#like a lion trapped in a cage god damn

[cinnabeat]

the thing that gets me about soras "something to fight for with all my heart" is that like its a fine sentiment and matches soras my friends are my power thing he has going on but also he has no concept of moderation and gives all of himself constantly bc he wants to help! and he gives and he gives until eventually he goes to far and theres no more of himself left to give :/

[weministertomonsters]

Gone Rogue - 2

The Isharin was right. The heat is going to kill you. You fled from the ruins of your home with nothing but the clothes on your backs. There was nothing to take anyway.

You have walked only a few miles, but the sun is baking your back and the air seems to be dancing. You understand why you must put some distance between you and the Isharin, and you wish to the gods that the sun will go down quickly. You never cared much for the gods of either of your parents, but you pray to both of them now, Minrūn for protection and Vorqa for endurance.

If you're up there, help us.

Kalen is a few strides ahead of you, looking out for danger. The rocky walls seem to draw closer and closer, and your eyebrows furrow. This is why the passage to the desert is called the Canyon of Pain, you realize as you slip on the loose stones.

Travelers have to pass through the canyon to reach the deserts and vice versa, and your parents capitalized on that and built their home near the mouth of the canyon. They became very wealthy from trading with the Tariq, the clan that lives in the desert beyond.

"Kalen," you gasp, leaning back against the crumbling rock. "Can we stop for a rest?"

He doesn't say yes, but he doesn't say no either. As you sink into a puddle on the floor he paces like a caged lion, craning his head up to look at the rocky overhang. Besides being a natural death trap, the Cayon of Pain gives bandits a way to ambush travelers from above.

"I'm sorry," you say, gulping down a sip of precious water from the waterskin and wiping the sweat from your upper lip. "I'm slowing you down."

"My Lady, I'm here to protect you. I am not running to save my own head."

"But you could. You still can," you protest. "You know I won't stop you."

Kalen crouches down in front of you and the seriousness on his face is almost scary.

"You forget the oath I took," he says. "I consumed your blood and I am bound to you, as you are bound to me. If we die, we will go together."

You scrunch up your nose to try and hide the fact that tears just rushed into your eyes. For a person to give their life up is no small matter, and you feel like you certainly aren't worthy of that.

"Um," you say, standing up quickly. "We should continue."

"Do you want me to carry you?" Kalen asks, and that makes you laugh.

"You're underestimating me, Kalen Talath."

"Very well," he replies, and the journey continues.

You're determined to push until you get out of this damned canyon, so even when your legs beg for rest and your feet prickle with pain, you forge on. Thank the gods your nails are clipped short, otherwise they'd be broken and chipped with the way you have to keep reaching to the rocky walls to catch yourself.

Kalen isn't struggling at all, you think as you glance at him through the corner of your eye.

His back is straight and his eyes alert, sharpening at even the slightest movement of a dry tumbleweed. If he is weary, it doesn't show. Then again, he is from the Tariq clan. The desert is like a home to his people and he is used to physical toil due to being a bodyguard. He took his job seriously even though there were little to no threats to your safety. There were many nights that you stayed up to secretly watch him practice his swordsmanship.

"This canyon," you ask to fill the silence, "was it always like this?"

"If we are to believe the legends, then we are walking on the bottom of the biggest river that ever was," Kalen replies. "When gods still roamed the earth, one of them grew so thirsty that he leaned down to have a drink and emptied the river. A goddess passing through many moons later languished of thirst and found the river was drained. In spite, she cursed the land with an everlasting drought and it has been so since."

"That came straight from Bella san Adenai. One of my history books," you laugh. "I have it memorized."

"So do I, at this point," Kalen says, and you pause and turn to look at him.

"How? If you don't mind me asking," you add hastily.

"I am present in the room with you in your studies, am I not?" He replies. "I listen."

"You really are something," you say. "I have known noblemen less driven to gaining knowledge than you."

"I have nothing better to do with my life, My Lady." Kalen laughs.

"Are you never getting married, then?" You ask cautiously.

"No." His answer is so short that you bite your lip and drop it.

Don't start now, you warn yourself.

It's none of your business, even though you want it to be. The silence is a little awkward after that. It feels like your prayers have been answered when the Canyon of Pain ends as abruptly as it began, spitting you out into an ocean of dunes that stretch as far as the eye can see. It's so open and empty, not a tree in sight. There are a few rocky outcrops that provide shade, but even the closest of them is still far away. The wind hisses around your ankles and the air shimmers.

"Wow," you murmur.

"We'll wait here until the sun goes down," Kalen says. "At least we have the shade of the rock walls. And then we walk by night and until take shelter so that we can weather the worst of the day."

"Very well." You sit down- on the ground since there is no other option- and pull off your shoes.

"My Lady!" Kalen says in that gruff tone that indicates displeasure.

"It just looks bad," you say sheepishly, studying your feet.

"You are not used to walking such long distances on rough terrain. I should have given you rest," he sighs.

"I'm fine! Really, I don't even feel the pain."

Kalen crouches and takes your foot by the ankle propping it up on his knee, examining it. He frowns.

"You will soon. You should listen to your body, My Lady."

Despite the heat, your cheeks warm.

"I-I think I am?" You stammer. "Listening, that is. Um."

He ignores your fumbling and reaches into one of his pockets and brings out a small jar. It is filled with a light green paste.

"What is that?" You ask.

"A soothing balm," he says, scooping some out and gently applying it to the soles of your feet and your ankles.

"You will rest until we have to walk again," he says. "Perhaps I will carry you."

You don't protest this time, because while his touch is gentle, it wakes up your nerves, so you're feeling the pain now, just like he predicted.

You lean back against the rocky wall and sigh. You'd be anything for a bath, but you're not even going to entertain the thought. You'd be lucky just to find enough water for drinking. You hold out the waterskin to Kalen and when he refuses you scowl and say,

"You need to drink. I don't want you fainting of thirst."

His lips twitch, but he takes it and drinks a little. Then he too sits down, crossing his legs and closing his eyes. He doesn't seem to get tired of holding his back so straight. You fidget, then take your hair down and braid it up again so the loose strands don't tickle the nape of your neck.

The dots of paint on your fingers are beginning to flake and with a start, you remember you were going to be attending the Nin festival in Denara with your parents. You had been so excited as you went to buy the paint to prepare yourself for the festival, only to return and find black smoke billowing from the pile of rubble your house used to be.

"Kalen?" You whisper, but he doesn't respond.

He's probably meditating. You use the collar of your dress to awkwardly wipe at the stray tears on your face and try to close your eyes and rest as well. You trust Kalen to keep you safe.

What feels like hours later, you wake up to a sudden noise. The sky is orange, growing darker as the sun falls below the horizon. You've been sleeping with Kalen's coat bundled under your head as a makeshift pillow. And as you prop yourself up on your elbows, you see the entrance to the Canyon of Pain in the distance.

He must have carried you here, to the shade of one of the rocky outcrops. You hadn't woken up when he carried you and you're rather ashamed about that. Only a few hours of journey is enough to do you in like that.

Then you remember that something woke you. You turn your head, expecting to see Kalen, but instead you're staring at the bony knees of a shriveled old man. He's crouched beside you and has his head tipped back, guzzling down the last of your precious water.

You let out a startled shriek and grab the waterskin from him, which knocks him off balance. He makes pitiful sounds and throws an arm up, clearly expecting you to hit him. You were considering it, but now you lower the waterskin and stare warily at him. Maybe it's just age, but he's rather funny-looking. He has no hair on his head but sports a full, bristly white mustache that pokes over his wet pink lips.

His skin is the color of cocoa, so wrinkled that it resembles dried fruit. He's also very short, coming no higher than your hip, wearing a loincloth and nothing more, which makes you wonder how he's surviving the heat. Maybe that's why his skin looks the way it does.

Once it's obvious you're not going to hurt him he smiles at you with the few teeth he has left and turns to a dusty pack lying on the sand and digs into it. He brings what looks like a piece of cactus out. The spikes have been cleaned off and the part where he snapped it off from a larger piece of cactus is leaking clear water-like liquid.

He wants you to take it. You hesitate, clutching the waterskin and staring warily at him.

Kalen appears around the rock. "My Lady, we can begin walking now-"

He pauses for just a moment to take in the scene and then lunges forward, drawing his sword. The old man yelps and drops onto his knees, clasping his hands together.

"Alone!" He cries out. "Alone!"

Kalen stops short looks around for any others. There are none. He points the sword at the old man's neck, then uses the flat side of the blade to force him to look up. The old man grins sheepishly, transforming his face into a sea of wrinkles and yellow, squinting eyes.

"You," Kalen says with a scoff.

The old man shakes his clasped hands in a begging gesture.

"Old friend," he says. "Old friend yes?"

You glance at Kalen. "Do you two know each other?"

[thissmycomingofage]

13 fave lyrics this week?

1. "I grew up wishing I could close off the way my dad did / 'Cause that man never felt a damn thing he didn't wanna feel" (cowboys cry too, kelsea ballerini/noah kahan)

2. "Follow the train tracks into the next town / Look for a bookstore, somewhere to sit down / I know you've got places that you run away to / Leave little traces so I can find you" (Sarah come home, Allie X)

3. "and I need you / to stop needing me / Like I needed you / We both need to / tend to the invisible wounds" (invisible wounds, Aurora)

4. "I was such a fool / Didn't know the rules of playing make believe /Didn't know that getting old would come and meet me" (almost home, mxmtoon)

5. "on épouse pas le chanteur, c'est vouloir enfermer le vent, c'est épingler un papillon, c'est mettre en cage un lion." (Le chanteur, Clara luciani)

(translation : "You don't marry a singer, it's like wishing to trap the wind, it's like pining a butterfly, it's like caging a lion")

6. "Maybe we're just like flowers, starting down in the dust" (growing pains, mxmtoon)

7. "You try to muster a flare, tell somebody you're sinking / But anxiety is an index finger pressed on your lips" (Genesis., Raye)

8. "Fake democracy, killing overseas / Killing ourselves, suicide / Government lies, discrimination / Hating ourselves / Why hope? Why keep going?Why try? / Genesis one, verse three, I'll dry my eyes / The only thing which darkness cannot coexist in the light" (Genesis., Raye)

9. "I can take the suffering from you" (suffering, epic the musical)

10. "But the light kicks in when I know it's time / I built my walls, so it's safe to hide / And the people I love I left behind / They see too much when they look in my eyes" (my body is not mine, Aurora)

11. "There is no God, in here without me, my dear" (Earthly delights, Aurora)

12. "You turn a blind eye when the drunk man falls / Did you ever think why is the drunk man drunk?" (Environmental anxiety, Raye)

13. "When you hate the body you are in / Oh, love, you’re actin’ just for him / As he counts his gold and green in his ivory tower / Our fear, it lines his pockets, love / so take that rage and bottle up / And put a drop into his cup of wine / You don't need him, you don't need me / With that poisoned bottle, you’ll be free / But be damn sure you don’t mix it up with mine" (as good a reason, Paris Paloma)

[peterrparrkerr]

Aliens made them do it - read on ao3

Second card is officially done!! I'll be posting the masterlist tomorrow and will start posting the third bingo card in August!

*-*

Peter doesn't cry. He doesn't. Not when he's separated from Tony and the others, and not when Ronan presses the barrel of an alien blaster to his head.

He didnt cry, because he knew this was a possible outcome to staying on the ship. He knew that there was a possibility that this would happen.

He told Tony he thought this through, and he had.

But damn was he terrified. He shook with fear and cold, on his knees. They'd stripped him of his suit, leaving him in his boxers. He knew space was cold, but he never expected it to be like this.

"They're recruiting young, I see," Ronan hummed, walking around Peter's hunched and trembling form. "They must be desperate."

"I'm stronger than I look," Peter said, putting on a brave face. He was going to die anyway. He wanted to die like Spiderman, not like Peter Parker.

"I'm sure," Ronan hummed. He finishes his lap around Peter before standing in front of him. "Has anyone told you what exactly you were up against before throwing you to the lions?"

The barrel of the gun presses under Peter's chin, forcing him to crane his neck. He swallows thickly, blinking rapidly against frightened tears.

"Something as tiny and fragile as you must know you stand no chance against the almighty Thanos," Ronan continued, not giving Peter a chance to answer -not that he would.

"Its a suicide mission," the blue alien continued. "One that landed you in my grasp, and no closer to Thanos.

"And what to do with you," Ronan hummed, looking deep in thought for a moment. Peter felt his mouth grow dry.

Aunt May would never know what happened to him. He'd leave her all alone. And what happened if none of the other Avengers could stop him?

Would she be one of the ones killed by Thanos? Or would she be left behind. Left wondering if Peter was alive somewhere or gone like the rest of half the population. Peter didn't know which was worse.

"Killing you would be a waste," Ronan continued, oblivious to Peter's inner turmoil. "I'm sure we could find some way to entertain ourselves, hmm?"

Peter's first thought was torture, and he felt his breath hitching. It made Ronan grin, dark teeth juxtaposing against his blue skin.

"Oh, yes, I have the perfect thing for you and your little friends."

Peter tried not to shout when Ronan grabbed him by the hair, but he tugged Peter from his knees, and he couldn't help it.

Peter gripped Ronan's wrist, wincing and whimpering as he was half dragged across the floor.

"I've always wondered how humans worked," Ronan mused. "And now I've got four of them."

"Please-" Peter gasped wetly, tears burning his eyes. Ronan takes him into a dark room and yanks him forward before dropping him.

Peter falls onto his chest, not having enough to catch himself. He coughs as he gets his hands under him, pushing himself off the ground.

A heavy boot lands on his back and shoves him back down, and Peter grunts, scrambling to get up off the floor.

"Now now, no need to make a fuss," Ronan murmured, voice deep. "Bring in the sarcastic one. Take the other two humans and have fun."

"No!" Peter shouted. "Le-leave them alone-"

He's cut off when the boot grinds down on his shoulder blade. He winces, chest heaving as two other blue aliens leave the room, shutting the door behind them.

"Its best you behave, human," Ronan presses, leaning over Peter, putting more weight on Peter's back. "Your behavior from here on out determines how fast you and your friends die at my hand."

Peter chokes on a sharp exhale, tears spilling over his eyelashes.

It doesn't take long for the doors to open again, and Peter can hear Tony, grumbling and digging himself into a hole, like always.

"Ah, just who we were waiting for," Ronan said cheerfully. "Come join us."

Peter lays on the floor under Ronan's boot, knowing he wasn't strong enough to buck him off.

Tony comes into his line of sight, and he looks pissed. Thdyd taken his suit too, though he had a track suit on underneath.

Peter stupidly wondered if Tony would make his suit able to hide clothes as well -so he didnt have to go around in his boxers- before remembering there wouldn't be a chance to.

"You okay, kid?" Tony asked, eyeing Peter. Peter could only nod.

Ronan removed his boot before bending down and grabbing Peter by the hair.

Peter yelped and scrambled to his feet, and Tony took a step forward, face contortions in rage before two other Kree grabbed him by the arms.

"Humans are so strange," Ronan hummed, pulling Peter in close by his hair. Peter held onto his wrist, wincing and stumbling as he was guided around. "Your customs and traditions have always been odd, though I've never seen them practiced."

Peter whimpers as Ronan draws his head back, exposing his neck. He looks down at Peter just as Peter feels cold metal press into his throat.

"Leave him alone," Tony demands. Peter can't see him, but he knows from the scuffle that he'd tried to charge at them again but was held back. "I swear to God, you kill him and I'll blow this ship to pieces."

Ronan chuckled, eyes alit with amusement. "I'm not going to hurt him yet," Ronan promised.

"Not until I see you fuck him."

Peter's eyes widen at that.

"Fuck you," Tony snapped. Ronan laughed. "No fucking way am I going to do-"

"Either you fuck him, or I kill you where you stand," Ronan growled, aiming the alien tech towards Tony.

"Do it," Tony growled back. "I'm not scared of you."

"No?" Ronan asked. Peter lets out a desperate sob, trembling against the alien. "He seems pretty scared of me."

Peter can't help flinching when the alien blaster is pressed back into his throat.

Ronan then leans down, dark purple tongue poking out between darker teeth. Peter cries out, struggling against his hold as the alien licks a strip up Peter's cheek, from jaw up to his eyebrow.

"Fuckin- leave him alone!" Tony nearly screams. Peter manages to turn his head, but it tightens the hold Ronan has on his hair.

"Fuck him, or I will," Ronan demanded. "And I wont be nice about it."

Peter doesn't think his knees will hold him much longer. He openly cries, breath heaving in his chest.

"You can't-" Peter gasped out.

"Oh, but I can," Ronan said. "Do you think your fragile human body can handle me, little one?"

Peter chokes on a sob, struggling in his hold a little more as Ronan licks at his jaw again.

"I've heard humans tear so easily," Ronan continues, loud enough for Tony to hear over Peter's crying. "Poor thing might die before I even get a chance to fuck him properly."

"Fine!" Tony shouted. "Fine, alright, I'll do it- just- just let him go."

Ronan smiles against Peter's skin, and he's suddenly released. Peter almost drops to the floor, but he catches himself and rushes from the alien, into Tony's chest.

The older man is quick to hold him tight, hashing Peter and holding him tight.

"I'm waiting," Ronan called. "Entertain me."

Peter buries his face deeper into Tony's chest, arms wrapped around his torso.

"Pete," Tony winces, lowering his head. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Peter shakes his head, sobbing breathlessly. He doesn't fight him when Tony pulls him to the floor, the whole time apologizing over and over.

"Just- just lay down, Peter," Tony murmurs, his own hands shaking. "Close your eyes."

Peter sobs as he lays on the cold ground, body stiff and vision blurry.

He can see Ronan and the two other Kree watching them, sitting and smirking together. Peter tries so hard to calm his crying, but it seems to make it worse.

Tony takes Peter's boxers off, kneeling between his legs.

Peter covers himself with his hands, trembling.

"I'm so sorry," Tony murmured, leaning over him. Peter can't look as Tony takes himself out of his pants.

He's never prayed for death before now. He sobs and begs for this not to happen, for Ronan to just kill them and get this over with.

"I'm sorry."

Its the last thing Tony says before pressing into him. Peter arches, a strangled cry forced past his lips.

He can hear the Kree laughing, egging Tony on. Peter sobs as Tony presses all the way in, lowering himself.

