#ineffable instincts

[50shadesofoctarine]

Details you might have missed in Ineffable Instincts P.3

Crowley's eyes become exclamation marks when he's surprised.

His snake also gets all spikey.

Riten by Tiny P. Ness.

The Bentley's number plate is 668, the neighbour of the beast.

Jingology, a refrence to QE.

My Cloaca and Me. (Why is that book in your shop, Aziraphale? 🧐)

Aziraphale is obliviously reading 'Obliviously Reading'.

The technique I stole from @gleafer points to their tribute.

@goodomensafterdark

[the-ineffable-dance]

Aziraphale is so used to Crowley appearing on his left side, when he senses Crowley enter Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death he instinctively looks to the left 🥰

[ineffableteeth]

A parallel of this scene but instead of Crowley sitting on the armrest in front of Muriel it’s him sitting on Aziraphales lap in front of the Metatron

[ingravinoveritas]

fluffyfurbies replied to your post "Just noticing how Michael's body language shifts…"

the fact that in this episode, instead of david tennant being "a british celeb" or just "david tennant" like the british icon actor that he is, he is called specifically "your mate, David Tennant" Michaels 'mate'. now i know this is a synonym for friend but theres just something about them starting to be recognised as a collective unit that... well, people sure are catching on, it feels like am i overreacting to this @ingravinoveritas ?

@fluffyfurbies No, I don't think you are overreacting at all. This actually speaks to something I mentioned on another post just the other day, about how, when it comes to Michael, it seems like David is "his" David now. It also ties into something @cloud-based-and-rainpilled said about "mate" being used very commonly in the UK, yet it has a distinct and specific feeling to it when applied to Michael and David (also as mentioned, Georgia on the Blank Podcast last year is another example). And I think it's because of what you said, of them being recognized as a collective unit in a way they haven't been before.

What's interesting to me is that David has been a very widely recognized actor and public figure in Britain for almost twenty years. (Michael I would argue has less public recognition, but a tremendous amount of industry recognition.) So there is no need for either of them to be so connected to each other for career or professional purposes, which means that what is being recognized by people--inside the industry mostly, but now the public as well--isn't just them as coworkers. It's something else entirely.

David in particular has had much longer personal/professional associations with other actors--Billie Piper, Nina Sosanya, Catherine Tate, among others--but none have really fallen into the realm of seeing them as a collective unit. Nor has it ever felt like something is missing when he doesn't do an interview with one of them. But that is noticeably the case with Michael. And it's hard not to think that that is for a reason...

[topaziraphale]

Goddd. What happens if we get another kiss in S3? What if there's more than one?? What if their next kiss is such a messy, inexperienced, but otherwise passionate one again, but this time it's Aziraphale initiating it? What if there's a timeskip at the end and it's them living in the South Downs and there's a gentle kiss done with such ease that shows how both of them are no strangers to human-like affection anymore? What if we get a dramatic hug during like, a high-stakes battle or something? The fact that the door is even open now to them even trying affection through physical touch leaves me flatlined. Like if they hug I will literally cease to exist.

[couldhavebeenus]

okay I don’t have screenshots of this because I’m bad at technology BUT did anyone else notice how during the hand-gesture parts of the dance crowley’s fingers automatically curled around aziraphale’s hand? because it’s making me want to eat glass

[felicitywilds]

not gabriel and beelzebub going directly to aziraphale and crowley for help because they BOTH knew that if ANYONE could sympathize with helping reunite a demon and an angel who fell in love its them 💀💀💀💀

[beaulesbian]

if in s2 we did get a snipet of crowley’s time as angel before falling (meeting aziraphale for the first time, creating the nebulas and lighting up the sky), what are the chances we might see flashbacks of his Fall, or consequences immediately after the Fall in s3? his memories? a scene like a bridge between 2x1 where we see him as an angel and 1x1 where he’s already Crowly and figuring out who that’s meant to be

[cuntyfieddemon]

here's a crazy and unhinged theory neil gaiman has probably considered:

so with two (2) angel&demon couples who fell in love and went "against" the ineffable plan, and both thought of/planned to run away from their duties to love the other unconditionally,

and with the incredibly loud and heavy absence of God in season 2,

my theory is that all these love stories are foreshadowing what God is truly up to... hear me out: God and Satan fell in love. maybe a long time ago (the Beginning of Time, perhaps). They had ups and downs just like the ineffable husbands, did bets, had a few disagreements as well (i.e. Armageddon, the antichrist, the war, etc.) and now they're at that staged where they don't give a fuck anymore and prefer to fuck off and leave Earth, the mess that is Heaven and Hell, the bureaucraty, angels and demons fighting and fucking, yada yada.

plus, the line from s2 "for it to happen twice, makes it look like there is an institutional problem" can be applied to good and evil being an ingredient for the creation of a love story, or angels and demons falling for eachother despite everything they believe in. and it WOULD be an institutional problem bc the creator of these angels and demons, the system itself, God, fell in love as well.

[youryurigoddess]

Aziraphale is a keeper of the divine order who instinctively creates clutter and turmoil. Crowley is an agent of chaos who stress cleans like an addict. These two ineffable idiots really are perfect for each other.

[50shadesofoctarine]

Ineffable Instincts P.3 is inked!!

Colour coming soon!

+ a bonus @gleafer (gleeferal) tribute.

@goodomensafterdark

[queenofwands89]

The Storm Within Tyler Owens x fem!reader

Summary: What dramatic turn of events unfolds when Y/N storms off after an argument with Tyler, only to face the fury of a tornado that strikes their town and leaves Y/N injured?

Warnings: Tornado (duh lol), angst, arguing, mention of injuries, description of injuries, sad.

Notes: I wrote this because I am a whore for Tyler, and I love angst and pain. Enjoy byeeee

You feel the tension build in the air long before Tyler raises his voice. It's the kind of unease that clings to the back of your mind, an ineffable sense that something is about to go terribly wrong. You stand in the spacious, cluttered garage that serves as the command center for Tyler's storm-chasing crew. The storm models flashing on the multiple screens show bleak promises of another monstrous storm front moving across Oklahoma.

It starts as a simple disagreement. Tyler is passionate—almost recklessly so—about chasing a particular storm cell that evening. You object, voicing your concerns about the jeopardy it poses not only to Tyler but also to the entire crew.

"You never listen, Tyler!" Your voice quavers, your frustration edging too close to the surface. Your heart hammers in your chest. "You treat this like it's some adventure, but it’s dangerous!"

Tyler rakes his fingers through his hair, his expression a mix of determination and exasperation. "It's because it is dangerous," he shoots back. "But we do this because it saves lives, Y/N. If we can predict these storms better, we can give people the time they need to get to safety."

"And what about us? What about the people who love you? Are we just collateral damage in your crusade?"

Boone, who has been editing footage on his laptop nearby, looks up, his usually cheerful face clouded with concern. Lilly and Dexter exchange worried glances, while Dani silently tinkers with a drone, her stoic demeanor betrayed by the slightest furrow of her brow.

