobia? That disgusted fear at holes, irregular, honeycombed holes. Makes you feel that itch in the back of your mind, like the holes are there too, in your own brain, rotten and hollow and swarming. Is that real?

I’m sorry, I know I’m meant to be telling you what happened. What brought me to this place. This place of books and learning, of sight and beholding. I’m sorry. I should. I will.

I… I haven’t slept in some time. I can’t sleep. My dreams are crawling and many-legged. Not just slithering and burrowing,. though it is the burrowing that draws me. They always sing that song of flesh. I hope you will forgive me for such a rambling story. I hope you will forgive me for a great many things, as it may be I do worse. I have that feeling, that instinct that squirms through your belly. There will be great violence done here. And I bleed into that violence.

Do you know, I wonder? As I watch you sitting there through the glass. Eating a sandwich. Do you know where you are? You called me “dear”. “Have a seat, dear.” “You can write it down, dear.” “Take as much time as you need, dear.” Can you truly know the danger you are in?

There is a wasps’ nest in my attic. A fat, sprawling thing that crouches in the shadowed corner. It thrums with life and malice. I could sit there for hours, watching the swirls of pulp and paper on its surface. I have done. It is not the patterns that enthral me, I’m not one of those fools chasing fractals; no, it’s what sings behind them. Sings that I am beautiful. Sings that I am a home. That I can be fully consumed by what loves me.

I don’t know how long the nest has been there. It’s not even my house, I just live there. Some sweaty old man thinks he owns it, taking money for my presence as though it will save him. I used to worry about it, you know. I remember, before the dreams, I would spend so long worrying about that money. About how I could afford to live there. Now I know that whatever the old man thinks, as he passes about the house with brow crinkled and mouth puckered in disapproval, it is not his. It has a thousand truer owners who shift and live and sing within the very walls of the building. He does not even know about the wasps’ nest. I wonder how long he has not known. How many years it has been there.

Have you ever heard of the filarial worm? Mosquitoes gift it with their kiss and it grows and grows. It stops water moving round the human body right, makes limbs and bellies swell and sag with fluid. Now, when I look at that fat, sweaty sack, I think about it, and the voice sings of showing him what a real parasite can do.

How many months has it been like this? Was there a time before? There must have been. I remember a life that was not itching, not fear, not nectar-sweet song. I had a job. I sold crystals. They were clean, and sharp and bright and they did not sing to me, though I sometimes said they did. We would sell the stones to smiling young couples with colour in their hair. I remember, before I found the nest, someone new came. His name was Oliver, and he would look at me so strangely. Not with lust or affection or contempt, but with sadness. Such a deep sadness. And once with fear. It didn’t matter, because no-one in the shop wanted to hear about the ants below it. I tried to tell them, to explain, but they did not care. The pretty young things complained and I left.

That was when I still called myself a witch. Wicca and paganism, I would spend my weekends at rituals by the Thames. I wanted something beyond myself, but could not stomach the priest or the imam or pujari of the churches. I knew better. I knew that it was not so simple as to call out to well-trodden gods. I never felt from my rituals anything except exhaustion and pride. I thought that those were my spiritual raptures.

I wish, deep inside, below the itch, that they were still my raptures. I have touched something now, though, that all my talk of ley lines and mother goddesses could never have prepared me for. It is not a god. Or if it is then it is a dead god, decayed and clammy corpse-flesh brimming with writhing graveworms.

When did I first hear it? It wasn’t the nest, I’m sure of that. I never went in the attic. It was locked and I didn’t have a key. I spent a day sawing through the padlock with an old hacksaw. My hands were blistered by the end. Why would I have done that if I didn’t know what I would find? The face of the one who sang to me dwelling within the hidden darkness above me. I had seen no wasps. I know I hadn’t. There are no wasps in the nest. So how else would I have known that I needed to be there, to be in the dark with it, if it had not already been singing to me?

No, that’s not right. The nest does not sing to me. It is simply the face. Not the whole face, for the whole of the hive is infinite. An unending plane of wriggling forms swarming in and out of the distended pores and honeycombed flesh. The nest is nothing but paper.

Was it the spiders? There were webs in the corners, around the entryway into the attic. I would watch them scurry and disappear in between the wooden boards. ‘Where are you going, little spiders?’ I would think. ‘What are you seeing in the dark? Is it food? Prey? Predators?’ I wondered if it was the spiders that made the gentle buzzing song. It was not. Webs have a song as well, of course, but it is not the song of the hive.

I used to pick at my skin. It was a compulsion. I would spend hours in the bathroom, staring as close as I could get to my face to the mirrors, searching for darkened pores to squeeze and watch the congealed oil worm its way out of my skin. Often I would end with swollen red marks where it had become inflamed with irritation or infection. Did I hear the song then?

Was it when I was a child, such a clear memory of a classmate telling me a blackhead was a hole in my face, and if I didn’t keep it clean it would grow and rot. Did I hear it then, as that image lodged in my mind forever? Or was it last year, passing by a strip of green they call a park near my house, after the rain, and watching a hundred worms crawl and squirm to the surface.

Perhaps I’ve always heard it. Perhaps the itch has always been the real me, and it was the happy, smiling Jane who called herself a witch and drank wine in the park when it was sunny. Maybe it was her who was the maddened illusion that hides the sick squirming reality of what I am. Of what we all are, when you strip away the pretence that there is more to a person than a warm, wet habitat for the billion crawling things that need a home. That love us in their way.

I need to think. To clear my head. To try and remember, but remember what? I was lonely before. I know that. I had friends, at least I used to, but I lost them. Or they lost me. Why was it? I remember shouting, recriminations, and I was abandoned. No idea why. The memories are a blur. I do remember that they called me “toxic”. I don’t think I really knew what that meant, except that it was the reason I was so very painfully lonely. Was that it? Was I swayed and drawn simply by the prospect of being genuinely loved? Not loved as you would understand it. A deeper, more primal love. A need as much as a feeling. Love that consumes you in all ways.

You can’t help me. I’m sure of that now. I have tried to write it down, to put it into terms and words you could understand. And now I stare at it and not a word of it is even enough to fully describe the fact that I itch. Because ‘itch’ is not the right word. There is no right word because for all your Institute and ignorance may laud the power of the word, it cannot even stretch to fully capture what I feel in my bones. What possible recourse could there be for me in your books and files and libraries except more useless ink and dying letters? I see now why the hive hates you. You can see it and log it and note it’s every detail but you can never understand it. You rob it of its fear even though your weak words have no right to do so.

I do not know why the hive chose me, but it did. And I think that it always had. The song is loud and beautiful and I am so very afraid. There is a wasps’ nest in my attic. Perhaps it can soothe my itching soul.

#the magnus archives #tma shitpost #i have too many statements saved onto my phone #magnus archives #help

37 notes · View notes

nathaaaan · 3 months ago

Text

My mind keeps thinking about a very toxic Sashanne Danne AU. A Danne AU where Anne is mainly in control of her body, making her actions her own. A Danne AU where Anne wants Sasha all to herself despite everything she’s done. She can’t help but love her, even if her love was warpped into some twisted form of affection.

I suppose the equivalent of tough love, but thirty times worse.

Like, she’s still mad at Sasha for obvious reasons, but she loves her to the point where she just wants her by her side and doesn’t want to let that go. And of course she needs Sasha for her plans, so she’s really hard on her, but if Sasha does something right for once, she’ll shower her in love and affection. The Core (I’m gonna refer to them as Danne when they’re in control)/Danne will even say shit like; “Our host has claimed you as mate,” and start calling her “Love, dear, cutie…” any nickname under the sun really, but those’d be the main three. They encourage Sasha to do the same, but Sasha isn’t as open to it as they are. Danne would be on the aggressive side—more focused on their plans as opposed to Anne, but they’d still show Sasha affection, especially when she starts to crave their touch.

Oh and both Danne and Anne are incredibly touchy—I’d assume they are since Anne is canonically touchy with Marcy in Marcy at the Gates. Not to the point where it’s inappropriate without Sasha’s consent, they’re just touchy. At first, Sasha would shy away from their touch, but then she’d learn (YES I MEAN LEARN) to lean into it and absolutely fucking love it.

Let’s not forget about gaslighting, and just emotional manipulation in general. Anne would constantly use the fact that Sasha lied and betrayed her to get her to do something she wants, or threaten to hurt people in the Resistance—even if they’re people she knows, or threaten to find Marcy and eliminate her. (She’s bluffing, but like, Sasha doesn’t need to know that 🤭) Anne’s constantly belittling and patronizing her for what she’s done in the past, which is actually a little deserved.

She’d say things like, “It’s your fault I’m like this, why are you crying?” “No one will love you the way I love you,” “Without me, you’d have nothing,” and “You’re so lucky to have me. Nobody else would put up with you,”

Whenever Sasha snaps at her, she’s quick to make it seem like she’s the victim. “Don’t you care about my feelings?” “How can you be so heartless?” “I thought you cared about me,” all of it would cause Sasha to shut down because even if her friend is being possessed by a hive-mind, or doing all of this by her own will, she cares about Anne too. And deep deep deep deep deep deep deep really fucking deep down, she knows that her Anne, the silly, lovable one, who would always put others first is there.