Peter realizes he's hiding Peter as best he can, resting on his elbows. Peter wraps his arms around Tony's neck, burying his nose into his shoulder as Tony thrusts into him.

It lasts forever. He knows neither of them are enjoying it. But Peter knows why Tony's doing this. Knows why he chose to do it instead of letting Ronan.

And Peter can't help but love him for it. But he hates him too. Hates that the two of them are in this position.

Mostly he hates himself. He should've listened when Tony told him to go home. If he had just stayed on the bus, Tony and Dr. Strange might've gotten away.

"I'm so so sorry, Peter," Tony whispered against Peter's ear. He sounded wrecked, broken and disgusted with himself.

Peter whimpers against his shoulder as he's fucked into the cold floor.

"Its okay," he manages through his crying. "Its okay, its okay."

Tony just shakes his head, exhaling wetly against him.

Peter feels his balls tighten up, and he hates himself. He sobs and closes his eyes, hiding his face against Tony seconds before he cums.

"Shh, shh," Tony hushes, holding Peter tight. "I've got you."

But Peter knows he doesn't. Not really. He's just as defenseless as Peter is. They're trapped in space with aliens just slightly less villainous than Thanos himself.

He has to bite back a mewling sob as Tony cums moments later, painting Peter's inner walls in warm semen.

He doesn't stay attached to Peter for longer than needed. Peter's boxers are pulled back on and then Tony is pulling Peter into a seated position.

"There, you happy?" Tony snapped, hugging Peter to his chest. Peter trembles against him, burying his face in Tony's track suit.

"Very," Ronan hums. "Take them back to their cages. I might want to play with them a little later."

Peter can't stop crying when they're locked in their small four by four cage. Hes leaning against the bars, knees drawn up and arms holding his legs tightly.

Tony's on the other side, putting as much distance between them as possible.

Stephen and Quill's cage is still empty to the left of them, but to the right, Drax and Mantis sit. Peter can't even look at them.

Can't look at Tony.

He tucks his face into his knees and lets the sobs wrack his body, shoulders shaking with each shuddering breath.

[lucifers-horror-harem]

Caught

Ayyyy y’all so I had a REALLY hot idea for my slasher OC Alan that Bex just INSISTED I write, and so I busted this out in a day (i wrote half of it at work too sdfgbfrerfg). So I hope y’all enjoy it and get a glimpse into some smuttier and darker Alan ;)

Alan Sharpe x AFAB!Reader Word Count: ~2.3k Warnings: Voyeurism, bondage, punishment, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, bratty behavior, dirty talk, yandere themes, dark possessive themes.

"I don't want you to touch yourself today, princess. I have something planned for us later and I want to make sure you're nice and prepared for it. Is that understood?"

You agreed. At this point, a conversation like this out of nowhere at breakfast wasn't as shocking as it was when he had first brought you here. Alan smiled at your promise, taking another sip of his coffee. After a few more minutes of small talk over the eggs and toast you had made for him, he set his dishes in the sink, gave you a gentle kiss on the top of your head, and went off to settle in his home office for the day. Since kidnapping you, he had decided to do all of his work from home, moving everything online so he could make sure to keep an eye on you at all times.

And you knew he was ever vigilant. You could never locate them, but you knew he had hidden cameras set up everywhere in his villa. Shortly after you arrived, he confronted you very smugly with a video of you, fingers deep in your pussy, and asked you why you were still too shy to let him play with you when you were so filthy as to make yourself cum in his bed without him. It was then that you realized the extent of his stalking before abducting you, as he would casually bring up things that were impossible to know about you from just being his former employee. 

By now you had slowly grown used to Alan and his voyeuristic tendencies. You even began to love the way he touched you, not to mention how he fucked you silly almost every night. The thought of him having something planned made you eager and needy, but you were content with waiting until tonight to find out what it was. 

At least, you had thought so. The problem was that you had certain habits you’d grown accustomed to. Usually, after lunch, you liked to take a midday nap so you were fresh for the rest of the day (and night when Alan kept you awake with his insatiable sex drive). But you were also used to masturbating before your nap. It helped you release some pent-up energy so you could get comfortable for a nice restful nap. 

When you got into bed today, however, you kept tossing and turning. You were hot, wearing only a thin pair of panties and yet you knew the type of hot you felt wouldn't be relieved by stripping down. The fact that Alan had instructed you not to touch yourself made you restless as you tried to doze off but found it near impossible. How hard was it to just pass out for an hour or so? With an exasperated groan, you rolled onto your stomach and pressed your face against your pillow. This was absolute hell. 

That's when you got a terrible idea. On your stomach, you let your hand slowly drift between your thighs, fingers ghosting over the silky smooth panties over your sex. You had sheets and a light blanket over your body, perhaps if you didn't move around too much Alan wouldn't be able to see on the cameras. That little thought in the back of your mind that said you were an idiot if you thought this would work was pushed from your brain as you stroked your already wet slit through your panties. Restraining any sort of sound and movement you could, you worked on grinding your fingers against your needy clit as you fantasized about the thrill of Alan catching you in this moment. God, you wanted to be good so badly but you just couldn't fall asleep if you didn't do this. 

With the position and restraining yourself from moving too much left it rather difficult to get off, you eventually managed to cum from rutting against your hand. As you came down from your high, you sunk further into the bed beneath you, careful not to move too much just in case Alan was watching. You didn't want to seem too suspicious by rolling over and revealing just how out of breath and blissed-out you were. 

After a while, you felt the need to use the bathroom arise. Figuring you were safe, you rolled out of bed rather normally and made your way to the private bathroom off of the bedroom. As you relieved yourself, you noticed just how soaked through your panties were. Fuck. No way you could continue to wear these if you wanted Alan to believe you hadn't been playing with yourself. So after washing your hands you balled them up and intended to throw them in the hamper. It wasn't unusual for you to sometimes go full nude for a nap. You would slip the panties between layers of day-old clothes and everything would be fine. 

You opened the bathroom door and your breath caught in your throat. Alan stood in front of the bathroom door, arms folded over his broad chest. He was wearing his black slacks with a white button-up, the sleeves rolled up his arms so you could see the black and white rose tattoo on his right forearm, the thorny vines coiled around it reminding you of the danger you faced right at this moment. But Alan didn't look angry. His ice-blue eyes eyed your naked body up and down, a small smile curling up his lips. "Have a good nap, sweetheart?" He asked innocently. 

Quickly you tried your best to compose yourself, not wanting to give away your guilt. "Not really, I've been tossing and turning. I was about to get in bed and try again." 

"Mhm," Alan hummed dismissively. He unfolded his arms and leaned one of them against the door frame, trapping you in more than he already had. His other hand fell to his hip, taking up the entire doorway. You crossed your own arms instinctively, your fist tightening around your underwear. "It's important that my baby gets her beauty rest." 

Despite the way your heart thumped heavily in your chest, you thought that just maybe you were still safe. Alan did act like this plenty, especially when you were completely naked in front of him. Hoping to placate him, you gave an innocent-looking smile and went to move under his arm. "Well, I suppose I better get to that-"

"Did you at least think about me while you were fingering your cunt?"

The sudden shift in tone made you gasp softly, his arm sliding down to block your path. You were practically pressed against his body and took a step back on instinct. His smile still seemed playful but those eyes of his quickly took on a dark glint. Before you could try to come up with an excuse, Alan's sharp tone cut you as he pressed, "Think very carefully before you answer me." 

You gulped, your heart now having left into your throat. You looked around everywhere, trying to figure out what the fuck to do now. He had you and yet you couldn't stop your stupid fucking mouth from blabbering, "I don't know what you mean, Daddy."

Alan snorted loudly. "Oh honey, that's not going to butter me up one fucking bit." Leaning down now, he used his imposing height against you as he loomed over you. "Now I'm going to give you one more chance to admit your fuck up. And it had better be the truth this time." He didn't even need to add the "or else," the implication was lingering heavily in the air. 

God, you shouldn’t even be considering trying to call his bluff right now. That would be like staring right in the lion’s face and spitting at him. But you began to feel indignation towards Alan at this moment, wanting nothing more than to yell and scream about how it’s none of his fucking business what you want to do with yourself when he’s away. You wanted to be heard. Even if he put you in your place right after you almost craved that; having Alan force you to obey.

So instead of deciding the rational answer in all of these responses, you simply said, “But you told me not to. So I didn’t.”

Alan’s hand shot out at you, and you flinched instinctively. He had never hit you before, but the sudden motion was enough to startle anyone. He held his hand out in front of you. With a snarl pulling on his lips, he growled, “Give me your panties. Now.”

You blinked. 

“Now!” Alan barked this time, jolting you back to the present moment. 

Oh no. You really were in for it now. 

You handed over your panties without a second thought, not registering exactly what it was you were doing. A part of you didn’t realize until he had them in his hand what kind of trouble you were in now. You stared in horror as he lifted the panties to his face, cold blue eyes staring daggers into yours, forcing you to keep his gaze. 

And then he inhaled. Deeply. 

To say your core didn’t absolutely throb at the sight would have been the lie of the century. There was even a little whimper that escaped you as he did it. You were certain if this continued any longer your sex would become slick again with your desire. And just after you had gotten yourself calmed down again.

Slowly, Alan lowered the panties from his face, his eyes burning into you as you looked down in heated shame. His smile returned, this time with an almost cruel chuckle. “Sweetheart, there’s no way with how wet these are that you could tell me you weren’t finger fucking yourself.” 

“I wasn’t-”

Alan suddenly stepped forward, causing you to stumble backward until you felt the wall behind you. “Oh no, you had your turn to offer an explanation. Now it’s my turn to talk.”

His body caged you in, and your hands rested upon his chest to try to maintain some distance, but it wasn’t exactly working for you. Arms pinned on either side of your head, you couldn’t help but feel your body tremble as he glared down at you. 

“I let you fuck that pretty little pussy damn near every day. Whether you like it or not sweetheart, I own every inch of you,” he whispered, leaning down and gripping your chin with one of his hands to force you to look at him. “And I let you play with yourself. Because I’m a nice man and I want my baby to be happy. But when I ask you for one little thing and you can’t do it, I wonder whether you still disrespect me.”

When you looked away, Alan smiled darkly. “Or maybe, just maybe you’re just so desperate and needy that you can’t help yourself. Just an eager little slut for my attention.” When you didn’t answer, he continued. “So what is it darling? Do you not respect me, or are you a desperate little slut for me? Answer me.”

“I’m desperate.”

“A desperate what?”

By this point your thighs were pressed tightly together, trying to hide the embarrassment of how you were absolutely dripping at his manhandling and accusations. The hands that had been trying to push him away were now balled in the lapels of his shirt. 

“Your desperate little slut,” you whimpered, the words doing nothing to curb your arousal. “I tried not to but I just couldn’t fall asleep and I just… I couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help thinking about you. I’m sorry daddy.”

A smug look of victory crossed Alan’s face. “Little too late for sorry now princess, but I appreciate it.” Alan sighed rather dramatically, loosening the grip he had as he smiled down at you. “You know I hate punishing you, darling, I really do. But we can’t keep having this happen, can we? If you can’t listen, then I’ll just have to give you a way to remember.”

With that, he whisked you back into the bedroom, urging you towards the bed. He didn’t even need to tell you, you knew to get in. Alan made a point of humming rather cheerily as he went to the chest at the end of the bed, serving to only worsen your need as he rummaged around before finding what he wanted. 

Alan held restraints in his hands, and you couldn’t help but feel heat rush over you as you remember the last time he used them on you. “Give me your arm,” he asked, and you quickly held it out for him. He went around to each of the four corners of the bed, cuffing your wrists and ankles to each corner of the bed. He tried to remain neutral, but slipped into a wide grin as soon as he saw your leaking cunt spread out for him, finally aware of the effect this all had on you. 

Once he was finished, he stood over you, admiring his work. With a quick glance at his watch, Alan rambled on, “Well, I still have a few meetings to attend before dinner tonight, darling. I suppose I will have to get you by then, but until then I think this will be a perfectly comfortable position for you to be in to finally get that nap you’ve been dying for. I’ll leave you alone so you can get some shut-eye.” 

He turned to leave, and you already felt yourself squirm in discomfort. But as he neared the door he stopped and spun around to face you again. “Oh, I almost forgot.” He strode back over to the bed, retrieving your panties from his pocket as he lifted them to your mouth. “Open.” And you did, whining softly at the salty taste of your arousal on your tongue. Alan smiled down at you, patting your cheek gently. “Couldn’t leave without giving those back, now could I?” 

He was just too damn thorough with his punishments.

[captainstevenrogerswrites]

Not my Captain.

@mrsrogerswrites

"Captain! Theres a rift opening. No known origin but its growing in size"

Captain Rogers stood tall as a smirk etched his features. Soldier surrounded him with few scientists. He despised scientists as a whole, always thinking they knew best, always over thinking, where as a soldier followed his command without any thinking and the ones they didnt......well their blood splattered the walls in defiant decoration to show anyone thinking of disobeying him just how he handled betrayal and free thinking from his men. He didnt care either if they respected him or just feared him, to him they were the same. You followed his orders, you lived for now. You didnt you would be praying the enemy killed you before Steve had a chance too because if he felt in a mood, he would drag your death out until you were begging for death and then simply keep dragging it on until your body killed itself and the last thing you would see was his dark smile creasing his lips. No one dared stand up to him.

Soldiers he tolerated, scientists only when they were of use to him. Everyone else was free game to him. If you were of use, he would acknowledge your existence, if not you were nothing to him. Same with relieving himself, if he wanted to fuck you, he never asked, he just took what he wanted from you, not caring if you couldnt take it either. After all, why would he care about you when you were just a fuck toy he was using for a couple of minutes relief. He was nothing like Captain America from other realms, he was Captain HYDRA; the ultimate super soldier in every way.

"Sir it's to another dimension " he dragged the scientist up to his feet as he began to tremble in fear "To where?" He snarled at the scared man "I....I....I dont know" with one swift action he broke his neck "the next person who cant answer my fucking question gets thrown in" everyone frantically tried to work out where.

He smiled to himself, another dimension, another Earth, he had helped HYDRA gain power over the world here and keep it. He was known as HYDRAS main man and he thrived upon it. If this other world wasnt ruled by them then maybe it was time it was "Sir, we have visual contact"

Looking up at the screen he saw blurry outlines of people as he snarled recognising some of them "Fury" he had killed him but it could be fun to kill this one too. The rift started to destabilise but he would be damnned if he was going to lose the chance of some more fun so he grabbed some of his men and ran through it just before it disappeared.

Walking slowly into view of the people, he didnt care his men had probably got shredded to pieces by not making it through with him. They were replaceable. "Captain Rogers" Fury questioned him as Rogers perked his brow in curiosity, the way he said it made it sound like this Rogers was on their side. He could feel the disgust inside of him with that thought, his version here working alongside him as a good guy, it was stuff of nightmares.

"But you're dead" another man spoke up in shock as Rogers fought back the urge to roll his eyes at his stupidity every bone in his body wanted to rip his tongue out and feed it him for it but he didnt. He was still assessing his situation and maybe he could play along as another good guy.

"I'm sorry for your loss, but dimensions are being split everywhere..." damn he was sounding like those pathetic scientists . "We need to fix the damage. What better way then teaming up?" He forced a smile, one that didnt look dark as his eyes then landed on a redhead. He would have her bent over that desk and fucking her brains out if he didnt have to play so pitifully good and maybe she would be one that could actually take it. He tried to hide the smirk, it's a shame he couldnt find out. At least not yet, as soon as HYDRA had taken over this world too, he would fuck her and if she was any good maybe he would keep her just for his amusement. Oh the possibilities but then she opened her mouth and he just wanted to ram his cock down her fucking throat to shut that precious mouth up. "So HYDRAs now the good guys" she motioned to his arm badge of the symbol of his home.

He smirked "different dimension love, who says SHIELD are the good guys for me?" He winked at her as soldiers attacked him and he snapped their necks, earning him a small fight and guns being to his head. He wasnt going to get anywhere with them all dead, so didnt show what he was fully capable of yet and put his hands up "well where we come from, HYDRA are the bad guys and were not taking any chances"

It had been at least three weeks since he was thrown in this god forsaken cell. Not that it bothered him, it gave him time to analyse and plan. If he wasnt sat up on the bed, he was doing press ups or walking around his block to keep his body moving but, even though he refused to show it, he was a restless beast trapped in a cage biding it's time before it attacked its prey. Two more days later and the opportunity leading to that might had reared its head.

"Our HYDRA has a device that can be of use to fix all the dimensions effected by the rift. You and Agent Romanoff will infiltrate and get the device. If you help us fix the rift we will let you go back to your dimension alive" he smirked at Furys words, Steve saw right through him, there was no chance in hell that these people would let him go back. His eyes deliberately walked all over her body before looking back at the man who thought he was in charge. This could be fun with her and he could bring down SHIELD here too. Throwing the lion back into the lions den....no wonder SHIELD didnt survive long in his world the idea of her company amused him too, which was rare so he nodded "very well, I'll be a good boy and play nice"

The woman scowered at him "or meet the end of my knife. Either way suits me" he looked at her and grinned, she was feisty and loved knives....now she just got a hell of a lot kinkier. Maybe he would keep her after all but then again he never really was much to keep things around and he had to play along for now.

"Lead the way, red" he smirked as they handcuffed him but his eyes stayed on her. fuck her and kill her, fuck her to death, just kill her or keep her as his own personal cum bucket. It was fucking awful he couldnt do any as he played the good boy. He was going to find a way back or turn this world into his own. Either way he wouldnt let some fiesty little redhead stop him. In time, he would double cross her and enjoy every fucking moment of it.

