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temptingfatetakingnames · 10 months ago

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The Last Steve Harrington Part 15

AO3 Part 1 Part 14

Steve woke up Friday morning feeling fully recovered. He had spent the last few days with aching muscles so it was a huge relief to get out of bed without pain. He was glad because they were having a barbecue tonight to send off Johnathan, Argyle and Nancy who were heading back to the city tomorrow. Nancy was out of school for the summer but Johnathan needed to get back to his business and Argyle only had so much time off from his job.

He and Johnathan hadn’t got too close while he was home. Steve was hesitant to reach out and the feeling seemed mutual. They talked a bit about his photography business and Steve told him about Family Video. Mostly they talked about how much customer service sucked and how crazy people’s demands were. Steve didn’t mind that they hadn’t managed to bridge the distance between them. He was still overwhelmed with the kids, Robin, Eddie, Hopper and Joyce. Him and Nancy were… okay – parting on good terms at the very least. They would have time to get to know each other better.

Inhaling deep, he let the breath out slowly.

He had time.

Joyce was already busy in the kitchen when Steve walked downstairs. Johnathan and Argyle were probably still sleeping and he figured Hopper had already left for work. Will and Eleven were eating cereal like little zombies at the table. They both looked up, cheeks full, and smiled as he sat down. He had been really excited to tell everyone about Stephanie and the parallel universe he had learned about but had promised Robin he wouldn’t say anything without her, so he had been waiting. Patiently. Very patiently waiting. He couldn’t wait to see Dustin and Eddie’s faces.

“Morning, Steve,” Joyce said as she turned around, wiping her hands on a towel. “How are you feeling?”

“Really good actually. All better.”

She came over and settled a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad! But take it easy still, hmm?”

Steve nodded and looked away from her kind eyes, reaching for the cereal box. She patted his shoulder and moved back to the kitchen counter where various vegetables were waiting to be chopped.

“What’re you two up to today?” Steve asked the kids.

“Shopping with Max. I want a new dress for the party tonight.”

“I’m helping Dustin with Cerebro.”

“Sounds fun,” he said and smiled at them.

They both nodded and went back to shoveling cereal into their faces as fast possible.

“Bye!” Eleven shouted as soon as she finished drinking the sweetened milk from her bowl.

“See ya later!” Will said as he scraped his chair back from the table and ran out.

Then it was just him and Joyce. He looked over at her furiously chopping vegetables and could tell that she was stressed. There was going to be a lot of people coming over and she probably had a lot she needed to get done before they arrived.

“I’m gunna shower and then I’ll help you get ready.”

She looked over her shoulder at him. “Oh, I’m fine! You should rest.”

“I’ve rested enough. Let me help, Joyce. Please.”

She set her knife down and turned fully towards him. Her hair was a little wild and her eyes were tired. She worked too hard. He didn’t know what she saw on his face that made her relent but she softened and said, “that would be great. Thank you.”

He nodded and noticed a small smile on her face as she turned back to her vegetables.

On his way to the bathroom, he grabbed a towel out of the linen closet. He hung it up and turned on the water before he looked at himself in the mirror, his good mood disappearing in a flash. He hated his reflection. It was difficult to meet his eyes, but he forced himself, bringing his face closer and closer to the glass until he could see every detail. He never knew how much people saw Steve or saw him. He hated it.

“Fuck you, Steve.”

Stepping back, he removed his clothes and took in the ruin of his chest next. His wounds had healed but it still hurt to look at them. He ran his fingers lightly over the raised and jagged marks on his side. Most of them looked better, whatever the doctors had done to clean them up had worked but… Not these. There had been nothing they could do for these. Too much had been bitten away… and too much time had passed.

A reminder that not everything could be made better or wiped clean. That some things just stayed…jagged. Broken. Ugly.

Turning away from the mirror, he quickly stepped into the shower, hoping the hot water would soothe away the awful pit in his stomach.

The rest of the morning and early afternoon were spent cooking with Joyce. He was quiet at first, still stewing in ugly thoughts, but she was slowly able to coax him out of it. She was just so damn happy, despite everything they had to get done and he found it hard to maintain his brooding in the face of her joy.

The kitchen was warm from the oven’s heat so they opened the windows to let in a lovely cross breeze. They talked a lot and laughed a little and moved around each other with a comfort that Steve had never experienced before. He and Max used to cook together sometimes, but her energy had been chaotic in the kitchen. She didn’t like to listen to instructions and Steve always had to clean up her messes, not that he had minded…much. He had missed cooking with someone else. He had missed cooking.

Johnathan and Argyle came down and had breakfast before they left as well, off to enjoy their last day in Hawkins.

When they were finished making all the food that Joyce had planned Steve asked if it would be alright if he made chocolate chip cookies. He had perfected his recipe over the years and they were his favourite thing to bake.

“Of course!” Joyce replied enthusiastically. “How did you learn to cook like this?”

As he gathered the necessary ingredients Steve explained, “my parents were gone a lot so I learned how when I was pretty young. Simple things at first, but I got better over the years.”

“What did you make?”

“So much pasta! Boil noodles and heat up some sauce? It was the easiest thing I could think of. It was a real game changer when I figured out the barbecue in high school.” Steve chuckled a little to himself. “I think I made burgers or hot dogs every meal for two weeks.”

Joyce didn’t laugh. “You were alone that much?” she asked instead.

He shrugged. “My dad was always gone on business trips and my mom went with him. I was fine, they always left plenty of money.”

As he started to whisk the dry ingredients together, he felt Joyce’s gentle touch on his shoulder.

“They shouldn’t have done that, Steve. I’m sorry you were alone.”

He blinked down at his bowl. It felt like such a long time ago now, living in that big empty house. He remembered the first time his parents left for a week at a time. He was thirteen and scared, but just like anything else – it got easier with time. And he wasn’t always alone. Freshman year, he met Nancy, Johnathan and Barb. Then the kids and Eddie and Wayne and Steve spent less and less time in that big empty house.

But… even with how full his life became with the family he chose there was still a hole in his heart from his parents. He didn’t think they were malicious or bad people… they just didn’t care. Too busy living their own lives to worry about his.

“No,” Steve agreed. “They shouldn’t have.”

Joyce gripped his shoulder tighter and he reached up to pat her hand.

After a moment, she slipped away and started tidying up the kitchen as Steve made his cookies, feeling that hole fill up a tiny bit more.

---

Max and Eleven came back first, but they disappeared upstairs with their bags after both exclaiming how delicious the house smelled. He and Joyce smiled at each other, nibbling on still warm cookies. Johnathan and Argyle arrived next, Nancy in tow. Joyce quickly put them to work setting up the tables and chairs outside. Hopper walked in the door with a loud exclamation of how long and tiring his day had been, leaving to shower just as Will called to say he was getting a ride with Dustin in a bit.

All of the cooking was done so Steve went back to his room to change. Opening the middle drawer on his dresser, he stared at the options. Joyce had taken him shopping the first week he moved in, getting him everything he could possibly need. Most days he didn’t give a shit about what he looked like… but today felt different. He wanted to look good.

He grabbed out a pair of jeans and the collared button up shirt that Joyce had insisted she get for him. It was dark blue and made of a light material that felt amazing on his skin when he slipped it on over his head. He tucked it into his jeans and cinched his belt as he moved into the bathroom. His hair looked good and healthy but he hadn’t tried to style it since –

Well, since everything.

He grabbed the hairspray Dustin gave him and got to work, trying to remember just how he used to make it look so effortless. It took longer than he would like to admit and it wasn’t exactly how it used to be, but it was close enough. Taking a deep breath, he stepped back and couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

He looked like –

Himself.

His skin was tanned from spending more time outside. The shirt showed off his arms, and the jeans hugged him in all the right places, and his hair fell perfectly, curling just a little onto his forehead. He looked…good. For a brief moment he considered ruining it – messing up his hair and taking off the nice clothes.

“Hello, Steve,” he said instead.

Joyce was back in the kitchen, wearing a red sundress, when he went downstairs. She was mixing cut up fruit and sprite into a large pitcher.

“Would you get the ice trays out of the freezer?” she asked as she looked over her shoulder. Her eyes widened when she saw him and she froze.

Steve clenched his jaw as she walked over to him, emotion filling her eyes as she racked her gaze over every inch of him. Her hands patted his shoulders, smoothing the fabric of his shirt.

“Oh, Steve,” she said with a watery smile. “You look great.”

The doorbell ringing saved him from having to respond, and he ducked out from beneath her hands and went to answer it.

Standing on the stoop was Robin and Eddie. He must have caught them having some kind of argument because Robin had her arm around Eddie’s neck and was in the process of hitting him in the stomach. They both froze as Steve opened the door and he fought back a sigh, taking in the two of them. Robin was wearing jean shorts, a nice summer blouse with a vest over top of it covered in buttons and a weird hat that was tilted sideways on her head. Eddie was decked in his usual attire of black jeans and a faded band t-shirt. Judas Priest, Steve could barely make out. They looked back at him, eyes wide and he hoped with his entire being that they wouldn’t comment on his appearance. He didn’t think he would survive the day if everyone looked at him like they had seen a ghost.

“Your hat looks funny.”

“It’s a beret, Steve.”

He blinked at her. “Your beret looks funny, Robs.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and released Eddie from her headlock.

“No Wayne?” Steve asked as they moved inside.

“He’ll be by in a bit. Wanted to drive himself so he didn’t have to wait for me and Robin.”

Steve nodded and they walked through the house to the back door. Johnathan, Nancy and Argyle had done a good job getting everything set up outside. Tables were lined up against the house, covered in the food that he and Joyce had spent the day cooking. A few umbrellas were scattered around with lawn chairs under them, offering a place to sit and hide from the sun and a stereo played music at a reasonable level.

Eleven came out of the back door in a light blue dress that ended just above her knees and had a white bow around the waist. It wasn’t what she usually wore, going for comfort and utility most days to keep up with the boys. Her hair was still short but she had curled it so it framed her face nicely and Steve could see a hint of makeup on her cheeks and lips. She was holding the pitcher of fruit punch, with Max just behind her holding the cups. She was wearing baggy shorts with a striped tank top. Her hair was long and wavy down her back and she had the same hint of makeup on as Eleven.

Everyone trickled in slowly over the next hour and the yard filled with the people who had been brought together by The Upside Down. There were a few awkward moments when he said hello and they took in his appearance for the first time, but they moved on quickly, probably noticing his discomfort. The gremlins fell on the food like ravenous little beasts, and conversations broke out in small groups. Hopper and Wayne were busy at the barbeque, talking about sports. Murray was with Joyce and Nancy, discussing his latest conspiracy theory. Eddie was trying (and failing) to convince Johnathan to change the music station. He was sitting with Robin under one of the umbrellas when Argyle came over.

“How are your feet, my dude?” he asked.

Robin quirked an eyebrow as a smile took over Steve’s face at the secret question.

“Still uncomfortable, but a little better every day.”

Argyle nodded and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Better every day is the best we could hope for.”

“You should get new shoes if they bother you that much,” Robin said looking at his very normal sneakers.

He and Argyle traded a glance before they burst out laughing.

“You’re right, Robs,” Steve said, still smiling. “But they’re really not that bad.”

She pursed her lips at him but her eyes were soft. A large gust of wind blew through the backyard, causing laughter as paper plates were torn from unsuspecting hands, hair was whipped into faces and mouths, and hats were tossed off heads. Steve smiled, watching the pure chaos as everyone ran around trying to catch everything and put it back where it belonged.

“That came out of nowhere! There hasn’t been any wind all day,” Robin said with a bit of laughter in her voice as she went to find her hat.

Sorry. Her beret.

Every time she got close, the wind would pick it up again and move it just beyond her reach. Steve watched her struggle for a moment before he went to help. The wind was still tossing things around and it proved especially difficult to pin down. After a few minutes, they were breathless and laughing as it continued to escape them. Robin had her hands on her knees, taking a rest as Steve ran half bent over so he could scoop it off the ground.

It came to a rest at Eddie’s feet and Steve skidded to a halt, falling back on his ass in an attempt not to tackle the other man. He looked up from his position on the ground to see Eddie haloed in sunlight and beaming a dimpled smile down at him, holding out a hand to help him up.

Pretty, Steve thought and felt his cheeks warm. He shook his head quickly and grabbed Eddie’s hand, letting him haul him back to his feet. Once he was up, Eddie bent back down to grab Robin’s beret and Steve rubbed at the back of his neck in embarrassment. Hoping Eddie didn’t notice the redness in his cheeks.

“I can understand Robin having a hard time catching this, but not you,” Eddie said to him with a smirk. “That was painful to watch.”

“I heard that!” Robin said as she came up on Steve’s side, reaching out to grab her beret out of Eddie’s hand and angrily positioning it back on her head.

“That was crazy, it felt like the wind was out to get us.”

Eddie snorted and a targeted gust whipped his hair wildly into his face and he spluttered as a bunch of it went into his eyes and mouth. Steve and Robin laughed maniacally as he attempted to get it under control again.

“Told you!” Steve said, still chuckling.

Eddie squinted at them, holding all his hair in his hands. As suddenly as it came, the wind disappeared, creating a moment of stillness and silence. Johnathan, Nancy, and Argyle came over to chat about their trip back to the city and Steve settled back a little to listen. He could tell that they were all going to miss each other and that it had been a long time since they had all got together like this. Like a family.

He couldn’t help but wonder about the parallel universes out there – If they were all having a backyard good-bye party too – and if they were… how different it felt because he wasn’t there. Which brought his thoughts to the Eleven’s he had met and if they were just then telling everyone about him – passing on his message.

He couldn’t wait anymore. Robin was beside him and he gave her a little nudge and raised his eyebrow in question when she turned to look at him. She caught on to what he was asking and nodded excitedly.

“I had another Eleven visit,” he began, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Who told me about a very different universe from ours.” Conversations drifted off as they all came closer to listen.

“Most of the Eleven’s I’ve met have all been pretty similar, but this one – ” he trailed off, letting the suspense build. “Well, he showed up at Family Video when me and Robin were working.”

“He?” Hopper asked with surprise.

Steve and Robin nodded and everyone’s eyes widened.

“And he wasn’t the only one who was different. Their Robin is a boy named Rob and their Steve was a girl named Stephanie.”

“Wait… so, we were all – ?” Dustin started and then coughed. “Opposite genders?”

“Yup!” Robin replied with a pop.

Their minds were as blown as Steve was expecting. They all started talking at once, asking about their alternate selves and their names. He and Robin made them guess, just like Eleven had. Most were easy – Max, Mike and Erica figured theirs out right away. Some took longer than others and by the end there were only three names they couldn’t figure out – Dustin, Wayne, and Eddie, as predicted.

“There is no female equivalent to Dustin! It has to be an entirely different name,” Dustin reasoned.

“Almost every name we’ve figured out has followed the same pattern. There must be a girl’s name starting with a D that we haven’t tried yet,” Will replied firmly.

“Argyle was Gayle though,” Nancy said. “Maybe there isn’t a pattern.”

“Daisy!” Joyce suddenly guessed.

“My alternate mom, or dad I guess, better not have named me Daisy…” Dustin muttered.

“Winnie!” Murray suddenly called out from the side, pointing at Wayne.

“Correct!” Robin yelled like they were playing a game show.

“Oh, Aunt Winnie!” Eddie said and draped himself across Wayne in a dramatic fall as his uncle rolled his eyes.

They all continued to guess girls’ names that started with D and E, but they were quickly running out of ideas.

“Dus-tin, Dus-tin,” Erica was quietly repeating to herself. “Tin. Tina. Tina?”

“Yes!” Steve exclaimed with a smile, only a little surprised that she had managed to figure it out.

“Tina!?” Dustin spluttered.

Lucas nudged him in the shoulder playfully and Mike bellowed out a laugh.

“Shut it, Michelle.”

“You shut it, Tina!”

Steve immediately regretted giving the kids this ammunition to use against each other. He knew that Michelle, Tina, Willa, and Laura were going to be hurled around as insults for the foreseeable future. They all quickly turned back to trying to guess Eddie’s name, going through all the same options as Steve and Robin had tried a week ago.

Robin looked over at him and he nodded, they weren’t going to get it. Even though Gayle and Tina didn’t follow the letter pattern, those names still had some connection to the originals. Lucy Munson just had to be different, just like Eddie Munson, Steve thought.

“It’s Lucy!” Robin exclaimed.

“Lucy!?” Dustin repeated. “That doesn’t make any sense at all!”

“That’s what we said,” Robin and Steve said at the same time.

Eddie had gone eerily quiet beside them. Steve hoped he wasn’t self-conscious about the name, Steve thought it was pretty.

“Who doesn’t love Lucy?” Eddie said with a sudden grin.

“Better than Tina,” Dustin muttered and everyone laughed.

---

The whole day had been so good.

The sun had shone brightly and there was delicious food and laughter and Steve joined in like he would have before and it was… good. Easy. He felt like himself again. When he finally went to bed that night, it was with a lingering smile on his face.

But –

He really should have known better.

Part 16

@just-a-tiny-void @mx-jinxous @child-of-cthulhu @awholedamnmesstbh @phoenix0bird @bookworm0690 @estrellami-1 @a-gae-af-racoon @nailbatandfreak @novelnovella @meela86 @lenathegay @vampireinthesun @penny00dreadful @questionablequeeries @espressopatronum454 @r0binscript @seths-rogens @fruity-nerd @sani-86 @n0-1-important @swimmingbirdrunningrock @ellietheasexylibrarian @manda-panda-monium @paintsplatteredandimperfect @viridianphtalo @goodolefashionedloverboi @13catastrophic-blues @newtstabber @queenie-ofthe-void @tinytalkingtina @hbyrde36 @whole-moods

- So sorry for the delay on this one! -Bit of cliffhanger here, I hope the next chapter wont take me as long - I do have a good portion of it written up already and HOOO BOY. -As always, please tell me your thoughts and feelings! I love hearing from you all!

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie munson #multiverse #angst with a happy ending #slow burn #the last steve harrington

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slowardblonkey · 1 year ago

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Recent Hold

So since my last post this summer I’ve been working on stretching my bladder and building my capacity; so now I can comfortably hold about 700 ml for multiple hours and about 1000 ml if Im desperate. However recently I was really pushed to my limit. For context my school locks all but one bathroom for each gender. So they get so crowed and dirty that I can pretty much never use them, which usually isn’t a problem because I get to use the bathroom right before I go in to school, but not this time.

It started when I was running late after morning practice and had to rush to school. I had been sipping water throughout, but didn’t really need to go yet. I could feel a little tingle but I definitely didn’t have time to pee before I left so I decided just to hold it.

When I got to school I filled up my water bottle and grabbed a bubbly drink from my school lunch line, which I didn’t realize was caffeinated. I have a caffeine sensitivity which can really make it act like a diuretic in my body.

At around 11:00 am the water and caffeine was really starting to hit me. I had drank around 500 ml of water plus another 400 ml of my other drink. I had to cross my legs and really push my crotch in to the chair.

By lunch at 1:00 I was in PAIN. I had finished my water bottle and had now drank over 1000 ml of liquids since peeing that morning. It was like I could actually feel the urine being pushed in to my aching bladder. I was so full that my bladder was pushing out from my tummy and was so hard I had to unbutton my pants. I only had around and hour left of school but I honestly wasn’t sure if I could make it.