Anne physically abuses her too, just so you know. All loyal and noble warriors are trained and disciplined after all. Whipped into shape to obey their master. Danne normally does this, because Anne doesn’t want to see Sasha get hurt, but she knows it’s necessary. Sometimes, however, she feels a little sadistic and decides to partake in it herself. Labeling it as training and refusing to ever admit she abused Sasha.

I don’t think I’d write them getting freaky if I wrote this, but I have the slightest feeling that it might escalate to that. 😭 Sasha would be the one to initiate this kind of love tho. Mainly cause Anne has feelings and isn’t some (completely) heartless monster. (Consent is so fucking cool ya’ll‼️)

Anne would be whisked away by The Core or Andrias for important war biz, and it really pisses her off because she wants to spend as much time as she can with Sasha before the invasion.

OH YEAH. They’re cuddle buddies because I say so. Both of them want cuddles, but it’s usually Sasha since Anne doesn’t really have to sleep anymore. At the beginning of their relationship, Anne started it because she wanted to be close to Sasha, and eventually Sasha started (timidly) asking for cuddles and because Anne is infatuated with Sasha, she’d drop everything to cuddle.

So, just think of those Darcy/Anne fics but more tamed. 🙌

Also it just occurred to me that their ship name would be Danne…

#sashanne #amphibia #anne boonchuy #amphibia au #sasha waybright #marcy wu #MARCY WU MENTION ✊#dark anne boonchuy #danne #toxic relationship #emotional abuse #manipulation #tw abuse #affection #love #it’s the trueeee it’s the trueee it’s the trueeee kind of love 😍#sasha x anne

7 notes · View notes

r0-boat · 2 years ago

Text

Royal Schedule

Beegearstation + bonus guests!

The Royal has a busy schedule

Gn!reader( no set pronouns the reader is called Princess once)

Cw: oviposition, slight breeding kink, harem, gangbang

Dawn

Meeting with the Hive Scouts Leader

Bee!Cole

He let out a purr feeling his Royal's fingers comb through his red hair. you are still groggy from waking up this morning so he took it upon himself to wake you up with some "exercise." starting out with some stretches, he folds you in half legs over his shoulders. His twitching cock rutting against your sex.

He completely towers over you. Part of him wants to worship you, yet another part wants to destroy you, cover his dear highness in his cum. Cole smirks at the thought of the Kings raging in jealousy when their Royal comes back, reeking of the Scout leader's Scent.

A snarl rips from his throat as he slams his hips down onto you. Filling you to the brim with one thrust. All the other Scouts are out hunting, so he has plenty of time to fill you up.

Morning

Training with the Royal guard/army General

Bee!Silas

Silas sobs were muffled by the gag in his mouth, his arms tied behind the chair as he's forced to endure your teasing. all the while you sit so pretty in his lap his cock pulsating between your thighs as you play with it with your small human hands. his eyes staring holes in your thighs, longing to feel his cock in between them.

" I wonder what would the hive think if they knew our strongest bee in combat was this pathetic under their monarch?"

You purr; Silas's breathing grows heavier, bucking his hips, his dick now beginning to leak precum, his eyes half-lit with lust, his full attention on you. Your degrading words greatly aroused him.

Noon

Lunch with the Advisor

Bee!Rika.

With a hand on her chin is she leans against the table watching you as you pick at your food.

" why aren't you eating dear I made that especially for you, can't rule Hive on an empty stomach princess~"

You shoot a glare at her before finally stabbing something with your fork. her smile widening before giving you an exaggerated surprised look.

" Woah seems that no one taught you manners, oh well as always I guess it's my job to put you in your place," she hums her finger rolling over a button on the remote in her hand.

Immediately you drop your fork, the toy deep inside you buzzes to life. She bites her lip feeling warmth in her core, "yeah thats it. Just gives in for me, and when you're done being a little brat, come sit in my lap and kiss me."

Afternoon

A check up with the Royal Physician

Zero

You squirm underneath his touch his hands gently kneeding your hips, murmuring to himself. his antennas twitch noticing your sudden movement.

" Are you ticklish right there beloved? Good. It means the royal jelly has been successfully changing you making you more sensitive in the places that matter-,"

he Rambles grabbing and squeezing your thighs your hips. His other hand is cupping your chest before pressing his thumb on your nipple.

" you're so beautiful my love I can never get enough of you, I'll have to schedule another appointment with you soon."

You can help but squeeze your thighs together his hands all over your body pinching, teasing stroking, squeezing, with all four of his hands all over your body you try not to melt in his touch. all the while you can see his cocks slowly protruding out of his slit. Yet Zero himself seems to pay no mind focusing purely on how your body reacts to his touch.

" I would like to, examine your more intimate places if that's okay with you "

Dusk

Free Time

Drones

With one drone occupying your mouth with his while another one kisses you all over, with a third drone's cock nestled in your plush thighs they put you to sit back and relax while they take care of you. They chatter to one another how they would run a bath make you a nice hot cocoa and give you a massage, as they coo about how much they love you.

The third drone between your thighs begs to fill you. tears in his eyes because he's close but wants to cum inside.

Other drones attracted to the sweet scent of their Royal in pleasure, gather murmuring of how lucky these three in particular are, longing for their hands to feel the soft skin of their highness.

Your dear drones never want to pressure you into anything you don't want to do, so they sit and watch, waiting for your back and call. Eagerly waiting to fulfill any requests you give them.

Evening

Nightly Egg routine

Ingo&Emmet

Your face pressed against the mattress as Emmet has a hold of your arms, pulling you back onto him as he pounds you

"Take it, Take it! Take it all!" Emmet growls thrusting is deep as he can inside of you before stilling his hips; you dig your teeth into the sheets trying not to scream and pleasure with each egg Emmet nestles deep inside of you. he runs a hand through your hair leaning down to litter your shoulders with kisses.

But you were far from done, as soon as Emmet slides out of you, a new cock takes its place. Ingo groans as he slowly pushes himself inside of you, eager to fill you up with his own clutch. He has been thinking about this all day, seeing your belly grow around with his eggs, hoping that at least one of them will take.

You're broken whimpers of being too full went straight to his cock, his antenna twitching as he took in your sweet scent.

Ingo folds you in half, legs over his shoulders. he pounds down into you, wanting to reach as deep as possible to stuff you more with his eggs. He practically creams when you squeeze around him, milking him. Your broken sobs are begging for him to fill you. He loses it, roaring in pleasure, slamming down onto you, his abdomen pulsating as he fills you with egg after egg. Daring not to pull out of you until he's completely emptied himself inside of you.

#smut #beegearstation au #pokemon ingo smut #X reader #monster smut #monster boyfriend #pokemon emmet smut #beegearstation

347 notes · View notes

gnostichor · 1 year ago

Text

That Hopeful Alchemy

Eris stepped out into the evening air of the Tower, the warm mug of mulled cider in her hands a welcome bulwark against the rapidly cooling weather. Festival of the Lost had just begun, and something about those celebrations made it feel like it was always evening in the Tower. She walked in between paper lanterns and decorated gourds, effigies of reverence to the autumnal harvests and the spirits of those we have had to leave behind: the semiotics of change and time's stubborn procession.

Historically, Eris had found little of value in such pageantry; what could someone truly know of loss, she would assure herself, if they thought it transmutable by the exchange of confectionery and the carving of winter squash? This year, however, her steps were not quite as heavy, her glances less cutting. Her trials in the athenæum and the oubliette—just as they had peeled away the chitinous plates from her body—had served to abrade some of the more calloused edges of her preconceived notions about modern life in the City.

Where she had once seen frivolity and unearned levity, she began to see catharsis and a different sort of magic: that transmutative rending of a source of grief and sorrow not into a weapon designed to spread more of the same, but a scalpel to be turned on itself so that the flesh may heal. She had begun to appreciate and respect the poetry of that hopeful alchemy.

Out of the corner of her left-most eye, Eris saw a woman waving to her. An older woman. Eva Levante, she noted, the cheermonger. Eris took a sip from her mug and let the kind embrace of the rising steam give her the courage to approach the grinning woman.

"Hello, Eva." Eris said, doing her best to unflatten her affect. "As ever, the efforts you and the other citizens put into the decoration is commendable."

"Hello dear, and thank you," Eva replied, her impish smile never fading. "You're looking quite well, if you don't mind me saying." "I do not mind, and thank you—I am in fact feeling quite well. An auspicious symmetry."

Raising her hand to her mouth, Eva laughed quietly, but never dropped the mirthful grin.

"How can I help you, Eva?" Eris raised the mug to her lips, sipping. "So, been any Hive gods, lately?" Eva finally let out with a titter.

An awful sound emanated from Eris' mug: the sound of someone bursting into laughter as they are sipping hot mulled cider.