"I can’t sit by and do nothing while you risk everything, Tyler!" Your eyes well up with tears that you fiercely try to blink away. "One day, you might not come back."

Tyler sighs heavily. He takes a step towards you, but you instinctively recoil, the hurt in your eyes deepening the chasm between you. "Y/N, you know I love you, but this—this is what I do. It’s who I am."

"Well, I can't do this right now," you say, your voice cracking. "I need to clear my head."

Without another word, you grab your coat and storm out of the garage, slamming the door behind you. The echo of the slam lingers, punctuating the silence that envelops the room.

Tyler turns back to his crew, realizing that the argument has sapped the collective energy and morale. Boone breaks the silence with his usual attempt at lightening the mood.

"She'll cool off, man. Just give her some time," he offers, though his eyes betray the uncertainty he feels.

Lilly nods, her calm demeanor trying to instill a sense of reassurance. "Tyler, she just needs space. She loves you; that much is clear. Just let her process this."

Dexter, wiser and ever the emotional compass, adds softly, "Sometimes the best way to show love is to step back and let them come to terms with their fears on their own."

Tyler nods, although doubt gnaws at him. There is a sort of irony in chasing something as unpredictable as a tornado and yet being completely at a loss when it comes to matters of the heart.

You storm off down the gravel road, away from the storm-chasing headquarters. The expanses of Oklahoma stretch around you, vast and indifferent. You walk quickly, your thoughts a tumultuous whirl that rivals the storm brewing on the horizon.

Before long, a low rumble of thunder echoes in the distance. Your instincts tell you to seek shelter, but you are too consumed by your emotions to heed the warnings. Your phone buzzes, probably Jake checking in with you, but you ignore it.

As minutes turn to an hour, the sky darkens ominously, the oppressive weight of the storm hanging palpably in the air. You look up just as the first sharp gust of wind howls past you, sending a chill down your spine.

Your phone rings again. This time, you pick it up. It is Tyler.

"Y/N, you need to get back here. Now! There's an strom projected to hit our area. It's not safe out there!"

Before you can respond, the roar of the wind drowns out his voice. In the distance, a wall of debris begins to rise—terrifying in its beauty and formidable in its power. You feel a jolt of fear as you realize the windstorm is bearing down on you.

Panic-stricken, you try to find cover, but there is nowhere to go. The winds intensify, whipping your hair across your face and pulling at your clothes. In a desperate attempt to hold onto something, anything, you grab onto a nearby fence post as the monstrous tornado descends upon the town.

Back at the garage, the team is glued to their screens, tracking the terrifying path of the cyclone. Tyler's eyes are wide with dread, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

"We need to go find her!" he shouts, his voice breaking with worry as he lunges toward the door.

Dexter and Boone spring into action, their grips tight on his arms, holding him back with all their strength. "Tyler, we will find her," Dexter insists, his voice steady yet intense. "But rushing headfirst into this will only get us all killed. We need a plan."

Tyler struggles against their hold, desperation etched into every line of his face. "You don't understand! She’s out there, and every second counts!"

Lilly's eyes mirror his fear but she nods in agreement with Dexter. "He's right, Tyler. We have to be smart about this."

Dani is already at the armored storm-chasing vehicle, her fingers flying over the controls as she starts the engine. "Let's go," she commands, her voice a beacon of resolve amidst the chaos.

The ride out is like plunging into a nightmare. The town around them is unrecognizable—a hellscape of uprooted trees, shattered windows, and debris swirling in the violent wind. The roar of the storm is deafening, a monstrous wall of sound that seems intent on swallowing them whole.

Every turn is fraught with danger, every street a potential deathtrap. The armored vehicle groans under the force of the gale, but it presses onward, cutting a determined path through the destruction.

Tyler's eyes scan the devastation, his heart pounding, every fiber of his being focused on one thing: finding you. The storm's fury lashes at them, but their resolve is unbreakable. They are driven by a singular, desperate hope—to bring you back alive.

As the harrowing storm begins to relent, the world around you is a landscape of devastation. The monstrous tornado has passed, leaving behind a chaotic aftermath. The team ventures deeper into the wreckage, eyes scanning anxiously for any sign of you.

Then they see you. Crumpled on the ground, clutching a fence post as though it’s the only thing tethering you to life, you lie unconscious, battered by the storm’s fury. Debris is scattered all around, a haunting testament to the storm's wrath. Tyler's heart wrenches at the sight.

Without a second thought, he leaps out of the vehicle, ignoring the stinging wind and flying debris that tug at his clothes and batter his body. "No, no, no," he mutters under his breath, sprinting towards you with a singular focus.

"Y/N!" he cries out, his voice breaking as he nears you. The sound barely cuts through the howl of the wind. He kneels beside you, wrapping his arms around your frail form, shielding you from the remnants of the storm. "Please, Y/N. Wake up."

Boone, sitting in the driver’s seat, immediately jumps out of the vehicle as well. He turns to Lilly and Dexter, his expression serious and determined. "Lilly, grab the emergency blankets. Dexter, I need you to help get Y/N into the truck, now!"

Boone rushes over to Tyler, his mouth set in a grim line. "Tyler, move aside. We need to get her stabilized." He swiftly yet carefully checks your pulse and breathing. "She's still with us. We have to move quickly."

“Be careful!” Tyler shouts over the wind to the crew, his voice tinged with panic. “She’s hurt!”

They work with meticulous care, gently extricating you from the wreckage. Tyler's hands shake as he helps lift you, his mind a whirlwind of desperate prayers and fear.

Dani, standing nearby, fights back tears, her voice breaking as she says, "Hang in there, Y/N. We’re not losing you."

They rush you back to the relative safety of the vehicle, urgency in every step. The vehicle starts moving, navigating through the storm’s terrible wake with a singular mission: to get you to medical attention.

Tyler sits beside you, cradling your hand in his, his eyes never leaving your face. “Hang in there, Y/N,” he whispers, as though sheer willpower could keep you tethered to life. “We’re almost there. You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

The crew speeds through the chaotic aftermath, dodging fallen branches and uprooted signs. Dexter keeps a vigilant eye on the road, never slowing down. Lilly's hands shake as she dabs at your wounds with a cloth from the medical kit, trying to do whatever she can to help.

All the while, Tyler stays with you, his heart breaking and yet holding onto hope, as the vehicle barrels towards the hospital, each mile bringing you closer to safety. Tyler holds you tightly, his voice trembling and tears mingling with the rain on his cheeks as he whispers, "I'm so sorry. I love you. Please, hold on. Just hold on a little longer, baby."

[ingravinoveritas]

The more I watch this, the more it looks like Michael was unconsciously reaching for David's hand and had to actively stop himself from grabbing it...

guys.