For my last class I was practically crying from how desperate I was. I could feel my bladder letting out little spurts in to my underwear, and I could feel my bladder throbbing every time I had to bend and grab something out of my bag. Finally the bell rang and I quickly rushed out to my car. The entire ride home was torturous, I had to have one hand squeezing my crotch like a vice while the other gripped the wheel until my knuckles were white. By the time I got home I felt like I was going to pass out, I looked like I was four months pregnant (thankfully the sweater I was wearing hid it) and I could actually feel my tired muscles contract with every step I took towards my house. My hands were shaking so bad that I couldn’t even get the key into the lock. In the end I simply just couldn’t take it anymore as I could feel my muscles give out, and I ran to the back of my house where I barely managed to get my pants down before I released a torrent of piss in to the grass. I must’ve peed for close to a minute before the stream started to calm, and I nearly fainted from relief.

Definitely an improvement from this summer 😅

#bladder torture #bulging bladder #omorashi #peepants #pee kink #bladder desperation #omo #peeholding

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eorziapple · 6 months ago

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The Cider Press ;)

Did a little bit of smut fiction on Ao3, posting it here because some folks aren't there.

Also posting below so folks dont have to go off site to read :)

She didn’t register the rocking of the ship, normally this deep down it was enough to require her to focus her breathing and stance to avoid the lurching of her stomach. The only thing she could truly focus on at the moment was her own heartbeat, the feeling of strong arms holding up her thighs as she was lifted up, and hot breath that tasted of aged, smooth, smokey spirits. Her lips opened to invite that taste in, and her eyes closed as she welcomed the passionate kiss wholeheartedly.

It had been quite some time since she experienced a kiss, and quite frankly she did not recall the experience being so… bombastic, intense, it didn’t feel this… she didn’t feel this need before. She gripped the back of Klynt’s neck, pushing back against her, sighing into her lips as she felt one of the hands holding her up wandering down her thigh to find the hem of her dress, pulling it up. She could feel Klynt’s grin as the hand ran up her inner thighs. She was surprised with how welcome she felt for the sensation. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“It’s exciting, isn’t it?” Apple mused as she meted out her portion of dinner, a broad smile on her face as she looked upon the woman who had become more of a common fixture in her life in the last few months. “Sailing? Bit of the same as it ever was, if I’m bein’ honest.” She replied with a shrug. “Food sure is better than yer average sailin’ slop, I’ll admit.” Klynt flashed a grin back, Apple had to admit Sebastian had a wonderful talent for cooking for a large group like this, she wasn’t sure she could pull off meals for this many mouths as consistently as he could. “No, just well… Tural! I’ve been hearing stories of it from the merchants and mercenaries for so long, and now we’re heading there!” she chuckled, “I guess I’m just used to being back at the lab, with everything being brought back, never been on the field crew for this kind of thing.” Klynt shrugged again, “Probably need to get used to it, you’re not so terrible in a brawl these days. You may be surprised but the way folks talk it seems you’ve changed a good deal since the shadowy bastard started piggybacking on ya. All too keen on new experiences and all that.” Klynt flashed her a smile as the Hyur finished filling her plate. “I’ve plenty more experiences to show you, should you ever want to learn to climbing the mountain.” That playful wink again. Apple smirked back, “not sure if I’m that fit yet, but our sparring sure helps with that!” The Roegadyn responded with a chuckle, shaking her head and giving Apple that ‘poor little thing’ expression like her mother used to. It was a bit of a confusing reaction, Apple was sure she missed some sort of cue, or maybe it was some sort of in-joke she wasn’t privy to?

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

Her body felt extremely hot, perhaps it was, in this time of summer with all the humid air, but it was different. Sensations felt more intense, the feeling of her back pressed against the wooden beam feeling its coarseness and the sharp pain of the occasional splinter as she squirmed. She felt most intensely the air against her skin, the feeling of a tongue meeting with her breast. She felt the weight of her skirt as it fell down her legs, and above all, the confident, experienced fingers -finally- delving into her. She couldn’t help but gasp, her back arching up as she felt the pleasured relief after all that build up. “There we go…” Klynt’s words were smug, she was clearly having fun with this, and it was like honey in the young Hyur’s ears. In a moment of uncharacteristic boldness. Apple gripped Klynt’s hair, pulling her face away from her chest, pulling her closer for a fiery kiss. Or at least as fiery as the inexperienced girl could emulate. Her boldness was rewarded, as those talented fingers pressed in deeper and curled -just so- causing Apple to moan loudly into Klynt’s mouth. Apple’s aetheric tattoos began to glow a light blue, the physical reaction affecting her internal aether, clearly. Klynt pulled back to take it in, “Swive, tha’s fun..” she said with a chuckle, before lifting Apple up, pulling her legs over her broad shoulders, Apple couldn’t help but admire that strong back, those scars, the tattoos, many of which she recognized as tributes to the navigator or other tributes to sailing superstitions. She didn’t get to admire for very long though, as Klynt’s head promptly dipped between her legs. Despite her limited experience, -this- trick was entirely new for her. She liked it. She liked it quite a lot, it seemed. ___________________________________________________________________________ “You know Klynt pretty well, right Seb?” Apple queried Sebastian, the always weary looking Hyur, who had the misfortune of sitting across from Apple on this particular evening. He raised an eyebrow at her, “I feel like I’m getting roped into someth-“ Apple cut him off before her could finish, likely because he was speaking the truth. “She keeps talking about ‘climbing the mountain’ and winking and smirking at me, I’m not sure why she’s so insistent about that? I’ve never been very outdoorsy, you see, and my upper arm strength is a long way from-“ Seb cut her off now, with a deep sigh and the pinch of his brow. “She is the mountain, and wants you to climb her.” Apple looked completely befuddled at that, “Why would I cli-“. “Sexually.” He explained.

A long pause this time. “Oh… -Ohhhh-“ Apple’s eyes went wide, Seb seemed grateful at least that he could drop it at that and enjoy his meal, though he couldn’t have avoided noticing Apple getting about as flushed red as her namesake. He smirked a bit as he saw the calculations being made in her mind.

Apple hadn’t considered herself terribly interested in sex, she’d had a few experiences, sure, but they were awkward and she didn’t feel like she’d gotten much outside a mostly painful experience that left her feeling a little too vulnerable in the end. But then again, she had fantasized about Zoissette, caught herself daydreaming about her, and had gotten so frustratingly sullen and depressed when she and Y’shtola had confessed their love for each other right before Apple had committed to such a confession as well. Klynt had been her sparring instructor for months, and now that Seb has put the idea in her head. She had caught herself admiring the well-built woman who had been teaching her. Those muscles, the hair, that damned smirk Klynt flashed all too often. The confidence. She had to admit as well, Klynt had a reputation amongst her peers, one that Apple found herself very curious about. Did.. did she want that? Apple blanked for awhile on that question. Minutes passed before she came to her answer, slowly standing, leaving her food half uneaten as she walked over to Klynt, who looked up at her quizzically. “Y-yes.” Apple said, a shaky start to be sure, but she was awfully nervous.” Klynt looked puzzled, “Yes what?” she responded, her confusion clear in her voice. “I would like to climb the mountain.” Apple was so very matter-of-fact about it that it took Klynt a moment to absorb what she was saying, and Apple was already halfway out of the mess hall by the time she got to her feet to chase after her. It’d be rude to say no to an invitation she laid out, after all. ____________________________________________________________________________ Apple was now -very- aware of the rocking of the boat now, every sway and bob could be felt, and her stomach was churning to be sure, though perhaps not for that reason. She reached up with shaky hands, looking up at…. All of Klynt. Her well-toned abdomen, shapely legs, all those scars, and the lovely tattoos that marked her body. It was not unlike enjoying the galleries back in Sharlayan, so much about the site she beheld was so genuinely artistic. Of course, as she looked up, there was that cocky grin. “Jus’ treat it like our trainin’. If ya make a wrong move I’ll correct ya, though you’re a fast learner, mayhaps I won’t have to.” With that encouragement, her eyes moved to the task at hand, an artistic, welcoming site of its own. She took a deep breath, gripping the back of Klynt’s thighs with both of her hands, couldn’t help but feeling so small in this moment, and her head settled right in between her legs. As she moved from tentative kisses, to exploratory tastes, she eventually dove in, emulating her unexpectedly new lover’s technique, eliciting a deep sigh. “Swiiive me.” Klynt exhaled from her lips. Deep, meaningful poetry in Apple’s ears.

Okay, she liked this.

She liked this a lot.

#apple silverberg #klynt #ffxiv

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icey--stars · 2 years ago

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Stories To Be Told: PART 16

Series Index

A shadowsinger, a warrior, an Illyrian, that's what she was. Trained by one of the most formidable female warriors. Escaped the Illyrian camps and her clipping when she was barely sixteen and is now the holder of 6 siphons. What happens when she tries to sneak into the City of Starlight? And starts down a whole new road of chaos?

a/n: no, this story isnt anywhere near over yet ya'll. i've got a lot parts planned past this. we're goin to winter solstice bABY-

also, what a relief this part was for me to write, goddamn. slow burns are so damn slow when i write them lmAO-

*also, the next chapter will be a bonus chapter w/ y/n's canon backstory, and a bit of angst regarding Azriel :D

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I passed out that night only because of the pure exhaustion that had settled into my bones when I wasn’t doing things anymore. No more thoughts. No more pain.

At least, until I woke up gasping from a nightmare. It was a dream of Rainne’s passing. When the Night Court patrol found us just over the border, carrying weapons and attacked without warning or regard. Rainne had died. This dream, I hadn’t fought back as they tried to take me down.

“Y/N?!” Called a voice through the door. Azriel.

I instinctively rose to my guard, anger filling my veins and putting a sour expression on my face.

“Y/N? Are you alright?” Azriel asked, not entering.

I turned my head away, curling my knees to my chest with an unhappy groan. “I’m fine Azriel,” I spat.

“Can I come in?” He requested.

I don’t know what prompted me to say what I said after that. Just some innate instinct, running off the nightmare’s adrenaline and anger rushing through my veins. “What, so you can pretend to care again?!” I yelled back, standing up and marching over to the door. I slammed it open, glaring daggers at the male on the other side who was just in his night clothes.

His expression turned confused. “What? Y/N- I’m not pretending, why would you think that?”

My lips curled into a snarl. “It’s not that hard to see Azriel. Anyone could tell you’re just doing this because you feel your obligated by some male instinct or something-”

“Y/N,” Azriel said, cutting me off with a sharp look. “Y/N, I’m not-”

He paused, continuing after a moment of thought. “Is that why you’ve been getting defensive since walking in Velaris? You think I’m doing this because I don’t genuinely care about your wellbeing?”

Now it was my turn to be confused. Some of the fight drained from me just from those words. Was Azriel lying again or was he telling the truth? Cauldron, I didn’t have a damn clue. It was too much to keep wondering every 5 minutes with this. Too much to keep wondering when the truth would come up. After all, it would, right? It did in the camps, it did with many other scenarios-

“Stop,” Azriel ordered, voice soft and gentle like a warm summer breeze. “Y/N, I care so much. I want you to get better, to heal, to never know the feeling of a hand coming down against you. I care more than you might ever know. Don’t tell me you’ve been thinking I’ve been lying-”

“You have been, haven’t you?” I fired back, my throat constricting with each and every one of his words. Lies, right? Lies. They had to be lies.

“No, no I haven’t. I haven’t been lying, Y/N,” Azriel placated. “What made you think this? Who?”

“No, you are lying,” I accused, taking a step back. “You don’t care- I’m- You can’t care. You can’t care about someone like me.”

His expression fell, softening every little sharp edge. “Stop telling yourself that. I can care for someone like you. You’re amazing, brave and strong. So incredibly strong. I admire how strong you are, you know?”

I shook my head, backing up more and glancing behind me automatically to see my escape routes. The window, I thought immediately.

“Y/N. Y/N, I’m not lying,” Azriel wasn’t moving, he was just standing before the frame of the door, watching me. I still couldn’t quell the need to get out-

“Please,” he begged. I paused, meeting his hazel eyes. “Please stop. You-” He shook his head, looking down. “Stop… believing that you aren’t worthy, or don’t deserve someone to care about you. You deserve people to love, and care for you. What about Nesta? Emerie? Gwyn? What about them? Cassian tells me they’ve claimed you as sisters. Do they care for you? Do you believe they care?”

I swallowed, glancing at the window again. I was so close. Just opening it in a practiced maneuver and then leaping out would be my escape-

“Please,” Azriel said again, stepping forward now. “Don’t run. Don’t run again. Believe me when I say this, even if you don’t trust me, people do care for you. I do, Nesta does, hell- even Cassian does! Rhys does! Feyre does! There are people who care about your wellbeing Y/N! Stop- stop lying to yourself.”

He kept taking small steps toward me. I put a hand out, breaking my mask of anger immediately as I went to cower, stepping back toward the window.

“I-” I choked on my words. I took one last glance at Azriel before letting out a broken whimper and falling to my knees with my face buried in my hands and wings moving forward to curl around me, hiding me from the world.

I heard a thump just in front of me and I flinched away.

“Y/N,” Azriel said softly, a whisper. “Y/N, look at me?”

Just a gentle request. Tears had begun to flood my eyes, sliding down my cheeks when I lifted my head to look at Az who had kneeled down with me. I folded my wings back only a fraction just to see the shadowsinger in front of me. He smiled reassuringly.

“Hey, it’s okay, alright?” He said gently, reaching a single scarred hand in my direction, low to the floor. “I understand that feeling.” He lifted his hand as if showing it off. “After all, how could someone care about someone who’s killed so many? Some innocent, some guilty. Or someone just as scarred as this?”

I shook my head immediately, protesting. No, he deserved to be cared about- he was cared about. I’d seen him interact with his brothers in arms, and everyone else in the Inner Court. People cared for him. And he wasn’t any different for killing people. After all I’d-

I paused there. I’d done the same.

“Yeah, you were about to fire back at me that I do deserve it, right?” Azriel asked. I nodded slowly, wiping one of my eyes that’d gone blurry from my tears. “So why do you not deserve it, angel?”

I swallowed, not responding.

“I do care,” Azriel said, carefully picking over his words. “I care when you’re hurting, when your mind refuses to shut up, when you can’t get a grasp on reality, when you have a nightmare- I care, alright? Get that through your pretty little head.”

I didn’t have enough energy left in me to cock a brow at the pet name or the fact he’d just called me pretty. Just add it to the growing list of things that he'd called me I suppose.

“You understand?” He prompted, daring to scoot just an inch closer. “And know it’s not just me, alright? You ask Nesta and I bet she’ll plan some mental health break day like she did with Emerie a few years back.”

I nodded, taking a shuttering deep breath as I wiped away the tears in my eyes again. I pulled back my wings more, settling them comfortably behind me. Azriel reached forward with one of his hands and very gently wiped away the tear tracks on both my cheeks. I looked up at him, shocked.

“You aren’t a burden, you matter, alright? I care.”

I nodded, moving to sit on the floor instead of on my heels.

“Is there any particular reason you’ve been thinking this? Or is it just…” Azriel trailed off, as if unable to come up with the proper word to explain what he was thinking.

My voice was raspy and broken as I replied. “I had a dream.”

He raised a brow, forehead scrunching up into wrinkles. “What happened in it? If you’re comfortable sharing.”

I felt my body shake, exhaustion kicking me hard in the head. “I was in Rainne’s cave… there was a dagger stabbed through it. And then you- you walked in with Cassian. You… you said…”

He grabbed my hand in his, squeezing it just like he did when we walked through Velaris.

“You said I should’ve been clipped, and that I was useless and needy.”

His face fell. “Angel…” Azriel cooed gently. “You are none of those things. Can I go kill my dream self? Just for those words?”

I chuckled a little, a small smile appearing on my face.

“There’s that smile I was looking for,” Azriel said proudly. “You are not useless, no. You train those females when I’m gone, right? And did such a good job they like you more than me now. And you’re nowhere near needy, and even if you were, there’s nothing bad with needing things. It’s normal, it’s healthy. And don’t for one second ever think you should’ve been clipped. That-” He cut himself off. “If you hadn’t already claimed that asshole's death blow, I would’ve ripped him to shreds already.”

My gaze fell to the ground as more thoughts flooded my mind too fast to be seen. Just a whirl of images, memories and words that even I couldn’t distinguish.

“Come ’ere,” Azriel cooed, pulling my hand toward him. I looked up, a bit unsure. He smiled reassuringly. I scooted forward until my knees were touching his. He scoffed and put his hands on the groove between my hips and ribs, lifting me into his lap with my legs resting on either side of his and then wrapping his arms around me. To say I was shocked, and a bit confused was an understatement. But the safety I’d felt from after that one cursed event, returned. Bringing with it a feeling of peace.

But I embraced him back, being careful about his wings. My head ended up under his chin as he held me close.

I sniffled, wings still shaking a bit.

“Relax angel,” he cooed, rubbing the small of my back. “You’re safe.”

I shuddered, my arms wrapping around his neck. That thread yanked again. From the middle of my chest, pulling me. I didn’t know where. There was only darkness on the other end of that thread. I couldn’t see what it connected to. What it was. It was only a few strands of string too. Barely enough to do anything with.

“If you ever come to think you don’t deserve care or love or appreciation,” he said. “Come find me. Okay? Or if not me, at least somebody who cares about you.”

I nodded, drinking in his scent. The scent of night chilled mist on a night flight and cedar trees right after a rain storm in spring. The scent was so strong and calming, despite what my pride told me to believe. It smelled like home.

A hand went up, going past my wing and up to the back of my head, curling protectively around the back of my skull. A rumble began under Azriel’s skin; his chest basically vibrating with it. The sound almost resembled a purr. As if it was so utterly satisfying to have me curled up in his lap.

I blushed. I was sitting in Azriel’s lap- I immediately tried to move after the realization set in. No fear, no resentment, just embarrassment. “No, no, stay,” Azriel hummed. “It’s okay. Just relax.”

“I’m sitting in your goddamn lap, Azriel. It’s just a bit weird,” I said, turning my face to the side so my ear rested on his collarbone.

He chuckled. “Is it really?”

Oh he was fucking proud of the fact he had me here, in this compromising position. I rolled my eyes. In reality though, with that scent that was so calming and the purr that still hadn’t stopped in Azriel’s chest, it was comforting. Almost completely calming to sit here.

“You can be embarrassed and bite my head off later. Just finally enjoy a hug for once. Do you even remember the last time you were hugged before coming to Velaris?” He asked, nose burying into my short hair.

I thought for a moment. No, to be honest, I really didn’t. Maybe it had been with Rainne? My heart sunk at the thought. My previous nightmare coming back to the forefront of my mind. The last time I’d embraced anyone was when I’d held Rainne’s head in my lap, and felt her last breath against my neck.

“It was when Rainne died,” I said quietly, closing my eyes.

He hummed, tightening his grip on me. “At least you killed the ones who killed her.”

I nodded, letting out a heavy breath. “That was when I learned to winnow. Only reason I did it was because I was so damn angry.”

Azriel didn’t reply, just let me speak my mind freely, without judgment while I finally received an embrace long overdue.

So I kept speaking, kept repeating everything from that one goddamn day. And then more, telling him about every horrible thing that happened in my life. Not in great detail, no, I couldn’t bear that, but enough that he knew exactly what happened.

My escape, my hardships killing Illyrians before being trained and only having my stolen siphons and self-made weapons, leaving to the Winter Court and meeting Rainne, and Rainne’s death. And everything else.

All of it. Laid bare.

I don’t know why I told him all that I did. I don’t know why I decided to trust him, why I decided to give him a chance. Maybe it was the thread that glowed bright every time I finished a story, maybe it was the way I was finally being cared about, hugged, comforted… Or maybe it was a completely different thing I didn’t know how to describe.

Azriel let me speak, sometimes shaking in what I guessed to be anger, but never once did he interrupt. When I stumbled over my words, he just held me closer. When I couldn’t get the words out, he spoke softly, saying I didn’t have to remember or tell him if I didn’t want to.