[mrsunderhill678]

Hehe, guess who wrote more shit? Well, it’s not shit, but uhhh... Yeet

“Hope for the future is just optimism based in dead realities.” - West Von Sparrow

“He's claimed me as a butcher would a carcass, he's bled me dry and left me ta hang on this hook. I have been flayed of my soul, of my flesh, of my fucking humanity, guess I should'a learned he who rolls against the house, never holds the damn die.” - West Von Sparrow

“You may be a monster, but I'm just a little less than human, and that's what makes me, dangerous." - West Von Sparrow

“It's the break of a new dawn, and though the dusk took my last sunrise, I ain't giving in, cause after all, the sun doesn't rise only once. So when the night comes, just remember, bravery gets you through the night, love gets you through the day.” - Delilah Coraline

“It's beautiful, isn't it? When you find someone to share your world with?” - Evangeline Frights

“Guess I'm an oaf that's seen some shit, but so long as I'm her oaf, I bet I'll be fine.” - Crane Hemmington

“I haven't been in the trenches, but blood spilled is a war in of itself, thing is, you become the enemy.” - Crane Hemmington

“Everything that is yours, can just as easily be mine, possession of self is all you have, and even that can be taken.” - Ballith Greedpaw

“Life is the most precious thing to steal, is it not? Not only do you steal a life, but the joy the memories of the poor bloke you slew held in those who loved him's mind.” - Ballith Greedpaw

“Greed is such a twisted thing, and I suppose that is why I am tangled.” - Ballith Greedpaw

“If you want to speak in the language of what haunts you the most, you'll find yourself speaking the tongue of your mind.” - Damon Watkinson

“I, can do whatever I want, cause in a game with no consequences, why would I choose to lose? You don't reach the end of the checkerboard without the words, "King me," rolling off your tongue. You don't trap the other player's King without saying "Checkmate," so why would I get this far just to say, "Sorry?" - Damon Watkinson

“I have seen the truth, and a thousand lies, and perhaps, I am nothing more than one of the thousand.” - Damon Watkinson

“Our love is magical in the sense that it is beautiful in all it's simplicity and complexity.” - Gracie Hangers

“Life's been a struggle, of black eyes and bloody knuckles, the betrayal of false love and hopes, but whenever my heart falters and threatens to stop, I look into the eyes of my children, and find a reason to fight.” - Camille Trueblood

“I thought I fell in love, when all I really did was tumble off the fucking cliffside. God, I dived into those waters so willingly, drowned for a man who doesn't God damn care. All he's ever been is a false promise, and I guess those hurt more than lies, don't they? Lies are so easy to catch, but a false promise of love is so seductive, especially for a girl with... Nothing. All I had was my heart, and I guess he took that too.” - Jenna Coleburg

“The sun always fades into the night, you're guaranteed to spend some of your days in darkness, but that ain't what matters. What matters, is that you fight through it, and come out God damn smiling. It's what I did, ain't the strongest man of all, the one that comes out of hell still smiling? Or perhaps, the one who walks into hell, smiling.” - Carter Gariah-Smith

“I was swung from the gallows for sumthin' I never would'a done.” - Carter Gariah-Smith

“Just because something is damaged, don't mean it can't deal some.” - Carter Gariah-Smith

“Funny, huh, how in these thirty odd years of mine, I knew her for three, and if you think about it, those were the only three years I lived.” - Avelice Bevelriks

“I lost everythin', really, Sandy, my darling wife, she was my rope, and I guess ever since she snapped I just been floatin. It's cold in these hands of mine, these memories of her. I'm tryin' so desperately ta hold onta em, but they're slippin, they are. Her smile, her laugh, it's all faded. Don't even remember the sound of her heart no more. Though... I can still see her, in my daughter. Her eyes, her laugh, hell, even her smile or the way she sits. Sometimes it's hard lookin' at my daughter, some days it's like I'm lookin' back at Sandy's ghost.” - Casimiro Boeheken

“I've seen the devil's dreams, where young men die by young men's hands, where boys turn ta men and mothers ta widows.” - Casimiro Boeheken

 “Got a noose round my neck, and the floorboards are creakin' underneath me. Either I can cut the rope, or let them floorboards give way, cause either way, I'm free.” - Casimiro Boeheken

“Everything we do has a song, a melody, a voice. And I can hear the song in his smile, harps and echoes of angels, but I can hear the tinge of pain that haunts him.” Marinda Weathers

“I live to love, I live to lift up those around me and tell them, "You're strong, you're brave, and God, are you beautiful, live life like a butterfly, flutter those wings and fly. Because life is short, and you, are loved." - Marinda Weathers

“Day in day out, I fight, I win, and I move on. That's life, these days. Days pass, but I don't.” - Garret Weathers

“Everyone loves the angel with broken wings, huh? Cause they fight the hardest to get their wings back, only to realize, they're the savior of nothing, and they're ripping their own damn wings.” - Garret Weathers

“We can fight the dark, punch it square in the jaw and tell it to back off, cause the dark's only got place in our life when it's lightin' up the stars, and we ain't here to stay in the shade.” - Bob Weathers

“He who won't accept all of ya, don't accept ya at all. The bravest thing you can ever do is be you in the face of the man who hates ya.” - Bob Weathers

“My lullaby sings of secrets I cannot possibly understand, and my heart plucks the chords of joys forgotten and tragedies resurfaced, such a melancholy tune, this melody of my scars.” - Beatrice

“It's like Amethyst and Wanda are my lighthouse, constantly guiding me home. Even if I'm drowning I can see their light from underneath the waves.” - Gracie Ace

“Perhaps I ain't got no stars leadin' the way, but I got my heart givin' me direction. Sure, it's scarred, and God is it battered, but it's flutterin' them wings with everythin' it's got, and me? I'm still pumpin', blood's still coursin' through my veins, so I'm alive, and by every God, I'm fuckin' kickin.” - Crystal Bones

“It's kill or be killed, and I guess we just ain't dyin.” - Alfred Godsel

“In the eyes of many, I'm a hero, but in my eyes, all I see is a man with a gun, who pulled a trigger, and ended a life, but still somehow managed to make the most egregious of sins look like a hero's doin. How the hell did we manage to make spillin' blood somethin' noble?” - Alfred Godsel

“I've lost a lot, but I'll save my grievin' for the livin', for those who've managed to die before they ever hit the dirt.” - Alfred Godsel

“They say dead men tell no tales, but when I come knocking, oh, you'll be wishing that was true, you can pray to every god you know, but that won't save you, no one can. Because he who you silenced, have ripped the stitches from their mouth and out tumbled your secrets, right into my ear.” - Celestia Cloven

“At first I thought it a curse, the whispers of the dead, but not anymore... Not anymore. They speak to me their secrets only so they may find rest, and so he who wrought him demise, may be brought what they deserve. And I, am what they deserve.” - Celestia Cloven

“Belief can be either beautiful, or oppressive, it's up to the morals of the man who believes to create the damn definition.” - Jakobi Warcoat

“Until the fires of this revolution swallow us whole we will shout, we will cry and weep, cause freedom ain't so quietly taken away.” - Jakobi Warcoat

“You wanna kill us, go ahead? Show us just exactly who, you, are. Cause we already know, all yer doin' by killin' us, is provin' us God damn right.” - Jakobi Warcoat

“I've been running all night, trying to find myself, but sometimes I feel... Lost. But maybe that's not a bad thing, you know? The lost boys found a purpose in Neverland, after all.” - Gayle Flint

“I've got scars, and God do they show, the markings of a lonely child lie on my wrist, and they hardly compare to the ones in my heart and my mind.” - Emma Flockheart

 “If a warrior isn't a woman who's been through hell but came out a better person, than I don't know what is.” - Emma Flockheart

“My father was the one who built the crumbling pillars of my heart anew, but now, without him, I'm crumbling, God, I'm crumbling.” - Juno

“Some days, I feel perfectly comfortable in my body, and other days it feels like a cage and I wish I could just scratch at my skin until I tore my way out.” - Juno

 “No matter where you run, or where you hide, your mind gives you up to your demons every fucking time.” - Juno

“You can't explain love, just feel it, and trust it.” - Lynsey Aldallen

“You have the strength of a thousand lions, you shed your mane, and traded it for the hunt, and as you were always meant to, you led the pride, with your claws and your strength, the remnants of your mane fluttering behind you. And that's beautiful, to be brave and vulnerable all at once.” - Lynsey Aldallen (For context, she’s talking about her sister, who’s trans)

“My mother rescued me, I rescued her, she's my hero, but sometimes, we have to fight for our heroes, because their strength falters. And when it does, it's up to us to save them.” - Lexie Rebhan

“I'm already swingin', I reckon, these gallows were made for selfish men like me, I imagine everyone'll cheer. All hail! All hail! The wicked man is dead, strung by his neck, payin' for his sins with the devil. It's damn well the fate a man like me deserves.” - Ron Jameson

“So oh gravedigger, vengeful angel of death, put me down as you would a wolf wearin' the single dead sheep's wool in the flock, watch me bleed. Cause that's what I did to you. I caused you're pain, I caused mine, just be lucky you don't have to live with me... Cause I do.” - Ron Jameson

 “I was born to be damned, as they say, they speak of me in such terrible ways, history is written by the victors, the patrons, the saints, never by she who made it.” - Selena Wolfmoon

“All who burned me at the stake only had to live with themselves, but I, I have to live with the actions of every single one of them, and, worst of all, I have to live with my death. The scalding of my flesh and the charring of my bones, the screams of my two daughters still haunt me. They way Eldridge begged and howled, or how Autumn cursed at those who damned her. And all I could do was howl in grief as we burned away, but I imagine we were lost, just as tears in the rain or stars upon the waking of the sun.” - Selena Wolfmoon

“I like to say I'm tough, but it ain't because 'a what I look like on the outside, but who I am on the inside. You could be strong as all shit and still be a weak man. All you ever gotta do ta be weak, is push another down, and all it takes ta be strong, is helpin' a man up.” - Elwood Sparrvitz

“I 'ave been made anew by the love I been showed and given, my heart no longer beats 'a regret and pain, but for my lovely wife and children. Cause if your heart don't beat for no one, what's life worth?” - Elwood Sparrvitz

“To be completely divine is as inhuman as it is to be entirely damned, entirely broken or whole, we are never one hundred percent, we are many pieces, smelling of ash and smoke, and the fire that created it.” - Diaze Calico

“Savagery suits her like a well tailored suit, or a ball gown on the most royal of queens. She is savagery, she wears blood like wine on her teeth, and your pain like the finest of shawls, and in the end, she shall wear that shawl of your scars and dance before you in it, she shall make a mockery of your death, for that's all you ever were.” - Diaze Calico

“You can believe that hell is not where you'll go, but that's the greatest lie the devil ever spun, that there was an option other than her, that there was a loving God watching us.” - Diaze Calico

“The wicked doth not sleep, they doth not live, only breathe this blood on their breath.” - Diaze Calico

“Out of all this pain I've been through, I've found that even if bullets had flown that day, and planes had been torn from the sky on burning wings, it was in my sleep, when my mind was at rest, that I felt the most bloody chaos.” - Duke Benson

“I should've died the day a bullet pierced me fucking skull, but all that's left is this scar on the Earth known as Duke bloody Benson.” - Duke Benson

“I'd ask for a prayer or an amen if I thought it'd saved our damned souls, but a single prayer won't save a man who's sinned.” - Duke Benson

“A prayer won't save a man who's lost his fucking faith.” - Duke Benson

“With a foe as cruel as myself, I was bound to bloody lose.” - Duke Benson

“Bury me six feet deep, mate, deeper if you can, because I am a soldier, a sinner, a beast, not a bloody man.” - Duke Benson

“Reckon me 'ands are as stained as the soil wifin' da trenches.” - Angel Benson

“Inside me is a boilin' angah, at da world, at dis pain, myself and anyone in point blank range. I imagine me angah's shot me point blank, left the man I was fokin' bleedin', dead from a single shot.” - Angel Benson

“I've always condemned what I can't fokin' understand. So if I fear meself, wot does that make me, aye?” - Angel Benson

“You know wot's fokin' funny? You don't 'ave ta fight in it, ta be bloody broken by it. You could be livin' untarnished boi it, next thing you know, a soldier's knockin' on your fokin' door. War breaks all. They who fight, and they who bloody don't.” - Angel Benson

“Raise a glass ta da sinner full 'a anger, raise a glass for the poor bastards and blokes war touched, cause all who 'ave known her embrace 'ave known pain no loving God could create. But never, mate, NEVER, raise a glass, to the bloody Bensons.” - Angel Benson

“When I'm finally in da dirt, where I belong, da world will keep spinnin', the sun will rise again, as it shall sink, and though it may rain, da world won't weep a single fuckin' tear, for da man known as Jerry Benson, cause mate, why should it?” - Jerry Benson

“Us soldiers, we're cheered for, celebrated, but dey care only for da actions, not for da man.” - Jerry Benson

“As I've learned, 'e who tastes death will find dat da aftertaste is an eternal stain on one's tongue. Da tang of iron and blood is all dey'll ever fuckin' know.” - Jerry Benson

“God created us to love 'im, and expected us ta be more selfless den he.” - Jerry Benson

“War don't change a man, no, it kills him, and replaces the soldier with itself.” - Mordakai Benson

“He who runs with the wolves is bound ta be ripped inta the moment he stops runnin', no wonder there's blood on my teeth.” - Mordakai Benson

“War don't give a damn who you are, what kinda pain you been through, it'll putcha through more while promisin' glory! That's the picture they paint. Soldiers woopin' for victory and glory for all who fight, but they always forget he who catches the fuckin' bullet.” - Mordakai Benson

“The only thing you and I got in common is that we were made by God, difference is, I was forgotten by him.” - Mordakai Benson

“Don't raise no glass for this soldier, don't pour no wine on my casket, cause I'm the lamb that strayed from the flock, only ta learn he always wore a wolf's fur.” - Mordakai Benson

“I’m one dead dream away from blasphemy.” - Calliger Cougar�� 

“They say life is short, Tommy, that it goes by in the blink of an eye, so why ain't we fucking dead yet? I blinked a hundred times, and I'll blink a hundred times more. Cause no matter what they say, it don't go by in the span of a blink, or like a bullet speedin' through the air. It's slow, and God damn miserable, this here ward is proof of that.” - Ben Stilts

[midnightlie]

title: the first to the last (kiss fic #8) pairing: keith/lance notes: we made it into s8 territory fellas. in which keith has a plan.

*

So. Keith had these...plans.

A lot of it was typical stuff. Small stuff. Like, he had plans to read this long list of romance novels he’d accumulated over the course of the past year. He had plans to ask Hunk for a few cooking pointers since he was kinda rusty when it came to variety in the kitchen. He had plans to fix up his old hoverbike after one of the gears busted, to repaint it, to gift it to Acxa, who seemed fond of the thing. He had plans to go through his old belongings in that long-forgotten shed in the middle of the desert, to clean it out and take what he needed, to leave what he didn’t.

But...there were some big plans, too. Huge plans.

Like: taking Lance to Cuba.

Like: having a very important conversation with Lance’s mother, about a very important, very top secret question he wanted to ask.

Like: asking Lance this question.

He didn’t have everything figured out, but he wasn’t really worried about that. Keith had never really been the type of guy to make plans. Impulse and reckless abandon were more his speed, but he’d learned that he was capable of a lot of things he never knew he could be, after Lance.

Like: gentleness.

Like: loving someone, and being loved in return.

Like: making plans.

It is easy, to want to do these things. Lance, with his thousand watt smile and his adorably tousled hair, turns his big blue, sparkly baby-i-love-ya eyes on him and that’s it. He doesn’t even have to ask. Keith just—wants.

But as a paladin of Voltron, and a ranking officer in the Garrison - as a soldier - plans are always subject to change. Which is how Keith found himself in the middle of space with a new set of plans. They are much less about Lance, which sucks, and much more about finally putting an end to this god forsaken war they’d all been dragged into.

Most of the time, they are dangerous, too. So, despite the separated missions, the orders from high officers on the ATLAS, the risk of death hanging over their heads every damn day, Keith’s first and only priority is making sure that he comes back to Lance, every time, no matter what. There is little else to fight for, if not for this future he sees so clearly behind closed eyelids. Every night, he dreams of waking up in a house near the beach, smothered beneath a sleepy, heartfelt boy who wears a ring on his third finger and a dog as big as a horse, lined in the gold of the morning sunshine, dust motes twinkling like stars.

They’ll get there someday.

That’s the plan, at least.

Keith pulls away from those thoughts as the black lion’s jaw hinges open and he steps into the hangar. It’s kind of late - he was due back hours ago from a simple mission to pick up supplies on a nearby planet, but there had been complications and well—

The wind is suddenly knocked out of him as a flash of blue barrels into his chest and collapses on top of him as he hits the floor. He doesn’t have any time at all to recover because Lance is there, pressing harried kisses into the screen of his visor, hands gripping fiercely at Keith’s shoulders as he crouches over him, unforgiving in his crowding presence, though Keith remains totally unbothered by the close proximity.

“Lance,” he laughs, one arm pinned by Lance’s knee, the other reaching up to grab at the his waist. “Lance—“

Lance doesn’t even pause, expression a total blur, as he rips the helmet off Keith’s head and then leans in desperately, hands cupping Keith’s face firmly as he presses his mouth against his. The hand on Lance’s waist curls, applying more pressure and snaking an armored arm around as Keith struggles to free his other arm. His eyes flutter shut, groaning as heat explodes under the collar of his high-necked flight suit when Lance licks his bottom lip aggressively and bites down.

Lance seems to approve of that sound, his knees sliding further apart in a wide straddle as he melts to rest the majority weight on top of Keith, freeing the trapped arm. His hands stay near Keith’s face, brushing away the spill of dark hair around his ears and holding the strong line of his jaw. Keith gathers him closer as he reaches up with his other arm now to grip the back of Lance’s neck, eagerly returning the kiss with scrunched eyebrows and a starburst of pleasure burning low in his belly.

After a moment, Lance separates their mouths with a humid pant against Keith’s lips for air, but he dazedly pulls Lance back down with another groan, a part of him going absolutely wild when Lance responds with a whimper caught in the back of his throat. His mouth is hot and wet, opening easily to Keith, welcoming the attention, drowning in it, the pliant lines of his body begging for it.

Mindful of the hard plating of his paladin armor, Keith rolls them to settle his weight over Lance, hips resting in the cradle of his thighs, and that’s when he loses himself. For a long while, they lay there tangled up on the metal floor, kissing like they’ll never get another chance. Lance’s arms end up around Keith’s neck, hands buried in his hair as he lets Keith ravish him into a drunken mess of unsteady heartbeats and sweet little gasps of pleasure.