#eris morn #eva levante #festival of the lost #fotl #destiny fanfiction #destiny the game #destiny 2 #my writing

51 notes · View notes

ciaossu-imagines · 1 year ago

Note

Ikerev & Zombie Apocalypse?

Of course, anon dear! I'm so, so sorry this took forever to get back to you but if you're still reading, I hope you'll enjoy the headcanons I thought of for this AU!

Okay, so we're going into this with me forewarning everyone. By it's very nature, a zombie apocalypse AU is going to get dark, gritty, angsty, and probably a little fucked up and as I love getting the chance to get angsty and dark, you know things might get fucked up here and there with some of these headcanons. If that is not your cup of tea or something you think might bother you, it might be better for you to stop reading.

So now that we have that out of the way, if you're still reading, let's get this all started. So, in my head, this AU is less of an actual alternate universe. I still very much see this set in Cradle, with the same universe existing of Magic and the Magic Tower and the different armies. However, I don't see the armies as still really fighting each other - they are at peace and the Magic Tower, though definitely still shady as fuck and definitely still up to no real good, isn't thought of as an absolute threat. Everything seems good and peaceful and that's part of the real set-up of this AU.

So, to get to the real meat of this AU. So, everything is nice and peaceful. Life seems idyllic. But then things start to change. The Magic Tower, still headed by Amon Jabberwock, is doing what the Magic Tower always does - experimenting with the Magic Crystals, seeing what can be done with them. Their latest experiment is working with the crystals and humans to see if, by ingesting bits of the crystals and thus integrating them into the human body, they can enhance the boundaries of what a human body and mind can do. The experiments seem to be well-meaning, are sold as looking to find cures for aging, for disabilities, for anything bad that can possibly happen to a human body or mind. What they're really after, or at least what Amon wants them for, is to create his own army of superhuman soldiers to conquer Cradle, though not even his followers are really privy to that fact.

Too bad the experiments seem to be failing. Most of the humans experimented on are dying…and then things seem to change. Things start to appear to be going well and the Magic Tower rejoices and gets inspired to really test even further limits of the experiment. The long and short of it though - these new Crystal infused humans? They're super-strong, seemingly impervious to all harm except complete decapitation to sever the connection of brain and body, with superhuman senses…oh, and they all go insane. Like, their brain goes bad - all limiters are taken off and they start to act solely on impulses and basic desires instead of any rational thoughts or logic. They're extremely violent if threatened at all or if something stands in the way of one of their wants. They experience extreme hunger at points and if food isn't readily available….well, humans are a source of meat too. They crave sex, food, shelter, warmth, liquid. Some of them retain enough of their personalities to have cravings for things they especially loved before the experiments as well.

The worst thing? Though they start as mindless, they quickly seem to link up into some sort of hive-mind and they start enhancing their numbers. If they don't outright kill, they forcibly turn others into beings like themselves by forcibly feeding them crystals. If the person survives this, they join The Hive.

It starts in the Tower. Amon willingly joins The Hive, makes himself the Head of it. Dalim, being a Disciple of the Tower, is in this initial first attack by these creatures. Terrified and no longer trusting in Amon, Dum does do the right thing in the end and tries to ensure that the experiment dies in the Tower, that none of the infected escape the Tower. He helps get other Disciples out but unfortunately, he succumbs to an attack by several of the infected and gets forcibly recruited into The Hive.

The infected surge out of the Tower and it's not too long before the peace of Cradle is completely shattered and things become a full out 'zombie apocalypse'. The armies each do their best to fight The Hive and protect the citizens but still steadfastly refuse to join forces with each other until much later on in the story.

I see Jonah as being one of the first to die. It's not because he's not strong and more than a capable fighter. It's because he's just genuinely someone who doesn't have a lot of common sense. His death comes in the first wave of the infected out of the Tower. He chose bravery and doing his duty but, after seeing other soldiers downed and even seeing some be forcibly infected, his ego and lack of common sense really did him in and he gets slaughtered and eaten.

Though he'll last throughout most of the story, I do see Lancelot dying. It's his death that inspires the two armies to join forces and come together, actually. The thing is, as a magically strong person already, the Hive (and Amon, their leader) didn't want to kill Lancelot. No, they became almost obsessed with changing him, with making him a part of the Hive. Though Lancelot was strong and clever enough to hold them off for a long time, while saving someone else whilst in the midst of battle, he was left vulnerable for long enough to be force fed what was needed to ensure he would eventually turn. Though the only one who was aware of this was Kyle, who steadfastly maintained that they would find a way to save Lance, Lancelot knew what needed to be done. He told Sirius and Harr the truth of what had happened and begged his two best friends to do what needed to be done - to kill him.

Sirius was the one to actually end up doing the deed. He'd already lost most of his family and by that point, had seen enough other people die. He'd been so strong up until that point and he'd inspired so many people to keep going with his never give up attitude, his optimism that things would get better, and his hard work. But after that, after being forced to kill one of his oldest and dearest friends? He sure kept trying, so hard, but the fact of the matter was that after that, Sirius really started to give up. Another major story event really did him in and he almost recklessly charged into the next major battle with The Hive and was taken down. Those close by at the time said he seemed almost relieved as The Hive killed him.

That other major story event? It has to do with Harr. Harr was a Magic Tower Disciple who had abducted his position the second the Tower started experimenting on humans. It was just something Harr could not handle, could not get behind, so he left. He did his best to keep his eye on things with the Tower though, worried about what might happen. When the worst does happen, Harr feels immense guilt for not having done more to stop this from happening. He becomes obsessed with finding a cure for those infected, with stopping this with as little bloodshed as possible. Loki helps him, as does Kyle, who also becomes obsessive about finding a cure.

As the days and weeks go by though and they seem to be getting nowhere, Kyle starts drinking harder and harder and becoming more and more reckless in his efforts to learn more about the infected. He needs test subjects and by the time the armies manage to trap and transport an infected person to him, not only have they suffered major casualties, but the infected in question is normally dead as well. Kyle becomes tired of seeing people die and being helpless to stop it and he directly goes out into the field. Dead infected specimens aren't helping; he needs a live one and becomes bound and determined to get one. While trying to do so, Kyle gets captured and changed.

The newly infected Kyle is feral and attacks his former comrades, killing Loki. Between Loki's death and Kyle's change, combined with watching Sirius kill Lancelot just the day before, Harr cannot handle things anymore. It's too much and his brain just can't deal. Harr takes a dive, head first, from the place this all started - the Tower itself. He's dead upon impact with the ground, quick and painless, but dead nonetheless.

Because the idea, while horrible, was too delicious to resist…I really do see Dean being brutally savaged and beaten to death by his own infected brother. The sibling rivalry had carried over enough in the infected Dalim's mind for the need to kill his brother to be a major desire of his.

Now, I have always kind of headcanoned that Mousse has narcolepsy. Obviously he doesn't have a route so I don't know for sure if that is canonically true but I see that being his undoing in this AU. He gets infected in his sleep very early on in the story.

Oliver becomes very useful though. He devotes himself to making weapons and traps and fortifying buildings to become shelters. Though he doesn't go into battles himself and is very protected, he's such an important and integral part of everything.

I do see Edgar, Fenrir, and Seth becoming rather famous as front line warriors against the Hive. All or any of them alone become major targets of the Hive because of how many infected they take out and how integral a part of survival in this new world they become.

After Lancelot's death, Blanc and Ray become co-leaders, trying everything they can to gather and ensure the safety of all non-infected individuals. Blanc keeps an eye and really dedicates himself to ensuring the non-infected are safe and taken care of and that shelter, food, water, and basic needs can be met for everyone while Ray leads the more military side of ensuring continued life and safety for the survivors.

Zero ends up specializing in rescue missions, in getting groups of non-infected people to safety, and really ends up becoming Blanc's second in command. Luka, meanwhile, stays under Ray and does fight…Luka's biggest regret in everything though? That he couldn't save his brother. So he becomes foolhardy and reckless at times, taking risks he shouldn't, because to him, if he can save even just one more person…maybe that will take some of the guilt away, absolve him even a little. Even just a smidge.

17 notes · View notes

akira-fishhh · 8 months ago

Text

Grande passion.

Usually, Kreiburg took the best out of life and enjoyed it in the spring, but not this year. Too many contracts have been signed, and only a fool can get away from the desired bills.

Although age takes its toll.

Frederick is a man with an ideal actor's face with wrinkles already gradually standing out. Not a single layer of makeup can hide the fading youth. However, even so, his power of take ladies breath away with his beauty did not fade away in him.

No matter how much time has passed, the memories of his youth will never leave him: thin-lipped wisdom spoke to him from a worn armchair preaching prudence, quoting the book of cowardice, posing as common sense. Kreiburg never listen. However, he'll never admit to himself that he admires his father's speeches, as well as his magnificent music playing.

The lady was grinning, looming in the doorway of the dusty dressing room and talking pretentiously while Frederick stood in the hallway. When she saw the actor, she began to persistently call him a "genius of pure acting." Oh, well. She's not destined to know the truth and get dirty in the "purity" of acting.