When I finished, he told me some of his stories as well. He told me of the first eleven years of his life, locked in a fucking dungeon- burned by his brothers, only allowed to see his mother once a week for a goddamn hour. He told me what the War was like, what working for the previous High Lord was like. He told me of torturing innocents. And the guilt that came afterward.

Laid bare, the both of us. Whether for better or for worse, I suppose.

“Your scars only make you more unique,” I said, yawning tiredly. “I like them.”

I could’ve sworn that the purr in his chest increased in amplitude at those words. But he didn’t reply, just moved to pick me up carefully.

“Rest angel,” he spoke after he’d picked me up like a baby doll and laid me on my bed, tucking the covers around me. He was careful, gentle and never moved too fast, as if he understood how utterly raw I was at the moment.

It was almost morning, but I still fell asleep, without a single issue and slept for gods know how long. No nightmares, just utter exhaustion.

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TAGLIST (see post for getting added)

@mis-lil-red, @bunnymallowo, @judig92, @biblophilefox82, @azzydaddy, @thegirlintheshadows101, @whatupmydudes01, @feyres-fireheart, @elizarikaallen, @xenlynn, @panzees-bizarre-adventures, @starswholistenanddreamsanswered, @baebeepeach, @nyctophiliiiiaaa, @brekkershadowsinger, @officiallyunofficialperson, @bookslut420, @margssstuff, @bluephoenix908, @goldentournesol

#azriel #azriel x reader #azrielxreader #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #angst #mywriting

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brilyyy · 8 months ago

Text

Romance (Alastor x Angel Dust) 3/3

Hello there! 👋

Sorry for the delay, this truly took longer to write than I anticipated and then life happened. Hopefully this is worth the wait for you, I really enjoyed writing it! Again, I'm sorry Angel, its not my fault Alastor is deranged, ily.

Thanks for your interest in my fic, please enjoy!

Story warnings - disturbing imagery, horror

Softly, as if floating across his cheek on a cool summer breeze, “Anthony….” The voice drifted in and out, far away, “Anthony wake up…” it faded.

A forgotten dream pulled Angel from the nothingness he’d been bathed in, a woman he didn’t know giggling and chiding him for sleeping, just a bit more he thought, his body numb to any request for movement. The voice giggled in his mind again, Angel’s eyes cracked open ever so slightly. Who was that? A soft voice, pulling at him from somewhere deep in his memories. He could feel the air around him was cold and damp, but still, and it was dark now from what he could see. He didn’t know if he was alone, but he couldn’t feel his body either so what did it matter? Each breath was fought for and ragged, a strained exhale his only reprieve from the pain. Angel closed his eyes again, he was already so tired from keeping them open as long as he had… Even if there was someone there, he didn’t have the strength to go to them, or fight them off if they wanted to hurt him.

“Anthonyyyy, come on, we’re going to be late silly!” The voice pulled at him again. It was familiar, but he couldn’t place it… eyes closed he began to drift back to the black unconsciousness, it was warm there and he didn’t hurt. Just a little longer he thought as he began to drift back into the darkness, his choppy, pained breaths becoming further and further apart.

“ANTHONY!!” The voice screamed, and suddenly Angel knew exactly who it was, he’d always hated hearing her scream. Eyes snapping open he sat up as quickly as he could, his body aching, a sharp pain in his chest stabbing with every breath he took, head spinning from all of the abuse he’d endured. His eyes slipped in and out of focus, the dark only making it harder to see, the ringing in his ears dulled only by the pounding of his head. He sat up as best he could and looked around. Although he couldn’t see the creature that had chased him there, he knew it was still out there somewhere, but he needed to find her, that’s all he cared about now.

“M-Molly?” Angel croaked out weakly, he hadn’t said her name out loud in so many years, the word alone sent a flood of emotions rushing through his already scattered mind. He strained to hear a response. His eyes welled with tears, “MOLLY!!” He cried again, desperation in his scream, please, he thought, please let it be her, let this be real. Nothing, and then from behind him, “ANTHONY!!” Angel whipped around and stared at the figure at the edge of the willows cover, eyes straining to focus on the figure in the dark.

Angel squinted hard and suddenly gasped. It was her.

Molly was there, peering at him through the curtain of leaves eyes wide and glossy.

His breath caught in his throat.

She gasped softly as their eyes met, “It’s you!” She cheered, relief and joy flooding her face as she ran to him. Angel locked eyes with his sister, and for the moment he couldn’t breathe. Painfully he clambered to his feet and moved as quickly as he could to her, the aching fire shooting through his entire body be damned. He reached out for her expecting to touch nothing, for it all to be a sick illusion, but when her arms wrapped around his waist and held him tightly, he began to shake and sob, throwing his arms around her, eyes wide in bewilderment. “It’s really you!” She sobbed into his chest, her two sets of arms wrapped fully around Angel’s thin frame.

“Oh Anthony, I’ve been so scared! I thought something had happened to you! I couldn’t find you and -” Molly sobbed into his chest, her words muffled and hard to understand through her crying, but Angel was frozen. He could barely understand what was happening. It was her, she was here, in his arms. The thought was too much for him and his head spun, legs giving out he fell into her lithe frame, “Anthony!” Molly cried as they both fell to their knees, Angel’s head foggy, ears ringing. He couldn’t even process why or how she was here. She hugged Angel again while chattering about something and pulled away, now fussing over his cuts and scrapes but he couldn’t hear anything save for the ringing in his ears.

“Molly?” He looked at her and stared into her glossy pink eyes, afraid to breathe, “Is this real? Are you… Are you real?” His voice was like a whisper, raspy and emotional. If this was a dream he didn’t want to scare himself awake with the question.

She looked different than when he last saw her, obviously she didn’t look like a fluffy white spider before, but he knew it was her, he could feel it, they were twins after all. She’d always had the biggest, most expressive eyes, always able to find his real thoughts and feelings no matter how well he thought he’d hid them. She stared at him for a moment. Here in the forest, her doe like eyes were wide, searching his face, but then she smiled warmly and grabbed his hand, bringing it to her face and resting his palm to her cheek. Her eyes brimmed with tears, taking a shuddering breath, a tear dripped down her fuzzy cheek and she let out a small huff of a laugh, “Of course I’m real, don’t I feel real to you?” Angel felt her cheek, she was warm and soft, and here and real. She looked just as he remembered her, before she… Before he…

Another wave of emotion hit Angel and he gasped, his body shivered with remorse, tears rolled from his tired eyes down his stained and bloodied cheeks and he lunged at her, wrapping her fully in all six arms and pulling her tightly to him.

“I’m so sorry Molly! I never shoulda left you! I-I,” he gasped “I shoulda never let you go alone, I should *hic* I shoulda left with you or made you stay I-, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry” He sobbed into her hair, body wracked with sorrow and guilt. Losing her had destroyed him, the sadness sending him into a downward spiral he would never recover from “I should have never let you go alone, It’s all my fault, I’m so sorry Molly.” He pressed his cheek hard against hers, holding her tight, desperate and unwilling to ever let her go again.

Molly’s eyes red with tears wrenched closed as she hugged Angel tighter and wept. “Oh Anthony, shhhh,” She cooed as she brushed through Angel’s hair with her fingers, rocking him back and forth while rubbing his back, “It wasn’t your fault,” She whispered as she placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, “I’m here now, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

They held each other and sobbed underneath the cover of the willow in the darkness, neither one willing to be the first to let go.

After a long while, both of them caught their breath and their cries turned to sniffles, slowly releasing their tight hold on the other. Angel took a pair of Molly’s hands in his, he never thought he would see her again, not after she had died. Turning her hand over in his, Angel found the scar on her left thumb from when he had fallen out of a tree and she had cut herself catching him before he fell to the ground. He’d been horsing around and lost his balance, but she had been there and cut her hand against the sharp tree bark as she held onto him, crying only because she was scared for her brother. The memory was so clear, but he scowled, I’ve always let her down… He shook his head and swallowed hard as he stared at her hands in his, “What are you doing here? You shouldn’ be here.”

“Pfft, I don’ even know where here is!” Molly chirped.

“No, but you shouldn’ be where I am,” Angel laughed wryly “You should be in the good place, not here.”

Molly looked confused but just shrugged. “I was walkin home from the bar and cut through the woods. I ran into Richie, he was walkin me home… I don’t remember much after that, but after….” Molly trailed off, but Angel knew exactly what she was saying. He clenched his jaw, fist shaking in white knuckled rage, after Richie fuckin killed her. “I woke up and I was here. I’ve been lookin for you or someone, anyone,” She twisted her other pair of hands in her lap, picking at her fingers nervously and staring at the ground “I’ve been so lost and scared, and then there was this… thing….” She paused and Angel could feel her shaking through her hands. “You saw it?” He asked, Molly gasped and looked up at Angel “You saw it too? Oh Anthony it was awful! I’ve been running and trying to find my way out of here, but its so dark and nothing makes sense,” Angel pulled her into another fierce hug, she trembled in his arms but he held her tight. “It’s okay Molly, I’m never going to leave you again, okay?” I’m not going to be useless this time, he thought.

She pulled back and smiled sadly at him, wiping a tear from her eye, “Promise?”

Angel held her shoulders firmly with one set of hands and her face in his other “I promise Molly, I won’t let anything hurt you ever again.”

Molly beamed up at him through her tears, god it had been so long since he’d seen that smile. She always had the brightest smile, it never failed to cheer him up when he was down, and now it was like a salve on every wound he’d ever had. He studied her face and began to inspect the rest of her - she was just as ripped up and dirty as he was, though it looked like she had better luck keeping her face away from anything sharp, save for a single cut across her left cheek. He had no idea how she had gotten trapped down here but he was going to give his life if it meant getting her out of here. “Oh!” She gasped suddenly, “Here…” she turned around and dug through a bag that Angel just now noticed. After a moment she produced a water bottle, and unscrewing the top, handed it to Angel “Drink up, you look terrible.” He chuckled and grabbed the bottle “Thanks Molls, where would I be without you?”

“Pfft, here.” She waved a hand around her at the forest and cocked a smile at Angel. He smiled and laughed as she giggled, he’d missed this. Missed her. He stared at their hands and rubbed the top of her hand with his thumb. She covered her hand on top of his and smiled warmly, she reached out and ruffled his hair and he feigned annoyance, he’d missed that too.

Angel took another drink from the bottle when he heard something. It was faint, barely audible, but over the ringing in his ears he swore that he’d heard something from the forest… music? Angel lowered the bottle and looked around, then looked at Molly. She was sitting still, wide eyes locked into the distance where Angel had heard the noise, “Did you hear that?” She whispered.

“You heard it too?” Angel strained to hear more, but it was too far away, he only caught a stray note here and there. The ringing in his ears made his head ache the more he strained to hear and he winced in pain. Molly nodded and stood up, eyes still locked on the tree line, “I’ve never heard it before….Maybe it’s someone who can help us!” She turned and looked at Angel, a hopeful cheer cutting through the dirt and exhaustion on her face. Angel stared at her for a minute then back at the place where the music was coming from. What if it was a trap? What if that creature was luring them out so that it could rip them apart? It had been right on top of him, screaming that it knew where he was, taunting that it could reach him at any time, the rancid cries ringing deafening in the air…

“What if that thing is still out there?” He shivered, not wanting to push their luck. He knew they couldn’t stay but he didn’t trust the music, he couldn’t risk losing her again. Molly stood for a long while staring into the woods, then turned to Angel and grabbed his hand, pulling lightly to get his attention. His eyes quickly met hers, he hadn’t noticed he was trembling until she grabbed the sides of his arms and gave them a small but firm squeeze. She smiled kindly at him and his heart skipped a beat.

“We gotta try, right Anthony?” She looked at her brother, eyes soft but hopeful, the same look she used to give him when they were kids. He was always a worrier when it came to Molly and now this? It was his job to protect her so he always erred on the side of caution when she was concerned, but she was usually right when it came to making decisions, and Angel knew they couldn’t stay there forever. Locking eyes with her he smiled back and braced himself to stand, legs shaking like a newborn. Taking as deep a breath as he could, Molly pulled him up and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, snaking her arm around his waist to help support him. The stabbing pain in his chest worsened and he gasped, he was pretty sure he’d broken several ribs now, and at least two in different places were threateningly close to piercing his lungs, but he steadied himself against Molly’s small frame and resolved to ignore his body’s cries of anguish for as long as he could.

She looked at him with great concern, eyes searching his face again to see how she could help, but there was nothing she could do now and they both knew it. “Ready?” She chirped with genuine optimism, securing her bag over her free shoulder and smiling at him. Angel looked into her pink eyes and smiled back, his body was throbbing and even standing felt like torture, but as long as she was here, he would try, for her. “As I’ll ever be.”

Slowly they walked to the edge of the willow’s protection and Molly reached out with a free hand to part the curtain of leaves. She peaked out into the darkness and looked around. From what Angel could see it was pitch black, no longer the bright vaguely green sky, now just unnerving darkness surrounded them. It was dead silent, no chirping or hum of insects, no gentle coos of night time birds. Though it was unsettling, there was also no sign that the beast was still there, only gouges in the earth showing it had once been. Angel shivered at the memory of the creature, but resolved to be strong for her.

“I think we’re okay,” Molly spoke quietly, “but it’s so dark out…” her voice trailed off, she had always been afraid of the dark, and this was no normal dark. Angel squeezed her waist where he was holding for support and she turned to look at him. Smiling, he opened his mouth to speak, but the jazz drifting through the air caught both of their attention and he paused. It was still faint, but hearing it again renewed their resolve and Angel could feel Molly take a deep breath. Letting it out she turned to Angel with a small smile and nodded. Turning to the woods once more, she stepped out into the dark forest, Angel limping bravely by her side.

—

The pair ambled through the darkness and reminisced for what seemed like hours over what felt like miles of endless, uncaring forest. At some point, over the rivers of twisted roots and slick rocks begging to catch their feet, the trees had begun to space out, now larger, more gnarled and sinister looking than before. Instead of the more tightly packed evergreens reaching far above, they now walked among larger gaps in thick towering trees, trunks twisting and reaching at strange angles, wide arms overhead, long finger-like branches fanning against the sky. Thick branches held up draping curtains of wide canopy, vines falling from the large overhead supports that held up the scattering lacework of leaves. If there was any moon out tonight, you would have seen its light dappled through the intricate patterns of foliage, but now, it only served as a beautiful background to the dolls scattered hanging amongst the branches, watching over the two as they stumbled through the brush.

Angel and Molly had been resting, braced against one of these trees for what felt like the hundredth time over the past few hours. The two had tripped over many twisted, vine like roots sprawled over the forest floor, the cover of heavy, bone chilling fog making them impossible to see and avoid. It was just as well, Angel had decided. Early in this new terrain he had tripped over a root and was sent tumbling to the ground, coughing violently as he fell. He had braced himself and caught his breath against the earth, but noticed a squirming, writhing tickle against his fingertips as he panted. Slowly opening his eyes, Angel had examined the fog and realized that underneath its smooth curls of drifting air, it looked like it was moving.

A deep sickness had run through Angel and with a defeated tear in his eye he blew a small puff of air to clear the fog from his hands. He had wept pitifully, tears streaming down his face in endless sorrow and defeat when he saw that the ground he was resting on was a rug of millions of wriggling worms, millipedes, spiders and other endless bugs, climbing and scrambling over one another in a hurried, writhing mess of knots across the forest floor, all moving hurriedly away from the direction they were going. He sobbed in horror at the realization and sensation, Molly grasping at him to try and calm his cries of distress, when a sharp chirping of birds cut through the stillness of the sky. The sharp cries of the birds sounded metallic and eerie, fake and louder than ever before like a warning. Molly had dragged him to his feet, away from the writhing floor and held him close, whispering soothing things into his hair to calm him. She had held his face in a pair of hands and held his hands in her other and managed to calm him down with some deep breathing, but the horror of that moment made them both check their shoes and pants before they set back out again.

He was now so disoriented from what was surely a concussion and the ringing in his ears was driving him more than a little insane. His body throbbed and ached so deeply, but they were making progress, the jazz was getting louder.

Several times through their hours long trek he had slipped and twice had managed to pull Molly down with him as he fell. The second time he hit the ground he fell into a violent coughing spell. As he hacked into his fist, Angel could tell that he was coughing up blood. Though it was dark, he could feel the sticky wetness on his hand as he coughed and shuddered. Quickly he wiped his hand off as best he could before his sister could see. Molly immediately had given him the water bottle again and rubbed his back, offering soothing words to calm him. Angel shivered with the sickness he felt running up through his stomach, it was long since empty, but now beginning to fill with his own blood and it was making him sick. He could taste the metallic richness at the back of his throat and from the corners of his mouth, the constant coughing and swallowing was making him more nauseous as time went on. The idea almost caused him to retch, but he had to keep it together, and settled for another weakening coughing fit.

“Anthony…. Look!” Molly stilled her soothing ministrations and whispered, her voice so small with disbelief. Angel looked up, panting and squinting through the dark trees he saw what she was looking at - a light coming from a small cabin. A log house nestled in a small alcove surrounded by trees, distant, but not very far from where they were. The roof was a little slanted and the logs forming the walls were dark with age, but the windows glowed with the promise of a fire and the jazz they had followed through the trees drifted warmly out of the window. Angel stared for a long moment then turned again to Molly, she had been putting on a brave face but he could tell how tired she was. She shivered in the cold air, and even if he was suspicious of the cabin, he knew she needed rest. He himself was in no condition to keep moving. He knew that it was only a matter of time before his injuries caught up with him, and he needed to make sure that she was at least safe before anything worse happened to him. At least here they would be safe from that thing, even if that house did give him the creeps. Still, everything, all of this felt off and scared him more than it brought comfort.

“Molly… I don’t know….” Angel started, but she cut him off “Come on Anthony, maybe they can help us! Besides, don’t you smell that?” She looked at him and then back to the cabin. Angel took as deep a breath as he could: food. He could smell food. Just the distant scent sent his mind reeling and his stomach growled deep and painfully, a cavern inside of him aching for something other than blood. He could feel his mouth watering at just the idea of eating, and he knew that if he felt this way, Molly felt it more, he had no idea how long she had been lost in the woods before he arrived or even how long he’d been here. Angel turned to his sister and looked deep into her pleading eyes, “Okay, we’ll check it out, but we leave if even one thing is weird, got it?” Molly smiled warmly at him and squeezed his hand, kissing his cheek, “got it!”

They managed down the slippery hill that the cabin was settled beneath, tucked between two towering trees at the end of a small clearing, set a bit away from the rest of the dense tree line. It was hard to see anything through the dark night and the dense fog, but Angel could see the light of a fire dancing through the windows. Like moths to a flame the pair stumbled closer, the jazz filling the air now, a gentle trumpet melody welcoming them, the smell of the food enticing them to push further. They crossed the small stream that ran near the front of the house, eyes glued to the refuge.

His eyes scanned the tree line surrounding them looking for the creature, but he couldn’t see anything, save for a nearby stump with an axe wedged into it. They passed near it as Molly quickly but cautiously pulled them to the porch that surrounded the perimeter of the house. He couldn’t see much of the axe, or what was left over on the ground behind the stump, but just the outline of something slumped against the black night sent a shiver down his spine. He turned back to the cabin and surrounding trees, scared to trust the warmth they sought.

“Almost there,” Molly whispered, she helped him up the small steps onto the porch and after helping Angel find purchase on a nearby post, moved quietly to the door. The smell of the food was so distracting, he was terrified but the smell invaded his mind with the promise of warmth and comfort, sending what little moisture his body had left to flood his mouth in hunger. Angel swallowed and looked around, weary of how relatively easy this had all been. He leaned against the outmost post of the porch sand cast tired eyes to the forest, knowing something was watching them from out in the darkness.