Once he feels mostly satisfied, Keith pulls back slightly, only enough to admire the way Lance’s eyes flutter open, low-lidded and dark, parted mouth shiny and red and perfect. He’s gorgeous all the time, but there’s something especially wonderful about a Lance that is looking up at him with a greedy sort of expression, like he can’t stand the space between them and is thinking about asking for less of it.

“You’re late,” Lance murmurs breathlessly, thighs bracketing Keith’s hips firmly in an attempt to keep him close.

Keith runs his gloved hand through the wild ends of Lance’s hair with as much gentleness he can before curling his fingers and kissing the delicate line of Lance’s eyebrow. “Sorry,” he says softly.

“Your comm went out.”

“There was a storm on my way back.”

“You can’t do that to me.” Lance’s expression clouds over and there’s a crack in his voice. “You can’t—you can’t—“

Keith leans down and kisses him quiet for a long, sweet moment. Lance slides his hands from Keith’s hair down the curve of the armor on his chest and then down to his waist with a sigh, holding him there as though to steady himself. Keith separates after he’s sure he’s eliminated that fragile thing in Lance’s voice, nosing his way down to then kiss his jaw.

“How was your assignment?” Keith asks against his skin.

“Sucked,” Lance whispers into the ridge of Keith’s eyebrow. “Missed you, Keith.”

Keith kisses up to his ear. “You came back safe.”

“Had to. I promised.”

That makes Keith warm on the inside. He leans back to smile down at Lance. “Thank you.”

Lance responds by sticking out his tongue. “Maybe you should take a page out of my book.”

Keith scoffs and reaches down, inching his gloved hand under Lance’s T-shirt, wishing that it was bare so that he could feel the the heat of his skin against his palm. “I came back safe, too.”

He’s rewarded with narrowed eyes and a shiver from the gentle touches on his rib cage. “Babe, you were late. I lost, like, ten years of my life tonight waiting on you to show up. You’re just lucky you did, or I’d have to kick your—ah.” His eyes flutter as Keith runs the hand back down his side, and dips his fingers just barely beneath the waistband of his pants, shifting the weight of his hips. Lance tilts his head back, arching into the touch, and Keith can’t help himself when he leans down and opens his mouth against the delicious skin of Lance’s throat.

“I’m always gonna come back to you, Lance,” Keith tells him. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“I know,” Lance says, breath heavy as he smiles. “You still gotta make an honest man out of me.”

Keith chuckles and presses one last kiss into his skin before pulling away and sitting back on his knees. “Who said I was ever gonna do that?”

Lance props himself up on his elbows and he looks—Jesus, he’s cute. His hair is mussed, mouth still bright, bitten-red, eyes glittering with equal parts mirth and exaggerated outrage. His shirt has been pushed up, exposing a pretty stretch of a lean, brown stomach, his legs parted obscenely wide and open on either side of Keith. He wants to lean back in and press Lance into the floor, the hunger and the heat low in his belly wild with desire.

“I know you wanna marry me, Keith,” Lance accuses playfully, pointing a finger in Keith’s direction, eyebrows sharp over his pretty blue eyes. “Someday, I’ll get you to admit to it. Mark my words.”

Keith flashes him a toothy grin, thinking about Cuba, about Lance’s family, about that one little question. He thinks that Lance says that stuff to tease him, says it because he knows that they’re in love and it’s the real kind, the forever kind. Thinks that Lance doesn’t really expect it to happen any time soon. They’re still young, but Keith already knows he’s never going to want anyone else. It’s always been Lance, it always will be Lance, from the first to the last.

A blush rises into the crest of Lance’s cheeks as he pulls his hand back and then pushes up into a sitting position. He reaches towards Keith and cups his face in his hands, squishing his cheeks. “Stop looking at me like that, Kogane, my poor heart can’t take it.”

Keith can feel how soft he is, how Lance’s flustered little statement only makes him softer. He circles Lance’s wrists with his fingers and pulls his hands away so that he can kiss Lance’s palms reverently.

Lance stares and groans, cheeks growing more ruddy by the second. “Babyyyy.”

“I need to report in to Shiro,” Keith whispers, kissing up Lance’s arm slowly as he leans in. “And then I need to get something to eat.” His mouth presses just above the crook of Lance’s elbow. “And get out of this armor.” Lance’s bicep. “And take a shower.” His shoulder. “And then,” —his throat— “I think we should go to bed.”

Lance drops his head to the side and shudders through a breathless laugh, basking in the attention. “I’ll do anything you want if it means me getting up off this floor.”

“You attacked me.” Keith kisses his cheek.

“Maybe, but you flattened me like a steam roller when you flipped us over.” Kisses Lance’s lovely mouth, watches as Lance’s eyes flutter again when he lingers.

“You weren’t complaining.” Keith draws back slightly and smirks.

Lance grins crookedly. “No, I really, really wasn’t.”

Keith laughs at that and then finally makes it back to his feet, pulling Lance up after him. Immediately, because he can’t help himself, he leans in for another kiss, and then another, a little zip of pleasure lighting up his spine when Lance leans into him and makes a soft noise in the back of his throat.

“I have a question to ask you,” Keith whispers between their mouths.

Lance hums, half-gone. “Lay it on me, pretty boy.”

Keith, distantly, thinks about Cuba, thinks about Lance’s family. Thinks about the war, and how close they are to the end and how he wants to do this the right way, because that’s what Lance deserves. He cups Lance’s face and kisses him with a little more pressure. “It can wait.”

He meets no resistance. “Okay.” A sigh, sweet and light. “Okay.”

Maybe they stand there kissing for another ten minutes before Lance is finally able to break the spell and drag Keith out the hangar by the hand, flushed and starry-eyed, scolding him for being so damn insatiable.

Maybe that had been a part of Keith’s plan, too.

[thelordstears]

I present, more fick fack fookin’ writing. Enjoy you gremlins

"I wish my mind wasn't an abuser. But here I am allowing abuse of self. My mind is a den of wolves, tearing into every good memory I ever had, making a feast out of misery, how could I ever be whole when the world's broken me down to dust?” - Pamela Northutt

“ You wouldn't believe the things I've seen, the hell I've been through, you would say I stole it straight from a fictitious novel, but no, reality is often darker then fiction ever could be.” - Pamela Northutt

“ I'm nothing but barebones and thoughts of self harm, I'd walk into a den of lions if it meant I could find peace. The lions could tear into me, and still it'd be better than what my thoughts do to me. Because maybe, finally I'd be able to rest.” - Pamela Northutt

“ I don't need a metaphor to explain this pain, but it seems it's all people understand these days. You could say, "I'm hurting, and I don't know how to fix it." And yet people wouldn't believe you, they say you're crying wolf, you have every reason to be happy, so be happy.” - Pamela Northutt

"The truth stings as a bullet wound would. Because often, it's what'll kill a man. Ya know, I heard of this plant, once, the Gympie-Gympie, it's sting is so bad, that it leads horses to leap off of cliffsides, now the only thing that has that affect on humanity, is the truth.” - Ewan Hanstammer

“ I've watched men pull the trigger because they learned the truth, they learned their wives were having affairs, or a family secret that lead them down a rabbit hole, but they were never Alice, and this was never Wonderland, it was simply reality, and isn't that what makes it oh so frightening?” - Ewan Hanstammer

“ All it takes to unravel a life is a single bullet, and all it takes to kill a man is a single word.” - Ewan Hanstammer

“ Man kind is doomed to swallow lies, because they just know the truth is just as lethal as the electric chair.” - Ewan Hanstammer

“ I'd plead to the Heavens, but all that ever got me was a coupl'a thoughts from my own damn skull.” - Joey Broker

“ They say it's all apart of God's plan, then what is the end goal of all this pain? Is it supposed to make me stronger? Cause all I feel is weakness trickling through my damn veins.” - Joey Broker

“ If I was given a gun, and was told to shoot the man who undid me, I'd cock my pistol and go forth into the unknown with the intent of pulling the trigger twice. Once against his skull, once against mine.” - Joey Broker

"My heart bares as many tragedies as the night owns stars.” - Connie Averfollow

“ All I can do is lay here and remember, by God do I wish I could forget them but I can't, by God I fucking can't.” - Connie Averfollow

“ I suppose I had Rosita for a wonderful twenty three years, but these fifteen years without her is what hurts.” - Connie Averfollow

"I'll say sorry for all I've done, if only it would change a damn thing." - Connie Averfollow

"I am missing, because who you knew is just another portrait slapped onto a carton of milk and forgotten the next day.” - Harry Downsworth

“ I gave the devil her dance, twirled underneath the flames of my childhood innocence, and now here I am helpless and left for dead in my own damn skin.” - Harry Downsworth

“ I'm a haunted memory of what's forgotten by the world, but always remembered by me.” - Harry Downsworth

“ Where once the sun shone bright and I could see every color my eyes could perceive, now I see the world in black and white. Because I suppose I'm the absence of light, because all I can feel is darkness.” - Harry Downsworth

"My heart is ruled by a blood thirsty wolf whom prowls underneath the moon and asks only one question. How doth I hunt in a world where hunters are condemned?” - Oskirrith Boncoat

“ I find the world works in strange and mysterious ways, one can kill to survive, and yet find damnation, but another man can kill to protect his family, his country, and be called honorable. There's no in-between.” - Oskirrith Boncoat

“ I bare bloodstained fangs and howl at the crimson moon, because that's all a wolf can do, really. He can deny his instincts, his inner nature, but all he'll do is starve.” - Oskirrith Boncoat

“ This world was made for those with ill intentions and unholy desires. I'll send you to your God howling, but I'll go to mine bloodstained.” - Oskirrith Boncoat

"Can't claim you're fighting for peace when you load your rifle with death. But that's all the world ever does, forces us into impossible situations and expects us to choose.” - Santos Valos

“ I've got my scars on this battered heart of mine, I hold them close, because they're what keeps me going. I won't go down without a fight, if I'm to go down, it'll be spitting my blood and baring my fangs. If I'm to die, it's to protect my damn sister.” - Santos Valos

"I'm a bloodstained lullaby flyin' on crimson wings. All I got left these days, is the thought'a revenge, and I ask da question, does that make me cruel or broken?” - Adelaide Debbens

“ He was me guidin' light, 'e gave me the world with the smile 'e'd give me, and now dat I don't 'ave 'im, I don't have the world, mate. I have nothin' but me damn gun and a sin on me fuckin' mind.” - Adelaide Debbens

“ 'E had no reason ta kill my love, but I 'ave plenty'a damn reason ta kill him.” - Adelaide Debbens

“ I don't need a gun ta take back what's mine, just a dagger and me damn wit.” - Adelaide Debbens

"These days, being yourself is a damnable offense.” - Charlie Holyman

“ I could hold onto my faith in God, but is that the crucifix I carry on this scarred back of mine? I'm whipped and bloody from this world's abuse, been through things no woman should have to see and tried to hold onto this faith I got, but holding onto something that's already lost is a dangerous game. It's just like playing Russian Roulette with a fully loaded gun, you're doomed to lose.” - Charlie Holyman

“ You're the forbidden fruit in the garden of Eden and still I would take you. It might be a sin to love that woman, but I've lived a life of it and I imagine one more sin doesn't change my destination.” - Charlie Holyman

“ I could run from all this pain, but it'll always catch up to me. No matter what way I put it, I'm doomed to this sorrow, because it's a piece of me. Perhaps I'm bad natured or just looking for a way to cope, but I'm sorry. Cause I suppose losing oneself is the human condition, and I'm coughing up myself." - Charlie Holyman

"The world shoved a blade in my hands and told me to fight when I was only a child. And so I went to war, fought in a quaint little ghost town filled with secrets and unheard prayers, I suppose when the Lord can't hear you scream, all you can do is go hoarse.” - Eliskira Waters

“ I brandish my blade with pride, I've bared the markings of battle since I was twelve. I speak a foreign language of violence, my accent is a tangy iron, and my vowels are the clashing of metal.” - Eliskira Waters

"The sirens sing a bloodshot lullaby, I've followed them time after time, because when the one you love's life is on the line, you'd steer your ship into jagged rocks and capsize your own boat. And so I have drowned for her, not in the sense that I am dead, just in the sense that I'm not the same woman she married.” - Dove Patchens

“ I'm surrounded by love, but I fear if my darkest secrets tore their way out of my throat, they would choke on the darkness I keep inside of me.” - Dove Patchens

“ I couldn't possibly be my namesake, my father named me Dove, because he believed I would fly free. But here I am, in a little birdcage, believing this is what it's like to be free. As a man once said, a bird born in captivity will think flight is a crime. But alas, alas, it's freedom, and the key is nothing but an illusion I can't reach. I'm a dove trapped in a cage of misery, believing it to be peace." - Dove Patchens

"Despite da daggers in me back and da scars on me 'eart, I stand tall through da bleedin' if only ta protect me damn family. I 'ave spent me whole life protectin' what I got, I dun't fink aboot wot I dun't 'ave, because dat'll only distract me from da present.” - Pearl Joy

“ I dun't knu wot happened ta 'im, but I can only 'ope 'e finds peace, in 'is mind, in 'is life, and hopefully death isn't da only cure ta 'is pain.” - Pearl Joy

“ Me family is da only reason I'm 'ere, dey love me, dey support me and I'll always brandish a spear and me fangs when push comes ta fookin' shove.” - Pearl Joy

"I've been ashes before. How could I ever remain the same after I burned in the fire of who I am? The way I howled and shrieked as I was damned rings in my mind, and perhaps, I should've stayed in the dark abyss.” - Eldridge Wolfmoon

“ Somedays I wish I was still dead because at least I didn't have to deal with life. By God, isn't it so much easier to be dead than alive? I was a floating nothing in an abyss, for I would always choose nothing, over something.” - Eldridge Wolfmoon

“ This world is wicked in nature, no wonder the roses have thorns and the berries are poisonous.” - Eldridge Wolfmoon

“ I fall asleep and see only flame, my death haunts me. I am my own ghost, haunting the halls of my own mind I am the fly amongst spiders and always wonder why it is I caught in the web. I'm standing stagnant, because I'm so stuck in the past, I can't live with my death, it was supposed to be the end, so why am I still here?” - Eldridge Wolfmoon

“ You may never right your wrongs, only accept them.” - Eldridge Wolfmoon

“ "'Eavy is da burden 'a my sins, but 'ere I lay, crushed by da damn weight.” - Arnold Schull

“ I've been a bloody rippa' since da age'a fifteen, covered in the blood of boys doomed ta early graves. I'm a bloodstained wolf, me claws covered in crimson and me 'eart a pitch black lagoon'a sins yet ta be committed.” - Arnold Schull

“ I don't want redemption, I don't want forgiveness nor love, nor anythin'a the damn sort. I just want some damn rest, mate. But 'ere I am, fightin' for me life and sinnin' as if there were no damn tomorrow. And if I continue on dis path, there won't be.” - Arnold Schull

“ I'm a broken commandment, God said thou shalt not kill, and so I killed the good man I were. God said thou shalt not steal and so I ripped me still beatin' heart from my chest and watched it drip the darkest shade'a black.” - Arnold Schull

“ I seek guidance, but alas I am given a candle with no flame, the wax already dripping down my fingers, and I must tread forward with no light to guide my way.” - Salvatore Broker

“ All my life I have read from the words of God, but it's often I ponder on if I read all the wrong words, perhaps I've always been in the Devil's trap and just never once knew of it. Do you think rats in mazes know they're an experiment? I would be no different, I could be chasing dead ends and think I'm free.” - Salvatore Broker

“ I spit what I believe to be the truth to those in the pews, not realizing all that came from my lips was venom.” - Salvatore Broker

“ I've been scarred, pushed down and made ta put down those I called brotha'. But I stand tall despite that, I can't let the past be a burden, I can't let the future be a tragedy.” - Alejandro Schull

“ My son 'as fallen far, but I think, if he only realized his heart was never black, just broken, he could get back up.” - Alejandro Schull

“ I'm a soldier, I've got me daggers on stand by, but my heart will never be cast aside so I may get something done. If I am to kill a man, I deserve ta feel the after affects.” - Alejandro Schull

"I am a prison warden watching over his own cell. It seems no matter how hard I try I can not escape this prison of myself, because a man who doesn't have hope can't escape a situation he put himself in.” - Christian Holden

“ I suppose I have to raise my pistol and fight, because this new world is a war even if my whole life's been a battlefield. So I'll raise a glass to the broken world, down my poison of choice and head right into battle.” - Christian Holden

"I'm a wayfaring stranger of my own heart and soul. Because nowadays, I don't even know myself.” - Andrea Maywill

“ How am I to hold onto my past when it's the very thing that breaks me down to tears?” - Andrea Maywill

“ Don't trust a survivor until you know what they had to do to become one. I wouldn't trust myself if I was a stranger, and isn't that the saddest thing, to not trust yourself?” - Andrea Maywill

“ I'd say I regret my actions, but I'm alive, aren't I? If I hadn't killed those men, I would be dead, my sister would be dead and my promise would be broken.” - Andrea Maywill

"Knowledge is a weapon. And so I use it as a bullet. I can make truths into lies and lies into truth, I am a man of many tricks, I'm a puppeteer cutting strings to marionettes that no longer hold any use to me. Life is invaluable when faced against the grand scheme of things, you're one cog in my catastrophic master plan. You're one piece on my board of pawns, everyone I hold power over is a Queen's Gambit. You could cry out "Stalemate! Stalemate!" But I'd watch you charge recklessly into battle and die for a cause you never once believed in.” - Remington Burlwitz

“ I have no care for who you are, just what you can do for me.” - Remington Burlwitz

“ Every cold case has one thing in common, someone knows the truth. Would you like me to know the truth of yours?” - Remington Burlwitz

“ I'm everything people warn you about, the boogeyman, the tall dark stranger your mother tells you to stray away from. I'm an urban legend come to life, beware the myth based in reality." - Remington Burlwitz

"They've always said night time is when the soul is at the most peace. I find this untrue, how else do you think monsters come to be?" - Remington Burlwitz

"I'm the ghost of Evergreen's Bay, where I go, cold shadows follow and death coils around the surrounding area like a creeper vine snaking up a mansion of former riches." - Remington Burlwitz

“ I've asked for forgiveness a thousand times, and I'll ask a thousand more, because perhaps one day, someone will hear my sorrowful tale and say, "You poor soul, you are forgiven for all you've done." - Joshua Schanahost