Later, a new nickname was heard. "The merciful patron of art". Frederick drew his eyebrows to the bridge of his nose and, holding a battered cane in his hands, walked cautiously on.

As always, there was chaos on the film set. Makeup artists, actors, cameramen, directors rushed around the set and were flat out like bees in a hive

Frederick is too used to such a work fuss, so none of what is happening causes any reaction.

A sultry wind of passion swept over the lady and stirred the graceful folds of her dress with an apron. That's ridiculous. Wherever the rumors about Frederick slipped, all the ladies only sighed in love, their blood rushed up, and their cheeks blushed. A brush with shadows slid over his eyelids, and another makeup artist carefully arranged his pure snow-white hair.

When his eyes opened again, he saw how the makeup artist's gaze was clouded by a dreamy haze.

Unpleasant personalities with dyed hair and faces with tons of makeup swirled around. Eternal turmoil and nothing more. It's as if they're not filming another episode of the series, but rushing to help everyone get ready for their last journey.

The two actors next to him looked as grotesque as the scenery, as if borrowed from a rural farce. But he! Kreiburg is too confident in himself, because he is able to take the whole frame to a new level just by smiling at the camera.

Makeup artists loved to have small talk with Frederick where they could pour out their heart or instead they could share their happiness with him. As now, the pianist does not mind at all and he is happy to join the conversation

The lady who had neatly styled Kreiburg's hair walked away and examined her work, modestly finishing it all with the final spray of varnish. After giving a couple of instructions on how to deal with such a hairstyle, she began to put things in a bag.

"You're always bothering me with good advice!" the pianist grunted with a slight friendly smile, straightening the sleeves of his cuffs.

The girl who was putting makeup on his face decided to share her own heartbreaking love story, to which Frederick just chuckled.

"You will always be loved and you will be in love with love. Grande passion¹," Frederick cooed before disappearing with the necessary clothes behind a dressing screen.

"What love allegories are you singing, my dear colleague," one of the actors as famous as Frederick strolled through the dressing room with an imposing gait. "Orpheus". The actor's real name is unknown because of his past as a writer, which made curiosity itch under the skin of the former musician.

A statuesque figure in a white jacket appeared in front of Frederick. Brown-haired with perfectly tousled hair, casting sly glances with a special squint, he is a real ladies' man. There was something about him that caused Frederick to have an overly diverse range of emotions: the desire to once again pull away, but at the same time continue caressing his own ears with the sweet speech of this man. Attractively hateful is the best description of Frederick's attitude towards Orpheus

He is perfect in everything from speech to a perfectly ironed jacket that fits exactly over his shoulders. Seam to seam, arrow to arrow, everything in it is marvelous and there is nothing to complain about.

"Eavesdropping is not good," a sharp remark flew out of the mouth of the white-haired man, who finally vanished from prying eyes behind a screen. In his hands was an elegant black suit with red gloves and a white shirt.

The nimble gaze of green eyes flashed behind the monocle, and their owner himself moved to the mirror to appear at full height. Another reminder of his perfect appearance. Wiping off his lip pencil, which had slightly leaked during his time on set, Orpheus snorted something under his breath.

"What a pity that the dressing room is common for all the actors."

The voice went down almost to a whisper at the end of the phrase.

Frederick pulling on red gloves looked at them. They look unacceptable stylish. Such bright accents in clothes are unusual for him, but it looks very lovely.

Coming out of the screen, Kreiburg hastily fastens a silver chain on his belt and fastens a shirt with openwork elements along the button line. The recent styling held firm, not a hair out of place . It was also good that the hair stylist expertly disguised some bald spots in Frederick's hair. After all, against the background of eternal staining and lack of proper care, the hair began to fall out heavily.

"What the…"

Going up to the mirror, the composer shushed the non-clinging brooch and crumpled collar with displeasure. What do the employees of the film set allow themselves? Frederick, as the protagonist of the series, should be in the frame any minute, and now he has to suffer with a wrinkled collar and a tangled chain? It sounds stupid, but in fact it is even more worse.

"I see you have some problems," a sly grin spread across the lips of the novelist, who leaned on the table near the mirror, which is littered with various brushes, bottles and jars, "May I help a dear colleague?"

The chain of the monocle moved slightly in the air and collided with the writer's cheek, and Orpheus slightly shaking his shoulders began to wait for an answer.

"…Please," Frederick contemptuously agreed to a polite phrase, handing his colleague a silver brooch with a scattering of stones in his hands. Due to his haste, he does not manage to attach the accessory properly at all, so Frederick decided to trust Orpheus.

The dexterous hands of the other immediately placed the brooch in the right place and adjusted Frederick's collar with special care. What could be better than being in the hands of a skilled and obviously experienced man who knows exactly how to help?

The whitish eyelashes narrowed, and Frederick's gaze was fixed on the novelist's clothes. He had a special scattering of stones on his tie and on his breast pocket, and a raven mask hung on the back of his belt. After all, it's not for vain that he has the role of the main antagonist of the entire series.

"It seems that you're already in your heyday, but still have problems with clothes," the novelist chuckled softly, finally removing his hands from the clothes of the other. However, the hands didn't plan to move away from Frederick further; they moved to the slender hips of the blonde, slightly squeezing them.

"Being experienced is far from you, isn't it?"

"I would recommend you to be careful what you say, Orpheus."

Kreiburg's anger is a real delight for the novelist, who enjoys every furrowed muscle and prominent wrinkle on the musician's face.

"Experience does not represent any ethical value."

"In your opinion, is experience an absolutely unnecessary thing?"

The writer's breath only gets closer to the composer's face, and his hands slid to Frederick's waist, stroking the musician's protruding ribs through his jacket. And after all, Frederick has not been a teenager for a long time and is not even quite young, but he is still distinguished by his aristocratic thinness.

"It's just a name that people have given for the mistakes they've made," Frederick whispered right into the novelist's lips, before feeling the audacious movement of the other's face towards his own. A very light touch of lips, but so many emotions. Orpheus, as if sensing a certain confusion of the other, only leans forward more strongly, kissing too harshly for the composer.

Hands in blood red gloves wrap around the torso and neck of the other, mercilessly ruin such an ideal novelist's hairstyle. What a pity. However, in a careless way he looks stunning.

Finally pulling away from each other, Orpheus abruptly grabs his colleague by the hand and pulls him behind the dressing screen, hearing the screams of the film crew from the set. The screen creaks on the floor and now they are already closed on all sides, and the novelist's hands are still holding Frederick by the hips.

"We're going to have a little trouble after this," Orpheus whispers softly into Frederick's lips, putting a red–gloved hand to his lips, leaving a weightless kiss before clinging to it with his teeth and taking it off. What a scoundrel.

– Maintenant, il y a un gros problème dans la grande passion entre nous, Orphée².

/ ¹ - Great passion ² - Now there is a big trouble in the great passion between us, Orpheus.

#identity v #frederick kreiburg #orpheus #fredpheus #orphrick #idv frederick #idv orpheus #idv

17 notes · View notes

steddieunderdogfics · 9 months ago

Note

Imma ask you a dumb question— what’s kas eddie mean. I see it everywhere but have no idea

Hi! This isn't a dumb question at all!!

After the unfortuante ending our dear Eddie Munson received in Season 4, Volume 2, among the fix-it fics in the early days of the steddie fics, the Kas Theory developed. Now I don't play D&D nor do I read Kas fics very often, so bear with me on this.

The Kas Theory is based on the D&D character, Kas the Betrayer. Kas started as a general to Vecna, one of his trusted soldiers due to his bloodlust. Kas fought on Vecna's behalf, until he was propositioned by another character to betray Vecna. To add to this, Kas the Betrayer is considered the first Vampire. I'm not entirely sure how the vampire curse comes into play, but I believe it's a consequence of his betrayal -- his bloodthirst was turned into something literal.

Considering Vecna's the big bad of Season 4, the Kas Theory is something that some fans started to develop to cope with Eddie's death. The theory is: Eddie's death by demobats is going to turn him into a vampire creature. Adding in the hive-mind of all Upside Down creatures, Eddie (or Kas at this point) would be fully under Vecna's control. In the next season, the Party would have to fight Kas (Eddie) in order to defeat Vecna for good. In doing so, they would try to appeal to Eddie's human side and their connection with him would break through the hive-mind. With Eddie on their side, fully betraying Vecna, they'll be able to defeat the Upside Down for good.

Kas!Eddie fics don't always go into detail about the battles with Vecna and the Upside Down. Mostly, it's Eddie coming back from the Upside Down wrong. Sometimes he's just a vampire and others he's a creature, almost unrecognizable from the Eddie they all knew and loved.

It's a really fun theory to explore for potential Season 5 ideas or a way to bring Eddie back from death without rewriting or avoiding the last episode of Season 4.

I hope that helps! And please, Kas fans, forgive me if this isn't 100% correct!

Thanks for asking!!