[inmaki]

as an apology for my constant disappearing here is a preview for my virgin nanami fic, hopefully done by the end of this month <3

hurt (comfort in full fic), making out, nanami being dumb

nanami kento was an orderly man.

not a single strand of his golden hair ever strayed from its place. his tie was never too far to the right or the left — only smack dab in the middle against his built chest.

his crisp, navy shirt didn't dare have a wrinkle on it, much like his allen edmond shoes that were free from any creases despite being worn every day for years.

it made you want to ruin him. ruin such perfection in all his towering glory.

and you did - at least, at much as nanami would let you.

intense makeout sessions happened every so often: during impromptu movie nights on the couch, in the morning under the warmth of your shared blankets, and especially after extra-hard days at work.

yet it never went further, no matter how hard you tried to initiate anything — whether it be a hand sliding down too low, or a soft moan into his mouth, nanami would be fumbling up an excuse to leave immediately. just like now.

"mmph.. 'missed you," you mumble against his swollen lips, sucking the bottom one greedily. the man had only just walked into the kitchen when you'd practically pounced on him in hunger.

despite his surprise, kento gives you the privilege of running your nails through his once-perfectly-slicked-back hair, grunting as you yank him even closer with his tie, loosening it in the process.

"missed you too, honey." even the simplicity of his giant hands caressing your waist sends a rush of arousal through your body, humming as you rub a hand down the solid ridges of his abs. he tasted like the coffee he'd probably been sipping languidly throughout the day, mixed in with the natural flavor of him.

memories of the sorcerer slipping in and out of the shower shirtless — toned torso on display and all — were some of the hardest in your book. occasionally, you would joke to him about dropping your panties then and there. you never actually dropped them (that could easily change if he so asked), but you were pretty much hanging on to them for dear life every afternoon.

and in response to your compliment, nanami would only chuckle nervously before shutting the door behind him to change in the closet. an ugly feeling would blossom in your chest every time at his lack of enthusiam or reciprocation to your desire, though you never let the thought spiral.

a few minutes later, your lips remained glued to his, passionately making out against the counter while continuing your adventure around his body, never straying below his belt.

nanami felt dizzy as he finally pushed away to take a breath. usually he was quite good at keeping up with your ineffable needs — he placed the blame on his depletion from work.

a groan involuntarily escapes him as you lower your lips to suck beneath his jawline, bound to leave a mark. "my love, what's got you so worked up?" he inquires with closed eyes, tilting his head up to give you further access.

you hum in approval of the action, sucking even harder. "told you, i missed you."

before you could stop to think, your hand that was once on his abs instinctively moved lower to rest just above his bulge, and then everything stopped.

with a shaky clear of his throat, nanami pushes off the counter, forcing you to back away while his hands drop to his beige dress pants.

your brows furrow. "what-"

"i'm gonna take a shower." his eyes avert, adam’s apple bobbing smoothly.

not another word follows as your boyfriend paces to the apartment's shared bedroom, leaving you to drown in your cynical thoughts.

if u wanna be tagged comment/send an ask! srry this is short but the full fic is much longer!!! i am like 3/4 done! i js procrastinate writing the smut (also the reason part 2 of my gojo fic is taking forever) T-T

read virgin gojo while u wait <3

[pin-k-ink]

hunt // miya osamu & miya atsumu

tw ⇢ dub-con, dom/sub themes, the twins are third years, threesome, mild violence, power imbalance, degradation/name calling, spit roasting, coercion, unprotected sex, objectification, throat bulge, face fucking, asphyxiation, daddy kink, fauxcest(?), spanking

wc ⇢ 6.4k

The first pale brushstrokes of dawn were just beginning to tint the horizon outside the high windows of the gymnasium when you arrived. The cavernous space was cloaked in deep indigo shadows, the air holding that crisp, still silence that always precedes the break of a new day.

You exhaled a wispy plume that dissipated rapidly as you moved across the hardwood court, footfalls echoing in the emptiness. Despite the early hour, a current of restless energy thrummed through your limbs, propelled by a mixture of pre-practice excitement and anticipation for the upcoming day's regimen.

Depositing your gym bag by the benches, you straightened and began your ritual of scanning the space - mentally mapping out adjustments to equipment positioning and other preparations for when the rest of the team began trickling in. Temporarily losing yourself in those pragmatic thoughts, you startled violently when a pair of strong arms materialized from behind to engulf your waist in an inescapably snug embrace.

"Mornin', beautiful," Atsumu's unmistakable timbre purred against the sensitive whorls of your ear with just the barest ghosting rasp of his lips. "You're here bright and early as always, I see."

You stiffened instinctively at the sudden intimate contact, pulse kicking up several rungs as his masculine warmth and clean, musky scent enveloped you. But the rigid tension swiftly transmuted into a full-body shiver that had your bones turning to blessed friction as Atsumu tugged your back flush against the solid wall of his chest and abdomen.

"A-Atsumu!" You managed in a higher register edged with uncertainty, head spinning slightly from the sheer overwhelming physicality of him pressing in on all sides. "You startled me. I didn't hear you coming."

His low chuckle vibrated straight through to your core in delicious reverberations, stirring something molten and unfurling in your depths despite your best efforts to tamp it down. Every instinct screamed at you to put space between your bodies for propriety's sake. Yet you remained rooted, unresisting, as he dipped his aristocratic nose to the juncture of your neck and shoulder on an indulgent inhale.

"Mmm, and I like the way you say my name," he rumbled in a tone somehow darker and more possessive than his usual playful candor. "All breathy and needy already...makes me wonder what other sweet sounds I could coax out of those pretty lips with just a bit of effort."

Heat blossomed beneath your skin at the suggestive undercurrent laced through his words. You parted your lips to offer protestation, but the syllables shriveled up stillborn as a new figure slowly materialized from the encroaching shadows in your peripheral vision.

Osamu prowled from the deeper recesses of the gym, broad shoulders set in a prowling line and every measured footfall reeking of tremendous coiled power barely restrained. His quicksilver gaze flickered over every inch of you with hypnotic, ineffable intensity —as if he could see straight through the thin barrier of your clothing to map every swell and plane hidden beneath. A wicked curve tugged at the corner of his sinful mouth as he lazily closed the remaining distance.

"Looks like somebody's keen on starting the day's...activities...a little early. And without me, for that matter." He tutted in a low rumble thrumming with dark undercurrents of untapped promise. "That's hardly fair to leave your favorite out in the cold like that now, is it, 'Tsumu?"

Atsumu issued a scoffing sound of feigned indignation. "Maybe if ya got your lazy ass outta bed at a decent hour once in a while..." But there was an edge of smoldering hunger flickering behind his dilated stare that stole the casual bite from his retort.

Osamu paid him no mind, attention rapidly narrowing down to your flushed, discomfited form instead. You swallowed hard as he crossed those final few agonizing paces to loom over you—near enough that the woodsy, petrichor-tinged musk of his skin set your senses reeling in visceral recognition. He radiated such intense, alpha virility in casual, unconscious waves that your instincts flailed between contradictory urges of fight-or-flight and something more primal, less defined.