“ I've never been a devil, no one really is, we're all humans, you could come up with a hundred metaphors to describe the actions of people, but all it ever does is make a story out of murder.” - Joshua Schanahost

“ How could we ever be perfect if we never knew the definition?” - Joshua Schanahost

“ I am not the victim here, but I am not the one who should be blamed for this bloodshed. There's a snake in the garden and he's pitting us against each other, if only we could see the decisions of one man can lead to catastrophe.” - Joshua Schanahost

“ I got sins on my mind and revenge on my got damn agenda.” - Chase North

“ We all got a breakin' point, and life found mine.” - Chase North

“ I can tell you I'm a good man lookin' for a reason ta cling on, but I'm not. I'm just a bad hombre with a pistol and a death wish.” - Chase North

"Isn't it a strange feeling, to miss yourself? I've tried hard to find who I am, but all I find is the past, I suppose I'm just a memory, these days.” - Karrassa Diabaso

“ My scars shall never bleed golden, they'll never make me stronger.. they'll only ever break me down and force me to remember, I haven't lived, not truly.” - Karrassa Diabaso

“ I'm a cruel being, living off of the dying cries of other's, I've hunted people down in forests where they'd be buried, ripped into young women with a dagger and cruel intent, how could you possibly call me anything other than a wolf?” - Mason Miedan

“ Life is a cruel game of choices, and it just so happens we're all victims of it. There are no losers or winners, all we can do is play until our life flashes before our eyes.” - Mason Miedan

“ My father has always said life is a series of choices, and if I'm still alive I must've made all the right ones.” - Mason Miedan

“ My blood lust is unparalleled, some may compare me to Jack the Ripper or the Zodiac, but they're dead and buried, and I'm here. Isn't that what scares you?” - Mason Miedan

“ How am I ta march forward when all I do is look back?” - Weron Jameson

“ Bessie was everythin' I had, her smile lit up my world and made me forget 'bout all the pain and the scars engraved in my mind. But now, I'm gon' have ta get used to livin' without her.” - Weron Jameson

 “I see it in my nightmares, Saul's bloodstained bat and Bessie layin' on the ground, her heartbeat still.” - Weron Jameson

“ He thinks he can just bat us around like yarnballs, but he's gonna learn he's in a wolfs den and he's just a little kitten who's curiosity brought him too death's god damn gates.” - Weron Jameson

“ I got a bullet with Saul's name on it, and I'm sure he's got one with mine. But we'll just have ta see who draws quicker.” - Weron Jameson

"You can romanticize life all you want, in all it's bloodshed and tranquility. There's a certain beauty in the way nothing can come of peace if it wasn't fought for. Nothing can be if there was no violence, and I suppose I'm a fine example of that.” - Olympus Woods

“ I've altered many's state of self, twisted their perception of wrong and right and let them lose their minds. I'm a cruel deity, making experiments out of people. But this is for science, sacrifice is required.” - Olympus Woods

“ I've bound up Heaven's steps and found myself in God's throne, after all, I oppose even the simplest of rules. Time opposes all, but it doesn't oppose me.” - Olympus Woods

“ I'm a black rose in a garden of withered daisies and daffodils.” - Olympus Woods

“ I wish to wipe emotion from my slate, but thus far all I've done is clear other's shelves and arranged it with shiny new anger and soft spoken regrets.” - Olympus Woods

“ My wings are shaded black and my heart a shade even darker then the nebula. And so I stare into the abyss, and perhaps I stared too long, because I hath become death." - Olympus Woods

"When life's got you beat, take a deep breath and remember the worst days don't reflect your life, the best days are the ones you'll reminisce over when all seems lost.” - Chris Shaw

“ Love is the glue that holds people together, so in a world filled with hate, drown it out with the sound of your heart beating for another.” - Chris Shaw

“ You don't have to pull triggers and watch men die to be strong, all you have to do is get out of bed and take care of yourself.” - Chris Shaw

"Dese days I'm just a souvenir, a reminder dat good fings end, just a relic 'a Rome. Rome were conquered and burnt ta ash in one day, and I must ask da question, when will I be ash? All I do is fight fo' me life, but do I really got a purpose?” - McCannon Bowitsend

“ I'm followin' da paf' 'a a sinna', so me destination must be Hell. But isn't hell pain repeated ova' and ova' again? And 'ere I am, livin' a life'a pain and nuthin' else.” - McCannon Bowitsend

“ I 'ear the crowd chant me name, once upon a time dat would'a filled me wif' glee, because I'd just earned meself a spot in the championships. But now me name is a death omen ta all who hear it.” - McCannon Bowitsend

“ Uncle McCannon is comin' home, broken or not. I've broken a thousand bones, and I spose I'll break a thousand more. Because me heart beats for me family, and I can't just let em go.” - McCannon Bowitsend

“ I am beautiful with all my battle wounds and heartbreaks.” - Sherine Skidmore

“ I know people think God's abandoned us, but do you not think he weeps for our fates? Do you not think he furrows his brow as the Devil tempts thousands upon thousands of lost souls. There is no Messiah of a broken human race, because we are not broken we are survivors.” - Sherine Skidmore

"I can't find myself if I can't even meet me in the middle. I yearn for a day I can mediate with myself and come to terms with who I am, but all I ever was is a girl hiding from the spotlight.” - Hermione Vallwing

“ The stage rotted beneath me and I fell beneath the planks and boards, I climbed to the scenery and swung from the noose tied upon the painted sun. The crowd whoops and cheers for the girl who swung, because to them it's all part of the act.” - Hermione Vallwing

“ I wanna burn this theater down, get rid of these haunted memories, but all I hear is lights, camera! Action! And then my traumas play on repeat, and all I can do is stand behind the camera, watching as the horror unfolds in the screen that resides within my shattered mind.” - Hermione Vallwing

“ Death was never beautiful, and yet the poets wrote of such splendorous scenes and beautiful prose.” - Hermione Vallwing

"My memory is a blank state haze, I can think, but I don't remember. I suppose that's the tragedy of living.” - Pam Maywood

“ All I know is the name I found on a torn yellowed sheet of paper, Pam Maywood, the lost girl, traveling through her own mind finding nothing. I imagine I'm a ghost of my own mind, wandering the halls, trying to find more about this mysterious home I roam.” - Pam Maywood

“ If this is a Labyrinth, I fear the beast inside. Might he have bloodstained fangs and crimson claws? Will he be made up of sorrows I don't remember, or will she be in the mirror with a foggy mind and regret for something she doesn't remember?” - Pam Maywood

“ I see things, and hear whispers in my head, are they perhaps clues to this mystery? Are the things I see a glimpse into who I am? I've seen men fighting to the death that disappear the moment I reach them, I've heard howling on the wind and cackles from the sky. Is my past so demented that I'm only allowed snippets of it?” - Pam Maywood

“ People seem to forget even faked strength is strength, you don't gotta be strong, you just gotta act strong.” - Caldio Pastel

I've been shown the darker side of life, but I'll be damned if the credits roll.” - Caldio Pastel

“ You can't kill me, because I have the one thing you don't have, hope.” - Caldio Pastel

“ I met a beautiful woman who holds my heart, Hermione is strong, even if she doesn't think so. She's everything I ever imagined the woman I'd dance with would be, sometimes she's scared, and that's okay, the world is scary but I'm here for her whenever she needs me. Her traumas play in the screen of her mind on repeat, but whenever a nightmare strikes her down my arms are hers to crawl into.” - Caldio Pastel

“Here I am, fighting in a world that wants to kill me off and roll the credits without a second thought. But the audience claps and cheers for an encore, so I raise my fists and give it my all. Give me a standing ovation for all my efforts to live because I'm here to survive and you won't draw the curtains on me just yet." - Caldio Pastel

"If I had a dollar for everyone I've failed, I'd have thousands in my pockets." - Morston Framstein

"How sad, to be scared of your own thoughts." - Morston Framstein

"I'm a shadow of my father, these days." - Chloe Perwitz

"You can not poison a dream, you're only creating a nightmare." - Treydus Elron

"Your dreams are the world, and there's no limit to what you can do." - Treydus Elron

"I looked for guidance, but all I found was empty bullet casings." - Cormen

"You know. Through all this harsh pain I've been through, I've found even the snow can bring joy." - Ella Leopard

"The world never needed super heroes, just people willing to fight." - Mike Pennington

"My whole world crumbled before me, and all I could say, was goodbye." - Cora Eltivere

  "I stared death in the eye, and I'd say I won, but ain't I in the coffin 'a myself?" - Denzel Thievesmire

"The wolf does not cower from the sheep. So why do you stare me down with a pistol and expect me to quiver?" - Vivientos Hallows

 "I'm not much a man these days, just'a dog barking at his own tail wishing he could catch what he can never hold." - Cadencia Malrosa

"I am both the rabbit and the wolf, vying for somewhere to burrow, and yearning for bloodstained fang of the man who ruined me." - Wolfetta

"Time flows endlessly as a river, and unfortunately for you, so will your blood." - Morias Doorvensteil

"You know, the world is full of men who want to watch it burn. I suppose I have to be the blizzard that snuffs out the blaze." - Delaura Presha

"I can feel the shadows of my doubt creepin' up my skin." - Dusk Showtella

"I played whimsical tricks to amuse the crowds, and yet I fell victim to a trick of dark intent." - Medora Domeel

"I found as many monsters in the light as I did the dark." - Jerry Winstead

"Am I the vulture who picks from the bones of the dead or the one who hovers around death, and is a warning of things to come?" - Jeremy Vultures

"Seems trouble follows wherever I roam, either I'm death or very unlucky." - Franco Jonwitz

"I watched angels fall from the sky on burning wings and learned what's holy may become damned." - Demalliosa Vanberg

"Be the hero, they say, be the hero. Give me a reason, and I'll burn my cape before your eyes." - Caldwell Ramirez

"They say death before dishonor. So be honorable." - Caldwell Ramirez

"I always knew the dark, brother. It was only a matter of time before even the angler fish in the abyss of my soul's lights blinked out." - Caldwell Ramirez

"I wear a dress of shadows and own a heart the color of the nebula." - Clementine Ashburnum

"The future don't look to promising, guess all I have is hope." - Grifold Hangers

"I've been running from death for so long I'm afraid I became it." - Nathaniel Wessonlock

"I'd say my destination is Hell's gates, but ain't I already there?" - Cal Dunbar

"All it ever took ta make a good man wicked is a little bit of pressure. And I've cracked, sadly enough." - Cormelo Rivendell

"You have to fight for the future if you want to see it. Somedays it's tough, but you just gotta brave through it, after all, if you can survive your past, you can survive your future." - Don Bellzfort

"I've seen what it is war does to men, it makes the best of men wicked and the wickedest of men weep. War breaks all, it would seem, no matter the color'a your heart, it'll break ya." - Valkrane Pernotte

"In a world filled with shadows, one has to learn to become one to survive." - Fox Rivendell

"I've learned to fear everything, because most days it's my fear that keeps my heart beating. I can't be proud, because fear is what left other's hearts still." - Markalos Callenwoods

"I'm a walkin' tragedy, these days." - Julie Forkroad

"I'm up against the world, spose I gotta be a meteor to survive these days." - Garret Crane

"My brother's shadow swallows my light." - Ozzie Ramirez

"The Heavens and Hell are one in the same when faced with a man half Devil half God." - Lazarus Occult

"The world ain't never needed perfect, just doable." - Granville Van Steenburg

"Out of all the things you should hold onto, hold onto your heart the tightest. Because losing your heart will only result in the same cycle that caused yours to stop beating red." - Ted Axel

"The world won't break me down, I have my heart and hope. I suppose in a world filled with shadows, I have to be the light that swallows it." - Veronica Crowell

"I'm too old to cry these days, and too young to die. So what am I to do but run into the war we've waged with nothing but my sins on my tattered sleeve?" - Logan Orencia

"People say the world needs men willing to kill for a righteous cause. But I don't think the world needs killers, it needs fighters, because a soldier knows the word mercy, a killer does not." - Jolt Netz

"Can't find any peace of mind in a world that shows you chaos and chaos only. Suppose the only peace I have is the quiet after an explosion." - Arello Vendesto

"Da world shows ya wot it is ta die while yer still good and breathin'. Spose I can only eva' lower meself inta'a coffin'a me own fear." - Sheamus Soderstrom

"I'll keep runnin' down this path'a broken bones and spilt blood, cause the beast behind me is myself, and I spose I can never escape." - Finn Desandra

"I'm alone with my thoughts, plagued by the wicked touch of my past. I breathe in toxins, and I suppose I'm choking on my own doubts." - Keith Desandra 

"My heartbeat is cold, I fear. After all, the world froze and all I'm left with is ice to shovel into my soul." - Darwin Crocker

[he-has-a-knife]

The Kitten Dilemma

WORD COUNT: 1256

FANDOM: House of Wax

PAIRINGS: none

RATING: sfw

This is part of a larger work of HoW Drabble that you can read here!

You were craving breakfast food. The only kind that the family kept stocked in their house was instant oatmeal and powdered coffee, and having that every single morning was kind of a downer. After a little bit of sweet talking and sucking up to Lester (the primary breadwinner of the household) he agreed to go grab some eggs and bacon with you from the local diner twenty minutes away.

Together you crunched across the gravel in the front of the house, heading for the truck as February sun began to weakly trickle through the treeline. “Sonovabitch, it’s gold.” Lester chattered, sniffling. He wasn’t the only one feeling the freak weather. You stuffed your hands deeper into your coat pockets to try and escape the chill. This particular county had been experiencing an unprecedented cold dip over the past few days, going down even into the mid-thirties; something that never happened in Louisiana.

You swung open the door and clambered inside the truck, stomping your feet to work feeling back into your toes.

“Well I’ll be damned!” Lester’s voice came through, muffled by the car door opposite you. “Hey, come look at this!”

With a drawn-out eye roll you oblige, exiting the truck and walking around the back. I swear to god, if he’s going to show me a weird bone or skull he found in the truck bed, you thought grumpily. “What.” You asked, rubbing your arms in the cold.

Lester was crouched by the wheel well of the front tire. When he stood up, he was beaming. In his arms he held a tiny fluffy ball of fur about the size of a tennis ball. “Look who I found tryin’ to keep warm inside my truck!” He said. His dirty fingers scratched and the furball, which moved and gave a little mrrp . “His mama an’ his two brothers didn’t make it through the cold night, it seems. They’re dead on my tire. But this little one wasn’t too keen on lettin’ god take him just yet, were you?” Lester’s voice trailed upwards as he began to baby-talk the kitten he had just found hiding by his tire.

A slow smile crept onto your face, accompanied by a giddy sensation that only adorable animals could bring on in people. “Oh my god!” You said, reaching out to pet the kitten. “He’s so cute! Look at those little ears! And that nose! Lester,” You turned to him and jerked a thumb towards the house door, “breakfast is cancelled. Let’s get that little guy inside and fed.”

Lester nodded and tucked the little guy under his jacket as you both headed back indoors.

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

“We’re not keepin’ it.” Bo said, arms crossed.

“Aw, c’mon!” Lester protested. You shot Bo an incredulous look to go with Lester’s protest. The both of you were seated on the living room couch, watching the kitten eat out of Lester’s hand from his seat in your arms. Lester had spent the past five minutes tearing and mashing up some of the leftover gamefowl he had cooked into a mushy and easily digestible paste for the little cat. You were honestly surprised at how immediately invested he was in the little guy.

“We already got a dog!” Bo replied, gesturing with his mug of coffee at Delilah, who was napping on a rug in front of the fireplace. “And I ain’t responsible for what she does to that cat! They’re natural born enemies, ain’t they?” The kitten in your arms purred as it was eating, making choppy little sounds in between bites. Bo shot a glare at it as it effectively undermined his argument by being goddamn adorable.

“Bo, have a heart.” Lester pressed, carefully pinching another glob of meat between his fingers and feeding it into the kitten’s tiny mouth. “He ain’t got no parents to rely on. His two brothers ain’t around to take care of him! He’s all on his own; he needs us.”

You looked at the mousey, stubbly man opposite you with a flash of recognition; that’s why he immediately felt such sympathy for the creature. He was the kitten. Always the third wheel, always left to his own devices, even in his own family. You always knew that the Sinclair’s mother and father were either focused on ‘fixing’ Vincent, or caging Bo. Maybe there was no room for a younger brother in that picture.

Bo rubbed his brow and took a long sip of his coffee. Just has he opened his mouth to say something, looking tired and put-off, a set of heavy bootfalls were heard from the far back room. Vincent had spent the night doing catch-up work in the studio, and had just now come back to the house through the trap door.

“Vinny!” You called, leaning towards the wide doorway, “We’re all in the livingroom! Come here!”

Vincent slunk in a few moments later, in that same hunched and ‘don’t mind me’ posture he always took around his brothers. You beamed at him from the couch, and he stood up a little straighter, giving you a wiggly wave.

“Vincent, check it out.” Lester crowed, nodding his head towards the kitten with a grin as he fed it one last little chunk of meat.

Bo tried to put a hand out and stop Vincent from walking forward (probably because he knew once his twin got his hands on the kitten there would be no turning back) but Vincent artfully dodged the outstretched limb. His hands were already extended, masked eye locked on the tiny fluffy creature. You held the kitten up carefully. Vincent gingerly took it, holding it like it was made of glass and tilting his head in utter fascination. The kitten made a high sort of ‘mrow’ sound and without hesitation closed its tiny mouth around a few strands of Vincent’s hair.

Vincent was immediately and obviously in love. He held the kitten close to his flannel-layered chest and scritched its tiny head behind the ears with two wax-dirty fingers, emitting a small grunt of delight when the kitten responded by pushing itself further into his palm.

Meanwhile, Bo stood behind him, looking completely defeated. He shoved his face into his hand with a muffled ‘christ’, seeing as he was now outnumbered three to one. When he raised his head he was confronted with the bright and anticipatory stare of you and both the other Sinclair brothers.

“Fine. Fine.” He huffed, drinking the last of his coffee. “But I ain’t takin’ care of it, y’hear? This is all on you three. When something happens to it, don’t come runnin’ to me.”

“You should name him.” Lester said, wiping his meat-damp hands on his puffy vest.