#kas!eddie #kas eddie munson #eddie as kas #kas theory #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieunderdogfics #anon #mod stars

13 notes · View notes

rjmartin11 · 2 years ago

Text

Elvis & The Oracle

(One Shot)

Pairing: vampire!Elvis & black female!reader who's clairvoyant

Summary: A young oracle who lives in New York City bumps into the Vampire Elvis during a feeding, and later, she becomes his ultimate prey.

Word Count: 7.2K

Warnings: Vampire things such as fangs, blood, lust, and smut. Violence plus cussing. Speaks on sensitive subjects like seizures and anemia.

Material is not suitable for under 18 years of age. Viewer discretion is advised!

Author's Notes: So The Oracle is a story I wrote once about a clairvoyant girl named Thorne Malone, who could see the past, present, and future when she had skin to skin contact with people. She's not supposed to know love, but that changes for her. I'm polishing this story up a bit and putting it in New York City and adding the sexy Vampire Elvis! Thank you to @powerofelvis, @headfullofpresley , and @pianginferno for your beautiful Vampire Elvis tales. They are what got inspired to start this Headcannon turned to one shot.

P.S. this sucker is long! No punt intended. 😉😏

・┆✦ʚ🩸🩸ɞ✦ ┆・

The city buzzes like a hive with people walking and running in all directions. I enjoy the city at times it's so lively, but at times like this, I miss the country. The small town life. Less people, less of a chance that someone brushes against, and I see their life flash before my eyes.

The life of an oracle is miserable. If one person brushes against my skin with theirs, I'll see a lifetime of joys and pains. I feel as if I see more pains than joys most of the time, and it gets tedious. When I see things all at once, to someone who views me, it looks as though I'm have an episode or seizure.

As you can imagine, I was quite popular in high school... not!!! I wasn't allowed to have many friends. I got by with the two I had. Liv & Connie. My only friends. The only two that knew my secret other than my Aunt Theresa & Aunt Tara.

I'm the first in two generations to receive this gift. With great power comes great responsibility and consequences. My responsibility: See into the minds of others in hopes of saving them. One person at a time. My consequence: I can never know the love of another. I can know the love of family and friends, but I can never fall in love. I can never be intimate with someone.

I'm forced to be happy for the good people around me who get to be normal. I wish I knew how that felt. The touch of a lover. The embrace. His lips on mine.

This life's not fair for all, but it's the life I lead. I try to be happy for others and dismiss my jealousy. It's the right thing to do.

The Meeting:

Thank heavens that New Years was over! Less people around. Bumping into one another. The New York restaurants are always crowded during January and February. New Years & Valentine's Day. My least favorite holidays. People are all over the place. Thank God for long sleeves.

With Covid calming down, I can get away with gloves at work. I just need to change them every hour or two.

I was wondering home from work. Taking sides streets to my apartment. Less people. Sadly, more of the homeless. It's heartbreaking.

A week ago, a homeless lady touched my hand and asked for spare change. My black leather gloves weren't on my wrist, so I saw her life.

"She had a good life. A beautiful life. She was loved by her mother and father. She was a beauty queen. She fell in love with a good man, and they lived happily in their apartment in Manhattan. They never had children. He died sometime ago. Covid plus cancer. Hospital bills she couldn't afford on top of rent and was forced out on the streets."

I scared her but she tried to help me.

"Oh dear, are you okay? Do you need help?" She asked.

"No. I'm fine," I said, pulling up my glove. Shaking off her pain. I took out $40.00 bucks and placed it in her hands.

"I'm so sorry about James. Go get something to eat, please, and stay warm." I said to her and ran in the direction of my apartment.

I don't see her tonight. I do hope she got her meal. I just want to get home without any interactions. As I walk the ally, that's a block away from my building, I see these two guys fighting. One looks like an older homeless man, and the other looks like a young street thug.

"Hey, stop!" I yelled.

I caught the kids' attention, and he was frozen in place. The old homeless man grabbed his neck, growls, and bites the hell out of his throat. He kid is screaming, but the screams end abruptly.

I couldn't move. Fear and shock have me frozen in place. The homeless guy threw the kid's body down to the cement. Dead.

I try running, but...

"Stop where you are." His voice calls to me. I can't help but obey his deep voice. I can't move. Why can't I move?

He slowly approaches me like predators catching his prey. His eyes are an unholy blood red. Then it hits me. He's a vampire.

I can't speak. I can't scream for help. I start fearing for my life.

"You are beautiful." He says, looking me over.

I'm looking him in the eyes but can't answer.

"When someone gives you a compliment, the kind thing to do is reply, "Thank you." So let's try that again. You are beautiful."

"Thank you." You said involuntarily but calmingly.

"What's your name, baby?" He asks.

"Thorne."

"Every rose has its thorn, but you are a rose. Just so pretty."

"Thank you." I spoke once again.

Fear passes through me because I believe I'm about to die. I feel a tear trickle down my cheek.

They say life flashes before your eyes when you die, but if he touches me, I'll see the lifetime of horror he has done for God knows how long.

He places his hand on my chest between my breasts, touching my scarf. My extra protection. He moves my scarf, revealing my neck to him. He licks his lips, and I hear a rumbling growl within him.

"I bet you taste delicious." He says, quickly grabbing my neck and biting me.

I feel his teeth sinking into my neck, and his icy lips touch the skin of my neck. I gasp and see it all. A lifetime of pain.

From birth, he was striped away from a brother. A twin. He carries that pain with him still. His mother was taken from him. The pain of trusting someone that they betray you. The pain of a beautiful woman biting into his neck the way he's biting me now. Turning him into this monster. I see him ripping through dozens and dozens of girls. I hear them screaming out his name.

At the moment, I gain my voice back. "Elvis. Stop."

He looks at me, puzzled. I reach my hand up to touch his face.

With tearful eyes, beg him, "Please, don't kill me."

His face softens into a handsome young man. I try to catch my breath, but the next thing I see is black.

I feel fingers lightly brush against my face, and l see their past. A joyful past.

I see a little boy running to his mama. There's a smile on his face that could light up the world. I see a young man singing nervously, dancing his fears away. I see love surround him. Girls placing kisses all over his face as he places his kisses on them. Then I see... me? With him? I'm smiling, and he kisses me. The next vision, he's all over me in this passionate way.

The fingers leave my face, and I wake up in a bed. My breath caught, but my heart races. Beside me, lies Elvis. The Elvis Presley.

I jump out of the bed and stare at him. He's quite relaxed and reserved, laying on his side in the bed.

"What are you?" He asked me.

Taken aback, I shake myself to speak up. "What am I? Fuck you!"

"That sounds fun, but you haven't answered my question. You taste unlike anything I've tasted before. So sweet."

"I'm human."

"I tasted that along with you being animic. Which is why you fainted. Eat more greens and drink red wine. Which I have. Wine, that is."

He zips behind me. I feel the wind as he makes his way to the table to pour me a glass. I stumbled away, seeing him pouring a glass of wine.

"I don't want that. I just want to go home." I say backing up.

He approaches me slowly. Very much like earlier when he bit me.

"Please don't touch me!" I say, falling on the bed.

"Take the wine if you want to leave here in one piece, Thorne." He tells me, handing out the glass.

Reluctantly, I take the glass from him and take a slow sip.

"I've seen a lot of things in my lifetime, but not you," Elvis says, sitting in a chair. Staring at me.

"Are you a fairy? You're not a werewolf. Are you a witch? Nah, too pretty."

He plays the guessing game with me, and I remain silent, finishing off my wine.

"If you're going to kill me, kill me. Otherwise, let me go," I say.

"No, you're too valuable to kill. I find you intriguing."

We stare at one another for a moment. Not wanting to tell him about myself, I remain silent.

"So you really aren't going to tell me what you are, Thorne?"

I slowly shake my head no.

He pauses. "Okay then. You're free to go."

I hesitate at moving.

"Thorne, go before I change mind."

I find my shoes by the bed and quickly put them on my cold feet. I'm trying to keep my eye on him as I prepare to leave. I run for the door, and he's in front of me with my jacket, beanie, and scarf.

"It's cold out. You may want these."

I snatched them from him and then continued to run out the door.

"Bye, Thorne," he says in an echo tone.

As I make my way down the steps, I realize that I'm in a fancy hotel. He must have used his powers of persuasion to get himself a room here. How long was I out?

Entering the lobby, the receptionist speaks to me.

"Oh, hi, Miss. You're up. It's nice to see you wake. Your boyfriend had to carry you upstairs."

I paused.

"Well, we just broke up. Don't let his good looks fool you. Stay away from him." I said, making my way out the revolving door.

20 minutes later...

I finally made it home after a long ass day out. I didn't expect what happened to happen, but I'm grateful to be alive.

I locked my door tight. I know vampires need to be invited into a home, so I have no fear of that. After my shower, I found my old crucifix in my jewelry box and planned on wearing it more often.

I blessed my house with prayers. I feared I'd see Elvis' face in my dreams. That scary face with razor-sharp teeth and blood red eyes.