Then he raised one large palm in a disarmingly tender gesture, tracing the whorled curves of your hair before tucking an errant strand behind your ear with exquisite tenderness. The calloused pads of his fingertips grazed your feverish cheek in the process, catalyzing a shuddering exhalation as fresh tingles ricocheted outwards from the point of contact.

"Well? Don't we at least get a good mornin' in return, gorgeous?" Osamu rumbled in dark, honeyed prompting raspy from the depths of his broad chest.

You swallowed convulsively, mouth suddenly bone dry despite the slick sheen of perspiration beading across your upper lip. Up close, you saw his pupils were blown wide, ringed in quicksilver shards of gunmetal and liquid mercury. That inscrutable yet smoldering perusal felt like physical gravity weighing you down into aching quiescence.

"G-Good morning, Osamu," you somehow managed in a reedy tone edging towards breathy submission. The hand not currently imprisoned against Atsumu's sculpted abdomen drifted upwards as if beyond your own volition until your fingers encountered the rugged jut of Osamu's stubbled jawline.

A muscle ticked in that sharply defined line of tendon and masculine ridges as he fought back a wolfish grin that would have revealed too much. Osamu exhaled a slow, measured breath, the barest perceptible shiver cascading down his powerfully corded frame. Then, just when you thought his mercurial focus would utterly unravel you into deconstructed fragments, his thumb traced the ripe-plum arc of your parted lips with devastating precision.

"Such a good girl," he husked in liquid smoke tones dripping darkly sensual implications. "So unfailingly polite, even under...duress. Tell me, darlin'...how much of that pretty manners would it take to make you come undone into a hot little mess for us?"

You could only gape at Osamu in stunned disbelief, mind struggling to process the blatant indecency threaded through his graveled words. A confused furrow etched your brow as you floundered for some semblance of rational grounding against the surging tides of unfurling yearning uncorking in your core.

"W-What do you mean?" The stammered rejoinder emerged in a tone just north of a strangled whisper—half plea and half entreaty for lucidity.

Rather than grant elaboration, Osamu's lush mouth only curved higher at the corners in a sinful facsimile of reassurance thoroughly undermined by the intensity blazing behind his frittered silver stare.

"Don't worry that gorgeous head of yours over the details, pretty girl." Atsumu's smoky rasp materialized against the wild flutter of your pulse point, every consonant seeming to skim callused fingertips of heated friction down your hyper-sensitized skin. The arm still anchoring you immobile against him constricted incrementally tighter. "We're just teasin' you a bit, that's all."

Despite the nonchalance professed in his words, the underlying message carried the unmistakable weight of something darker...heavier with unspoken promises sewn into the subvocal vibrations thrumming through your intertwined bodies where you pressed flush back-to-front.

The intimate knowledge that the twins encircling you could surely detect each minute shiver and microexpression telegraphing the muted shockwaves coruscating through your undefended form sent a fresh cyclone of mortified heat spiraling beneath your skin. You tried in vain to extricate yourself, twisting weakly against Atsumu's immovable restraint even as Osamu shifted to cage you further—one calloused palm settling at your hip to imprison you between their overheated, devastating proximities.

"What's your rush, babygirl?" The tendril of dark velvet snaked from Osamu's tongue to tangle insidiously against your senses. "Practice doesn't officially start for a little while yet. We've got plenty of time to get...acquainted first."

You registered the steady thrum of your pulse kicking up several staccato notches, senses rendered hyper-lucid from the neuropathic datastream of details flooding your frenzied awareness. The damp sweeping graze of Osamu's thumb inscribing needful arcs against the jut of your hipbone through the thin practice skirt's fabric. The branded heat scorching from Atsumu's palms where they anchored your ribs and solar plexus in an inexorable arc of possession from behind. The mingling, intoxicating musk of their purely masculine essences cloying the air you struggled to inhale in shallow, panicked sips.

"I...I should go set up the equipment," you managed in a withering tone edged with desperation as every instinct screamed at you to flee this rapidly overheating situation. "The rest of the team will be arriving any minute and—"

"Shhh, shhh." Atsumu clicked his tongue, somehow both languid and laced with authority in the subtlest undercurrent. "Always so focused on responsbilities, ain't ya, sweetheart? That's one of my favorite things about ya."

You felt your breath hitch despite your best efforts at control, spine stiffening infinitesimally as those final two syllables ricocheted around your rattled psyche with the resonance of an implosion detonating at your core. If Atsumu sensed your fracture, he allowed no outward indication beyond the barest constriction at the corners of his hooded cognac stare.

"One of the many things, that is..." Osamu's sibilant murmur filled the ringing void of suspension as he reclaimed your scattered focus once more. He continued studying you with a raptor's immutability, the cryptic leather-and-whiskey of his irises glittering like thunderclouds roiling with unreleased potential.

A hollow, pregnant pause stretched in the intimate keeper charged between the three of you. The hair prickling along your nape felt electrified as if by static cling. Realization began to slowly, ponderously blossom that some irrevocable line had been crossed beyond innocuous flirtatious norms into newer, more fraught territory.

Then, as abruptly as the suspended tension reached fever pitch, the twins eased back in an unhurried dilation of space around you once more. You instinctively swayed, robbed of the immovable anchors of their presences. Your lungs attempted to greedily gulp replenishing oxygen as though they had been deprived during your interment in their encompassing sphere.

"Well go on and handle your setup then, sweetheart," Atsumu purred, edged in indolent nonchalance yet subtly underscored with that same thrumming promise. The tip of his tongue flicked out to trace the pout of his lower lip ever so briefly, heated regard never wavering from your thunderstruck features. "We'll just be over here enjoying the view and biding our time."

A rasping, slightly garbled sound of confirmation attempted to spill from your constricted vocal cords, but all that emerged was a submissive whine slipping unbidden past your defenses before you could abort it. Heat blossomed in a scorching flare across your cheekbones and down your throat at the betraying display of responsiveness despite your internal lassitude.

That seemed to be all the twin's predatory instincts required to ignite their searing focus anew in that fleeting moment. When you finally managed to process putting one rubbery foot in front of the other towards the storage lockers, you could feel their piercing scrutiny track every faltering step in your wake like dual pinpoint lasers of atomic intensity.

Within the safety of the equipment room only partially shielded from their view, you finally managed to draw a full, steadying lungful of air purged of their singularly overwhelming masculine presence. You braced yourself against the cool metal of the lockers, squeezed your eyes shut, and fought to regain equilibrium through sheer stubborn force of will.

But that polished, rich baritone continued echoing through your synapses in an inescapable resounding loop:

"We'll be seein' ya real soon..."

The cool evening breeze carried the faint tang of honeysuckle and freshly turned earth as you walked between the twins, their solid forms engulfing you on either side. Atsumu's arm remained looped possessively around your shoulders, the sculpted muscles of his bicep brushing againstyour arm with each unhurried stride in a heated line of contact.