Bo looked somewhat taken aback. Vincent seemed to sense this. Ever trying to comfort and care for his brother, he shuffled forward towards him and gestured with his arms for Bo to look at the kitten cradled within them. Bo looked down at the cat, obviously trying to keep his grouchy face in place when the whole family was being so tender around him.

With a single hesitant finger he pet the kitten’s downy and round little belly. The kitten peeped. “...Looks like a Jackson to me.” He said begrudgingly.

“It’s a Jackson!” You said loudly, raising your hands in the air in celebration and vindication. Lester followed suit, raising his arms and cawing the kitten’s name. Vincent raised the kitten into the air like a scene out of the lion king.

“I live in a house of idiots.” Bo muttered.

[until-we-fall-in-love]

creature-song: part two

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, light Steve Rogers x Reader, light Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers, light Wanda Maximoff x Bucky Barnes

Summary: You should turn away. But you let it happen, let it happen because some dark, most trapped part of you wants to. A piece of you that you have chained like an animal, a mongrel bitch, and tried to let die. It paces inside you now, hungry and waiting and ready.

1600s America AU, Witch!AU, Possessed!Bucky, Gothic, Horror

Warnings: Smut, gore, violence, demons, possession, sacrilegious themes. This is 18+ as most of my works are.

If you are under 18 you should not be reading this!

A/N: hey guys! here is the second and last part to this fic! pls enjoy and let me know what you think!!

Here is Part One

***

You are born anew, suddenly coltish on newly powerful legs. You are flushed with color, your hair shining and eyes that can simmer into ember orange and serpent yellow. You are different from Wanda; she reveres you with new respect in equal measures that she treats you like a new, bratty princess that needs to be guided and taught and scolded. 

She says she serves you, becomes so protective that you can hardly leave her sight. If anyone dares utter your name with anything but respect, they are falling ill with oozing boils and welts. She is merciless, possessive. She makes your head spin. She teaches you the ways of the witch, forces your chin up higher and calls you Dark One, Hidden One, Princess of Night, Queen of Beasts. 

You do not know when the demon speaks for Bucky or when Bucky speaks for the demon. He becomes even more protective, aggravated. You feel powerful, feel free and wild and savage. 

You’re no longer freezing and shivering.

You crawl into Bucky’s lap and sink down upon him, even when he is clear-eyed and gentler with you. You let him take you on your stomach like a snake when his eyes are blackened with the demon. He becomes yours. You become his.

Wanda teaches you magic, teaches you around a flickering flame before she lays you out and makes you hers, too. 

More bodies appear, dripping in velvet red and a lovely shade of pink. You grow apathetic. Wanda is cursing too many.

Rumors spread like wildfire. It’s easy to target the pariahs of the village, even more so when you three have become the monsters they’ve always wanted you to be. But at least you claim it now, at least it is yours and you love it, you love your power and the rabid wolf in you that has been released in all it’s feral glory. 

Wanda is accused of witchcraft, followed quickly by you. Your neighbors gawk and stare and whisper behind their ugly hands that you wish to see crushed with stone or cut cleanly off. How many times can you break a finger bone? 

But you and Wanda turn wide, girlish eyes on them. You pretend to be sweet, huddle together the way they think females should cower. 

Steve defends you both, scolds them for daring to think so. Your golden boy, your lion-hearted man.if he notices the change in you, he cannot speak it loud, perhaps for fear of making it true. 

So good, so gracious and kind. A Godly man, if it weren’t for the bent part of him. You can feel it now, in his thoughts that you worm into. In the way his eyes linger on Bucky’s form. On yours and Wanda’s. 

You don’t know how to tell him that there is something twisted inside him, too, that you can’t wait to devour him. So you lick your lips as lioness, she wolf, sharp-toothed fox, and wait for him to come to you.

***

The days are brief; darkness cradles the world at a tender hour. You and Wanda thrive in it, wander out to the woods with a candle, and roll around upon the forest floor together. She strips you bare, plays too close to the edge of town because she likes the thrill of being caught. You laugh and moan and grab at each other, sink teeth into vulnerable skin and shake and shiver like the final leaves upon the spindly, reaching trees. 

And from the edges, someone watches. Eyes, impossibly blue and shining in milky starlight.

Steve crouches low, hiding in the shadows like some perverse and unsettled man. He shouldn’t, but he follows you and Wanda out into the darkness. He suspects something, in the pit of his stomach, suspects something awful and he follows in hopes of being proved wrong. He hopes it’s innocent. So he watches with wide eyes and a trembling heart as you both lose your wool dresses and shawls and underthings. He shouldn’t look, God, oh God, he knows he shouldn’t watch this—

But something inside him begs him to stay. His heart is in his throat, palms suddenly clammy and cold. He can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. The dim candlelight is made into a small bonfire and your bare, twisting bodies are illuminated for him. 

He watches as your lips fall down to Wanda’s chest, makes her laughs turns into gasps as she pulls at your hair that unravels over your shoulders and back. Wanda forces you down, sinks into your lap and hooks a leg of yours over hers, fits you two together by your cores until both your hips move in tandem.

He watches you kiss the way lovers do, with a vicious tenderness, with a searing sort of love. He’s jealous, he realizes stupidly, unable to even breathe as he watches you both raptly.

His fingers dig into the bark of a tree, scratching the way you do at Wanda’s shoulders. He swallows thickly at the noises you make, knows this is sin. Knows this is damnation. 

He should forsake you both. He should never look upon either of you again and go back home to say a thousand burning prayers.

But he’s shaking by the time you’re both finished, his cheeks flushed and eyes shining. He is hungry, he realizes, near desperate. 

You’re witches, he thinks, you’re something evil and corrupted and twisted. He should tell a minister, he should try to make you both repent on bent knees and your eyes cast downward, the fan of your lashes against your warm and soft cheeks—

When he finally tears himself away with a half growl of frustration, his trousers are constricting, too tight and damning evidence. He aches in the most inner parts of him.

You and Wanda giggle, your laughs carrying on the twisting, cold wind that pushes at Steve as he storms away. As if you both know how he longs, as if the wind knows, too. 

***

Your nights are fever dreams of hands and warm, slick mouths. Fingers between lips and legs, hands wrapped tight around your throat, your breasts, your legs. Bathed in blood or arousal or mercury moonlight. You lose count of the bodies as you grow stronger each day, able to move things with your mind. Or curse and strike someone down. You float through daylight, warm even as snow begins to fall and everyone and everything withers away into death.

You and Wanda are accused of witchcraft. They tear through the village looking for you two and when they find you both, Wanda pushes you behind her, bares her teeth and growls into the cold air so it curls upwards like smoke, like a dragon. 

They near with their sludge faces and greedy, grabbing hands. They curse you as witches and suddenly seize you both with their frigid fingers that pull and prod at your soft skin. 

“Don’t touch her!” Wanda snarls like a wild thing and you latch tight to her wrist, her hand, before you are being pulled away.

Others grab at Wanda and they try to separate you two. Wanda thrashes, her eyes flooding with red when you shriek in pain as others start twisting your arms, trying to wrench you away from her. It feels as if you’re being torn apart, stitching to be ripped and unwoven. You feel suddenly feral, twisting and turning to try and slip free.

“Let her go!” Wanda says again and there is a ringing to her voice, a power that surges. Her nails dig into your skin and you hold as tightly as you can as arms wrap around your middle and lift you clear off the ground. They pull at you, vicious and unforgiving.

You fight with all you have, yell and snarl, throw yourself towards Wanda but they tear you both apart kicking and screaming.

You don’t realize when you start sobbing through clenched teeth, but you do. As if they’re torturing or killing you, as if they’ve ripped out your heart. They drag you through the streets like an animal and you want to kill them all, you want to paint everything in their blood. You want to watch Bucky dismember them, you want to dance on their grave and pin Wanda to the cold stone to feel her body against yours.

The men tear at your clothes because they can, because they’re greedy and you scream. Wanda hears you, and there is a sudden pulse from her, a shriek, before some of the men around her are thrown backwards from her. She fights harder, but is overtaken again. 

They haul you both to a cold and darkened prison. They throw you in separate cages, though connected. Wanda and you push against the bars to touch and speak with each other. She strokes your wet cheeks, tries to soothe you. 

“I won’t let them near you,” She murmurs, “I won't let them touch you again. I’ll kill them before I let them.” She tells you with heat, her red eyes shining with tears as she holds your face through the hateful, metal bars that are rusted and rough. 

When they return, they demand to check you both for devil’s marks, witch’s marks. One man nears you with outstretched hands and Wanda seethes, hisses through her teeth and jerks her head slightly to the left—

The man’s neck snaps in the same direction,  cracks sickly, and he falls dead at your feet. You can sense his soul now departing. You grow chilled, the veil between your world and the next shimmering before your eyes. 

You skitter back and away, into Wanda’s hands and arms as she hushes you. Her nose drips scarlet blood now, eyes fever bright in the darkness. The men stare in fear and repulsion, horror in their faces and you stare back at them with the same repulsion and terror. 

They shouldn’t touch you, shouldn’t grab at you. Who are they to try and twist you and cage you both? All they’d done was cage you— your whole, smothered life. All they’d done was made you hate who you are and what you’d become or hadn’t become. They’d tried to make you grey and slack faced and cold and unfeeling. They tried to make you housewife and child of God and mother of many sons.

Your minister says you were born in sin.

So what was the point, then? You had railed, had searched and begged and prayed for answers and received none. Be quiet, they’d wanted, be silent and still and look beautiful and serene but not so beautiful that you should tempt the men and you—

You hadn’t breathed until Wanda had shown you the ways of a new life. You’d been so free with her, with Bucky. With Steve.

“We will be free once more.” Wanda promises in your ear and it slithers down between your shoulder blades and settles in the notches of your spine as you peer at the men in the darkness with their open, grasping hands. 

***

A trial is had. 

They want to hang you both for your crimes. 

Steve defends you, swears as witness and under God that he’s only ever seen you both be angels. And if there has been discretion, he is certain your souls can be saved.

Why are they so close? It’s unnatural, is it not? 

Not for two orphans, Steve says, not for two girls who only have each other.

People say that Miss Maximoff has killed with a look because someone touched the other.

Impossible, Steve counters. She is frightened, he presses, she is protective. They are all each other has.

Shouldn’t they have found husbands by now? 

They’ve no mother to guide them. Take pity on them, he says, they are lost and searching.

Does our scripture not say to take in the weary and lost? Steve cries, face honest, as he says;

They have done no wrong. 

He lies through his teeth for you both, the twisted part of him growing like a gnarled tree root, spreading deep into him. 

And when he visits your cells, you rush towards the bars to touch him, to thank him. 

Wanda is there, too, trying to press through the bars to you and him. 

“Oh, Steve,” You whisper, your fingers reaching through the bars to touch his face, his pale hair. You brush over his cheeks as he gazes at you.

“You shouldn’t defend us.” You tell him, “They’ll hang you, too, if you’re not careful.”

“I won’t let them hang you.” Steve says as if he could move mountains and there is your Greek hero; going up against immeasurable odds. “You won’t.” He promises like Wanda, “I’ll set you free.”

The words are pressed into your jaw, just below your ear. You become aware of all that he’s willing to do for you both and you pull back to stare at him slightly, at all of him.

“Do not lie the way you did to the jury and the judge.” You hiss to him, nails skimming his face now.

“I-I didn’t—“

“I know you saw us in the woods that day.” You tell him lowly, your voice coaxing and soft and breathy. “I know you saw us sin.” You tell him as your own eyes suddenly shimmer into the orange of a liquid sunset.

Steve swallows harshly, cheeks aflame.

You grab at the back of his neck, pulling him close so that your lips brush his between the jagged bars. 

“I know that you liked watching. And that you love me and Wanda and Bucky too much to be scared.” You nudge your nose to his cheek and sigh as if you are in love, “You’re so loyal, Steve.”

He stammers, “W-what does Bucky—“

But he knows the answer and you kiss him lightly upon the lips before he departs.

Your sweet sighs and coaxing fingers have him singing with heat, knowing that no matter how he tried, he wouldn’t have wanted it to be any other way than this. Sin or not, you awaken something inside his chest, a bird finally taking flight and he won’t lose that. He can’t. Just like he can’t lose Bucky or Wanda, either. 

Bring all that you have, he thinks of the church and the minister and the town, and I will plant myself like a tree between them, and stand there forever more. 

Little does he know, they will thoroughly test that; they’ll bring axes and fire and sing and dance with ugly faces and feet when he goes up as a pyre for you and Wanda to be staked upon.

***

The room smells of sick when Steve enters; it is damp and dark and sweltering for November. Bucky twists in the sheets of bed, a fire roaring and snapping gently in the fireplace. He is sweaty and shining and red in the face. He looks pale, though, stricken and weak and the heavy bags beneath his eyes seem as if they’ve gained even more weight. 

Bucky grew ill early into the morning and has only gotten worse since. He’s thrown up black bile again, Steve can see it in the bucket beside his thin, lumpy bed. 

Bucky’s eyes are shining when they fall on Steve and he reaches out to him like he is a boy again, sick and in bed and begging for his mother. Steve goes to sit beside him, 

“There’s something horrible in me, Steve.” Bucky rasps, “I’m trying to get it out. You have to help me.” 

Steve shakes his head, places his palm upon Bucky’s forehead, “It’s just a fever.” He says dismissively and Bucky grabs his wrist, holds his hand to his clammy and hot face. He presses his forehead into Steve’s palm, squeezes his eyes shut.

“Steve,” He says, low and desperate, his voice ragged, “Steve, it’s not just a fever.” 

And then Bucky’s body seizes, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he goes straight and tight as an arrow, ready to be shot. Steve’s eyes widen, concern flooding him as Bucky’s body seizes sharply.

“Bucky,” He hisses, just as Bucky begins shaking violently, body twisting. Steve tries to hold him still, but his tremors grow too strong, too brutal and hysterical. “Buck!”

Steve grapples for his shoulders, to hold him down hard against the bed, leaning down and using all his strength and weight to try and pin him down. He fears he’ll hurt himself, fears the worst—

Bucky’s hand- the false, metal one- shoots out to grab Steve around the back of his neck and when his eyes snap open, they are blazing, coal black. 

Black as night. A starless sky.

Steve’s heart jumps as if it might leap from the nest between his ribs. 

“Oh, Stevie,” He says in a higher, breathy voice, “You’re so loyal, Steve.” He says in the same way that you had and Steve tries to lurch away, suddenly shocked and frightened.

But Bucky holds tighter, unnatural strength in that metal limb that keeps Steve from bolting to the other side of the room. Steve’s breaths grow ragged, his chest rising and falling quickly, fluttering in a way that he is not familiar with. 

“You lied for them in front of the court. Swore to your God that you’d never seen them sin.” Bucky says in a slithering, inky voice. It reverberates inside of Steve’s mind, sinks down his throat and into his chest and core—

“But you saw them.” He says slowly, “You saw the way they touched and rolled around on the ground like animals in heat.”

Steve is shaking, breathing hard through his nose.

“And you liked it,” Bucky growls, his voice infinite and pushing at him, “You thought about it. You think of their naked bodies—“

“Bucky—“ Steve tries to stop him, before his heart falls out through his stomach.

“Not quite,” the black-eyed creature hums lowly, twisting slightly beneath Steve’s hands so that their chests may touch. “But I am a catalyst for his desires. I set him free. I set them free.” He tilts his head at an odd angle, a serpent about to strike, “And I can set you free, too.”

“No.” Steve tries to jerk away again but the grip on him is bruising, inhuman. 

He leans towards him, “I know how you look at him.” He hisses through teeth that seem sharper, too close to his vulnerable neck, “I know how he looks at you.” 

“I don’t—“

He jerks Steve closer, so their lips almost brush. “Don’t deny yourself,” He breathes and this time, it seems like Bucky, the voice rough and soft and pulling at tendons in Steve’s soul. “You can have him. And them.” And Bucky finally releases him, strokes the back of his neck like a lover, twists his hands in the blond of his hair.

Steve longs to relax into it, to settle into Bucky’s bones. But—

Bucky sags against the bed, eyes rolling again, until they flutter back into the blue that Steve knows in the depths of his person. Like the blue of early evening, of stone and winter.

Steve shifts off of him, hands going to his face, his neck, “Are you okay?”

Bucky pales, suddenly twists out of Steve’s grasp and spews black blood and bile into the bucket beside the bed. He wretches, whole body shuddering and seizing. 

And Steve runs his broad palm along his flank, brushes hair from his face the way a parent would, the way a lover would.

When he’s finished spilling his guts and blood into the bucket- black rust and gore, he wipes his mouth, turns back into the bed and tries to hide from Steve.

“You’re right, it’s not just a fever.” Steve says dryly and allows the room to fall into stiff, unforgiving silence. 

After a moment, after the silence becomes overbearing for him, a weight upon his shoulders and throat, as if it wants him to feel the weight of his sins, Bucky speaks;

“I did horrible things.” 

His voice is shredded and somber as he waits for Steve, so golden and bright and good, to leave him in horror.

“It wasn’t you.” Steve hushes, touches his neck.

Bucky goes still as stone.

“Yes, it was.” Bucky squeezes out, “I was present. I let Wanda lead her to me like a lamb to slaughter.” His eyes flutter up to Steve as he breathes, “I took her. Not the demon. I woke to her in my arms, desperate and soft, and I—“ 

Steve can’t breathe.

“I was the first to take her.” He releases the truth like a wind that suddenly rushes forth, a dam broken. His voice breaks, too, “She was so sweet, Steve—“

Steve inhales sharply, settles back, surprised and unsure. His mind whirls, body flushing with heat and something it shouldn’t. Guilt then, for anything other than repulsion. He shouldn’t be curious, shouldn’t want to hear Bucky’s rough, low voice tell him about what you two did when the moon was high and the only witness. He shouldn’t want to know, he shouldn’t think of you and Wanda and you soft, curving bodies; your desperate groans and hungry, seeking lips. 

He shouldn’t think about the way his chest had touched Bucky’s, how his heart had beaten a new tune. A damned song. He exhales harshly, and bitterly, wishes he knew how sweet you were, too.