Instead, I decided to do some research instead. Google is a great friend in times of need. He popped up as soon as I put his name in the search engine.

Elvis Presley, born 1935, died 1977 or so, they think. There's a lot of useful information about him but a lot of nonsense. He sure was talented and dare I say handsome.

I've never really been a fan of his. Though his music is pretty good for the 50s. Hopefully, I'll never ever see him again. I just can't shake off that vision of... us. I have a nervous feeling that it wasn't our last time seeing one another.

Elvis' Point of View

Thorne was a mystery to me. Never in my life have I met a woman like her. I couldn't shake her image from my mind. Her magnetic chocolate eyes, sun-kissed skin, full pouty lips, and her voice.

I just have to know her. I couldn't shake the way she looked at me. The way she said my name. Like she knew. I followed her to her apartment via the New York rooftops. Makes sense why she was in that neighborhood. She lived a block away from where I picked her up.

She has the perfect apartment for observation. A partial glass roof. I have a great view of her kitchen and living room.

I saw her reading her Bible in a way of blessing the apartment from me. Sadly, one of the myths that's not all true about vampires. I have her blood in my system, which makes for easy access inside.

She played on her little computer for a while. I hear a familiar tune coming from it. She's looking me up? I get it, "Know thy enemy."

Only if she knew I didn't want to be an enemy. I want to be her everything. I want to take care of her. Protect her... love her.

After the song ended, she put her little computer away and lays on the sofa. Staring out the rooftop ceiling until she fell asleep.

For the next few weeks or so, I watched as she got dressed and went off to work.

I watched her walk the few blocks to a Harlem restaurant. Sometimes I stay a few hours and watch her work. She has a genuine kindness that I find refreshing. I noticed that she wore gloves a lot. She changed them a lot too.

I remember her begging me not to touch her. I noticed she was careful about touching others and cautious about others touching her. Was it because of Covid? Or was it a fear of germs?

One day, when Thorne went to work, I went inside her place to get a closer look at her home. One of the skylights of her glass roof opened, and I jumped inside. Her scent was all over the apartment.

I glanced over her album collection. She played them to unwind after her long day in the city. She has a unique taste in music. R&B seems to be a favorite.

I grew up on the original R&B. The new stuff is quite good, I must admit. Lauryn Hill is a favorite of mine now that I've heard her play. Thorne plays her a lot. There's a lot of different albums and C.D.s. Her collection is large.

I look around her kitchen. It's clean minus one to-go box. Her fridge is empty, except for the water bottles, some juice, and an almost empty cart of eggs.

I did notice her not eating a lot. Some food here and there. When does she eat? In the cabinets, some ramnem noodles. I went into her room to explore.

She has a nice size bed. That could be fun for later. Thorne likes to place her night clothes neatly on her bed. Her closet is neatly kept. Clothes hung up.

In the corner, she has a dresser where she puts all her casual clothes. Her panties. Her lace panties. I had to shut that drawer. I'll be dreaming about that later.

The next place I checked was her bathroom. Again, clean. But what woman isn't? In her shower, shea butter moisturizer products. That scent... oh boy.

The entire apartment was clear of men products. She never has gentleman callers knocking at her door, paying her late night visits. Nor girls. I don't get it. She's beautiful. Thorne could have any man she wanted.

I glanced at a photo album of hers. Photos of a Young Thorne running around in a little dress all smiles. Just pretty. A picture of her mama holding her from the caption at the bottom. I don't see any more with her with her mother.

There are pictures of her with her aunts. Several pictures of her with two friends from high school. Photo caption Connie and Liv. Pictures of them dancing at prom. The next picture had my blood run hot with jealousy. Thorne with a guy, and the picture captioned, "Me and Blake at Prom."

She doesn't have pictures of him around, so I'm guessing he's out of the picture. Literally.

Some hours pass by, and Thorne comes through the door with two other girls following behind her, laughing. I recognize them as Liv & Connie from her photo album.

"Thorne, seriously! You got to tell us about this guy. You bumped into!"

"Please. We know you can't be with a guy because of your gifts, but... maybe you should put your heart out there."

"And what would my aunties say?" Thorne protests.

"Thorne, they're not here. You're grown! You only live once!"

"Thanks, Connie. I needed that reminder of how I'm going to die old and alone," Thorne says.

"Stop! You won't die alone!" Liv says, grabbing her hand.

"Thorne, you have us." Connie says, grabbing her other hand.

"Friend, you have a great heart with love to give. You deserve happiness."

"And sex! Lot and lots of sex!" Liv interrupts.

The ladies all laugh together and pour themselves some wine.

They have pizza boxes, wings, and cupcakes. They set themselves up in the living room. Liv takes out a candle and puts it in one of the cupcakes, lighting it up and passing it to Thorne.

"Happy Birthday, Thorne." The ladies say together. "Make a wish!"

I watch on as Thorne takes the lit cupcake. Her skin glows in the little light of the candle. Her eyes are lively, and her smile illuminates the room. She closes her eyes for a moment to make a wish and blows out the candle in a single puff.

"What did you wish for?"

"Come on, Connie. She wished for that guy she met the other night," Liv teased.

I got a bit mad that they were talking about some guy. I could see Thorne blush at the thought. I hated that. Even if she looked cute with a light pink tint on her cheeks.

"Guys, nothing happened. I just... bumped into him, walking home."

"We want details!" Liv said, grabbing her glass and scooting in closer.

Thorne sighed and said:

"He told me I was beautiful, and I thanked. My iron got low, and I fainted while we spoke. You know how my anemia is sometimes. Anyway, when I woke up, I was in his bed."

"Ohhhhh!!!" They said simultaneously.

She's talking about me. About us and what happened the other night. Thorne rolls her eyes and continues with our story.

"We spoke for a little. He poured me a glass of red wine, and I left. But not before he presented me with my hat, jacket, and scarf. He's a gentleman."

"Well..." Liv asked. "What's his name?"

"Aaron. His name is Aaron Garon."

My middle name and my twin brother's middle name. Clever.

"That's cute. His name rhymes. Is he as cute as he sounds?"

"Yes." Thorne's picturing me in her minds' eye. "He has these intense blue eyes. I swear he put me under a spell. Jet black hair. Broad shoulders. Deep voice. He's tall. Pouty lips."

She grows quiet.

"Did you see anything, Thorne? When he touched you?"

"His childhood. His mama. His many, many girlfriends." Thorne sadly speaks.

"Oh, he's one of those guys." Connie says, slapping her hand across her face.

"It's fine. Besides, It wasn't going any further than that room. I..." Thorne pauses.

"It sucks being an all-powerful Oracle that can't get laid, doesn't it?" Liv teases.

An Oracle? She's an Oracle?

That's why she told me not to touch her. She saw things when I bit her.

"Darling Liv, I could get laid and loose my power."

"Would that be so bad? To be normal, Thorne?" Connie chimes in.

"According to my aunts, yes. It's a horrible thing to put my wants before others. I have a duty as an Oracle to help others."

I see tears wail up in her eyes, with the thought of the things she wants and can't have.

"Besides, you two can give me nieces and nephews. I can have those."

They all giggle at the thought of it all. They spend the rest of the night talking about work, hopes, possibilities, and dreams for the future.

Another hour or some, Liv & Connie say their goodbyes to Thorne. Expressing their love and how they'll speak soon.

Thorne walks them out, and they give each other a group hug.

Thorne shuts and locks the door.

She finishes cleaning up the party mess, takes a shower, and gets in her bed.

When I was positive that she was asleep, I made my way down the skylight and into the living room.

I make my way to Thorne's room, her door ajar.

I pushed it open lightly, and she was sleeping peacely.

I crept closer to her to get a better look at her. So beautiful. So peaceful.

I wanted to give her a birthday kiss. Just one kiss.

She would know that I was here if I touched her. She would wake up, and I can't have that.

I wanted to feel her skin on my lips. I wanted to taste her one more.

I settled for kissing the top of her head where her forehead and hairline met.

Her scent engulfed my lungs. I could hear her blood pumping through her veins it was intoxicating. Invigorating.

What I'd give for one more taste of her blood.

The blood of an oracle. Ancient blood of the seer. That's why she tasted different, delicious. Power truly swims in her veins.

I wanted to touch her. What did she see when I touched her?

Would she see my past? Everything? Would she see me singing or hurting people? Would she see Mama and Daddy? Or Jesse? Would she see how I want her? The things I want to do with her?

I risk it and slowly put my lips to her cheek.

She flenches but doesn't wake.

I kiss her again lightly. She whimpers.

"Oh, Elvis."

I moved away. Did she know I was here? Did she see me?

Then it hits me, she sees me in her mind's eye when I touch her.

The way she said my name was full of lust and wanting. The things I want from her.

I placed my bare hand on her chest, and she nearly levitated off the mattress

The sounds coming from her lips were obscene and sinful.

I feel her heart beating under my hand. It's racing.

She slips her hand underneath her panties and goes to town!

"Elvis! Oh... yes. Don't stop."