Osamu's palm scorched the small of your back through the thin cotton of your uniform, long fingers splaying wide in an unmistakable claim of possession. You could feel the thrumming warmth of his body resonating against you with each rolling step in time with your shared gait.

Despite the innocuous setting of darkening twilight shadows stretching long across the sleepy neighborhood streets, the very air surrounding the three of you seemed to subtly intensify and charge with pulsating tension. An intangible aura settled like an electrified static cling, catalyzing each tiny hair along your forearms and nape to prickle into alertness.

The twins' earlier behavior at the gym had already stoked banked embers of confusion and unwitting arousal flickering through your depths into smoldering life. But with every casual brush of their forms against yours, each lingering graze of fingertips and weighted look exchanged over your head, those embers swiftly blazed hotter and brighter.

You shifted unconsciously, trying to alleviate the tension rapidly transmuting into a liquid, unfurling ache low in your belly. But any subtle attempt at increasing the infinitesimal space between your bodies was swiftly negated by Osamu's broad palm applying a deeper furrow of pressure against your spine. His actions were accompanied by a low, subvocal rumble of dark amusement that seemed to reverberate straight through to your core and set fresh ripples of contradiction shivering through you.

They were penning you in, separating you from any sense of personal space or autonomy by sheer inexorable degree—and somehow, you lacked the wherewithal to mount any objections beyond feeble token protests.

It wasn't until the trio of you had fully diverged from the main street onto a narrow side path cutting through a small copse of towering oaks that you found your voice again, throatiness undermining what pitiful scraps of composure you might've mastered.

"T-This isn't the way to my place..." The words emerged reedy and plaintive, drenched in naked bewilderment as you craned your neck to better take in your shadowed surroundings.

Tree boughs nudged by the lazy breeze creaked in spectral oscillations, filtering the winking corona of evening's first stars into ethereal dappling across the loamy footpath. A beat-up wrought iron gate practically consumed by clutching alabaster tendrils of resilient ivy stood askew just a few yards ahead marking what looked to be the entrance to...

"A park? But I thought you were taking me home," you pressed in rising confusion and...something darker, more viscous that you couldn't quite put a name to.

The weight of Atsumu's arm tightened infinitesimally with an implied air of coalescent possession. When he angled his head towards you, lips brushing the fragile whorls of your ear with lush friction, his deep baritone seemed to bottomlessly resonate with dark carnal promise.

"We are takin' you home, sweetheart... just a scenic slow-spin 'fore arrivin' at the final destination, that's all."

His lush mouth brushed the whorl of your ear in a sensual ellipsis contrasted by the rapacious weight of his words in a way that had you swaying dizzily on your feet. The bone-deep confusion stratified even as it transmuted into a molten unfurling low in your core that had nothing whatsoever to do with innocence.

"Seems our dear bunny could use a crash refresher in what exactly 'home' means for her pretty lil' self from now on," Osamu rumbled from your opposite side with dark promise.

His index finger traced a scorching path along the deliciously oversensitive topography of your nape, raising pearls of shivering friction before splaying wide to engulf the line of your throat with devastating possession. You couldn't restrain the tremulous whimper spilling past your lips as his palm constricted incrementally, effectively pinning you between two raging long smoldering bonfires.

The shrouded emerald of Osamu's regard trapped yours in an immobilizing tractor beam of simmering intensity barely leashed by restraint's fraying threads.

"So responsive already," he husked with a gravel-rough edge in his timber's darker registers that portended unspeakable profanities.

You sensed Atsumu's chin dipping in a subtle crowing nod despite being unable to break away from his twin's hypnotic scrutiny. Then both of them were crowding your personal space with covetous slow burning hunger radiating off them in palpable thermal waves catalyzing each atom of your loaded stillness into a bristling crest of profound awareness.

"Time to take our sweet lil' homemaker on a field trip," Osamu's parting grin delivered in a slantwise murmur reeked of unholy benediction as the twins began towing you along once more in their combined wake.

The twins didn't so much walk you further into the secluded park as simply propel you along in their combined wake, your sense of personal autonomy steadily dissolving like mist burning off beneath dawn's first blazing incursions.

You moved in a haze of prickling contradiction—every instinct screaming at you to resist being led so deeply astray, juxtaposed with those cloying tendrils of primal submission unfurling through your marrow at each scorching point of contact. It was as if their overwhelming presences exerted their own gravitational fields of influence that overrode independence of thought or mobility.

The rough gravel path crunched beneath your stumbling footfalls, interrupted only by occasional drafts of humid night wind gusting through the shadowed tree canopies overhead. Silhouettes of twisted oaks and looming hedgerows took on increasingly abstracted, dreamlike contours the further you ventured from the park's fringe dwellings.

At some point, Osamu relieved his twin of stewarding your docile form—his larger palm mapping intricate spirals along the dips and flares of your waist and hip through cotton layers in a blatant seal of ownership. Meanwhile, Atsumu assumed point, leading your small procession past a seemingly endless succession of looming oak sentinels and into near-total immersion within night's clutching vestry.

The pervasive gloom suited the enveloping metamorphosis occurring in the atmosphere around you. What had initially blossomed as playful, heated flirtation was now rapidly transmuting into something far more primal...darker and slipperier, etched in discordant minor keys of need and unvarnished id.

Somehow, you'd wandered into the heart of the park's tangled bower by the time both twins slowed to a predatory prowl, easing you to a halt before some kind of crumbling, vine-choked gazebo structure. The tang of humus and creeping must cloistered the air from the wreckage's interior as the scudding clouds overhead briefly parted to drench the scene in lurid moonlight.

"Seems like the perfect place for our lil' bunny's first lessons in her new place," Atsumu rumbled in a voice gone viscously, unhurriedly prurient.

Osamu simply grunted a baritone concurrence against the nape of your neck, the humid brand of his lips and tongue flickering out to tease your thundering pulsepoint into frantic pulsing arrhythmia. Fresh streaks of slick friction trailed scorching in his wake, his free palm shamelessly mapping your abdomen while yanking your hips back to grind your body flush against what could only be described as devastating evidence of his arousal.

"As much as I want to just take what's mine right here," he purred in a voice rendered somehow even more dangerously silken by its hungered gravel, "perhaps somewhere more...accommodatin' is in order for our lil' initiate's debasement."

The eroded gazebo groaned around you in winded rebuke of the lurid imaginings those words profaned into being. You distantly recognized the shrill peeping in your ears as thin streams of panicked panting slipping from your own constricted vocals.

But even the moss-choked pavilion surrounding you felt like the thin shroud of propriety was rapidly disintegrating between the twins' steadily intensifying thrall. Their hands and mouths issued obscene benedictions putting the ancient metaphysical principles required for unholy desecrations to shame.

"Mmm, awfully gallant of you 'Samu..." Atsumu chuckled with profane avuncularity against your nape while simultaneously cupping the underside of your jaw to angle you up and into the unyielding vice of his heated stare. "But you might be wastin' your sweet concerns over modesty or deflowerment. Pretty sure this lil' wildflower is already well on her way to bein' ruined for any but us."