A gentle breeze floated through the wind chimes hanging from the aged wood frame above his head. The wind chimes sounded cheerful yet off somehow, sickeningly hollow, and when angel looked at it he saw why. They were made up of small… animals bones? ribs mostly, and some pieces of differing leg and arm bones, strung together on twisted sinewy thread. The top of the chime was what looked like a fox or a coyote skull, with strange symbols carved into it. What caught his attention though were the strings, they were the same wiry, smooth threads he’d seen securing other unsettling decor around the forest.

The strings he noted were different colors, a deep black, a black with highlights of brown, a bright orange, blonde… Angels stomach dropped and suddenly he felt nothing but deep dread and sickness. The fear made him instantly retch and shudder - this place wasn’t safe, they needed to leave.

The sound of Molly knocking on the door ripped him from his thoughts and he jumped, eyes locked on the door as they both held their breath waiting for a response. Angel’s heart was beating in his ears, straining to hear through the ringing and the soft lilt of the music in the still air. He held his breath, begging to hear nothing. A long moment passed, the pair exchanged a glance. Angel reached out to stop her but she knocked again, gentle yet firm, “h-Hellooo?…” Molly squeaked, barely able to contain the shaking in her voice.

Angel limped quietly to her side, grabbing her hand in comfort and fear. They waited for what felt like an eternity, expecting to hear the scuffs of footsteps or creaking floor boards or to hear anything at all, but there was nothing, just the muffled jazz and the stillness of the air. Molly looked back at Angel, hopeful and questioning, but Angels face read nothing but doubt and fear. He shook his head gently pleading, tears pooling in his eyes for her not to open the door. She met his eyes with a worried yet determined stare.

He whipped around and checked their backs, feeling the eyes of the forest crawling over him, sending a haunting shiver through his body. The forest remained black and unmoving, no life, no sound, save for the now mournful and sinisterly warm music ringing through the air from the nearby window. Angel panted and scanned again, his eye catching the stump from his periphery and - he stopped and snapped his entire head down - the axe was gone. His eyes rang in their sockets, hands deftly grabbing for Molly’s hand for comfort, unable to look away from the now clearly blood soaked stump, void of the axe he had seen before.

He turned to Molly to tell her they needed to go, but to his horror she was in the cabin, standing by the fire in the middle of the room, “Anthony come on!” She chided. “Molly no this place isn’t safe! We gotta go now!” Angel begged trying to be as quiet as possible, but she was already wandering in deeper towards the smell. Angel ambled to the doorway and peered in, “Molly!” He whispered sharply, but she was already poking around what looked to be the kitchen area at the back of the room.

He huffed. Angel looked over his shoulder again into the darkness behind him and cracking the door only wide enough to squeeze through, he slipped into the house, closing the door silently behind him. He pushed his body against the door and anxiously looked around, horrified to find it was warm and charming inside. The jazz came from a gramophone, set on top of a small desk by the window to his left, cracked only a bit to let some of the cool night air in. The desk had a few letters scattered lightly over the smooth, worn dark wood. A small clear glass vase with some small blue flowers sat next to a black and white photo of a beautiful woman in an ornate gold frame, a drawing of the blooms sketched lightly on the corner of a nearby envelope.

He stood pressed firmly to the door panting in fear, exploring the room with his eyes, straining for the threat he knew was hiding. He looked past the gramophone to find a large bookcase, filled and overflowing with books. Angel was in awe of just how many books there were, the wood of the shelves reaching to the top of the roof, bowing slightly under the weight of its many reads. The case was filled neatly with rich colors of spines, but for as many filled the shelf, there were still stacks of more littering the nearby floor. The volumes shared the floor spaces between the desk and the nearby leather chair with records and pressings of long since forgotten songs. A beautifully ornate red and blue rug with pops of bright emerald threads framed the space and gave it a warm and cozy feeling. It was clearly old but well taken care of, a bit faded and thread bare in some areas showing the habits of whoever lived here, a clear path between the books on the shelf, the desk, and the chair.

Angel wearily and hungrily looked at the chair, his body pleading and begging for rest. It looked plush and comfortable, a high back and over stuffed arms, a deep purple knit blanket draped lazily over the arms and low back, a small pillow pressed with wear against the chairs right corner. Angel swallowed, sitting there he knew would feel like a warm embrace, one that would hold onto him and pull him under. The chair sat comfortably between the book shelf and the fireplace along the same wall, angled so that the warmth and light of the fire illuminated the chair entirely but not so far from the book case that one couldn’t grab for the lifeline of a book to save them from the promise of a cozy fireside nap. The fire crackled and sputtered lazily, offering a warming glow that sent a shiver through angel’s frozen and broken body.

He pulled his eyes away from the spell of the fire and looked back to the promise of the chair. The piles of books sat on top and at the foot of a small side table. It was very petite, only space for a small lamp and an even smaller pile of books, the corners of which hung slightly over the edge of the table. There was also, he noticed, a small tea cup set a top a book, a pair of round gold framed reading glasses placed neatly beside the steaming cup and saucer. Angel squirmed in fear as his stomach clenched “Molly, maybe we should get out of here, what if they come back?” He was worried, no one was there now but it looked like they might be back soon.

“MMM! Oh Anthony look!” Angel looked over toward her voice and saw her standing at a large pot settled on top of a wood burning stove. There was a table between them where she had grabbed a ladle and holding the lid with one hand, she dipped the large spoon into the pot and took a sip of the steaming hot soup. She closed her eyes and let out a deep contented sigh, “You have to try this Anthony, it’s delicious!” Opening her eyes again she found Angel still standing at the front door, his arms both crossed and splayed out, holding himself tightly and bracing himself worriedly against the door. “Come on Molly, we can’t eat someone else’s food!” Angel pleaded, “besides, I think they’re gonna come back soon, we gotta get outta here, this place is beyond freakin me out,” but Molly scooped another ladle full of broth out and held it up for Angel to see.

“They’ll understand, I promise. Come on Anthony be reasonable, you need to eat somethin to gain back your strength!” She turned around and grabbed for a bowl from a nearby shelf. Turning back to the pot, she scooped a ladleful of broth into the bowl and held it out to Angel, “Come on, just a little, please….” She begged him with her eyes.

Was she seriously out of her mind? Absolutely not! There was no way they were just going to wander into this random persons house and then steal their food. What if they came back and got pissed and cut them up into pieces like he’d seen hanging from the trees? The rich scent of the soup caught his nose again and sent his stomach tumbling into a deep gnawing pull of hunger. Angel stared again at the chair, and looked around the room to see more quaint touches, pictures on the wall of an older woman and a young man who Angel figured was her son, framed pieces of art, scatterings of playful taxidermy… He glanced at the bookcase again to see framed photos scattered among the shelves, another small bundle of blue flowers set lightly a top of the leather chair.

He did admit that it was nice and warm in here, and it would be good to regain their strength… As long as it wasn’t that huge creature that lived here, chances are they could outrun whoever lived here if they turned out to be hostile. Well, Molly could. I’ll give her a head start, he let out a small huff of a laugh, might as well die with a warm belly he thought.

Slowly, Cautiously, Angel limped across the room past the fireplace and the chair towards the kitchen using the wall as a crutch. He glanced up wearily at the wall to see black and white photos of people other than the old woman and her, admittedly, very handsome son. There was another photo of the woman from the desk, though this time she was singing on a stage surrounded by a crowd of cheering men. A large portrait of the older woman set in an ornate wood frame nestled between two complimentary paintings of rabbits and foxes dancing in pastel play clothes. He walked further along and saw a couple of old victorian photos, a beautiful young woman with bright white hair and dark eyes, so pale she almost looked grey.

In one photo, she stared blankly into the camera while clutching a small white bundle, which Angel realized was a baby. Her face was soft with no expression, but she held the infant with care, gently but firmly for the camera to see. His eyes found another photo with the same woman, standing in the same beautiful gown. She now stood next to a handsome man in a black tuxedo, decorated with military badges and pins. He was seated, dressed in what Angel could tell were expensive clothes, with a top hat and bow tie. He had a large but meticulously maintained mustache and beard covering his face, no emotion showing on his handsome features. The woman stood beside him, barely resting her hand on his shoulder, her black eyes reflecting no light, her features statuesque. He shivered. Angel peered deeper into the photo and noticed that the mans eyes were closed. Confused, he looked back at the photo of the infant and realized the infants eyes were closed too. Confusion crossed his brow, but then he pulled away from the wall, his eyes welling up with tears - they were both dead.

“Hurry Angel, quit stalling” Molly called sharply. Lip trembling, Angel quickly turned from the wall and grabbed for the table, shuffling quickly to where Molly was standing and clasped her hand in his. He stared at their hands for a moment, fear soaking deeper and deeper into his bones, the need to run away twitching in his legs. He squeezed her hand and took a deep breath, just keep it together a little longer, he thought, do it for her, she needs you, Anthony.

He looked up from their hands and into Molly’s eyes, her kindness and patience reflected in her pink orbs. “Here,” She said gently, putting the bowl down in front of him on the table and gently brushing his hair with her free hand. He stared at the bowl, the steam rising and dancing for him, offering its savory aromas and causing his resolve to tremble. Swallowing guiltily he looked up at Molly, “I don’t know Molls, really… I-I think we should jus go, please….”

With a huff, Molly grabbed the ladle and scooped a fresh spoonful of soup from the pot. She turned to Angel and held the steaming ladle full of broth in front of his face, her lips pressed in a determined line.

Angel swallowed deeply while staring deeply into Molly’s eyes. The smell of the fresh broth pulled his eyes down and he stared into the spoon she was holding out to him. The rich brown broth looked just as delicious as it smelled, and he could feel his mouth flood in hunger. He looked up again at Molly, pleading with his eyes, but knowing that she was right and he needed something to replenish his broken body, he leaned in and took a long, slow sip from the spoon. The warmth of the broth slipped past his lips and invaded his entire body, warming and scorching his frozen core as the liquid poured down his throat. He could feel it dispersing its healing warmth, instantly curing his pains and awakening his body into deep, raging craving for more.

His eyes opened and he stared at Molly again, she smiled at him knowingly, “It’s really good right?” She grinned. Angel smiled sheepishly, good was an understatement, more like incredible. Maybe they could finish their soup and then leave in a hurry. As if reading his mind (or just hearing his stomach), Molly grabbed the bowl from the table and adding a fresh ladleful of soup, handed the bowl back over to Angel.

The young spider smiled weakly taking the bowl and looked warmly at Molly as she ladled more soup into a bowl of her own. The pull of hunger controlling his body now, he brought the bowl to his lips and let his eyes drift closed with comfort as he took another long slip. The meal felt like sunshine running through his body, reminding him of childhood, sitting at their small dinner table during cold winter nights and eating with his sister. The broth was delicious, rich and comforting with herbs and spices, his lips and mouth tingling with what he imagined was a pepper sauce. He tilted the bowl higher, draining the soup of its broth and only stopping when he felt an ingredient in the bowl bump against his lips.

His eyes drifting open in contentment, he lowered the bowl and sighed happily staring into the pottery in his hands. Having drunk so much of the liquid, he could now see the solids of the soup, some greens and onions, red pepper flakes, a potato, and…. Angel squinted. His eyes immediately shifted from innocent curiosity to cold horror, staring down blankly, body frozen. Mind broken, his hands forgot their task and Angel dropped his bowl, the glossy pottery shattering on the ground revealing the remaining contents of the soup - an ear, and two small toes. Angel stared at the floor, the ringing in his ears louder than the jazz filling the small space. He couldn’t breathe, the pounding of his heart ringing throughout his entire body.

“It was people,” the words slipped out of Angel’s mouth, barely audible, eyes unblinking in shock.

Saying it out loud, no matter how silent sent him reeling. Hearing it caused his body to retch deeply, the realization of what he’d eaten forcing him to spew the contents of his already weakened stomach on the ground. He doubled over, throwing up what little was in him, his sickness renewed with each glimpse of the broken bowl on the floor, the ear dangerously close to his left foot. “Mol-MMolly!” he weakly called between waves of retching, reaching out weakly for support, pulling at the bottom of his now empty stomach to force bile and saliva out of his burning throat. “Molly!” he called weakly, bracing himself on the table, he looked up to where she had been by the cooking pot, but a new dread filled his emptied stomach when he found she was gone.

Eyes wide in terror, he spun frantically, searching around the room for any sign of his sister, but in the instant it took for him to realize she was gone, the room had changed from a quaint little cottage, warm with the welcoming glow of the fire to exactly what he had feared. The small room was now lit a murderous red, dark and almost black in places, only brighter because of the barely controlled fire raging against the wall. The fire was white hot and green - the crackling of the lime flames dancing off of the edges of hundreds of razor sharp weapons mounted to the wall that was once lined with memorabilia. Where had just been photos and artworks moments before, now housed knives, chisels and blades, scythes and straight razors covering any free space between knots and holes in the broken panels of wood. Each instrument of suffering was polished to a mirror like shine, placed carefully and in an order, obviously well cared for.

“MOLLY!” He cried out desperately, “WHERE ARE YOU??”

The jazz from the front of the room blared through the gramophone's bell, the sound breaking in places and becoming more distorted and off key as the record played.The books on the shelf were gone and replaced with jars filled with body parts floating in shades of pink or blue liquid, hands, hearts, and a few heads floating lifeless in the jars. The once siren lounge chair now sat ominously, the leather of the chair clearly patched together with different pieces of differing colors of leather… different sizes and shapes… Angels eyes drifted in horror to the fire place, eyes shaking, climbing to find a small bundle of legs, and another larger bundle of arms hanging from the ceiling with different herbs to dry.

Angel heaved in an open mouth sob, the once cozy lilt of the jazz now a raging upbeat tempo, squalling and crying out, trumpets and saxophones slicing through the mounting terror. The record player glowed with the same sickening green magic that the fire raged with, sending small sparks of fire drifting off into the air. They floated and danced on the distorted melodies around the room, alive with magic, charming despite the scene. He stared in awe and fear as one of the little fireflies buzzed up to his face, flying in an intricate spiral, and then landed on his cheek, singeing the hair on his face. He grabbed his cheek in pain and stared on in horror as the room filled with the lightning bugs, burning him with sharp pain as they lazily bumped into him.

Suddenly, a loud, metallic screech ripped through the wailing of the jazz, the piercing cut of the scream sliced through Angel and stoked the deep fear writhing inside of him. Every hair standing on end, Angel turned around and locked teary wide, insanity filled eyes with the terrible, smoldering red of the creature. The room had changed again, the roof of the small cabin now much taller than it had been, allowing the smaller, but still massive demon to take up almost the entire cabin, its upsettingly thin and long legs crouching brokenly. Its giant white buck skull dripped black sap as it ran razor sharp black claws against a grinding stone now placed in front of the fire place. Long high pitched screams over powered the cries of the piano chords from the record player, the Wendigo twisted its long, broken neck towards Angel, bright red pupils boring into him from blackened sockets, the screaming and trumpets rioting in the air between them.

Angel stared back trembling, screeches from the grinding stone echoing the ringing in his ears. Angel shook in defeat, whimpering in terror as he clutched his head with his hands. The strange birds. He knew they hadn’t sounded right, but now he knew the chirps and calls hadn’t been birds at all, it had been the grinding cry of knives and claws being sharpened all along. His knees gave out and he buckled into the table grabbing tight in fear, frozen in place, shaking and sobbing, eyes darting between the wall of blades and the creature, begging to find his sister.

w̸̙̗͝h̸͙͋ǎ̸̡̋t̴̮̥̍̋'̴͔̑͜ś̷͇͈͠ ̷̠̉͘t̴̬̗̃ḩ̵̱̄͝e̵͓͒͘ ̸̖̝̌m̸̹͋̈́ã̷̢̝t̴̨̠̒̇t̵̲̼̿ĕ̶̞͗r̶̼̔̃

the creatures voice was a layered and distorted guttural growl, shaking the inside of Angels head. All at once his hair stood on end, his body erupting into gooseflesh. He hadn’t heard it from his ears, he heard it from inside of him, inside of his mind. The concept made Angel grab his head and cry out in fear, screaming as he could hear the monster laughing in his mind. Reaching a clawed hand forward, the creature leaned toward Angel, neck stretching, head turning at broken angles. Lumbering over him, the creature twisted its head, bringing the tip of its bleached skull inches away from Angels and stared deeply into his eyes. Angel took a deep shuddering breath and turned to look up at what he knew was watching from the forest all along. Angel stared into the bright white skull of the haunted creature, eyes burning red radio dials, mouth dripping with dead blood and chuckling out loud and in his thoughts. He knew it was him, Angel’s body wracked with a sob, it had been him the whole time. His body trembled in fear, too scared to be angry as the Wendigo hovered above him, titanic and horrifying, crawling with maggots and death.

a̷̢̗͓͗̉̓r̴̳̩̀͋ę̴̬̟̝͛̃̄̃̅̇̎͘ ̴̛̛̙͖̆̋y̸̦̹̖̝̖̣͛̀̾̉o̴̗̠̖̲̽̄͂̊̅͗̌ͅͅư̸͖̳͍̞͇̲̗̇̏́͂̑̑ ̴̢̞̟͕̦͚͐̏̀̂̄͝ͅs̶͚͕͒͂̃͒̚ć̸͖̺̙͌ḁ̶̢̼́̈͐̓̅̚r̶̡̢̳̣̫̪̈́̀͆͒̽̓ę̴̽̽͌̆d̴̡͕̮̺̠̋̈́̀͘͝?̵̨͙͚͔̼͇̟̥̽̃̈́̐̚

A dark rolling laughter rang out from a radio suddenly appearing on the mantle at the same time as it rang out in his mind. The creature in front of him let out a screaming bellow, a shaking rancid cry of sorrow deep from its core ringing out in the small cabin, the beast cackling in his mind as it sharpened its claws against the grinding stone. The screeching, now obvious cries of the claws against stone, reverberated through his entire being, his eyes wide, tears stinging his cheeks as they streamed down his face, jazz joyfully wailing in the air. Angel’s mind was beginning to break, the pounding of his heart keeping time with the horrid jazz. He needed to find Molly, they needed to go before it was too late.

“MOLLY!!” He screamed, the Wendigo shifted and screamed too, mocking Angel and laughing louder in his mind. He cried out for her again, stepping back from the kitchen table, wrapping his arms around his body, bracing his head with his other hands, clamping his red eyes shut tight. The creature screamed in delight, his gravely laughter ringing inside of Angel’s head while the radio cackled violently through its static. Eyes desperate and tired, he searched the kitchen for anything that could help him find Molly. His head swam with all of the different sounds and exhaustion, his mind blank with shock and fear, but determined to find her.

He searched the kitchen, eyes finding a large jar nearby that hadn’t been there before. He wept as he saw it filled with hundreds of gold and silver rings. He stared brokenly at the jar, there were so many rings in it, it was almost full, wedding rings, so many people…. Shaking, he turned his head to the scene in front of him - where there had been nothing now there was a bloody cleaver and a human leg sitting on the table. Mind reeling with the discovery, the screams of the creature faded into the blaring of the jazz and static from the radio as he stared at the new setting before him, ears ringing loudly in his head, the audio of the room shaking his body. The leg had been cut into two pieces at the knee, a tattoo of a naked woman and a rose high on the thigh. There were scraps of carrot peel and onion ends, a few leafy stems, but Angel’s eyes drifted to a large blood spot in the middle of the cutting board. Angel gulped heavily and stared down at the cut of what he recognized as the leg calf. His eyes followed the limb and noticed the foot had been cut off at the ankle, and was no where to be seen Angel realized with a pitiful whimper.

“The foot is a wonderful ingredient for adding bold flavor without wasting prime cuts,” Alastor’s static voice cut through the terror and filled him with a new fear.