Bucky is sick for three days and three nights as he tries to purge the demon from him, the soldier of a devil. His eyes will roll into winter black and spew vile, twisting words, or soft, enchanting words. Steve doesn’t leave his side, holds his shaking body when the blue returns. He feeds him and undresses him only to redress him. He bloodlets, cuts a mark to let sizzling blood rush out of Bucky in hopes of purging him. The demon tests Steve, purrs about his desires or hisses his sins. But it’s Bucky’s earnest face, his eyes that water and soften on Steve when they return blue, that really devour all of Steve’s resolve.

Especially when Bucky hides in the crook of his neck, shuddering breaths against his shoulder, holding fast and tight to him as if Steve is the very last thing keeping him tethered to this realm. He holds him when his body seizes, holds him until he doesn’t know what sin is or isn’t anymore. 

***

You and Wanda are to be hanged the following day at dawn. 

The court has decided so and when Steve had disappeared for several days, there is no man to defend you. There is no one their pale, blurry faces will listen to besides Steve. Besides, when someone tries to take you from Wanda again, they seize up and are twisted into a strange angle. 

Their bones break like brittle branches under Wanda’s power. She crushes their skull with nothing but her mind; it bursts like a berry and splatters against you both. Against all the grey, slack faces that persecute you. Wanda grows feral and fearsome, she grows anxious and possessive of you. 

And now, you both wait for your deaths. She holds you through the bars as best as she can, stroking your hair. She is strangely calm now, soothed with you near and safe for now. 

Perhaps you should be more fearful; fearful of death, of what may come after for all your sins. 

But you can only settle further into Wanda and wonder who decided it was a sin to love her. To love being touched and to live simple and wild and free. You’d die with your soul spread wide, like a flock of crows, in the least. 

Perhaps, you are also calm because you do not feel death upon you. He is not near you or Wanda. The rats do not scuttle towards you, the insects do not linger. No ravens to caw. 

So you both wait. 

Wait until there is a thump and rushed footsteps against the stones of the prison. You tense, half expecting someone to burst forth and drag you both from your cells kicking and screaming. You worry you were wrong, you worry that you know nothing about death or when he lurks--

Gold light of flame spills forth from the darkness, bursting forth from the corner.

It is Steve who rounds the corner, holding a lantern with a burning flame at its center. Bucky follows after. You and Wanda shift up, your eyes narrowing slightly upon the two. For a terrifying moment you wonder if they’ve been caught, too. Will they swing beside you and Wanda? 

But no-- no, Steve lifts the flaming lantern to see you both. You scuttle away from the light like a creature born of the shadows. 

“Hurry,” Steve says, handing Bucky the jangling keys. “We don’t have much time.” 

Bucky works quickly as you stare in slight astonishment on him, now without the demon that had been clinging to him for so long. However, something remains, something tormented inside of him that will never rest easy. 

When the metal creaks open, you lurch forward, towards Steve. “You’re freeing us?” 

“I promised I would.” Steve responds, honest and simple. 

“What do we do now?” You ask, staring up into his face. 

“We run.” He says with a slight, wry smile at his lips. You want to taste it, you think. You want to tackle him, to crawl into his arms and show you how grateful you are for him. 

“And then?” You breathe.

“I don’t know,” He says, peering into golden, dancing flame of the lantern, but there’s hope traced on the edges. As if maybe there could be something peaceful after all of this, as if maybe you all deserved more than the fires of hell.

But there is no time to talk, there is nothing to be done except become fugitives, spirits stealing away in the night. You walk lightly, Wanda’s small hand in yours, pulling you along the way she always has. You cling to the back of Bucky’s shirt, sometimes he eases you and Wanda in front of him, touches your shoulders and your backs to know that you’re real and still his. 

Steve guides, the lantern in his hand swinging, trying to banish the darkness with the light. He wades into the forest, where he doesn’t know, with his burning flame a bloom against the night. 

The light is obvious, though, and there is a commotion when you are all spotted. 

Shouts, curses, declarations are shouted at you. They ready weapons, ready their hounds, and set them loose upon the four of you. The ugly, open mouths of the towns people try to devour you all. They shout and sway, as if they are possessed with their need to kill you all. 

“Go!” Steve shouts, pushing you and Wanda onward with a rough hand, the light swinging in the darkness like a beacon. 

“Drop the lantern.” You suddenly say, your eyes sparking in the flames with the idea, “Drop the lantern and run!” 

He opens his mouth to question you, to force you onward. But you jolt forward, grab the lantern and knock it from his grasp. It falls from his hands, shatters upon the earth and the flame eagerly leaps out onto the dry, dead grass of the forest. 

Steve jumps out of the way as the smoke begins to curl.

“Let it burn.” You say, grabbing his forearm, trying to pull him along. It takes Bucky shoving at him, before Steve relents and you all take off into the forest like wolves, like foxes being hunted for sport.

The flame grows tall and quick, burning bright and hot against the black, bruised sky. The stars glimmer gold, shine down upon you all as you crash through the forest. The townspeople shout and shriek with the rising flames. 

Wanda laughs suddenly, bright and sharp and wicked and you can’t help but feel a smile creep upon your lips, too. You don’t look back as the fire hungrily eats at the grey bleakness of the town, burns it with blood red and furious orange and rust and the diamond-blue and bright part of the flame that glows like the moon. The town smolders in red now and your lungs burn as you run further from all its atrocities. 

You don’t stop running until the sun peeks through the trees, glowing of gold and robin’s egg blue. You look out at the clearing of a meadow, at the lake that shimmers under the sun, all peach and pearl and honey with the light. 

Your feet are weary, your head heavy and foggy, but Wanda is pressing into your side and Bucky is at your back and you are clinging to Steve’s shirt as you look out at the world.

And finally, you think, with smoke in the distance behind you, the wake of all your destruction, that this new world is filled with color and light you have been hungry for your entire, unforgiving life.  

[kylo-v]

All V Poems

William Blake, A Dream

Once a dream did weave a shade

O'er my angel-guarded bed,

That an emmet lost its way

Where on grass methought I lay.

Troubled, wildered, and forlorn,

Dark, benighted, travel-worn,

Over many a tangle spray,

All heart-broke, I heard her say:

'Oh my children! do they cry,

Do they hear their father sigh?

Now they look abroad to see,

Now return and weep for me.'

Pitying, I dropped a tear:

But I saw a glow-worm near,

Who replied, 'What wailing wight

Calls the watchman of the night?

'I am set to light the ground,

While the beetle goes his round:

Follow now the beetle's hum;

Little wanderer, hie thee home!'

William Blake, Proverbs of Hell 

In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy. 

Drive your cart and your plow over the bones of the dead. 

The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom. 

Prudence is a rich ugly old maid courted by Incapacity. 

He who desires but acts not, breeds pestilence. The cut worm forgives the plow. 

Dip him in the river who loves water. A fool sees not the same tree that a wise man sees. 

He whose face gives no light, shall never become a star. 

Eternity is in love with the productions of time. 

The busy bee has no time for sorrow. 

The hours of folly are measur’d by the clock, but of wisdom: no clock can measure. 

All wholsom food is caught without a net or a trap. 

Bring out number weight & measure in a year of dearth. 

No bird soars too high, if he soars with his own wings. 

A dead body, revenges not injuries. 

The most sublime act is to set another before you. 

If the fool would persist in his folly he would become wise. 

Folly is the cloke of knavery. Shame is Prides cloke. 

Prisons are built with stones of Law, Brothels with bricks of Religion. 

The pride of the peacock is the glory of God. The lust of the goat is the bounty of God. 

The wrath of the lion is the wisdom of God. 

The nakedness of woman is the work of God. 

Excess of sorrow laughs. 

Excess of joy weeps. 

The roaring of lions, the howling of wolves, the raging of the stormy sea, and the destructive sword, are portions of eternity too great for the eye of man. 

The fox condemns the trap, not himself. 

Joys impregnate. 

Sorrows bring forth. 

Let man wear the fell of the lion, woman the fleece of the sheep. 

The bird a nest, the spider a web, man friendship. 

The selfish smiling fool, & the sullen frowning fool, shall be both thought wise, that they may be a rod. 

What is now proved was once, only imagin’d. 

The rat, the mouse, the fox, the rabbit: watch the roots; the lion, the tyger, the horse, the elephant, watch the fruits. 

The cistern contains; the fountain overflows. 

One thought, fills immensity. 

Always be ready to speak your mind, and a base man will avoid you. 

Every thing possible to be believ’d is an image of truth. 

The eagle never lost so much time, as when he submitted to learn of the crow. 

The fox provides for himself, but God provides for the lion. 

Think in the morning. 

Act in the noon. 

Eat in the evening. 

Sleep in the night. 

He who has suffer’d you to impose on him knows you. 

As the plow follows words, so God rewards prayers. 

The tygers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction. 

Expect poison from the standing water. 

You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough. 

Listen to the fools reproach! it is a kingly title! 

The eyes of fire, the nostrils of air, the mouth of water, the beard of earth. 

The weak in courage is strong in cunning. 

The apple tree never asks the beech how he shall grow, nor the lion, the horse, how he shall take his prey. 

The thankful reciever bears a plentiful harvest. 

If others had not been foolish, we should be so. 

The soul of sweet delight, can never be defil’d. 

When thou seest an Eagle, thou seest a portion of Genius, lift up thy head! 

As the catterpiller chooses the fairest leaves to lay her eggs on, so the priest lays his curse on the fairest joys. 

To create a little flower is the labour of ages. 

Damn, braces: Bless relaxes. 

The best wine is the oldest, the best water the newest. 

Prayers plow not! Praises reap not! 

Joys laugh not! Sorrows weep not! 

The head Sublime, the heart Pathos, the genitals Beauty, the hands & feet Proportion. 

As the air to a bird of the sea to a fish, so is contempt to the contemptible. 

The crow wish’d every thing was black, the owl, that every thing was white. 

Exuberance is Beauty. 

If the lion was advised by the fox, he would be cunning. 

Improvement makes strait roads, but the crooked roads without Improvement, are roads of Genius. 

Sooner murder an infant in its cradle than nurse unacted desires. 

Where man is not nature is barren. 

Truth can never be told so as to be understood, and not be believ’d. 

Enough! or Too much!

William Black, Earth’s Answer

Earth rais'd up her head,

From the darkness dread & drear.

Her light fled:

Stony dread!

And her locks cover'd with grey despair.

Prison'd on watry shore

Starry Jealousy does keep my den

Cold and hoar

Weeping o'er

I hear the Father of the ancient men

Selfish father of men

Cruel, jealous, selfish fear

Can delight

Chain'd in night

The virgins of youth and morning bear.

Does spring hide its joy

When buds and blossoms grow?

Does the sower?

Sow by night?

Or the plowman in darkness plow?

Break this heavy chain,

That does freeze my bones around

Selfish! vain!

Eternal bane!

That free Love with bondage bound.

William Blake, Love and Harmony Combine

LOVE and harmony combine

And around our souls entwine,

While thy branches mix with mine

And our roots together join.

Joys upon our branches sit,

       Chirping loud and singing sweet;

Like gentle streams beneath our feet,

Innocence and virtue meet.

Thou the golden fruit dost bear,

I am clad in flowers fair;

       Thy sweet boughs perfume the air,

And the turtle buildeth there.

There she sits and feeds her young;

Sweet I hear her mournful song;

And thy lovely leaves among,

       There is Love: I hear his tongue.

There his charmed nest he doth lay,

There he sleeps the night away,

There he sports along the day,

And doth among our branches play.

William Blake, Songs of Innocence, “Infant Joy”

I have no name

I am but two days old.—

What shall I call thee?

I happy am

Joy is my name,—

Sweet joy befall thee!

Pretty joy!

Sweet joy but two days old,

Sweet joy I call thee;

Thou dost smile.

I sing the while

Sweet joy befall thee.

William Blake, Poetical Sketches

Oft when the summer sleeps among the trees,

Whispering faint murmurs to the scanty breeze,

I walk the village round; if at her side

A youth doth walk in stolen joy and pride,

I curse my stars in bitter grief and woe,

That made my love so high and me so low.

O should she e'er prove false, his limbs I'd tear

And throw all pity on the burning air;

I'd curse bright fortune for my mixed lot,

And then I'd die in peace, and be forgot.

TO THE MUSES.

WHETHER on Ida's shady brow

Or in the chambers of the East,

The chambers of the Sun, that now

From ancient melody have ceased;

Whether in heaven ye wander fair

Or the green corners of the earth,

Or the blue regions of the air,

Where the melodious winds have birth;

Whether on crystal rocks ye rove,

Beneath the bosom of the sea

Wandering in many a coral grove,

Fair Nine, forsaking Poetry!

William Blake, Auguries of Innocence

To see a World in a Grain of Sand

And a Heaven in a Wild Flower

Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand

And Eternity in an hour

A Robin Red breast in a Cage

Puts all Heaven in a Rage

A Dove house filld with Doves & Pigeons

Shudders Hell thr' all its regions

A dog starvd at his Masters Gate

Predicts the ruin of the State

A Horse misusd upon the Road

Calls to Heaven for Human blood

Each outcry of the hunted Hare

A fibre from the Brain does tear

A Skylark wounded in the wing

A Cherubim does cease to sing

The Game Cock clipd & armd for fight

Does the Rising Sun affright

Every Wolfs & Lions howl

Raises from Hell a Human Soul

The wild deer, wandring here & there

Keeps the Human Soul from Care

The Lamb misusd breeds Public Strife

And yet forgives the Butchers knife

The Bat that flits at close of Eve

Has left the Brain that wont Believe

The Owl that calls upon the Night

Speaks the Unbelievers fright

He who shall hurt the little Wren

Shall never be belovd by Men

He who the Ox to wrath has movd

Shall never be by Woman lovd

The wanton Boy that kills the Fly

Shall feel the Spiders enmity

He who torments the Chafers Sprite

Weaves a Bower in endless Night

The Catterpiller on the Leaf

Repeats to thee thy Mothers grief

Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly

For the Last Judgment draweth nigh

He who shall train the Horse to War

Shall never pass the Polar Bar

The Beggars Dog & Widows Cat

Feed them & thou wilt grow fat

The Gnat that sings his Summers Song

Poison gets from Slanders tongue

The poison of the Snake & Newt

Is the sweat of Envys Foot

The poison of the Honey Bee

Is the Artists Jealousy

The Princes Robes & Beggars Rags

Are Toadstools on the Misers Bags

A Truth thats told with bad intent

Beats all the Lies you can invent

It is right it should be so

Man was made for Joy & Woe

And when this we rightly know

Thro the World we safely go

Joy & Woe are woven fine

A Clothing for the soul divine

Under every grief & pine

Runs a joy with silken twine

The Babe is more than swadling Bands

Throughout all these Human Lands

Tools were made & Born were hands

Every Farmer Understands

Every Tear from Every Eye

Becomes a Babe in Eternity

This is caught by Females bright

And returnd to its own delight

The Bleat the Bark Bellow & Roar

Are Waves that Beat on Heavens Shore

The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath

Writes Revenge in realms of Death

The Beggars Rags fluttering in Air

Does to Rags the Heavens tear

The Soldier armd with Sword & Gun

Palsied strikes the Summers Sun

The poor Mans Farthing is worth more

Than all the Gold on Africs Shore

One Mite wrung from the Labrers hands

Shall buy & sell the Misers Lands

Or if protected from on high

Does that whole Nation sell & buy

He who mocks the Infants Faith

Shall be mockd in Age & Death

He who shall teach the Child to Doubt

The rotting Grave shall neer get out

He who respects the Infants faith

Triumphs over Hell & Death

The Childs Toys & the Old Mans Reasons

Are the Fruits of the Two seasons

The Questioner who sits so sly

Shall never know how to Reply

He who replies to words of Doubt

Doth put the Light of Knowledge out

The Strongest Poison ever known

Came from Caesars Laurel Crown

Nought can Deform the Human Race

Like to the Armours iron brace

When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow

To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow

A Riddle or the Crickets Cry

Is to Doubt a fit Reply

The Emmets Inch & Eagles Mile

Make Lame Philosophy to smile

He who Doubts from what he sees

Will neer Believe do what you Please

If the Sun & Moon should Doubt

Theyd immediately Go out

To be in a Passion you Good may Do

But no Good if a Passion is in you

The Whore & Gambler by the State

Licencd build that Nations Fate

The Harlots cry from Street to Street

Shall weave Old Englands winding Sheet

The Winners Shout the Losers Curse

Dance before dead Englands Hearse

Every Night & every Morn

Some to Misery are Born

Every Morn and every Night

Some are Born to sweet delight

Some are Born to sweet delight

Some are Born to Endless Night

We are led to Believe a Lie

When we see not Thro the Eye

Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night

When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light

God Appears & God is Light

To those poor Souls who dwell in Night

But does a Human Form Display

To those who Dwell in Realms of day

[zacksfairest]

FINALLY. 3, 6, and 12 for Casuel. 7 for you and Bucky. 13 and 15 for you and Finn.

“FINALLY” im crying

god here we go

——-——-

Lemuel:

3. After-Action Patch-Up: How does your F/O react when they see you got hurt? How do they tend to your injury?

It completely depends on the injury.  We are soldiers in the Lions of Mercy that are constantly moving, drilling, sparring, and training—you’re gonna get banged up.  He’s seen me get black eyes, cut lips, a busted nose, scrapes, cuts, and gashes.  So long as the injury is sustained within the limits of the barracks and the training grounds, he isn’t concerned.

Sure he’ll make the cursory “You all right there, Theron?” and “Oof, I’d hate to see the other guy” comments, but if he fretted over every bruise and cut, there’d be no sleep for him.

In battle, however, is another story.

Cresce is notorious for various nasty pymaric traps and weapons—all that make for rather horrific injuries.  He knows I can handle myself on the field, but being a captain for an airborne division means he doesn’t have much sway over anything going on for the ground troops (which I absolutely am a part of).  Seeing me in one piece is only enough to allay a portion of his fears, and any injury received in battle he oversees the tending to himself.  

Well, not himself, since he’s not a medic/healer by any means, but he paces like a caged tiger as whatever poor sap that happened to be walking by is ordered to treat the wounds.  

He barks various questions (”How deep is it?” “What about shrapnel?” “What about poisoned blades?”) until the medic is all but shaking from the pressure to ensure this one lowly female private is not going to die on his watch.

Lem’s seen a lot in the nearly twenty years he’s been in the army, and has probably lost twice as much as that.  He can’t do much in such a situation, but he will do damn well whatever he can to ensure that he doesn’t lose anyone else.  Especially since it’ll take a blade to the heart to get me to be taken off the line.