The promise stitched into his rapacious tarryweavingwords hit you like a psychic hammer, jarring loose another plosive whimper from your constricted windpipe.

Then Osamu pivoted you in a scintillating blur, yanking your back flush against his chest which just allowed Atsumu's lush mouth to plunder the exquisite wreck of your swollen, panting lips while he nonchalantly aided his twin in stripping you of your obstinately clinging garments.

The twins moved with predatory precision, stripping you of your clothing with an almost ritualistic deliberation that allowed no space for objection or resistance. Their hands branded scorching paths over each newly exposed expanse of flesh, mapping your curves and valleys with ravenous entitlement.

Osamu's calloused palms shackled your wrists behind your back as he plastered his solid frame against you from behind, the uncompromising ridge of his cock grinding against the cleft of your ass through the barrier of his clothing. You trembled overtly, a piteous whine vibrating against Atsumu's marauding tongue as he thoroughly plundered the defenseless cavern of your mouth.

"Such a responsive little thing," Atsumu husked in approval once he finally allowed you a desperate gasp of air. His quicksilver stare glittered with unholy promise in the wash of pale moonlight as he leisurely took in your mostly-bared state with shameless appraisal. "Fuck, darlin', you have any idea how long we've been waiting to get you just like this? All trussed up and shakin' apart with sweet little need written across every tremblin' inch of you..."

You shook your head in a dizzying micro-motion, drowning beneath the roiling tsunami of their combined intensity. Osamu chuckled against the nape of your neck in rich wickedness, subtly rocking his hips to grind the brand of his cock deeper between your parted legs.

"'Course she hasn't the faintest idea," he rumbled in amusement, large palms sliding up to engulf the generous swells of your breasts in scalding possession. "Pretty lil' thing was too busy playing the wide-eyed innocent to notice the way her teasing glances and pretty lips were drivin' us half-mad with want."

Reflexively, your back arched into the rough exploration of his achingly dexterous hands working your tender nipples into stiffened points between finger and thumb. The resultant mewling cry spilled shamelessly from your parted lips, only to be swallowed by Atsumu capturing your mouth once more in a soul-searing brand of possession.

His tongue swept with conquistador's dominion, staking rapacious claim to every untried crevice and plane until you spiraled into boneless quiescence within their encompassing immensity. Rough denim rasped against your over-sensitized skin with each shift of their bodies, stoking subliminal friction into merciless sublimation.

"No more playin' coy now, babydoll," Atsumu growled against the slick, swollen want of your lips before winding his fingers into your hair to yank your head back with cruel precision. His stare pinned you immobile beneath its thrall as he allowed the broad crown of his cock to grind against your bared abdomen in a sensual ellipsis.

"You're ours now, sweetheart—body, soul, and any other part of your pretty lil' self that tries to pretend it can resist givin' us everything we crave."

Osamu rumbled in agreement, the graveled brand of his lips blackening tingling lasers of sweet unraveling along the side of your arched neck.

"Mm, think I hear our bunny pleading to sample just how thorough her new masters' attentions aim to be. Say the words, little dove...beg for what that delicious little body won't stop tremblin' in wanton cravings for. Beg Daddy and Uncle 'Tsumu to give it to you good..."

The twins seemed wholly unconcerned with decorum as they backed you further into the secluded gazebo, hands continuing to roam and caress in undisguised possession. Their nearness and intensity was utterly overwhelming, suffocating in its profane dominance over your senses.

"Look at you, pretty girl," Atsumu purred, the rumbling timbre of his voice laced with dark promise. "Flushed and breathless already just from our touch. You may have played the innocent before, but your body knows exactly what it craves from us."

Osamu chuckled, lips brushing the sensitive skin just below your ear. "She doesn't have to say a word, 'Tsumu. We can read every one of her wanton little needs written in the way she trembles for more."

You shuddered at their words, at the implication that they could so thoroughly unravel you with just the barest of contact. A whimpering sound slipped free, one you didn't quite recognize as your own amidst the thundering of your pulse.

The twins shared a loaded look over your form, a silent interaction heavy with meaning. Then, almost casually, Atsumu reached out and plucked at one of the few remaining scraps of fabric still clinging to your flushed skin. With a deft tug, he stripped it away entirely, leaving you bared before their insistent perusal.

A desperate keening built in your throat as you instinctively moved to cover yourself, a last vestige of modesty surfacing. But the twins were having none of it. Strong hands captured your wrists, holding them immobile at your sides as they drank in every quivering inch.

"No hiding now, bunny," Osamu rumbled, the endearment carrying a darker edge you'd never heard before. "You're ours, all ours to admire and fuck as we see fit. And we intend to admire every luscious curve until you're sobbing with need."

The words alone were enough to have you squirming helplessly between them, the very air itself seeming to throb with their smoldering possession. This was far beyond mere flirtation or teasing now. There would be no going back once you fully surrendered to the rapacious hunger written in every line of the twins' bodies.

But even as uncertainty flickered, a deeper, more primal part of you thrilled at the thought of belonging so completely to them. Of giving yourself over and letting them take everything they craved. You wanted it with a ferocity that terrified and excited you in equal measure.

So when Atsumu trailed a scorching path down your body, callused palm settling between your parted thighs, you didn't resist. A guttural moan tore free as he stroked over your slick pussy, eyes blazing like gemstone flames.

"That's our girl," he growled in approval. "Gonna make you feel so good, kitten. Gonna show you exactly why you were made for us and us alone..."

With those words, he lowered his mouth to your breast, sucking and laving the hardened bud with devastating precision. It was as if a livewire connected between his hot, wet tongue and the sensitive bundle of nerves at your core. Every teasing flick and swirling suck sent a fresh wave of electricity shuddering through your veins, stoking the burning embers in your belly to molten life.

You arched against him, desperate for more, and Osamu's answering chuckle ghosted across the damp skin of your throat. "That's it, sweetheart, give in to the pleasure. We're going to show you just how good it can be when you let go and give in to what your body craves."

Atsumu's fingers continued their slow, maddening rhythm, and you writhed helplessly between them, a mewling, pleading mess. You felt him smirk against your skin, reveling in the power he held over you. "Mm, fuck, I love how you taste. I could eat you for hours, bunny. Make you come over and over again until you can't even remember your own name. Would you like that?"

Your response was a desperate, incoherent cry, hips bucking against his hand as you chased the white-hot peak of pleasure. Atsumu smirked, dark and wicked. "Oh, you'll be getting that and more, bunny. But first, I think you're ready to find out exactly why you're here."

With those words, he pulled away, leaving you shivering and bereft. You blinked up at him, uncomprehending, only to gasp as he and Osamu turned you around and bent you forward, your palms landing on the weathered wood of the gazebo's bench.

Your breath caught in your throat as Atsumu nudged your legs apart, baring your dripping heat to the night air. Behind you, Osamu's hand settled on the small of your back, a subtle yet unrelenting command. "Be a good girl and stay still, now."