“Tons of cartilage and fat for flavor,” a slow thumping came from in front of Angel, not as earth shaking as before, but it still filled him with the same dread. The sharp thumping of footsteps came closer, but he was too shaken to look up.

“Some muscle, some marrow…” His cheerful tone drawled across the room and wrapped softly around the lively jazz. Angel’s eyes were locked on the blood stained cutting board, he shook in terror and rage, clenching his fists so tightly his hands began to bleed. Alastor’s foot steps stopped right in front of the table, and Angel glared down through tears in his eyes at how his boots were immaculate, perfectly shined to reflect the green fire’s raging glow.

Alastor lunged forward with a black clawed hand and grabbed Angel by the throat, squeezing his fingertips into his neck and pulling Angel’s face to meet his snarl, “LIKE A HAM HOCK.” He growled excitedly through a grin, static distorting his voice, strained and unhinged.

Angel was livid among other things.

Shaking with rage and terror, the pale spider mustered his strength and looked into the demon’s face with pure rage but let out a shaking breath in dread when he actually saw it. Alastor’s features had been distorted and exaggerated, his shark teeth enlarged and razor sharp, dripping with fresh blood. Eyes bright red with burning green dials for pupils, his antlers loomed dangerously, black and jagged. Each bone ended in a sharp point, twisting and contorting around each other, sharp and dripping with acid green magic that burned. The demons crown was adorned with jewels - strings of limbs and cloth dolls, a macabre decoration that only served to make the Radio Demon more terrifying.

His face however scared him the most - Angel could see bits of hay and dried grass peeking out between stitches on his face and neck, straw coming out from under his hair, a thread by his grin hanging loose. He looked like a doll, sewn together with bright acid green magic, coming undone, burlap skin hiding wriggling worms and beetles that squirmed beneath the surface. He could see the demons neck and limbs were longer and more twisted than normal, bent at impossible angles, Alastor’s body looming larger than usual.

Panicking in his grasp, Angel’s eyes scrambled to see that he was much larger than usual, now taking up the same space as the creature before, Alastor’s legs twisted in a looming crouch, hands turning into large bleeding black claws. The titanic Radio Demon rest his free hand on the table that had separated them, cracking and breaking the wood beneath his weight. His suit was sharper and more ripped, bloody and gushing a black ooze from his pockets and collar that made the air smell rancid with stale blood and rotted meat. Angel could see bugs crawling from underneath his suit, running between his lapels and into his breast pocket, an unflinching smile plastered sharply on his burlap face.

Alastor leaned in too close to Angel, the green glow of his eyes lighting the spiders features dramatically “So what did you think of my gumbo?” He grinned, manic laughter ringing from the radio and inside Angel's head. Alastor was holding the spider entirely in his razor sharp grasp, fingers like a cage of swords holding Angel back, cutting painfully into his flesh whenever the cackling demon tightened his grip “Delicious, don’t you think? I’ll give you the secret if you promise not to tell.”

Angel screwed his eyes shut and clenched his fists harder, “WHERE THE FUCK IS MOLLY??” Angel screamed, eyes set with determination, “GIVE HER BACK!”

Alastor fell into a tumbling cackle of deep, gut wrenching laughs at the spiders boldness. With a final squeeze, Alastor tossed Angel to the corner of the room, his body slamming into the kitchen shelves against the wall, before falling limply to the floor. Angel cried out in pain when he landed, a fallen knife slicing cleanly into his side. He winced and grabbed the handle, pulling the blade from his gut as he whimpered, weakly checking to see the extent of the damage as the room spun with magic. Alastors laugh rang throughout the cabin, the angry jazz and echoes of the creatures screams in the air suffocating him. Stitched together in a grotesque smile, long since dead blood now dripping from the cracks of his fangs, Alastor’s burning red eyes with piercing green glowing dials twisted with delight, “My dear, whatever do you mean?” The demon taunted, mirror sharp knives for fingers grasping for him, ripping cleanly through any flesh it encountered, a renewed roll of manic laughter flooding from the radio.

Angel winced as the claws sliced cleanly through him, clutching his side, Angel screwed his eyes shut and screamed as loud as he could, “GIVE HER BACK ALASTOR!” The demon turned its hideous head at a sickening angle with a large bone snapping crunch, “Who?” The demon jeered, eyes smiling, truly enjoying their game.

“Ohhhhhh,” Alastor taunted as he cocked his head in the opposite direction, another nauseating deep crack of bone, “Her?”

As he spoke, his eyes glowed brighter and the room immediately began to burn with his putrid green magic. Instantly, the ground between them fell away into a deep, fiery pit, a white hot inferno licking the edges of the sinkhole, the eerie red of the room giving way to violent purple and blue. The newly formed chasm radiated with the sickly green glow, the flames of Alastors magic sending fireflies swarming out of the pit in the earth and pelting Angel with singeing burns as they attacked him. Symbols and spells of Alastors magic in bright green and fiery white spewed from the fires, spinning around the room and popping at random, sending painful bursts of flies at Angel like little bombs. Inky black tendrils of shadow covered the walls, shaped like hoards of raging demons, all laughing and cheering, claws begging for bloodshed and violence - the shadow behind Alastor the biggest and most blood thirsty of all, jagged mouth dripping in anticipation.

“ANTHONY!!” Mollys screams rang through the cabin, Angel snapped up to see her clutching tightly to a threadbare rope, hanging from one of the colossal Radio Demon’s deadly antlers. Angels eyes widened somehow further in terror as he watched Molly twisting helplessly, fighting to grab a more secure hold on the rope, dangling like the other dolls that littered his branches of antlers. Her own eyes were screwed shut in fear, crying and begging for rescue. Angel sobbed as she screamed and whimpered, clawing for purchase while Alastor laughed, swinging her wildly around the room as he laughed, dangling her over the dancing fires of the abyss. The large demon cackled violently as he swung her around, Alastor now a magenta and acid blue titan looming over Angel as he stared helplessly at his sister.

Alastors burning eyes watched Angel’s face in delight, the spider desperate and frantic, scrambling weakly to try and find something to help his sister with, but there was nothing left in the room save for the four of them - Alastor, the twins and the chasm. The great demon shifted an eye over to Molly hanging from his antler and lifted a brow smiling wider, a terrible giggle coming from the static. Alastor reached up and held his dripping claws up to Molly, poking sharply at her side with his index finger and earning a pained squeak from the girl. Angel raged at the offense as Molly sobbed, swinging precariously from his antler, “STOP IT ALASTOR!!” Pupils shifting back to Angel, The Radio Demon splayed his fingers around Molly as she squirmed and dangled helplessly, the demon somehow smiling wider and more murderous. He flexed his clawed hands again and placed a razor sharp finger delicately against Molly’s rope.

“Oops!” Alastor quirked his shoulder with surprised delight, flexing his index and slicing the rope Molly gripped in a single swift motion. Eyes wide in terror, Molly grasped for anything and screamed, eyed locked with Angel’s, her slender frame plummeting towards the fire.

Angel’s heart stopped.

“MOLLY!!” He screamed as she fell, the shriek ripping what was left of his voice apart, the green flames of the chasm reaching up to break her fall.

Fueled by adrenaline, Angel ran to the edge of the pit and reached out for her, all 6 of his arms stretched wide, watching her fall, straining to get closer to her. Molly’s screams rang out in his head, louder than the jazz or the monster or even the ringing in his ears. He watched as she fell, bracing himself to grab her, he wouldn’t let her die again.

“ANTHONY!!” She screamed as she plummeted, her hands out stretched towards him, eyes wide in terror as she fell, she was so close… Angel reached up and out further, the tip of his boot hanging over the edge of the pit, brushing his fingertips against hers, he could just barely touch her… she was too far away….

“Not again,” Angel muttered, and throwing himself over the edge of the chasm, he grabbed a hold of her wrist, fully wrapping his hand around her and holding her tight.

He grabbed for her other hand as she fell but missed, causing him to hold on to her wrist tighter, only death could make him let go. He grabbed again for her as they fell, finally managing to secure her other two hands in his. Angel’s free hands grabbing for anything to anchor the pair to the cliff, anything to save them from the burning hell of Alastors magic. As they fell into the burning pit, Angel desperately grasped for anything, fingers finally managing to catch onto a crag in the side of the chasm, the sudden jolt of their abrupt stop jostling the twins, the pair clinging tighter as they settled.

Using all of his remaining strength and the three arms that weren’t wrapped around his twin, he held them securely over the pit, the rocky cliff cutting into his fingers and hands. Angel panted in panic and looked deep into Mollys eyes, the green fire raging in his sight behind her, “Don’t look down Molls, jus focus on me okay?” He yelled over the screaming of the Wendigo, the soul wrenching screeches steeping them both with dread.

“Anthony,” Molly whimpered pitifully, her eyes flooded with tears. The young spider sobbed in fear, wrapping tightly around her brother she trembled, knees clenched around his leg. Angel was quickly loosing his hold on the side of the cliff, the rocks so sharp that they threatened to slice his hands in two, but he wouldn’t let Molly down, not again.

“Hold on tight to me Molly! Don’ let go!” He yelled, voice raspy and hoarse, fear emphasizing his words. Looking up they weren’t too far from the opening, but with his strength already failing, he feared they wouldn’t make it. Mustering everything in him, Angel turned fully to the rocky side of the pit and slowly began to pull them up to the edge. Hand over hand he pulled them up, straining as he climbed, hands bloody and raw, cuts filling with gravel. Sweat dripping from his pallid face, he could hear Molly cry out in pain as the fire crackled higher against her hip. The rancid violin screams rang out hollow and louder above them, the cackling radio and angry trumpet filling the air, laughing in pure joy at their torment.

Anger surged through Angel, fuck his pain, he wouldn’t listen to her screams anymore, he needed her safe. Pulling harder, Angel climbed up the cliff and finally reached a bloody hand up and over the edge of the pit, grabbing firmly to the broken floorboards that signaled their salvation. Pulling with all of his strength, Angel threw an elbow over the lip of the abyss and pulling himself up, reached to find another anchor point with his other damaged hands. His fingers splayed for a hole in the floor, anything to help him pull the two of them up when the board supporting him snapped. Angel gasped, panicked eyes wide he scrambled to find anything else to hold onto as Molly and the Wendigo screamed, the pair slipping back down into the fire. The Radio Demons cries of laughter rang out renewed, louder than before, splinters littering Angels broken hands as they begged for purchase.

“FUCK!” Angel screamed, a bloody hand finally grabbing ahold of a wide crack in the wood inches from the edge, stabbing a broken splinter deep into his fingertip as he held tight. He trembled and panted weakly, pulling them up again, begging his adrenaline rush to get them to safety. With both elbows above the ridge again, he braced against the floor and clenched his torso, pulling himself back over the edge of the hole. He swung a leg over the lip and onto the splintered wood, scrambling to pull the rest of his body up while keeping a firm hold of Molly. Dangling over the acid green flames, she curled into herself away from the fire, sobbing weakly in fear as Angel pulled her up, her small hands reaching up to grab the edge of the chasm.

Straining against his own fatigue, Angel dug his heels into the cracks in the floorboards, pulling Molly over the side of the pit, her eyes bursting with tears. “Come on Molly, its okay,” Angel reached out a hand smiling, the screaming of the Wendigo refreshed in the air, “Jus’ look at me, jus’ focus on me.” Molly stared deeply into his eyes as Alastors howls of manic laughter rang loud through the room, vibrating the air in their lungs and sending the fire of the chasm high into the air. Molly screamed out in pain as the green flames raced up her body, her arms and upper torso the only parts of her above the fires grasp.

“MOLLY!!” Angel cried, straining hard against her wrists, begging to bring her to safety. Somehow through the distorted bellows of the creature and the mocking jazz in the air, Angel heard the sound of fabric sheering and ripping as he pulled. He stared into his sisters face as it contorted from fear into absolute confusion and panic, her screams shrill and pained. His own brow furrowed in confusion as he pulled her towards him, much lighter after the sound of the ripping had cut through the air. The colossus Alastor loomed large over head, mouth and eyes wide in twisted delight, fangs dripping rancid black blood, his disfigured arms caging them in. Abnormally large eyes wide, acid green dials lit the pair from the demons insane gaze, his cackling unhinged through the radio waves and Angels mind as a ring of shadow demons cackled and jeered in delight.

Molly’s screams rang out in the tiny cabin and shook Angel to his core, ripping him back into reality from the daze he had been in since hearing the sound.

He scrambled towards her, pulling her to him as she screamed out in agony, his confusion and fear causing bile to pool at the back of his throat, blood running cold as he forced himself to her side. “MOLLY WHAT IS IT? TELL ME Wha-“ He stopped when he noticed the reason for her cries, she had no legs. She screamed out again, “ANTHONY!! OH GOD MAKE IT STOP!” “She thrashed and shrieked, her brothers eyes locked on where her legs would be as he held her.

“IT BURNS!! OH GOD ANTHONY PLEASE!!” Angels mind went blank, fireflies singeing his face and arms, eyes locked on the hem of her shirt and the void beneath it “IT BURNS!!” Molly screamed.

Angel pulled her into his arms, hands shaking he secured her in his lap as she sobbed in agony. “Molly let me see…” Angel managed to say, words detached and hollow, a trembling hand reaching towards the edge of her shirt near her waist. He swallowed hard, the noise of the cabin all blending together and failing against the ringing in his ears, the pounding of his heart throbbing through his frame. “ANTHONY PLEASE!!” She sobbed again as he gingerly grabbed the singed hem of her shirt and pulling up slightly, exposed the burnt ends of hay and dried grass sticking out from under her shirt.

Angel stared at the sticks and reeds, unable to blink or breathe. His eyes mutely wandered to Molly’s beautiful face distorted in terror and agony, arms flailing in fear, begging and sobbing for the pain to stop. His eyes stung with tears, as her screams cut through the fog that had covered his mind and the cacophony of torment and horror came flooding in again, reigniting his dread. His body moved on its own, the need to comfort her the only way he could react. Weakly he reached up to brush Molly’s matted and dirty hair, voice trembling as he tried to sooth her. “Its…i-it’s gonna be ok-kay Molly… I’m…”

H̴̝̩̫͉̀̏̄̂ơ̸̢̼̞͗w̵̥̫̦̆͘ ̴̝̣̉w̷̝̱̃i̸̬̙̰̓̉̋͛l̴͇̈́l̶͚̯̦̈́̾̅͗͠ ̵̼̀̽̄̐y̶̼̏͛̚͠o̵̪̙̣̣̫̍͗ṵ̶̥̭̪̋́͜ ̵̿̃͝ͅf̶̛̪͖̣̀̕ĭ̸̪̰̀̋x̴͈̏͂̀ ̸͔͔̬̞̀̾t̸̘̍h̷̳̜̩̳̾́i̸͇̣̒̓s̶̻̭̪̐̊

“I’m gonna make it okay…”

Ḫ̶̛̛̘͕̘̞͉͚̀̍̅͛͑̿́̑̇̋̉Ơ̷͇̖̮̲̲̣̣͙͙̱̞̙̅W̴̜̻̜͗͗̋̅̒̕͝ ̵̧̤̰̜̩̫̱̯͚̹̼͓̍͌͛̕͜ͅẄ̸̨̛͔̟̘̮͉̮͓̻́́̾́̀͆́͛̏̋̽̈́̽̏̎͜I̶̢̛͉̊̿̂̽ͅḶ̷̛̜̠͔̞̦̠̫͓͛̀̂̃͛̌͆̒́̎̕L̸̨̦̱̠̜͎͇̭̦̗̭͈͔̭͈̈́͋͘ ̴̛̛̼͇̄̿͗͑͗́̚͝Y̶̻͆͛̓̒̈́͗̽͒̔͆͋̓̕͘̚͠͝O̴̺͖̼͖̣̙̤̲̱̍͌͐U̷̝̯̬̓̔̓̔͘ ̴͓̺̣̲̹͆F̴̧̫̠͔̜͙̖͍͍̼̞̭̓̉͌̋͂̏̎̈́̈́̕͠͠͝I̴̧̢͕̹͎̺̲͙̰̤̭̱̿͋͑͗̄͐͒͒̋̅̊̚͝X̵̺̣̣͔͔͙̹͊͘ ̸̬̳̰̝̭̦̹͕̣̺̅̎̂̅͂́͜͝ͅṪ̸̡̤͓͚́̓̄̉͗̚̚͝Ḩ̴̹̮̤̝̭͉̹͎̠̱͓̻͑̔͛̑͋͑̉̇̄̉͝Į̶̧͍̜̰̮̦̙̠̺̰̻̪̦̳̯͂̀̈́͋͝͝ͅS̴̛͎̠͎̐́̆̿̓͆̀͛̀̉̈̕͝͝?

“I CAN FEEL IT BURNING MY SOUL!! ITS BURNING MY SOUL!! ANTHONY PLEASE HELP ME!!” Angel whimpered and muttered hollow reassurances rocking them back and forth, eyes still staring at the hay coming out of her ribs, too scared to admit the truth to himself, afraid to look deeply at his sisters features.

“MAKE IT STOP!! PLEASE HELP ME!! IT’S BURNING MY SOUL ANTHONY, PLEASE!!” Her hands pulled at his sweater, begging him to end her suffering. Angel let out a choked sob, deep anguish contorting his face, he held her close and threw his head back letting out a rage fueled cry of agony. He screamed until he had no breath left in him and slumped sobbing against Molly’s now smaller frame, her shrieks of pain muffled as he buried his face into her neck. He grabbed her close and screamed again with her. The Wendigos voice called out in Angels mind.

w̵͙̰͇͎̄́̄́͌h̸͇̜̻̤̀̿y̴̫̗͕͌̏̓̒͠ ̸̜͎̀͊͆̚͝w̶̧̟̦̓̓̊̾ͅǫ̶̡̘̙̇ň̶̨͚͝'̸̰̊̓ť̷̺͂̎̽ ̸̡͂̄́̌y̷̱͆̒͝ò̵̬̬͚̼̒͂͐͜ů̷̱ ̴̪͔̳͖̿͂̇̈́ͅļ̴̜͆ȏ̸̡̱̟̭ǒ̴̖̙̥͋͠k̵̼̗̱̰̓̈̄ ̶͈̳̦͍́̈́á̵͙̘͎̺̘t̴͉͝ ̶̘̯͙̼͛̿́̾͝h̵͕͔͙͕̄́ȅ̸̫͈̟̙̯ŗ̶͎̠̗̀̏̓?̶͙̺̘̳̀

“SHUT UP!!” Angel screamed, clenching his eyes tight, Molly shrieking for death in his ear.

Ļ̷̢̨̢͈̯̦͍̗͕̝͙͂̒͛̉̓̔̓̑̌̀̋̀̆̌̅̿̏̓̂͊͛͝Ö̷̢̻̭̟̳̖̹̱̟͆̽̾͋͐̀̊͗́͌͊͜͜Ȯ̴̢̧̤̺̰͕͓͙͛̊̀̓͑̈́͛͘ͅͅK̷͉̪͚̲̰̟̗̀͊͐̇͂́̂̏̄̎��̄́̚͝ ̵̧̦̬͎͔̰̙̓̽̓̊̃̓͒̓́͆̓̇͑̚̕͝͝Ä̸̢̡͓̳́͋̎́̌̈̈́̿̎͠T̷̨͚̯̜̫̀̒̎͑͊͊̑͊ ̶͉͎̫̣̱̬̈́͋͂̿̄̋̿̏͊̀̉̂̓̽͐̀̂̚͠H̸̛͇̎͂̾͐͐̓̈̄̆̀͋Ë̷̤̺͕̪͈͖̘͉̙̭̱́̔̃̐̇̎̾̔̽͊̕͜͠͝ͅͅȐ̵̨̛̞̩̲̣̻͙̻̳̬̖̪͍͛́̾͌͂͛̈̔

The voice commanded loudly in Angels mind and reverberated throughout his body startling him, causing him to open his eyes with a sob, tears running down his chapped and raw cheeks. He screwed his eyes closed again and biting his trembling lip, turned his face towards his screaming sister and opened his eyes slowly.