I wanted to join her. I wanted to feel her skin as it touched mine.

I wanted to relieve myself of all my passion I stored for her.

Instead, I remove my hand from her chest and speed out her bedroom door, and back up her living room skylight.

I remove myself from her block and find a safe place.

For I am a danger to the one I love The one I long for. But I will have her.

Thorne's Point of View

I awake from the most passionate, sexual dream I've ever had.

Granted, I've had dreams of Elvis since the first night he touched me, but this was the deepest vision I've ever felt.

It was so vivid.

My heart pounded.

I was covered in sweat and was spent on the passions of my vision.

I've never touched myself before. Though I've never even seen myself in a vision of this sort.

I wipe the sweat from my forehead and go in the bedroom to take another shower.

I can't have these feelings for him. Especially a vampire. All they bring is misery.

After my shower, I go in the kitchen and make myself a cup of coffee.

With only a few more hours before work, I decided to clean my apartment more.

Make the living room more tiddy.

Do the dirty dishes.

Wash, dry, and fold my laundry.

The more I clean, the clearer my mind becomes.

I finish everything in time for me to get dressed for work.

I enjoyed my walk this morning. The crisp air was what I needed.

No one even grazed my shoulder today.

I got to work and said my usual greetings.

All was well, or it seemed.

I made my way to my first table and greeted my customer.

His face was concealed behind the menu.

"Morning, sir, and welcome. Would you like a hot coffee to start your morning?"

He places his menu down and reveals himself.

My eyes grow wide, and my heart trimbles.

"Coffee sounds great."

"Isn't it too early for you to be out of your coffin, Elvis?"

He laughs this boisterous laugh and says, "That's a myth. I prefer beds, and the sunlight thing is a myth, too. At least for some of us."

"We don't have blood on the menu." I spoke low.

"Is that any way to speak to a paying customer? I hear your manager's a dick and I'd hate to get him involved because your customer service was terrible.

I shake off my nerves and pretend he's human for a moment.

"Yes, I apologize, sir. One hot cup of coffee, coming up. Would you like cream with that."

"No, I like it black."

I paused in shock once again.

He smirks. "I honestly like nothing in my coffee."

"O-okay. One moment, sir."

I go grab his coffee and head back to his table.

Placing the coffee cup down, I get this look from him. A look I can't read. I shake off the feeling.

"Are you ready to order, sir?"

"You mean you can't read my mind, Thorne?"

"No, sir, I'm not a psychic."

"No, but you're an oracle."

HE KNOWS! HOW COULD HE KNOW!

I'm left speechless.

"Don't worry, Thorne. I won't tell." He whispers.

"How?" I ask.

"That's a question for another time. Right now, it's breakfast time, and I'd like my bacon burnt and my eggs fried hard." He requests with a smile on his face.

I shake my head and go to the kitchen to place his order.

Ten to fifteen minutes later, I brought Elvis his burnt bacon and hard eggs. He thanked me and started eating.

I walked away and came back with the coffee pot to fill up his cup.

"Thank you, baby. I appreciate it."

"You're welcome, sir, and please don't call me baby. I'm not your baby."

"I'm sorry, Thorne. I meant no disrespect. You still sore at me for what happened a couple of weeks ago?"

I paused. I was still...sore. He bit me. I glanced at him.

"I'm a little late in saying this, but I'm sorry. And thank you, believe it or not, you saved my life. I haven't felt this great in a long time. Sincerely."

"Is there anything else I can help you with, sir?" I ask.

"No, ma'am. Thank you."

I rushed away to help some other guests.

The word "baby" rolling off his tongue and hitting my ear was like sugar.

I had to stay away from him.

Before he left, he slipped something in my hand and whispered in my ear.

"Thank you for your kindness. You're an amazing waitress."

He walked away and disappeared out the door.

I looked at my hand to see what he had given me.

Wow. He slipped me $200.00 dollars.

I slipped the money in my back pocket. The manager's a jerk that likes to take tips his own use.

We all hide our tips. If the customers leave the tips on the table, the manager will snatch them. If they tip us through a card, the manager will place that tip on the stores budget.

But never have I received a tip this big. Elvis placed it in my hand.

It's as if he knows my struggles.

I can buy myself some groceries tonight.

"Thorne, I need you to stay late and do the extra cleaning of the floor." Evil Ricky, the manager, says.

No forewarning. Just stay and work. I despise him.

Ten hours later, I'm wobbling out the door. With only a fifteen minute break and several customers from 6 am to 6 pm. Plus the extra cleaning until 7 pm, I'm beat.

I don't even have the strength to go get the groceries I need.

Too tired. Must get home.

I hear my bed calling my name.

As I walked home, I spotted three guys who looked like they were up to no good.

Literally a block away from my building.

I ignore a lot of things in fear that someone may touch me.

I don't stick around and ask questions.

The faster I walked the fast, the faster they walked behind me.

Oh God, please let me get to my apartment safely.

"Baby girl, slow down!" One yelled.

"We just wanna good time!"

They laughed and giggled.

As I walked towards one alleyway, I stranger walked in front of me.

"Aren't you tasty? Hmm?" He looked me up and down, licking his lips.

He reached out his hand to me and stepped back.

"Please, don't. I'm just trying to get home." I beseeched.

The boy behind me grabbed my wrist and saw:

His mother screamed at him to be better. Begging him to behave and to stay off the streets and away from thugs.

"Brandon." I screeched out. "Your mother's worried about you. She worries because she loves you. Go home."

"What the hell!" He dropped my wrist and backed away.

"Man, what the hell is she talking about?" The other one said.

Brandon stood there and shook his head in disbelief.

"Dean is just using you for his own selfish reasons. Brandon, just go home. You don't wanna do this." I cried.

Then I feel a hand hit me on the side of my head, and I fall to the pavement. The skin to skin contact was enough for me to see his fate.

"Shut up, bitch!"

I looked back up at my assaulter and delivered his message.

"Dean. You're gonna die tonight.

He backs himself away from me. I'm guessing feeling disillusioned.

"If you leave now, you'll live to see tomorrow." I tell him.

He hesitates. He wants something from me.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I'm just a girl trying to get home. Dean. Go home."

He bows down to pick me up off the ground by my shirt.

He places me against the building. His hand connects with me neck, and I see.

"You broke your mother's heart. She wanted more for you, and you listened to the wrong man. He led you down this road of destruction." I screeched. "Dean, please!"

"Shut up!"

The next second, he's thrown against the walk.

His hand is released from my neck, and I can breathe again.

"What the fuck!"

"Where the hell did he come from?" *yells*

The guys are screaming in horror.

I don't see anything. I slump to the ground and hear the terror around me.

I hear growls and screams and running feet.

I'm dizzy, and everything is out of focus.

I see the light in the distance shining against the brick of building and something being tore apart.

I fall to the ground, completely hitting my head to the asphalt.

The screams and yells cease.

I see footprints of a dark figure come towards me, and then everything goes dark.

I awake in my bed, surrounded by complete comfort. An ice pack on my face from where I was hit.

How did I get here?

What happened to those guys?

If my visions were right, Brandon and Charles ran to safety.

Dean was dead.

I was saved thanks to...

"Elvis."

"Hey there. You feeling better?" He said, handing me a cup with steam coming out the top.

I hesitated, taking the cup from him. Giving Elvis the look like is it safe.

"It's coffee. It's safe, I promise."

I slowly take the cup from him and take a sip.

The coffee warmed me from the chill that seemed to loom over me.

I was still shaken from the hassle of thugs outside.

Yet, Elvis' presents brought a calm to me that I couldn't fully fathom. It was peaceful.

"May I sit?" He asks.

I nodded my head and sat beside me, looking me over to see if any real damage was done.

He brings his hand up to touch my face but stops short. He knows how much it hurts me to be touched.

Instead, Elvis takes my gloved hand and holds it.

There's no point to me being in love when an embrace could hurt me.

"Thank you for saving my life. And the coffee." I said, smiling at him.

"You're welcome."

"Were you following me?"

"You just thunk me now you're questioning my rescue?"

I gave him a "really" look.

He exhales and nods his head.

"Yes, Thorne. I was following ya."

"You know that's creepy, right?

Elvis raises his eyebrow,

"It's kinda what I do being a vampire and all."

I stare him directly in his eyes. At this point, I was over the mind games.

"How long, Elvis?"

"Honestly?"

"If you want my trust."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "For weeks now. Since the night we met."

"You've been in my apartment since, too, haven't you?

He shook his head.

"How did you get in here without an invitation?"

"That's a myth."

I turn to look in the mirror that's in my bathroom. I see our reflections. He turns to see me stare at him.

"And mirrors?"

"Myth."

"So, no one's safe?"

"You are. For the rest of your life, you are safe." Elvis whispers.

My heart skips a beat, and the memories of us start to play in my mind.

Elvis moves forward towards me, closing the space in between us. Not kissing me.

"Elvis, no. We can't. I can't."

He touches my covered arm.