You shivered as you felt Atsumu's calloused palms trail up the backs of your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He kneaded the firm flesh, thumbs dipping tantalizingly close to where you wanted them most.

"Look at you," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "So wet and eager, just begging to be filled. And we're going to fill you so good, bunny, gonna stuff you so full you won't even remember anything but the feeling of our cocks stretching you open."

He punctuated his words with a light slap to your ass, the sudden sting making you jolt. Osamu's fingers dug in harder, a warning to hold still, and you whimpered, the anticipation nearly unbearable.

Then, finally, you felt the blunt head of Atsumu's cock press against your entrance, and you couldn't help but cry out as he sank inside, stretching you open with a delicious burn. Your fingers clenched around the bench, and you bowed your head, panting as he slowly worked his way deeper, each inch sending fresh waves of pleasure rippling through you.

By the time he was fully sheathed inside you, you were a trembling mess, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your skin. He held still for a moment, letting you adjust to the sensation, and then he started to move, the slow, torturous slide of his cock pulling moans from deep within your throat.

Your fingers dug into the bench, and you hung your head, lost in the sensation of being fucked so thoroughly. Each thrust seemed to strike sparks deep within you, building the pressure until you were practically vibrating with need.

"Such a perfect little hole for my cock, so fucking tight," Atsumu murmured, his voice laced with lust. "We're going to use it so good, bunny, make you forget all about your old life and replace it with this. Just the feel of my cock pounding into your needy cunt, filling you up with my cum until it drips down your thighs."

He punctuated his words with sharp, stinging slaps to your ass, the pain sending a shockwave of pleasure straight to your core. You arched into him, desperate for more, and he obliged, setting a punishing pace as he pounded into you.

Osamu watched it all, his own cock hard and heavy in his pants, the sight of his brother claiming what was rightfully his sending a possessive thrill through his veins. He could feel the tension building, his twin's thrusts becoming more erratic, and he knew it wouldn't be long before he came.

He waited until the last possible moment, then yanked Atsumu back, his twin's cock sliding out of you with a lewd pop. You whined, desperate for more, and he smirked, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Don't worry, sweetheart, you're not done yet. Not until I've had a turn."

He ignored Atsumu’s protests as he pulled you up and spun you around, settling you on his lap as he sat down on the bench. You straddled his hips, the thick length of his cock nestled between your folds, and he reached up to cup your face, tilting it towards him. "Now be a good girl and show Daddy how grateful you are for his cock."

You hesitated for a moment, then obeyed, sinking down onto his length, the stretch nearly enough to make you see stars. You rocked your hips, taking him deeper, and Osamu's fingers tightened on your face, his gaze burning into yours. "That's it, sweetheart, take every inch. You were made for this, made for us to use and fill and pleasure. And you're going to learn just how good it can be when you're obedient and do as you're told."

You could only whimper, lost in the sensations as you rode him, each roll of your hips drawing fresh gasps and moans. Your fingers tangled in his hair, and you arched your back, grinding against him, chasing the elusive peak.

Osamu's fingers dug into your skin, his breath coming in harsh pants as he matched your pace, driving his cock deeper and deeper. You could feel the pressure building, coiling tighter and tighter, until finally, with a strangled cry, you tumbled over the edge, your whole body shaking with the force of your release.

Your nails raked across Osamu's skin, and he groaned, burying his face in your neck as his cock twitched inside you, pumping you full of his cum. The sensation drew out your climax, and you collapsed against him, the aftershocks rippling through you.

As you came down from the high, a bone-deep satisfaction settled over you, and you melted against him, spent and sated. He stroked your hair, murmuring soothing words as you caught your breath, and you closed your eyes, reveling in the moment.

In the silence, a low chuckle echoed, and you opened your eyes to see Atsumu watching you, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Well, well, looks like our lil' bunny is a quick learner. I'd say she's more than earned a reward, don't ya think?"

Without waiting for a reply, he stepped forward, his gaze raking over you. "'Samu, bend her over, will ya? I wanna fuck he throat until she's droolin' with my cum."

Your eyes widened, and you opened your mouth to protest, but Osamu was already obeying, manhandling you until you were splayed along his thighs, your head hanging upside down as his fingers dug into your waist with the effort of holding you in that position. The new position put your face directly in line with Atsumu's cock, the thick shaft already glistening with precum.

He reached down, running a thumb along your lower lip, and you felt a surge of heat between your legs, unknowingly clenching around Osamu's still-hard cock. He groaned, his grip on your waist tightening, and Atsumu chuckled, his eyes dark with desire.

"I knew you'd enjoy bein' used like this, bunny. Now open wide and let me use that pretty little mouth."

Before you could reply, he pushed past your lips, his cock sliding deep into your throat, cutting off any sound. You gagged around him, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, and Osamu's grip tightened, grounding you.

"Relax, sweetheart, and let him use you. It feels good to be used, doesn't it? To know that your only purpose is to please us and be filled with our cum?"

The words were filthy and depraved, but you couldn't deny the truth of them. You were already growing wetter, and Atsumu's cock was hard and thick in your throat, cum-heavy balls pressed against your nose as he fucked your face. You could feel your throat bulging, and the obscene sight only fueled the fire burning within Atsumu.

"Fuck, 'Samu, look at that, she's takin' it so well, her lil' throat stuffed full of my cock." He pulled back, just enough to allow you a ragged gasp of air, and then he was plunging back in, watching as your throat stretched to accommodate him.

"This is all she's good for, being our lil' fucktoy to use and pleasure as we see fit." His fingers curled around your neck, feeling the outline of his cock through your skin, and his eyes blazed with lust.

"I can't wait to fill her up, to watch her belly swell with my cum. We'll breed her over and over until there's no doubt she's ours."

His words were like a physical touch, and you squirmed against Osamu, your pussy clenching around him as a wave of need washed over you. He was rocking into you, now, small movements that kept you stimulated without bringing you too close to the edge.

You moaned around Atsumu's cock, the vibrations causing him to hiss and jerk his hips. His eyes narrowed, and he reached down, gripping your throat and squeezing.

"Oh, bunny, are you gonna be a naughty girl and make me punish you?" He thrust hard, cutting off any response, and then he was coming, spilling down your throat as he groaned. You swallowed around him, the sensation sending him over the edge, and he pulled out, painting your face with the last of his cum.

"Fuck, you're so goddamn perfect, such a filthy little slut." He ran his thumb through the mess, rubbing it into your skin, and you moaned, the filthy degradation only serving to stoke your arousal higher.

Osamu's grip on you tightened, and you could feel his cock throbbing inside you, his rhythm stuttering as he neared his own release. You rocked your hips, grinding against him, and his breath hitched, a low growl escaping his throat.

"Are you gonna come for us, sweetheart? Come while you're stuffed full of Daddy's cock, and Uncle 'Tsumu's cum is drippin' down your chin?"