Teary red eyes looked down into her horror and pain filled face, acid green stitches lining her features and holding together the seems of her skin. Angel shook his head in defeat and sorrow as he noted the singed burlap of her cheek, her arms and neck seems bursting with reeds and dried grass. “No…” he whimpered, Molly screaming out in agony, “ITS BURNING MY SOUL ANTHONY!! PLEASE!! MAKE IT STOP BURNING!!” An arm seem ripped fully and her arm slumped to the ground, landing brokenly on the floorboards with a small thud. She writhed in pain, hay splaying on the nearby ground as Alastors manic laugher blared from the static of the radio.

w̸͔̩͍̹͇̣̻͑̎̐͂h̷̨͉͈̯̯̝̲̩̄̊͜y̴̢͔͈̥̪̤̜̑͆̄͊͆̃͒̚̕͜ ̸̬̹͚̟̓̂̚ͅẁ̵̺̭͎͎͖̱͆̈́ò̵͈͓̯̱̯͂̊̈͜n̶̲̖̗̩̪̘̜͌͒̈́̍͛́͊̆̈̚'̷̛̻̺̟͓̺̘̩̮́̒͂̓̓̊͑͜t̴̛̺̙̹̗̃̌̏̓̅̓ ̸͓̩̾y̵̧͓̺̲͕̺͍͚̲̅̊̂̋̅̿́̇̏o̸̰̞͙̐̋̓̊͂̕͠ȕ̷̺̯͔͈̦̯̑̃͊́͊͝ ̴͎̘͔̯̰̪͔̝̆͘h̵̢̼̭̺̪̜̤̋̿̐͜ę̶̡̞̪̟̟͍̣͕̘͗̀l̷̡̥̱̟̳̇̏͜p̸̲͎̘̰͎͖̥̳̱̽ ̸͈̪̜̘̭̲̭̻͑̾̌͌͐̂h̵̨̡͍̰̲͍̪͇̆̈̋͋ế̵̡͈̬̜͙̮̼͚̼̯̇̿͒̽͝͠ŗ̸̠̠̩̥͌̽͝?̴̛̳͍̯͈̤̞̲̒

Angel shook as she begged for death, shrieking cries begging for him to stop the fire from burning, that she could feel the fire burning her soul away. Angel sobbed and sobbed, clutching Molly’s body to his chest, her cries of pain muffled only when he buried his face in her hair and screamed himself. The jazz wailed along with Alastors roaring laughter, the static of the radio buzzing with the ringing of his ears. The Wendigos hollow pulling screeches served as a background to Molly’s own cries of anguish. The noise was too much, it was all too much. He clutched his screaming twin closer and sobbed harder.

“Anthony please….” She whimpered, a sharp gasp and cry of pain renewed as her body fell into further decay, the tear on her wrist ripping further, seems in her face popping, dried grass peeking through her hair and eyelashes, “Please Anthony kill me,” She sobbed, “I can feel it burnin me away from inside of me, Please… kill me please….” she begged, crying like when she was 6 and had broken her arm falling off of the countertop. She was so small then… She gasped loudly in pain and cried looking into his eyes. Angel looked down at his sister with tears spilling through his lashes, her stitched mouth contorted and twisted in pain “PLEASE ANTHONY!” she convulsed in pain and begged, truly, deeply, begged for him to kill her.

W̶̛̙͈̝̰̜͚̳̫̻̟͈̦̏̒̾͒͋̊͌͒̇̾̕H̸͕͙́͌͋͜Ỳ̷̧͈̜̬̩͕͈̙͉͇̊̊̄͌ͅ ̵̧̡̨̹̦͙̠͊̃̆̊̈́͐̓͛͗̋̕ͅW̸͉̟͖̗̦͔̉̄̊̾͑̊̍̃O̴̡̦̯̦̹̱̥̮̺̙͙͙͂͠N̴̯̫͔͚̻̑̽̈̓̆̀̈̋̊͜͠T̶̢͈̀̈́͛́̀̈́̚͠ ̴̛̤͈̦̠͎̬̭͓̂͗̃̓́̇̈́̈́͋͜Y̶̧̢̛͈̟̻̜͗̊͑̀̄̈͌̆̅̍́Ȏ̸͓̗̳̲̆̈̔̋̇͛͠ͅU̷̡̮̺͓̞̱̳̺̖̹̣͐͗̾̈́̑̀̐̇̅͒̄ͅͅ ̵̢̞͕̮̩̗̤͗Ḧ̴͍̳́̀̀̎̃̕͠È̶̫̲͎̉̽̚Ļ̸̢̛̼͇̟͉̭̯̟͎̱̭̹͛̈́́̌̇́̈̋̈͛̾̚P̴̧̱̱̤͓͇̲͑̍̇͑͠ ̷̲̗̳͚͔͖͎̯̗̲͎͓̣̍̽̈́́̌̃̈́̔͗̐Ḧ̴͔̗̋̂̅̇́̉̃͛̕͠Ë̶̗͔͍̪̜̙̘̲̫́̎̓͊̏͛̈̅R̸͖̜̪͚͇̰̮̥͒́͌̿̅̍͜?̶̢̭̘̺̲̗̗̾͑̒͜

“STOP IT!!” Angel screamed, Molly screaming anew. “STOP! Just… Stop it- I…” Angel’s body wracked with sorrow.

He pressed his forehead to hers, tears streaming down his face and squeezed his eyes shut. This couldn’t be happening. Not again. Not her, not again.

Angel let out a choking sob against Molly’s hair as he tucked her under his chin, not again. The beasts screaming echoed deep throughout Angel’s body, Molly’s cries of pain somehow louder. The ringing of his ears, the static laden laugher still screaming from the gramophone.

“What’s the matter Angel?” Alastors silky voice asked in his ear as the spider sobbed.

Angel rocked back and forth with his burlap and hay sister in his arms, her cries of agony cutting through the torment of the creature and the jazz. His tired and burning red eyes burst with tears, digging channels in his chapped and matted cheeks, pain coursing through his entire body. His ragged and pained gasps for air between sobs chipping further away at him, sanity long gone at this point, the horror of losing his beloved sister staring him in the face again, taunting him.

A̴̢̬̫̤̮̗̙͉̬̐̃͗͐ͅṘ̷̯͋̊̏̈́͑͆̎̋͝É̶̛̥̥̭̥̜̙͎̦̭͔͗̽̓ ̶̲̹̖̓͂͌̈́̌͋́͑̓͜Y̴͚̗̼̘̰̬̏́͌̿̔̄͌͘͘Ȍ̸̢̯̥̟̲̗̈̓͋̂̾Ụ̵̦̹̣̹̱͔̞́̀ ̷̼̄̉̉̍͌͐̈͘͝S̷͕̼̜̙̮̃̋̽̋̾̈͠͠Ç̵̪̙̜̞̫̠̯̊͆̎͜͠͝Ḁ̵̡̮̭̪̼̌͜͝Ṙ̵̨̝̘̻͖͇͔̆͊̆͊̽̓̋͜E̶͉͕͙̘̟͕̭͒͑̆͝ͅͅD̸̢̼̰̗̟͍̗̈́̑͗͜?̴̯͉̻̂̏͑̋̅̌̉͘͜

The question booms out in Angels head, sending shockwaves through his body and causing him to cling tighter to Molly, her shrieks of pain loud in his ear. Yes, he whimpered helplessly, he was terrified. He was so close to loosing her again he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything except cling to her.

W̵̧̥̹͎̖͌̎̌̍́̀́̌̆̽̈́̑̔̕̚Ĥ̶̢̧͙̮̻̯̭͎͕͇̣͓͉̱̋̒͊͜͠͝͝ͅÂ̶͖̣̰͓͖̔͑̔̀͐̆́̀̚͘̕͜͝͝T̴̛̛͈̮̮̲̪͎͓́̆͌͊̄̔͘̕͜ͅͅ ̸̲͐̂̈́́͂̍̇͝Ẃ̵̜̝̺͛͊͋͒̆̽͗̃͘͘̚͠Ȉ̷̩͕͙͕̦̪͙͚̟̫̻̙͖͍̋̊́͒̾̉͜L̵̢̟̩̾̿ͅL̶̨̨̝͈̤͙̺̯̗̳̪͖̑͒͗́̿̄̋̓̀̔̉̑͘͝ ̶͔̰̣͓̩̥̙͙̩̺̠́̓̿̽͊̋̃͛̀͐̎́͌͜Y̸̮͎͍̥̮̻͉͆̿͂̾̋̊͛͊̔̄̉́͘̚̚͘ͅO̸̡̖̱̗͎̬̙̼̗̒̈́͋̇͆̉̀̆̊̍͘̚͜Ư̶̩̦̺͖̲̽͗͌̏̔̀̀̿̃̀͂́̚̕͝ ̵̳̳̜́̈́̓͊̈́͂͂̇̃̈͗́̎͂̊͂D̵̘̤̼̙͓̼̼̑̅Ǫ̶̻͍̽̌͐̑̓͛̆̚͠?̴̘̹̳̻̰̝̗̻͖̉̐̑ͅͅ

To save Molly? Anything, he thought instantly. He would do anything to stop her pain and see her smile again, anything to hear her laugh and end her tormented cries. He would give anything, do anything to end this, to stop hearing her terror filled and anguished cries of pain. As it was, her screams would haunt him for the rest of his life, her screams were etched deeply forever in Angels mind. What remained of Molly’s body twitched and writhed in pain in his arms, “ANTHONY PLEASE!! ITS BURNING AWAY MY SOUL!! KILL ME PLEASE!!”

“Anything?” Alastor crooned, his cognac smooth tone a gentle kiss. The demon wrapped his standard solid frame around Angel, the back of his hand gently brushing against his cheek, the other wrapped around Angel’s shoulder under his arm, fingers toying lightly at the exposed skin of his shoulder through the rips of his sweater. Angel didn’t even react as the buck pressed his chest firmly to Angel’s back, too broken and traumatized, only able to focus on Molly’s screams, “ANTHONY PLEASE!! OH GOD ITS BURNING!!”

Angel gasped and turned his head into his own chest, jaw and eyes clenched in a body wracking sob. “MAKE IT STOP!” He yelled out, Molly and the Wendigo screaming, the jazz violent and wild in the swirling green magic that surrounded them, popping and burning against the fabric and flesh. Alastor leans in closer, nuzzling the spiders cheek, pressing his lips to Angel’s bloody temple, “Say it,” The Radio Demon lowered his eyes and caressed the spiders wet cheek, his free hand slowly wandering up Angel’s chest towards his throat.

Angel’s body was numb with pain and grief. His mind was blank, he could barely breathe. The screams, the ringing of his ears and Molly’s shrieking cries of pain echoed in his bones, her body twitching and screaming to die, the hollow call of the creature and the laughter of the shadows of demons blaring through the static of the radio. Angel stared defeated and broken into the eyes of his sister, her red eyes bursting with new tears with each wail of agony.

“I’ll do anything….” He rasped out, broken and hollow, “Just help her…. Make her stop hurting…” He curled into himself, eyes clenched, tears streaming through the cracks, his body rocking slowly as he sobbed, Molly screaming in his broken arms. “Make her stop…” he gasped weakly “M-make her stop….Make her stop…. ” He rocked back and forth sobbing, Alastor rest his cheek against Angels temple, a lecherous smirk plastered wide on his face, clawed fingers gently brushing through his hair, his free hand delicately clasped around his throat as the screams of the Wendigo suffocated the air.

In an instant Angels eyes snapped open, locked on the demon standing feet before him in the doorway. Alastor was standing still before him, staff in hand, arms folded behind his back, a syrupy wicked smirk on his face. Angel exhaled and looked down. He’s shirtless, no cuts on his hands, no bruises or scrapes or Molly in his arms. He’s fine, standing a few steps into a medium sized bedroom, a small fire crackling warmly to his right, a bed covered in purple velvet linens to his left.

Angel stared at the demon, panting, eyes wide in confusion, what the fuck…. What was happening…. It had all been so real, her screams still ringing in his ears… Other than some other random pieces of furniture, and some paintings, there was nothing out of the ordinary about where he was now, it was just a bedroom at the hotel not so different from Angel’s own further up the hall. Angels eyes darted around the room as he panted in confusion, this didn’t make any sense, what…. What the fuck had just happened…. His mind raced with fear and chaos, it felt so real, he looked down at his hands, they had just been soaked in her blood, he had just been holding her, sobbing as Molly begged for him to kill her… and now, they were clean, no cuts, no scrapes, no stabbing pain when he took a breath or ringing in his ears or screaming in the air….

Alastor tilted Angels head up ever so slightly with the tip of his claw, staring at him with the softest eyes. Angel jumped and gasped weakly in fear, he had been so lost in thought he hadn’t noticed Alastor approach him at all, “Darling,” The Radio Demon cooed, his smouldering gaze meeting Angel’s terror filled eyes, a crystal tear already tumbling down his cheek, “Are you sure you’re alright?” Alastor leaned in closer, brows twisted in concern, fingers gently tracing the line of the spiders jaw “you look a bit pale.” He tilted his face in closer, lips grazing Angels.

Angels eyes snapped wider in terror and he quickly retracted, turning quickly on his heel and pushing past Alastor, he launched himself off of the doorframe and down the hall, sprinting for the safety of his own bedroom. He had no idea what the fuck had just happened, but he never wanted it to happen again.

Alastors gleeful cackle rang after him down the hall, the demon tumbling over himself in hysterical laughter as Angel ran quickly away, fear etching a vow to never even look at the radio demon again. Alastor laughed in devilish delight as he considered what favor he would ask of Angel for ending his sisters pain. “He did say anything,” The Radio Demon mused, another wave of chilling laughter darkening the halls of the Hazbin Hotel.

#hazbin hotel #alastor x angel dust #alastor #angel dust #hazbin fanfic #hazbin angel dust #hazbin alastor #my boy is racking up favors

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chronicillnessfromateensmind · 3 months ago

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February Baby

A baby born in February whose cries warmed the frigid air of all those around her, a mother's warm embrace, a father’s catchy laughter, an older brother’s playful spirit, all of these things are what welcomed me into the world.

I don’t think anyone’s family is perfect, but mine is close.

New years spent covered in glitter and beads, waking up on Valentine's Day to treats and charms, competitive easter egg hunting, summers in the Outerbanks, fireworks and family, back-to-school shopping sprees, costumes and hayrides, stuffing and laughter, and Christmas mornings all felt ever so magical. These are the memories that defined my childhood. It was a picturesque painting my parents so carefully crafted for my siblings and me. There aren’t enough words to describe how grateful and lucky I was to be born into such an amazing family. A family that no matter what my unhinged imagination conjured up, always supported me.

I was a curious child, bouncing back and forth fixations like a racket ball. From basketball, to gymnastics, to swimming, to horseback riding, to girl scouts, to cheerleading, to school clubs; if I was curious about something I would go for it, and I had my entire family behind me in every decision.

Some may say precocious, others may say, overachiever, I’ll just go with clever, but from a young age, it was evident that I wanted to be the best at anything I did. Walking at nine months old, reading and writing by three, getting top grades in kindergarten, and being way too hard on myself from second grade. There wasn’t a harsher critic of my work than myself. I’m not sure why I was born such a perfectionist, my parents are genuinely happy with any thing I do, but I’ve always been this way.

Looking back I’ve always been a sickly child, although back then it didn’t seem like much, but now it’s ever so clear something was going on. Like whenever I would get a cold, I would always be sicker than all of my friends, also it would last longer and take me more time to get rid of it. Often a simple virus would lead to secondary infections which prolonged the recovery time even further.

A frightful and slightly traumatizing incident occurred after an ordinary routine dental cleaning. The specifics aren’t clear, but the doctors assumed that bacteria got into my bloodstream and landed in my femur bone, slowly eating away at it. The technical term is osteomyelitis, and spent a week in the hospital fighting the infection. The doctors informed my parents that if we had waited a further 24 hours, I would’ve had to have my leg amputated. I was in the fourth grade, 9, and petrified.

I can’t help but draw parallels in my mind as memories from that time flash in front of my eyes, a girl so innocent and so full of love, screaming at the top of her lungs clutching her leg in pure agony as she pleads to her parent’s for some relief. Little did that innocent girl, who was so full of love know that in just four years she would be in the same position; only this time with no explanation as to why she was in such agonizing pain.

When I was 13 the entire world was in disarray. It was 2020, the pandemic had just reached the states, and everyone was paranoid and terrified of the havoc this virus left in its wake. Depictions of toilet paper battles, milk shortages, mask mandates, and uncertain news reports come to mind. Portrayals of political anxiety and never-ending riots were prevalent, and misinformation and inconsistent media plagued our screens.

Being 13 years old and watching the world you once knew fall apart so quickly on the scale that it did was something to this day I don’t think I’ve fully processed. I don’t know if I ever fully will.

Days seemed to stand still, the future didn’t seem bright, and quite frankly there didn’t seem to be any light in the outside world. With the melancholy state of the outside world, my family did their best to create a fun atmosphere inside our home. It’s been instilled in me from a young age that laughter is the best medicine, and in a time so dark and dim as 2020, all you could do was try your best to find humor in the smaller moments. So that’s what we did.

Movie marathons and board games, trashy reality TV and ice cream, laughter and love. It didn’t matter if the rest of the world was bitter, brutal, and broken because our home radiated with warmth, with whispers of laughter encapsulating us, and it didn’t matter because we were together, we were whole. As long as we were together we could weather any storm. Little did we know, the biggest storm we ever would have to face was just hovering over the horizon.

#chronic fatigue #chronic illness #chronic pain #chronically ill #heds #pots syndrome #potsie #amps #crps #mcas #creative writing #writing #writers on tumblr #fnd awareness #fnd

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glittertomb · 1 year ago

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Very personal but important question(s?) regarding chronic health issues and disability

So I’ve had fibromyalgia and Gastroparesis for about a decade now, and I try my best to self-manage these issues (in addition to the expensive meds they give me that don’t really provide relief), but it becomes severely difficult for me to work a full schedule, particularly when my job drains me physically, mentally, and emotionally. I spend my days off in complete recovery mode, absolutely bed-ridden, afraid to do anything social or physical, because I risk going into a total Fibro meltdown. Which is a nightmare, but I’ll spare you the details.

I’ve been considering applying for partial disability because I think working 3 or 4 days instead of 5 or 6 would be much better for most humans, honestly, but particular for someone like me who deals with chronic nausea, discomfort, and pain on the daily. I’ve been putting it off for ages though because I know that disability can be very difficult to get and a horrible process and I can’t work myself up to it or afford a disability lawyer to help me. I tried being a little more aggressive this past summer and collected “documentation” on my fibromyalgia in the hope of preparing to submit it, and literally all of my documentation says “fibromyalgia?” because apparently none of my doctors believe me after years of testing and thousands of dollars of office visits trying to get this diagnosis. To be honest, using fibromyalgia as my reasoning for disability needs was a dead end anyway because lots of doctors still don’t believe it exists, so I doubt the government would find that a good reason either. And I really doubt they would take the Gastroparesis seriously either, even though both of these conditions are dehabilitating at times.