"What would happen if I kissed you?"

"I may unintentionally sting you."

"Lucky for you, I like pain." Elvis snares.

"Elvis, no..."

He places his lips on mine, and I feel a slight shock of electricity go through us.

I don't feel the pain I feel when I'm touched by a hand or if an elbow grazes me.

This is quite delightful.

Not my first kiss, but I'm in awe.

I see... the future.

My future with Elvis.

We're walking down the street hand and gloved hand.

We're spending time together in the living room. Dancing and laughing.

I see us cuddling together on the sofa.

He whispers in my ears stories of times passed.

Him & I...

Together in bed, making love.

The feeling of him is comforting. No pain. I enjoy each kiss. Each embrace.

It's so weird being this close and completely comfortable.

He slowly moves away from me.

I slowly open my eyes and glaze upon him.

The pictures do not do him justice. He is breathtaking.

"You have the bluest eyes, I think I've ever seen." I tell.

He smirks. "Thank you. Your eyes aren't that brown. You have a little green there. Just gorgeous."

He kisses me again, but this time, it's more passionate. It's more like my visions I recently had.

I want this, but...

"I can't. Elvis, no, I can't." I say, pulling away from him.

"Why not."

"I can't because I'll lose my power."

"Would that be so bad?"

I shake my head and scoff. "Elvis, you sound like my friend." I scooted myself back in the bed.

"Connie?"

I widened my eyes. "How..."

"I was here for your little birthday party, and I heard what your girls were saying." Elvis explained himself.

I bowed my head, concealing my eyes from him. What does he know?

Elvis grabs my hand and I look up at him. His crystal blue hues entrap me in his gaze.

"Thorne, I know you were raised to never fall in love. I know you have a duty to help people, but it hurts you. A life without love is a lonely life to live."

"I have love. I have Connie and Liv. I have my aunts. I love myself and that's enough."

Elvis shakes his head. "What about being in love, Thorne? Don't you believe that you should be happy in love?"

"Elvis, you're talking about an erotic/sexual love of the flesh. My duties go beyond that."

"No, being in love is deeper than the flesh." He places our hands over his heart. "It's a soul connection. Being bonded within like the way I used to sing. The way you dance to Lauryn Hill. It's more to it. To life."

"Elvis..." I can't hold back my tears any longer. I knew he spoke the truth. "I want that life, but..."

"You can't. I've heard that already."

"Then why are you pushing me? What do I have that you want?"

"Everything."

"Why?"

"Because I love you, Thorne. I'm in love with you. I love your voice and the way you sing to your albums. I love the way you dance and how you work. Your smile lights up an entire room. Because of your gift you have to go without so much but you wear it well. You're a beautiful soul. A beautiful soul that would help an old man in need."

He refers to the night we met.

"You weren't really in need?"

"I had to be careful of what I consumed because of that Covid disease. I was starving. That punk would have truly hurt me. I was weak. You saved me, baby. Thank you."

All of a sudden, baby sounds better when there's a sentimental meaning behind it.

"When I bit you, I saw your soul. I see similar things like you do when I taste blood. It's like unlocking the mind. No pain. Well, for me, at least there's no pain."

"Can you back up to the part where you said you're in love me?"

"Thorne, let me show you." Elvis says, moving in for a kiss.

This kiss is loaded with passion, and it sends a thrill through me that I've never known before. I don't fight him. I allow him to take my body however he wants me.

He eases off my work blouse. I'm just realizing that I'm in my panties under the sheets. He took off pants? When did he have time?

Who cares? Quick and easy access to me. He stops for a moment, leaving me in my bra before him. He realizes that he must be careful with my skin.

At this moment, I don't care at all. I just want him. I take off my gloves and toss them to the side. Elvis slowly takes my hands and intertwines our fingers. I take a deep breath and allow this new sensation to take over me.

It's not painful, plus I see Elvis' current thoughts of us.

"Do it, Elvis." I say.

"Are you sure?"

"Don't make me wait."

Elvis does not hesitate. He climbs on top of me and slides his hand down my panties. The sensation of his touch was amazing, but nothing could prepare me for him touching my clit.

I took a deep breath, and oh my gosh! That feeling was incredible! I'm not supposed to feel this way.

"Elvis! I. Oh." I feel my heart rate speed up, and I try catch my breath.

"You're so wet, baby. You like this?" He seems so devilish.

"Yes." I breathe.

Elvis pulls the covers off of me, moving down my body he inserts his mouth on my clit. I feel shock and amazement come over my body.

"Oh, Elvis!" I cry out.

I felt goosebumps raise all over my body as he continued to lick my clit. My mind is flooded with thoughts of our unbridled passion. Elvis is unhinged, and I love it. I love each moment of this.

The next thing I know, Elvis bites my inner thigh while slipping his fingers into my wet pussy and I let out a screech. This mixture of pain and pleasure caused some sort of eruption within me.

"Elvis, fuck!!!" I holler out, tightening my thighs around him.

I look down at him to see him lick my blood away from my thigh.

I try to catch my breath.

Elvis stands on the floor and undresses completely. He's an Adonis, scrulped by hand. He's just so handsome. Beautiful even.

He lays on top of me, and I blush. He slides his fingers slowly up my body. The motion he slides them in tickles me. He stares into my eyes. Into my soul.

We're past the point of no return, yet I feel all his intentions with every touch.

"Are you ready for me?" Elvis whispers.

"Yes. Don't hurt me."

"Not my intention. I want to love you."

"Then make love to me, Elvis." I say, touching his face.

He widens my legs and fingers me once again. Preparing me for what's to come.

My heart beats uncontrollably.

Then he enters me as I inhale a deep breath. He practically takes me by surprise.

He rocks into me slowly. I feel him inside of me. I feel him inside my mind.

I cradle his head as he pushes and pulls himself in and out of me. It stings me, but I love the feeling of him.

I see a future... my future with him.

I see walks and talks and laughter. Adventures of travel. He shows me the world. I see us making love, and I feel him too. I feel my future pleasures, and they are all amazing!

Elvis is amazing. I see that he's the best friend that I ever have or will ever have.

Our souls have bonded within as he said. It physically hurts when we are separated from each other.

I love him. I really love him, and it's more than physical. It's mental and spiritual.

"Thorne. Your eyes are dark." He tells me, touching my face.

I close my minds eyes to him and wrap my legs around him.

"Elvis, don't stop. Keep going. I'm almost there! Please." I beseech him.

He continues to fuck me until we hit our peak of pleasure.

My breath catches, and I wrap myself around him. Elvis caresses me, and he's oh so warm.

"Thorne, look at me, baby." He asks, holding my face.

I open my eyes, and a tear trickles down my cheek. Oh, this feeling.

"Your eyes were completely black. What happened?" He asks.

"You saw my minds eye, Elvis. I was in a pleasure trance. I saw my future. That's never happened to me. No one should see too much of her or his future." I'm at a loss for words. I just stop speaking and lay my head on Elvis' shoulder.

"Is the future bright? For us?" He asks.

"Yes, it's illuminating." I cuddle him. "I love you, Elvis."

I look up at him, looking down at me. A smile dons his ethereal face.

"I knew you would." He kisses my lips. "Thorne, how do you feel?"

I'm guessing he was talking about my clairvoyance, and the truth is...

"I don't feel any different. I can touch you, and I don't feel that pain anymore. Just pleasure."

"Good." Elvis says, fully embracing me right now.

I wrap my arms around him and exhale. For this is my love. The love I never knew I needed. The love that I dreamed about. He's here. He's a vampire, and he's mine. It figures that I couldn't have a normal love because there's nothing normal about me.

"Elvis?" I say to him, moving out of bed with the sheet around me. I move to look out my window.

"What is it, Thorne?"

"I...I was read on vampires and how when they find a mate. They bond for life. Forever. Is that true or myth?"

I feel him close behind me, but he doesn't touch me. I feel the heat roll off his body. I feel him laugh lightly.

"Yes. I believe that's completely true." He whispers.

I turn to face him.

"You want to bond our souls for life, Elvis?"

"Yes, baby. I do." Elvis says, wrapping his arms around me.

"For the rest of my life?" I ask. I love Elvis, but I couldn't be a vampire. That's not the life I wanted for myself. I wanted Elvis, though. I wanted all of him. Everything he was.

"For as long as we both should live together."

I nod my head and wrap my arms around his shoulders. "Deal."

As I kissed his pouty lips, I see beautiful visions of our future. A future filled with love.

Taglist: @missmaywemeetagain @beeandheroddobsessions @headfullofpresley @everythingpresley @epforeverohyes @plasticfantasticl0ver @pianginferno @powerofeight @ab4eva @foreverdolly @searchingforgravity @thatbanditqueen @daffieapple @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @epsgirl @richardslady121 @literally-just-elvis-fics @thememphisflash1935-1977 @c-rosenn @iloveelvis @vintageshanny

#elvispresley #elvis fans #elvis x reader #romance #vampires #blood #oracle #Elvis in Modern Day #smut

24 notes · View notes