His words were a litany of filthy depravity, and you were helpless to resist, falling apart under their combined attentions. Your pussy spasmed, clenching around him as another orgasm ripped through you, sending sparks flying across your vision.

Osamu snarled, his fingers digging into your hips as he held you in place, slamming into you with animalistic force. You could feel his cock twitching, the sensation amplified by the aftershocks still rippling through your core. With a final, guttural cry, he buried himself inside you, his cock pulsing as he pumped you full of his cum for the second time that night.

The three of you stayed there for a moment, locked in carnal embrace, the only sound the harsh pants of your breaths as you struggled to recover. Finally, Atsumu spoke, his voice laced with smug satisfaction.

"Mm, what do ya say, 'Samu, d'ya think our lil' bunny is gonna get the hang of havin' two big cocks stuffin' her tight lil' holes soon enough?"

You could only whimper, the mere suggestion of another round already sending heat pooling low in your belly. Osamu chuckled, his fingers stroking idly along your spine. "Oh, I think she'll be a fast learner, 'Tsumu. But don't worry, we'll make sure she gets plenty of practice. After all, we can't have her disappointing her new owners now, can we?"

As he spoke, his hand slid down, dipping between your legs to circle your sensitive clit, and you shuddered, already aching for more. You could feel his cock, still buried deep inside you, growing hard once again, and Atsumu's fingers tangled in your hair, yanking your head back until your throat was bared.

"No, we can't," he agreed, his lips curving into a wicked smirk. "Now be a good girl and let Daddy and Uncle 'Tsumu show you what a real fuckin' is like..."

[jkl-fff]

The monster we all made in Silly Game Time

must necessarily have two forms: their humanish disguise (one that can pass for human at a glance) for when they must pass among humankind … and their true form.

When they don their humanish disguise (to hunt or to seek companionship or to get a cold drink out of the fridge—though they almost never refill the ice cube tray when they do, like the monster they are), a sense of unease still surrounds them that has nothing to do with their uncanny appearance. Perhaps we instinctively sense that they aren’t human? Perhaps we remember reading about that one time they cut down the trees in Danny DeVito’s yard so fast no one could stop them, and for no other reason than they wanted to annoy DeVito specifically (like a jerk)? Usually, though, we’re either too preoccupied with our own affairs to care all that much. Or we write it off as eccentricity that’s harmless enough, but still seems off-putting; their hair is an unnatural purple and styled in uneven spikes (like a punk rocker or an anime character), for example, and they always wear a dumb cape like from a Count Dracula costume, they’ll howl at the moon in an almost ironic way, and they can do that tongue trick like the singers of KISS that makes it seem way too long and way too prehensile (it’s forked, though, so it must be a fake extension … right?).

If you take more than a glance, though, you might notice the way their skin is stitched together and mismatched in places. Look closer, and you’ll see the stitches tend to secrete a slime that bears an unpleasant resemblance to Velveeta “cheese”. Yuck. Maybe you might notice that they don’t cast a reflection in mirrors and can’t be captured by cameras. Or maybe you’ll notice that one of their eyes is larger than the other and has a yellowish glint to it (the other has a reddish glint), and both have pupils that look a bit too slitted; see them at night, and you might notice that their eyes seem to glow in the dark.

Most likely, though, you won’t see their eyes at night. In fact, you most likely won’t see anything of them at all at night (until it’s too late), save for a gleam of teeth. Because they can hide everything else of their appearance in shadows—everything but the gleam of their teeth for some reason, unless they choose to let that remain visible as a kind of joke. And those teeth, when you look close at them (if you have time enough to look close at them) are always too numerous, too big, too sharp, too rowed like a shark’s teeth. Or like the more feral depictions of vampires (the ones that are more beast than Bela Lugosi). Which is appropriate, since, like nearly all monsters, they have an incredible appetite for human blood.

Their true form might almost be considered majestic in an ineffable, eldritch horror sort of way. They are big, of course—huge, mammoth, colossal—stretching longer than a city bus from head to the tip of their spiked, foxy tail. They stand on an uncountable number of short legs that all end on big, velvety paws as large as a siberian tiger’s (and just as silent). From their sides (their countless shoulders?) sprout an asymmetrical distribution of limbs with asymmetrical sizing. Some are like humanoid arms (the foremost ones are these, with the left one being massive but clumsy and the right one being puny but very deft), some are like tentacles, some are like wings, and one might be an actual snake that got itself absorbed into their mass. The arms end in long claws, the tentacles end in pincers and scissors, and the wings resemble those of bats (with claws at the joint) or ravens or albatrosses (they shouldn’t be able to fly, and yet they can).

They’re covered in fur the same color as their humanish disguise’s spiky hair. Except for patches of rotting flesh where muscle, bone, viscera, cogs, gears, and internal combustion engines are exposed (yet still somehow function, occasionally bleeding the black ichor like evaporative oil they have instead of traditional blood) or where unearthly mushrooms sprout. And except for along their back, of course, where the skin grows scaly and plates (like a stegosaurus or Godzilla) jut out of their spine. Speaking of their hair, it corresponds nicely to their true form’s horns: on the top of their head at the end of their long neck, their horns are long and stiped and swirling, one set like a ram, three sets like from different antelopes, and one single horn like a unicorn.

You might easily miss their bat-like ears among the horns, save that they swivel constantly to-and-fro tracking what they hear. You won’t miss their teeth, though; those carry over to their true form, even if their mouth tends to change its location on their face, slithering like a snake between their too many eyes (big yellow ones and small red ones scattered around their face). And, almost glorious, above their head floats an interlocking of many-eyed halos like some sort of angel during one of Heaven’s many drag competitions (the drag they got up there is wild, since they’ve got so many more and wild genders than here on Earth).

This has led some scholars to theorize that the monster (that we just made up yet has also always existed) actually *is* an angel. Specifically one of the Gray Angels who remained neutral instead of siding with God or Lucifer, possibly one overseeing fungi and decomposition. This would explain why they do neither good (apart from maybe making sure fungi continue) nor evil (apart from killing some humans and drinking their blood, but there are over 8 billion of us, so it’s not really that big of a deal when you think about it), and are willing to exploit and disregard the safety of mortals to perform their own tasks. Some say this means they represent the worst of humanity (egotism), some say they’re still objectively more decent than their creator (God, who is indisputably the biggest criminal in this universe’s history). Some say they can be viewed as an allegory for being trans, but since *all monsters ever* can be viewed as an allegory for being trans (one of the many reasons monsters are awesome), that’s a bit like saying the sky is blue. Everyone agrees, however, that it’s pretty cool they can spit acid and breathe fire, and everyone is right on that point.

The final question we might ask is: How can we protect ourselves from our monster? There isn’t anything we can do to harm them, however they do seem to be averse to complex geometry (mobius strips and tesseracts and the like) (it doesn’t hurt them, they just seem to find them too tacky to be tolerated). So maybe wear a pendant with one of those on them. Can’t hurt. Probably can’t help, but can’t hurt, either.

Thanks for playing!