So one of my friends recommended I go through the avenue of my mental health issues. At different points of my life I’ve been diagnosed with depression, anxiety, bipolar, ocd, adhd, etc, and who knows what the real answer is, but she’s a mess. I’ve been realizing over the past couple years that I’m very likely autistic, and that would actually explain a lot of these things, but the past 6 months have been crazy, and even though I’ve been working a bunch, I’m poorer than ever because of the rising cost of everything, so I cannot afford to get a formal diagnosis yet. But I know that I told my most recent psychiatrist all these horror stories about my anxiety, so I decided to get done documentation for her too, and guess what? Generalized depression and mild anxiety. Girl, huh? (Tw: blood and dermatillomania coming up) I showed her evidence of scars on my hands from picking my hands every night til I bleed everywhere, I described how I get overwhelmed and cry at work several times a week and often fight back panic attacks at work and in my private life, I told her than I struggled to fall asleep and stay asleep and only got collectively about a few hours every night, I told her that I literally could not socialize without using alcohol as a crutch but I can no longer do that because of my digestive issues so I self-isolate, I told her that I struggle to maintain eye contact and panic when people give me eye contact… so many stories like these. Mild anxiety smdh

So that comes to my first question cause I guess I decided while writing this that I have a couple:

1) How do you, as a female-presenting person, get a diagnosis for severe anxiety? How wild do my stories have to be without accidentally committing myself?! I have an ex, amab, who basically pulled a john Mulaney and was like, “I get nervous on planes sometimes” and he legit got a prescription for Xanax or one of those other big ones, and another who is on a dose of gabapentin 5x the strength of mine because he gets social anxiety sometimes, so this is especially frustrating that I can’t even get a dang proper diagnosis on anything after ten+ years of therapy, doctors, tests, everything.

2) What is the process like for getting an autism diagnosis and are there cheaper routes you can go that would still be credible? I’ve exhausted my expenses from years of jobs not paying my worth combined with money poured down the drain trying to get any sort of help with my kaleidoscope of issues, and at this point I’m too broke and demotivated and burnt out to figure out a way forward.

3. Has anyone been able to get partial or full disability who would be willing to hold my hand through the steps and keep me motivated? I know it’s a huge ask but I honestly get so anxious even thinking about the process that I completely shut down. At the very least, maybe you could explain what worked for you or how you would approach it better next time? I just moved far away from my support group so I’m feeling alone and even a word of caution or encouragement would help.

I know I’m not really as connected to this community as I used to be, but I’m hoping someone will get to the end of this and even a kind word or a smidge of sympathy/empathy would be nice. And please do reach out if you have fibro because I don’t meet many and it would be nice to have friends who can relate. Thank you for listening! 💜💜💜

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jungle-angel · 2 years ago

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This Land (Coyote x Reader)

Summary: (Ancient Fantasy AU) You and Coyote fought for what was rightfully yours and now, you take your rightful place beside your king

Notes: I’ve been on this really weird kick lately where I’ve been reading everything I possibly can about the ruins of Great Zimbabwe and it got me thinking of an Ancient AU with Coyote that may or may not have been inspired by The Lion King as well (seriously, if you listen to King of Pride Rock by Hans Zimmer, it’ll match up perfectly, lol)

Tagging: @creativitybeware My friend, I know how much Coyote means to you and how much you loved the one I did for Payback so I figured I’d make this little fic as a little gift for Christmas

The battle had ended as abruptly as it had begun, the rains falling from the sky, drenching the fires that had burned around the walls of The Great City and the hills nearby.

A small roll of thunder and the crackle of fires being smothered were all around, the land smelling of rain and burned debris. Your fellow warriors roamed through what seemed like a wasteland, the enemies having retreated, running like the cowards they had truly been. Out of the smoke and mists you could see your familiars, the lions, the elephants, meerkats and all the animals and creatures of the savannah returning to you and the ones who had fought by your side.

You turned to see Coyote, your chief, husband and the man who had chosen you all those years ago when your father had presented you to his family, descending the stairs of the city walls where he had fought his traitorous uncle. His eyes met yours and for a moment, you could see nothing but burning victory in them.

You dropped your spear and sword, running straight to him as he caught you, only to be met by a bruising kiss from him. You were overwhelmed with relief that he was alive after that fight, the two of you leaning against each other with your foreheads touching as you reveled in each other’s attention.

Coyote looked up at the walls of the great city and through the rain he could see the huge lion and the lioness who had both followed you into battle, looking down as if to beckon you both up to the walls.

“It’s time,” you whispered.

He took you by the hand, the two of you ascending the stairs, taking careful pains not to slip on the stone and all those eyes watching with awe as though you and Coyote were ascending a mountain. You reached the top and couldn’t believe how many were before you.....you and your king.

The male lion let out the loudest roar you and Coyote had ever heard, the two of you holding hands as you raised them to the air. The roaring of the lions and lionesses, the cries of your fellow warrior men and women filled the air around you, a flash of heat rising to your face and flaring through you as the sensation of victory took over.

**********************

With the rains came renewal, the land growing green again out of the blackness of the ash that had been left from the fires. Flowers had bloomed, the fields bursting with the harvest and the city filled with people and animals that had come to call this place home.

The wild pounding of drums filled the air along with joyous singing from the people who lived within. “You ready?” Coyote asked with a cocky grin.

“I’ve been ready forever,” you replied happily.

Coyote took your hand and led you out to the balcony of the palace, the two of you dressed in gold and white as the people cheered your names, the animals stamping, roaring and calling to you in their own ways that no other humans but you could understand. The sun shined high above the city, not a single cloud to be found in the sky on that hot summer day and the heavenly smells of the earth filling every corner of The Great City.

And after all that you and Coyote had been through, you both had at last, found your place in the circle of life.

#top gun maverick #javy coyote machado #coyote x reader #top gun ancient fantasy au #top gun lion king au

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asian420 · 1 year ago

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17 Years Savoring Chocolate Thai Afghani

Discovering the Wonders of Chocolate Thai Afghani

I remember the first time I encountered Chocolate Thai Afghani. It was a warm summer evening, and the sun was setting, casting an amber hue over the rusted metal rooftops. I had heard about Thai Stick as a boy, so on my first visit to Thailand, I asked a Tuck Tuck driver to help me find some. There was 500 baht in it for him if we succeeded. And succeed we did. As someone who's had the privilege to explore various strains over the years, this one caught my attention instantly. From its unique aroma to its profound effects, this flower has been a special part of my life ever since. In this article, I'm excited to share my personal experiences, insights, and, most importantly, how you can make the most of this exquisite strain. Discovering the Wonders of Chocolate Thai AfghaniThe Origins of Chocolate Thai Afghani My First Experience with Chocolate Thai Afghani The Perfect Setting Pairing with Food and DrinksGrowing Tips for Cultivators The Medical Benefits I've Observed A Community of Enthusiasts Chocolate Thai Afghani: More than Just a Strain

The Origins of Chocolate Thai Afghani

While researching Thai Afghani, I learned all about its rich heritage. And it's legendary status in the 1960s. Originating from Thailand, this strain has traveled far and wide, gaining popularity and love from enthusiasts all over the world. People like you and me. As its name suggests, it has a sweet, chocolatey aroma, complemented by hints of earthiness. This unique blend of scents is what sets it apart. Over the years, I've come to learn that understanding the origins of a strain gives it a depth that goes beyond its effects. Curious about its history? Here's an authoritative article from Leafly that delves deeper.

My First Experience with Chocolate Thai Afghani

I'll never forget that day. The weathered, heavy-set driver handed me a joint, and as soon as I took a whiff, I was transported. The rich, chocolatey aroma intertwined with a hint of spiciness. It made me forget about the exhaust smell of the Tuck Tuck. After a few puffs, I felt a gentle cerebral buzz, which soon transformed into a relaxing body sensation. It was the kind of high that makes you feel one with the world, appreciating every little detail around you. The Perfect Setting Over the years, I've found that the setting plays a crucial role in the overall experience. For Thai Stick, I recommend a quiet evening with some soft music playing in the background. The strain's relaxing properties combined with the right ambiance can be truly magical. Imagine sitting by a fire pit, wrapped in a cozy blanket, and letting the world melt away. Sounds dreamy, doesn't it?

Pairing with Food and Drinks

Just like a good wine, the right food and drink pairing can elevate your experience. In my experiments, I've found that dark chocolate or any dessert with caramel notes pairs exceptionally well with this strain. As for drinks, consider a warm cup of chai or a glass of red wine. The complementary flavors enhance the earthy and sweet notes of the flower.

Growing Tips for Cultivators

If you're someone who likes to grow your strains, Thai Afghani can be a rewarding experience. In my garden, I've found that this strain thrives in warmer climates. Regular pruning and ensuring the right amount of sunlight can work wonders. And trust me, there's nothing like the satisfaction of nurturing a plant from seed to harvest.

The Medical Benefits I've Observed

Over the years, many of my friends have found solace in this strain for various ailments. From easing anxiety to providing relief from chronic pain, this strain has therapeutic potential. Always consult with a medical professional, but if you're exploring natural remedies, this strain might be worth considering. Project CBD offers a wealth of information on the therapeutic benefits of different strains.

A Community of Enthusiasts

One of the best parts of my journey has been connecting with fellow enthusiasts. From sharing growing tips to discussing our favorite strains, the community around Thai Afghani is welcoming and passionate. Consider joining a forum or attending local events to immerse yourself in this world.

Chocolate Thai Afghani: More than Just a Strain

To me, Chocolate Thai Afghani is more than just a strain. It's a collection of memories, experiences, and connections. As you embark on your journey with this strain, I hope you find as much joy, introspection, and peace as I have. Discover more: - Kush: Discover the world's hottest strain - Blue Dream Bud: A surprisingly creative experience Read the full article

#chocolatethaiafghani #thaiganja

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ophelia-jones · 2 years ago

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It was late, and Willow should have gone back to the ranch hours ago, but she was restless. Mind, body, and heart were restless. When she'd heard that Daryl had left the ranch in the wee small hours of the morning, she'd known damned well he was going to try and help his brother. She couldn't blame him, she certainly couldn't bear the thought of watching someone she loved hanging from the gallows. Or worse, a tree at the hands of a bloodthirsty mob. No, she would have never expected Daryl to be capable of sitting idly by while they killed Merle. She had thought that he would at least say goodbye, though.

She'd done her best to keep him out of her head all day, pitching in on duties she normally would have asked less experienced hands to do. Dirty jobs, jobs too big for one person - she wanted to keep her mind occupied and exhaust her body so that she might sleep tonight from exhaustion. She knew she was more likely to toss and turn, or worse cry herself to sleep. She hated tears, they were useless and embarrassing.

She wasn't far from home, just barely out into the open range of government land where all the ranchers grazed their cattle. She'd ridden out to check on Carol's cattle, she'd told herself and the others that at least. The truth was she had to keep moving, and she had the strange mixed feelings of not wanting to be around anyone and not wanting to be alone at the same time.

So she mounted Dixie and headed out to roam. Patches, one of the collies who lived amongst the cowboys to alert them to the presence of predators, had followed along. It was a lovely early summer's evening and all around was a cacophony of crickets and birds. The sunset lit the sky up pink and red for what seemed like hundreds of miles on the horizon. The flask of whiskey in her pocket helped her mood a bit as well.

Now, Willow sang a little to herself to pass the time. A popular western ballad called 'red river valley' had a sweet sad melody and lyrics that matched the mood of her heart.

~I’ve been thinking for a long time my darling,

Of those sweet words you never would say,

But the last of my fond hopes have vanished

For they say you are going away. ~

Willow took another swallow of the vile liquor and winced and coughed. When she considered taking another, but then realized she had drained it dry.

~Do you think of this valley you are leaving,

Oh, how lonely and dreary it will be!

Do you think of the kind hearts you are breaking,

And the pain you are causing to me?~

She continued to sing, though she got some of the words and verses out of order. Patches began to bark and ran ahead in the darkness.

"It wasn't that bad!" Willow called after the high-energy cattle dog. She rode with her head back and her arms outstretched and her eyes on the stars. So many stars. She figured she could probably see every last star there was on a cloudless night like this.

Her limbs were finally growing heavy and her thoughts began to slow, and she let go of Dixie's reins knowing her mare would, once again, find her way home. So many stars. It made Willow's troubles seem so small when she looked at the size and beauty of that sky.

Suddenly, Patches came running back out of the darkness, another horse and rider following the dog in the shadows. Willow grabbed her shotgun and readied it, her hands fumbling slightly. The dog barked and spun in circles as if he had brought a lost steer back to the herd.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" she heard a gruff voice call out and her heart seemed to turn sideways in her chest at the sound of it. Surely it was her imagination playing tricks on her.

"Who's asking?" she called back, squinting her eyes as if that would help her see in the dark. The man didn't answer, but he drew close enough that she saw with her own two eyes what her ears and heart had already known.

"Daryl? What are you doing here? I thought you were long gone!" she laughed, giddy with relief at the sight of that unruly mop of hair and a set of shoulders she would know anywhere.

"Yeah? Why's that?" he asked, eyeing her up and down curiously. Something was different about her.

"Well, because…Merle, and… I just assumed," she replied, shifting her weight and nearly falling off her horse.

"Are you roostered?" Daryl asked in disbelief. He'd never known Willow to take a drink at all let alone get messy drunk.

"Nooooo!" Willow told him, shaking her head. She grew quite dizzy as she did and had to hold tight to the saddle horn to stay mounted. Daryl scoffed and shook his head at her.

"How much did you drink? Put the damned shotgun down!" he grumbled at her bringing his horse close enough to hers that he could reach out his hand expectantly.

"I'm fine!" Willow assured him, gesturing wildly with her hands and the shotgun nearly slipped off her lap. She reacted as quickly as possible and caught the barrel of the gun.

"Ok, that's it," Daryl dismounted quickly, taking the rifle from her and then offering her his hand. "Get down before you fall off!" he griped.

"I'm fine!" she insisted, but Daryl simply stood there, hand out until she joined him on the ground.

"Who gave you whiskey anyway?" He asked, standing just a foot or two from her and looking down into her eyes as she wobbled a bit on her feet.

"I can get my own whiskey!" she objected. "I don't need you or anyone else, Daryl Dixon!" she announced, growing agitated in her inebriation. All the intense emotions she had been struggling with suddenly crashed into one another to form the perfect emotional storm. She poked him in the center of his chest emphatically.

"Ow," he murmured, taking a step back in surprise.

"I do everything that needs to be done on my own! I don't need you to come in here and tell me what to do!" she stepped toward him, stumbling sideways but then righting herself once again. Daryl smirked at her, trying not to laugh out loud at her drunken rambling.

"Ok, ok, let's get you home to bed," he sighed, reaching for her arm. Willow jerked away and stumbled back three steps before falling on her ass. Daryl couldn't hide his amusement anymore, and he chuckled at her, kneeling on the ground beside her.

He sighed and looked down at her for a long moment.

"What if I need you?" he asked, quietly.

"What?" Willow asked softly, the world spinning and wobbling around her. Daryl sat down in the dirt beside her, shoulder to shoulder, and drew his knees up to his chest, resting his arms on them.

"You said you don't need anyone, but what if I need you?" he asked, looking sideways at her as if nervous about her reaction. His blue eyes were silvery in the night, and Willow blinked at him.

"Don't," she said softly, shaking her head at him. "Don't say something like that, because I'll believe it, and when it turns out to be a lie I don't think I could take it."

Daryl smiled sadly and nodded.

"Yeah, I know that feeling. It's why I never said anything before." he sighed and rested his head against his arms with his face turned toward her. "but then you robbed a bank for me." he smirked at her.

Willow stared at him, mesmerized by the intimacy of the moment and the gravity of his words. She didn't know what to say.

"I came back because I wanted to court you, Willow. I wanted to do it right, even though I don't know how to," he told her self-consciously.

"I saw some Columbine on the way back and picked some of them for you, I'm not sure what condition they're in now though. I dropped them when I thought you were about to kill yourself with that shotgun."

Willow leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, unsure of exactly how to do what she wanted but diving in head first and figuring it out as she went. Daryl drew back slightly and his body went rigid like a statue with surprise for a moment. Willow let out a long exhalation and relaxed and brushed her lips to his again. His lips were surprisingly soft under hers, contrasting against his scratchy facial hair. She went for it again and this time, Daryl tilted his head and leaned into it, parting his lips slightly. A shiver of excitement shot through Willow when she felt his breath against her lips.

He rested one hand on her waist and the heat that it generated spread out through her body and settled in her chest and thighs. She brushed his hair out of his face and he kissed her once more, this time his hand in her hair, holding her steady while he nudged her lips apart with his tongue. She moaned against his mouth as she let him in and every caress of his tongue against hers was felt in other parts of her body as well. She found herself breathless and aching for more.

"Oh…" she murmured when he pulled his mouth away. He rested his forehead against hers and continued to stroke her hair gently.

"I ain't good at this stuff. Never tried hard, if I'm honest; and you deserve a lot better'n me…" he said softly.

"Shut up," she whispered, leaning in to kiss him again, this time imitating the way he had kissed her with her tongue leading the dance this time, climbing up to straddle his lap as she did.

"Hold on, hold on, Woah woah!" Daryl laughed, pulling his head back, his hands on her shoulders.

"What's wrong?" she asked breathlessly.

"You're drunk, cowgirl. If you keep kissing me like that, you're going to regret it in the morning and I don't want to ever cause you regret, Willow," he told her sincerely.

"I've been waiting for you my whole life, Daryl Dixon. I don't believe I'll ever get enough of you, and I'm damn certain I won't regret kissing you ever. But if you think it's best to stop, I'll trust you." She told him, disappointment tingeing her voice.

"Let's get you home safe before we get eaten by wolves out here, huh?" He said, standing and offering her a hand up. "Why don't you ride with me?" he suggested.

As they rode double, Dixie tied to Hoss and Patches following close behind, Willow rested her head back on Daryl's shoulder and occasionally he brushed her hair out of the way to press small kisses to her forehead or temple. She closed her eyes and smiled. If this was a drunken dream she hoped she never woke up.

#daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction

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reputayswift · 2 years ago

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we never painted by the numbers, baby, but we were making it count; you know the greatest loves of all time are over now?…I knew you, leaving like a father running like water, and when you are young they assume you know nothing—but I knew you’d linger like a tattoo kiss, I knew you’d haunt all of my what-ifs, the smell of smoke would hang around this long, ‘cause I knew EVERYTHING when I was young, I knew I’d curse you for the longest time (chasing shadows in the grocery line) I knew you’d miss me once the thrill expired, and you’d be standing in my front porch light, and I knew you’d come back to me you’d come back to me and you’d come back to me and you’d come back…50 years is a long time Holiday House sat quietly on that beach, free of woman with madness (their men and bad habits) and then it was bought by me ;)…I can see you staring, honey, like he’s just your understudy, like you’d get your knuckles bloody for me, second, third, and hundredth chances (balancing on breaking branches) those eyes add insult to injury…I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace, and so the battleships will sink beneath the waves, you had to kill me (but it killed you just the same) cursing my name, wishing I stayed, you turned into your worst fears, and you’re tossing out blame, drunk on this pain, crossing out the good years…and I’m still a believer (but I don’t know why) I’ve never been a natural (all I do is try try try) I’m still on that trapeze, I’m still trying everything to keep you looking at me…please picture me in the weeds, before I learned civility I used to scream ferociously any time I wanted…back when we were still changing for the better, wanting was enough (for me it was enough) to live for the hope of it all—cancel plans just in case you’d call and say, “meet me behind the mall,” so much for summer love (and saying “us”) ‘cause you weren’t mine to lose…they told me all of my cages were mental, so I got wasted like all my potential, and my words shoot to kill when I’m mad (I have a lot of regrets about that) I was so ahead of the curve the curve became a sphere, fell behind all my classmates and I ended up here…“DON’T CALL ME “KID”! DON’T CALL ME “BABY”! look at this IDIOTIC FOOL that you made me,” you taught me a secret language I can’t speak with anyone else; and you know DAMN WELL for you I would RUIN myself a million little times…time, mystical time, cutting me open then healing me fine, were there clues I didn’t see? and isn’t it just so pretty to think, all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?…the master of spin has a couple side flings (good wives ALWAYS know)—she should be MAD should be SCATHING like me, but no one likes a mad woman…only 20 minutes to sleep but you dream of some epiphany (just one single glimpse of relief to make some sense of what you’ve seen)…will you have me? will you love me? will you kiss me on the porch in front of all your stupid friends? if you kiss me will it be just like I dreamed it? will it patch your broken wings?…our coming-of-age has come and gone, suddenly this summer it’s clear: I never had the courage of my convictions as long as danger is near (and it’s just around the corner, darling, ‘cause it lives in me, no I could never give you peace), but I’m a fire and I’ll keep your brittle heart warm if your cascade, ocean wave blues come, all these people think love’s for show (but I would die for you in secret)…my best laid plan, your sleight of hand, my barren land I am ash from your fire, stood on the cliffside screaming, “give me a reason, your faithless love’s the only hoax I believe in.” don’t want no other shade of blue, but you, no other sadness in the world would do…I want auroras and sad prose, I want to watch wisteria grow right over my bare feet ‘cause I haven’t moved in years, and I want you right here

#long post #sowwy…#tays takes #folklore #taylor swift

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lys1 · 3 years ago

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This is an Asra x fem!reader. NSFW for sure, porn WITH plot <3 this is my first post on tumblr so feedback appreciated.

——————

You walk through the dusty streets of the Market towards the palace. Hundreds of stalls loom up on either side, alive and vibrant with colors, smells, and tastes. It feels good to be back in the heart of Vesuvia.

You turn to look at Asra beside you, keeping your exhausted pace. It had been 8 days since Nadia had asked Asra and yourself to go check out some mysterious magic happenings on the outskirts of the city. You scoff to yourself, mysterious indeed, it took half the time to even track down the little pixie creatures causing ruckus and mayhem. Eventually, after some exhaustive spell casting and careful teamwork the two of you had managed to return the troublesome pixies to the proper magic realm they escaped from.

You yawn tiredly, loosening the emerald colored traveling scarf from around your neck. It was afternoon now, and the sun was beating down.

"Almost there now," Asra spoke up, breaking the silence. He looked fondly over at you, a smile lighting up his sun kissed face. Even so, you could see that the time away from home had taken its toll on him too. You were both more than ready to hit the hay.

You nod slightly, keeping back another yawn. "I hope Nadia has food for us, I'm starved." The villagers in the towns you had visited were kind and generous, but nothing could beat the delectable food that the palace prepared.

Asra chuckled, "I'm sure that right after we fill her in on the successful pixie management she'll immediately be tending to us like a mother hen. You know how she is, she loves to provide." He pushed back his curls from his face to wipe his brow of sweat, smiling as he too imagined the delicious array of food that was about to be offered. He picked up his pace at the thought, making you jog a bit to keep up.

The Palace gates soon loomed over the two of you, sparkling and gold in the summer sun. The guards at the gate looked up as you approached.

"Ah, the magicians! I trust everything went alright?" One asked, clearly recognizing the famous duo. He smiled warmly, maybe a little starstruck.

Asra returned his smile, "it was simply magical."

You rolled your eyes at the terribly overused pun as the guard gave a hearty laugh. The two of you were waved in and informed that the countess was waiting for you in the dining room.

"Oh even better," you groaned in appreciation. "We get to eat while we talk. I love Nadia." Your stomach growls in agreement. Asra flashes you a beautiful smile as his feet climb the stairs alongside yours.

"And clearly," he adds, "she loves us back!" He was particularly looking forward to some blue tongued skink, Nadia knew it was his favorite.

It only took a couple minutes to reach the dining hall. One of the servers was bustling out the moment You and Asra rounded the corner to the door.

"Oh, hello!" They said, giving a small polite now. "The countess is expecting you! Please, come right in." They moved aside, holding the large ornate door open with one of their hands.

You wink and whisper your thanks as the two of you make your way in. Immediately your mouth fills with saliva at the smell that filled the room. The table was large and being filled with platters of many foods of different origins. The gold dinnerware twinkled delightedly up at you and the red wine glimmered deep and inviting.

"Welcome, friends." Nadia opens her arms, rising from her chair. She had just been sipping on some pre-dinner tea while waiting for her guests. She was smiling, and looking absolutely magnificent in her shining purple and gold robes.

"Hello Nadi," Asra said, joining you and her in a quick hug before seating himself at the table. You follow, sitting beside him as Nadia resumes her seat. The servants bring the last platter of steaming dumplings out at that moment.

You sigh contentedly. "This looks amazing Nadia, I feel spoiled."

Nadia smiles, the faintest blush on her high cheeks. "Anything for my favorite magicians, willing to travel far and wide in aid of Vesuvians in need." She adores, raising her wine glass. "To my dear friends, what I would do without you, I wouldn't know."

You and Asra raise your glasses with her, each of your own cheeks now a healthy pink. Nadia declares the meal to begin and you all dig in.

"Oh my, what troublemakers!" Nadia declares, after hearing the story about the pixies. The food was being relished amongst every plate and the wine was flowing steadily. "I can't believe such tricky little creatures exists." She continues, eyes sparkling as she pours another cup of wine.

"Yes, well, the magic world is something else entirely." Asra laughs, relaxed and feeling full. He was lounging comfortably, one hand gripping your thigh, another holding his gold goblet. His skin was warm and aglow.

You had your own hand comfortably nestled in his snowy white locks, massaging slow circles into his scalp. It had been a long 8 days and you were both happy to finally be able to relax into each other while having pleasant conversation.

"You should have seen the way they caused mischief," you add. “Oh I felt terrible for that village. So many upside down cows to turn over." Asra smiles as you tell the story, closing his eyes and leaning into your gentle touch. It was, to put it simply, the best feeling he could imagine. Well, almost.

Nadia chuckles again. "Well, I'm just glad that they are gone and we can laugh about this." She says, sighing in slight relief. "Vesuvia is fortunate to have two talented magicians like yourself. I am fortunate to have you as my friends. Your well deserved payment is in your guest room."

Asra blinks, "oh, you're offering us a place to stay tonight?" He asked, the gratefulness clear in his tone. You couldn't help but agree, walking back to the shop did not really sound like something either of you wanted to do. Especially, you muse, lifting your glass to your lips, after how many wine jugs the three of you had emptied.

"Why of course," Nadia looks surprised that we even had to ask. "And," she continued, "use of my personal bath this evening. You two more than deserve some relaxation and.. fun." She ends her sentence after a slight pause, giving you both a side glance full of humor.

You feel your cheeks go slightly hotter at the obvious suggestion. However, embarrassment aside, nothing else sounded better right now. You look down at your lover who was now lounging against your lap and smile. Oh how far too long it had been, the pixies had been relentless and had not offered much down time.

Asra chuckles, clearly more comfortable with the suggestion. He always had been a bit more confident when it came to discussing your private life. You found it quite endearing.

"Oh Nadi," he smiles. "You just made this evening even better somehow. I can't wait to take my love there and-"

Nadia waves her hand, laughing at your horrified face. "Please, please, I certainly don't need to know details." She grins, "just go, and take the wine."

Asra didn't need more encouragement and sat up promptly. He looks down at you, a shadow of hunger in his lilac eyes, offering you his hand. You take it, biting your lip as his gaze continues to rake over your body in the sort of way that makes you squirm.

"Thank you, Nadia." You say breathlessly, and a little sheepishly.

Nadia smiles, "anytime." She says, laughter still ringing in her voice. "Now go, before Asra here makes love to you on this table."

Your eyes open wide, shocked to hear her say such dirty words before ducking your head down in embarrassment.

Asra rests his hand on your shoulder and leans down to whisper in your ear, "you heard the lady." His voice is sultry and thick with want. "The table is looking awfully inviting right now."

Quickly, you turn and head out the door, Asra following close behind. The bath is not far down the hall and the two of you make great time. Asra's hand is at your waist, pressing in such a way that you know means desire. You hadn't realized how badly he had been missing you.

You make it to the door and turn to look back at your lover. You gulp at the hot scene behind you. Asra's eyes are half-lidded, purple irises cloudy with lust. His shirt is already half unbuttoned, revealing his delicious golden tan skin, smooth and beautiful. He's looking at you in a way that makes you think he hasn't eaten in a week and you are a five course meal.

He closes in, pushing you against the door and reaching for the handle. "You're terribly slow," he says, voice already rough, desire prominent. He pushes the handle and the latch clicks, the door swings in behind you.

The two of you tumble into the sweet smelling room. Obviously Nadia informed a servant ahead of time of the use of this room because the bath was already filled and steaming. On top of the water pink rose petals float, filling the area with a soft floral scent.

Asra closes the door with a soft click and looks over his shoulder at you. "Oh my dear," he murmurs, taking the couple strides to wrap you up in his strong arms. "I've missed hearing you cry my name, kissing those lips, and feeling your skin." His fingers travel up your waist and over your stomach. They linger, just a moment at the swell under your breast before finally cupping your face in his hands.

You tremble under his touch, body suddenly aching with need. You bring your own hands up to his chest and splay your fingers out so you can feel his heart beating. It's fast and erratic, excited to be close to you.

"Sweetheart," Asra whispers, voice heady. It's intoxicating to hear him talk to you in such a way. You look up at him and catch him licking his lips. You bring your own up to meet his, tongue out to capture his. He groans, melting into the kiss, gripping your hair so tightly it's almost painful.

You gasp, mouth opening and he runs his tongue along your lips, tasting the wine you both had shared. "Delicious," he says against your skin, tasting more and more. His hot open mouth kisses travel from your lips to your cheek, jaw, and finally resting on your neck. Asra loves to leave marks, and he takes your skin between his teeth intending to do exactly that.

Your moan comes out hoarse and you feel heat starting to pool between your legs. They feel shaky and weak, unable to withstand such torment.

Asra steadies you and pulls back briefly, cheeks flushed hot, want written all over his face. "We," he states, "are wearing far too many clothes for a bath."

You laugh and take his shirt in your hands. "I agree," you say, pulling at the remaining buttons. They come free easily and soon a glorious, shirtless Asra is standing before you. You drink in the sight unashamedly, totally enthralled with your lover. Gradually, though slowed by each other's groping hands, you both end up undressed.

Asra grabs your thighs and hoists you up onto his hips. You wrap your arms around his neck and press your breasts into his soft skin. He groans appreciatively, nuzzling his face into your chest breathing deeply, and walks the two of you over to the edge of the bath.

The water is still very warm as it licks your skin. You jump in surprise and moan slightly as it overtakes your aching folds and up over your ass. "Ahh-" you sigh, slumping into the crook of Asra's neck. "This is so good."

Asra hums his agreement before taking your chin between his fingers and directing you too look at him. His eyes are swimming with love, need, and an absolute desire to ravish you. You swallow hard, unable to look away.

"I want you." He says simply, barely above a whisper. He maneuvers your body so your back is against his chest. You lean your head back into him and relax in the fragrant water. Asra snakes his left arm around your waist and trails his fingers from your belly button downwards.

You bite back a squeal as his trained fingers circle the small nub at the top of your slit. He adds pressure, rubbing you in a manner that makes you crazy. Your hips wiggle back and you feel him, hard and straining, pressing into your ass. His breath hitches only for a second before he leans down to pepper soft kisses on your neck and shoulders.

His other hand makes it’s way up to your right breast and he expertly rolls your perked nipples between two fingers. Your whole body shudders in response to his actions.

“Ah, fuck Asra,” you choke out, moving your hips to meet his fingers as he slides them down your slick towards your now dripping hole. He wastes no time plunging two in, enjoying the feeling of your walls tightening around him.

Asra lifts his lips from your skin and brings his mouth to your ear. “You’re so ready for me, aren’t you. Pretty and wet for my fingers, aching to be filled.” He curls them as he says that, relishing in the soft gasps that fall from your trembling lips.

You groan as he licks the shell of your ear, hot breath teasing on the sensitive skin. “You,” your voice falters a second as Asra’s fingers continue to explore your insides in a way that makes you grip his strong thighs on either side of you. “You are ready for me too.” You finally gasp out, finding the strength to grind back against Asra’s swollen cock. You knew if you could see it, it would be an angry red and leaking precum, desperate to be buried to the hilt inside of you.

Asra’s breath comes out in a short gasp that makes you smirk in satisfaction. At least you still have a little control left. That thought flies out your brain a second later when Asra pinches your nipple hard then twists, making you cry out in painful pleasure.

“Watch yourself, my love.” He coos playfully, no remorse in his words. You grit your teeth, taking in the torture that both of his skilled hands are laying upon you. You know what he wants, and it is oh so tempting to give in. You’re almost at war with yourself as your back arches on its own accord in rapt pleasure.

“Oh please, please.” You finally break, body shaking. You reach your arms back and thread your fingers through Asra’s fluffy locks before gripping hard. “Asra please fuck me already.” You plead, unable to care anymore that you were begging.

You feel Asra’s fingers slow to a stop inside you and then remove themselves. You almost groan in disappointment but you know better.

Asra flips your body around so you’re straddling his hips. You gasp when suddenly you’re faced to face with your beautiful lover. He looks positively stunning, the soft moonlight coming in from the high windows bathing him in a pearlescent light. His skin is glowing with a cool sheen, and his breath is leaving parted lips shallowly. Not to mention, his hard cock straining against your stomach, just begging for attention.

You bring your hand down and rest your index finger lightly on the slit. Asra shudders at the touch, but certainly not complaining. He’s slick, just as you expected, and you lightly circle his tip.

“You go on and on about how ready I am.” You tease, “but look at you, practically cumming into my hand already.” You lift your fingers and bring them to your mouth, tasting his salty sweetness. Asra’s diet is rich with fruit and vitamins, and oh how you loved how he tasted as a result.

Watching you lick your fingers coyly has Asra’s eyes drooping with lust. “My dear, oh my love,” he whispers. “How I am going to fuck you until I fill you with that cum you love so much. Because it’s true, you love it don’t you.” He says, voice sugar sweet, expecting an answer.

You blush, despite your best efforts. You look at him, but he only blinks in return, waiting.

“Yes,” you whisper, voice thicker with need than you realized. You give up trying to be bashful. “Yes, yes. I love your cum, how it tastes, how it feels when you fill me up. I want it so bad.” You beg, looping your arms around his neck so your lips are just inches apart. “You have my heart, soul, and body.” The words tumble out naturally, “and gods, do I need you now.”

Asra bites your bottom lip harshly before fully overtaking your mouth with his. He’s moaning, almost desperately, into you. “I love you, my dearest one.” He pants, gripping your ass with his hands. You feel your hips being lifted up and your body quakes knowing what’s coming.

You feel the tip of Asra on the heat of your slit and you sigh deeply, “I love you too, Asra.” You say, bending your neck so your head rests on his muscular shoulder. Your lips find a sweet spot on his neck, an anchor, as he lowers you down onto him. It’s tantalizingly slow, allowing you to feel every inch as you sink lower in the water until he’s fully sheathed in you.

“Oh gods,” Asra groans, both from feeling you pulse around him and from your playful lips on his neck. “You are a gift to me.” He says, breathless from the feelings.

You smile, in delight from your lovers sweet words. Slowly and carefully you lift your hips up, at the same time dragging your tongue up his smooth neck to his ear. You suck and nibble on the lobe as you find your rhythm, bouncing steadily on the thick shaft. He feels absolutely amazing in you, filling you perfectly.

Asra grips your butt underwater with his strong hands and leans his head to the side, giving you better access. He guides your hips to a steady pace, humming appreciatively when you comply. “It has been far too long since I’ve felt your sweet pussy squeezing me like this.” He says, without skipping a beat.

You don’t have time to blush before he picks up the pace, leaving you moaning loudly into his ear as he hits the spot that makes you crazy. “Ah fuck, I agree, I do agree.” You manage, finally finding the words.

The water sloshes around your two bodies, stirring the rosy scent into the air. It’s smells amazing and makes you dizzy with pleasure as every sense seems to be met. Asra huffs gently next to your ear, holding you tightly against his body.

You savor the feelings of your chests sliding against each other, the feeling sleek from the warm water and sweat mixing. Your hips meet his, snapping against each other with quick splashes, making you see stars as he hits every time the spot that has you go wild.

The muscles in your lower stomach tighten and you know it’s only a matter of time before you’re screaming Asra’s name for the whole palace to hear. “Baby,” you say breathlessly, kissing any skin you can reach. His cheek, the corner of his eye, his plump lips. “I’m going to cum.” You whisper into his mouth. He swallows your delicious words and licks your lips in response.

“I love when you do that,” he says, a slight chuckle in his words. He wraps his arms tightly around your middles before bringing his hands up to your shoulder blades and raking his nails down your spine. You shudder at the erotic feeling and arch your back against his hands. He sighs happily when you give him access to this gorgeous view, stretched out before him, stomach and tits shining gloriously in front of him. He puts his mouth on your bellybutton and licks up to the cavity between your breasts.

“Oh mmm,” he hums, pleased with the sweet taste of your skin. “You are a delicacy amongst gods.”

You flush looking down at his lustful face, sucking on your skin, leaving marks where only he will see. He latches on to one of your nipples, moaning in immense pleasure at the feel of it in his mouth. When he nips at the sensitive skin you jolt, a small disruption in the steady bounce of your bodies.

“Damn,” you curse, words choking in your throat. Your nails dig into Asra’s shoulders as he re-establishes the torturing rhythm that has you shaking desperately against him.

“Let go for me,” he suggests in a sultry whisper that has you reeling with a feverish desire. The pressure in your core is building at an alarming rate as Asra thrusts into you, filling you every time to the point where you can barely hang on.

“I-“ you falter, eyes rolling as you feel that familiar tingle across all your limbs. Oh gods, you can’t stop it now. “Asra, oh fuck, ASRA-!” You scream head thrown back. Your walls clench, and the knot comes undone. It’s amazing, you almost want to laugh in pleasure at the feeling of coming around Asra’s cock. It’s so good you almost forget to breath.

Asra curses under his own breath as he fucks you through your high, barely holding on himself. You bring your head back down and kiss him deeply, tongue joining his. It’s a short lived battle to hang on and in a flurry of short gasps you feel him cumming inside you, unable to stop himself from the uncontrollable waves of pleasure that come from your hot walls clenching around him.

You both continue to kiss each other lovingly, slowing down gradually until you’re sitting on his lap. Eventually, you pull away a couple of inches, looking into your beloved’s eyes.

“Hello,” you say, smiling at your favorite magician. Asra’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, looking at you through hazy eyes. He kisses you again, gently, pleasantly.

“Hello,” he returns, after a minute. He runs his hands up your back, massaging as he goes. “You,” he adds lovingly, “are so beautiful.”

You smile adoringly. “Thank you, Asra.” You remove yourself from his lap and wade through the water towards the collection of bottles on the wooden shelf nearby. You grab a few that you felt suited the two of you best and turned to your lover. Asra had lifted his arms to rest on the sides of the bath and was looking at you with admiration.

“May I wash your hair?” You ask setting down the bottles, but keeping a lilac scented shampoo for Asra. He smiled at you, his face soft and kind.

“That would be amazing, my love.” He said, leaning his head back into the water to dampen it. You squeezed some of the lovely smelling shampoo into your hand and waited. Asra emerged a moment later and kissed you adoringly on the nose.

“Thank you,” he breathed. “For always taking care of me.”

You kissed him back, a peck, before turning him so his back was facing you. You rub your hands into a lather before working them into Asra’s soft hair.

“I always will, forever.” You say softly, happier than ever.

#asra alnazar #asra x reader #the arcana #arcana smut #asra smut #asra lemon #lemons #asra is so hot #I love him #lys writes

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