6. Bodyguard Crush: How does your F/O make you feel safe?

Lem is very, very good at cheering people up and easing their anxieties, especially when it comes to any battle related fears.  He’s been in the army since he was twelve, he knows every horrific thought that can cross a person’s mind.  For those moments when the action at the front is getting to be more than I can handle, or a friend of mine loses their head or whole-ass torso to a mine, he’s quick to offer a distraction.  It may just be a really bad and probably off-color joke, maybe quick grasp of my hand, or even a quick and discrete kiss—but he makes a point to do something.

But being the only woman under his command brings its own problems.  It’s isolating enough as it is, leaving me with few friends to turn to in a time of crisis.  He at least had no shortage of camaraderie when in the Council Army, and he is charming enough that he won himself friends within the Lions of Mercy rather quickly, but me?  Few want anything to do with the semon woman who probably slept her way into the esteemed Lions of Mercy.

Lem doesn’t just do his damnedest to ensure I am safe from Crescian blades, his very presence acts as a barrier from whatever vitriol would emerge in the high tensions of battle.  Soldiers will look to anyone to place the blame for a fallen comrade or a mission turned FUBAR, and Lem will go as far as physically put himself between me and any soldier who dares look to place that blame at my feet.

12. Post-Kiss Catatonia: How did you and your F/O react to your first kiss together?

Woof.  It’s weird.  We’ve danced around that veritable elephant in the room for months, maybe even over a year before it comes to a head.  It undoubtedly happens when we are alone and with nary a prying eye to be seen, otherwise we’d probably both be kicked out of the Lions of Mercy, but that leaves the aftershocks… overwhelming.

I undoubtedly avoid him as much as I can for days.  Both fear of being found out and doubt that his feelings are real a motivator to keep him at arm’s length.  Were anyone to catch wind that their playful flirtations at morphed into something very real and tangible, I would be back on the streets and at the mercy of Alderode’s ruthless caste system once more.  At least within the Lions of Mercy, I am guaranteed a roof over my head, food in my belly, and a steady pay—I can’t afford to let a hopeless and forbidden romance to jeopardize that.

And the idea that Lem has no real feelings and just wants the prestige of bedding the woman who wormed her way into his ranks?  Too devastating to think too hard about.  Best just pretend it never happened.

Lem is undoubtedly upset about my cold-shoulder routine.  Maybe even angry.  He doesn’t do Emotions well, and the concept that he could have somehow overstepped boundaries and ruined the friendship he had with me?  Unthinkable and heartrending.  But he can’t broach those feelings.  He’s experienced heartbreak and agony so many times, and he can’t let that well open over something so trivial.  Anger is better.

There will probably be a fight at some point where he accuses me of being a frigid bitch or something.  He wouldn’t be wrong, as I avoided him for awhile after we had spent so long hiding behind teasing jibes and flirtatious smiles, but he hasn’t considered what this would mean for me.  A soud broaching this very delicate code of conduct they have established for her would be bad enough, but he has enough friends in high places that he’d likely be fine.

But me?  I’d be ruined.

I explain as much, and work in there my fears that the kiss meant nothing to him, where it meant everything to me—especially since it could not mean anything.  Soud and semon could not be together.  His ghers would never allow it.  His holy man brother would never allow it.

How would this resolve?  It would not.  We are doomed to live out our romance in secret.

Until, of course, our dear Rector meets his end on a snowy night on the streets of Durlyne.  And we all know what Alderode expects of a widow’s brother-in-law when her husband meets an unfortunate end.

——-——-

Bucky:

7. Caught In The Rain: How does your F/O react if a sudden rainstorm interrupts your date with them?

GRUMPY BEYOND ALL REASON.  He has a METAL ARM.  That shit CHAFES when it is not properly dried after a shower, let alone a surprise rain storm that neither of us was prepared for.

It doesn’t ruin the date, but it sure means that there’s a lot of bitching and moaning when we make it back to his apartment.  He spends fifteen minutes wincing in the bathroom as he applies aloe cream.  I call after him multiple times to ask if he needs help, but he’s the Winter Soldier.  The Fist of Hydra can apply a bit of aloe to a sore rash all on his own, thank you very much.

——-——-

Finn:

13. Sickeningly Sweethearts: Do you and your F/O engage in PDA? If yes, how do the surrounding people react?

PDA is limited.  As you know, I am Mandalorian through and through, which means that 98% of the time I am out and about, I am wearing my full beskar’gam.  That doesn’t leave much room for smooching in the War Room as we plan our next raid on a First Order supply depot.

But there is the keldabe kiss, the forehead touch Mandalorians use when in full armor and wish to express physical affection for their significant other, a stand-in for a kiss when you have a helmet on your head and don’t have the time or inclination to remove it.

Those happen a lot, but unless you’re in the know, it could be a platonic expression between comrades.

But when you’re in the know, you know that it is an intimate gesture between between cyare'se.

But, of course, there will be the few times where we can actually be gross and cute and really kiss.  People don’t really pay attention, honestly.  We all have people we love on base and steal whatever small moments we can.  No one begrudges us that.

15. Zip Me Up: Does your F/O help you get dressed for the day? Do you help them?

I am the lifelong Mandalorian.  I have plenty of practice getting my armor on as I prepare to face the day.

Finn, however, is new to this lifestyle.  He’s had no practice getting his armor on.  He has no idea that the bracers and shin guards should be put on dead last, that you need to ensure the safety lock is securely on for all of your various hidden gadgets and weapons so you don’t accidentally wind up skewering yourself or others as your fiddle with the heavy beskar, or that you need to learn how to control your blink patterns without even thinking about it or you might wind up making your HUD activate your jetpack while you’re still in your dressing chambers.

I help Finn every single morning after he gets his first set of beskar’gam.  He’s embarrassed that he is absolutely hopeless with it at first.  He was a Stormtrooper!  He’s worn armor before!  He knows how this goes!  Why is this so hard?  Why do we have to carry an entire arsenal with us just to head to the docking bay for a practice run?

He’ll get it, eventually.  For now, it’s my job to make sure the newest member of Clan Theron lives to be able to get dressed himself one day.

[dualcursed]

           about time i got to writing these angsty drabbles !!

through gritted teeth he held his place, nails digging into bent knees just beneath him to distract from the tensing of muscles throughout his legs. he was in pain. this had been drawn out to forty-five minutes now and still, he sat, eyes averting from the gaze fixated on him-- waiting, perhaps anticipating the moment he were to crack. should he shift, should he waver for even something momentary, it would all be over, wouldn’t it ? his pleas would be as easily discarded and his proposition would be slipped besides the countless manuscripts atop his cousin’s desk, awaiting their turn to meet the bottom of a trash bin. 

once more, he speaks up, bowing deeply at the waist. his muscles scream in pain the further he lowers himself, but his words are pointed, loud, and precise. ❝ take him home, sensei. ❞ the name feels raw upon his tongue. it bleeds discomfort with each syllable but in due time the second nature of referring to such a title would be with respect and sincerity. it’s almost laughable that something so sickeningly belittling to himself would be the token that would set a broken soul free. it was a sacrifice that would grant what little freedom the jyuunishi were able to obtain in this never-ending hell. despite it all, the deal had been struck. 

as he lifts himself, his hair resetting upon his forehead, a simple nod and a wicked smile await him. 

it is done. 

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the moon had since eased its way above the tops of trees and now stood as a guide to lead a lost soul back to the cage which held it and the chains that bound it. returning, this time, was met with relief as well as a gut-wrenching fear of what was to come. his safety wasn’t guaranteed with the arrangement promising his role as conspirator wouldn’t be revealed yet-- what would guarantee him that protection ? a simple spoken promise wasn’t something to be trusted, especially when spoken by someone as devious as sensei was. what more could he do ? it was an offer underlined in risk but it was an offer nonetheless. 

he was scared. 

it had been far too long since fear was something he could so easily admit to, but there it was, as clear as the stars in the sky-- terror coursed through him. what had he done ? what had he given up in exchange for a life so precious to him he would deliver his own on a silver platter just to see one chance at hope ? a simple devotion to inflating one man’s ego was nothing compared to the countless hours locked alone with nothing but the companionship of a monster. a simple sacrifice but a sacrifice still. 

a moment’s burst of courage and confidence is enough to lead each step to the heart of his family’s torment. it may have looked like a regular building, but its halls ached with the cries of the deceased and captives that never knew the world beyond a lone stone wall and a gate separating fortune from misfortune. it was a site of nothing but silent suffering and insanity. in the light of the full moon, one could only imagine the number of souls that were forever trapped beyond those walls, forced to gather at a banquet of the dead for a god that served themselves first and foremost. countless generations of selfishness under the guise of unity for the benefit of the one apart from the many would never know the kind of freedom so many of them had attempted to fight for. another step towards shattering tradition was at hand. 

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by force of habit, both shoes are removed at the stairs to one of the further halls, closest to a collection of empty rooms whose purposes had always been left a mystery and all questions were left with silence. all attention was directed to two rooms in particular: that of which the devil lie sleeping and the other, the innocent spirit awaiting its second chance at youth. so long as no one spotted the young man easing his way around corners and along stretches of empty labyrinth, it would be easy to reach the final destination unscathed and undetected. what sound like human breaths echoing down corridors are in fact mistaken gusts of summer wind and names whispered in his ear are a product of his own over-imaginative consciousness playing tricks on the mind. for a place so seemingly desolate, the night fills with the fantastical. 

to his surprise, the cover of darkness works in his favor, delivering him like a shadow to the door separating him from whom his heart ached. a simple lock stood as the final hurdle that, on numerous occasions, he’d picked out of desperation to reassure that times were indeed changing and wrongs would soon be made right. to know that after all this time, it was the same lock meant the gods were on his side. they had been looking after him all this time and now, were aiding in his rescue. 

the door slides like many times before, catching briefly on a familiar dent in the railing but continuing to a halt with a swift thwip of the paper against the brisk night air. as trained eyes refocus to the near pitch black, the figure to the back corner adjusts itself, rising like the undead itself to take in the situation at hand. a moment of silence between them continues with a single finger raised to the young man’s lips. say nothing until safety is guaranteed. too much was at stake to risk anything further. he wavers with every step he takes to break the distance between himself and the figure and soon, he’s at the figure’s side, taking him in his arms for what feels like an eternity. as much as he wanted to speak those same reassuring words, he hopes the words he silently screams will reach. 

at long last, quivering hands take hold of ones much smaller and frailer than his own. were they ever destined to take root and grow ? was the fragile figure he had sworn to himself to protect ever to be more than the pathetic creature left to rot in that lonesome room ? with luck, this would be the first step to revival. 

there are no questions as he whisked the other back the way he came, dipping around corners at the slightest of sounds and pressing him back into the darkest nooks with his whole form at a moment’s notice. his heaving chest locks the other in place and only shifts once certainty is established for another safe stretch of hall or corridor. the routine stop, evaluate, and proceed continues for another ten to fifteen minutes before they make it back down the steps and along the side of the main house. with only one pair of shoes, it’s decided the other should wear them despite the fact that they’re perhaps one or two sizes larger than the petite feet that are made to sit within them. 

for what seems like the first time in the last few years that he can remember, there’s a smile that tugs at his lips. yuki is beautiful. everyone says so, and they speak only the truth. the gods graced yuki sohma with the most delicate of features, so pure and ethereal in fact, that his perfection was met with accusations of imperfection. that perfection negated any and all worth that the world around him might be able to garner from bringing him into it. one person laid claim to that doll-like beauty and it was the black smear on a white page. It was the hammer set to chip the porcelain that framed his face, curved along his back, and detailed each and every one of his ten fingers and ten toes. it was the bane of the jyuunishi’s existence yet no one would speak up to say so. 

he’s careful when tightening the hold on that delicate, porcelain hand before they’re off in the dead of night. the road to sensei’s house would be long, cold, and damn near impossible to navigate in the darkness, but no treat could be worse than the one lay sleeping back in the lion’s den. if anything, it was a surprised that there was no commotion upon them leaving the circle of uniformity. there were no screams in the night that awoke both living and dead. there was no patrol out searching for two missing children. for now, luck was on their side. how long that luck would hold out was uncertain, but taking it while it was being dealt to them would give them just enough to make it past the gate to the estate and back along the main road towards the forest. 

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by morning, the chill of the summer night air had blown through them despite being curled up besides one another. the heavy coat of dew had dampened the patch of grass they’d greet unconsciousness with, but without the threat of the sohma’s on their heels, sleep came easy. the familiar face of sensei greeted them as well aided by a flurry of motion undoubtedly the canine spirits that had come as a result of the curse. one moment, he’s staring absentmindedly into the sleeping face of his heart and love and the next, he’s nudged awake. the familiar walls of the home he’d seen hours earlier. it was sensei’s house. 

he was splayed out on a futon in an unfamiliar room on the second floor and what could only be described as terror once against struck his heart. without a second thought, he’s on his feet, hurriedly checking each and every room for a sign that yuki was still there, that yuki was free. each room yielded nothing. where had he gone ? where was he ? had sensei lied to him ? 

fury. 

the burning rage and fury at the prospect of being betrayed coursed through him. how dare he ! how dare he take his trust and deal him as well as yuki such a shit hand. it’s unfair ! it’s so unfair ! was hope and freedom so hard to obtain !? was it so sinful to give them a chance at something ? 

he rounds the stairs, flying down with speed and aggression fueled by the desire for vengeance. nothing but death could right this injustice but-- there he sits, feet crossed beneath him, a bowl of ramen in front of him and a hot cup of tea in those precious, porcelain hands. eyes that sparkle with tears that have yet to fall turn to him. the first that had subconsciously balled ease at his sides. yuki was okay. he was here now. he was safe. he was free.

❝ ah, hatsuharu. we were wondering when you would be joining us. ❞

[sanctimoniousscrawlings]

Novae

Chapter 5 // Day 1 // Wind

    It’s the first day of senior year and I am so not stressing out about any of the things the others are. I’ve been working on my applications for college all summer. I’ve got a 4.8 gpa. I’ve practically been studying law since birth and have all the right references. All that’s left is to complete my final year at The Academy and I’ll be off to bigger things.

    My thoughts concerning plans for the future are driven to a halt when I see the note in my locker.

    It’s time. Find the others.

    The crest of the novae is emblazoned beneath the text.     Shit. I forgot about this bullshit I’m about to have to deal with.     I’ll figure it out. Class first.     Honors Government class is my favorite class. After I deal with the Nova stuff, I'm going to become a lawyer- preferably a prosecutor- and then work my way up past D.A. to become a well-respected judge. For now, I just need to put my investigative skills to work finding the other Novae.    The only problem I have with this class is that I'm seated next to Cypress- who is making faces at me while I actively try to ignore him. The teacher is going over the syllabus and I would love to pay attention, but the conversation Tobias and Angel are having piques my interest way too much.    "I don't know why I keep going back to him. I'm like a sheep, just following him around like he's wolf in sheep's clothing," Angel is saying plaintively, olive-skinned fingers clenched in her curling, coffee colored mane. Her frustration was clear in her pale green eyes.    "You should probably not do that. You know he keeps hurting you, so stop seeing him." Tobias replies, reasonably, placing a single dark hand on her shoulder.    "I can't. I'm trapped in a cage and he keeps poking me with a stick. I'm a sheep in a cage and he's my shepherd poking me with a stick."    "You aren't a sheep, you're a lion," Tobias rolls his eyes, exasperated.    "He won't stop jabbing me with the effing stick and I'm stuck in this stupid cage."    "The cage isn't real, it's in your imagination. Just walk away."    "I can't because I'm a dumb sheep and his prodding is too much for me to think straight."   "So take the stick away from him, beat him over the head with it, steal his keys, and let yourself out," I interject. "And then when you're out, kick the shit out of him."    "Or you could do that," Tobias keeps his tone amicable.     This strange metaphorical conversation ends up lasting half the period and it's a welcome distraction from having to deal with Cypress. I don't even know how his dumb ass got into this class. His crystal blue eyes peer at me from beneath shaggy blonde hair. Shit. He noticed me noticing him.    "Penny for your thoughts?" He asks, flipping an actual penny to me.    "Mmm sorry, bruh, my thoughts go for a much larger sum.”    “Oh yeah?” He pauses, considering. What do you want in exchange?”    “If you have to ask, you can’t afford it.”    “Try me.”    “You’re trying my patience.”    “Miss Devereaux, Mr Cavalcante? I realize going through the syllabi isn’t as riveting as the conversations you’re having, but you really must find a better time to have them. You are both trying my patience.”    Fuck.    Okay. Crush this sack of blanched chicken then figure out who the other seven are. After apologizing to the teacher I fume all the way through class, plotting Cypress’s demise.    After class, Tobias and Angel come up to me.    "I see Cypress still gets on your nerves," Tobias says, casually.    "Understatement of the century," I mutter.    Angel cocks her head to the side and inquires, "What did he even do that he gets to you so easily?"   I start listing off on my fingers, "He's dumb, he's irritating, he thinks he's cute, the whole surfer bro thing is outdated and overplayed, and he's a lazy slob- and I swear on whatever higher powers there may be, Tobias, if you suggest what we both damn well know you’re about to I will slap you with a fish."    "Who says I was going to?"    "Please, I can see it in your eyes."    “I mean it worked for Heather and I.”    “What are you talking about? You still hate each other. Also, that’s disgusting.”    “I found her significantly less irritating for weeks after and it was fun.”    “You must have lost your damned mind and I am twice as disgusted.” The minute bell rings. “Thank god. Girl, bye.” I abscond quickly to my next class, wishing I could erase that entire conversation from my mind.

    When school ends I fly to the highest peak in the area. After landing, I whisper into the wind. “Cardea. I must beg your favor.” The wind picks up. “My foes’ identities are shrouded to me.” I have special relationship with the wind; it guides me more than how that expression entails. “Reveal to me the thresholds they cross over, lead me through those portals.” I guess you could say my magical discipline is gossip. “Bring to me the secrets and whisperings that would destroy their veils. Carry their scent right to me.” 

[starfaring-princelotor]

Second Touch

Summary: Prince Lotor’s touching goes a little too far for the Medic!Reader. 

★ Disclaimer: I do not ship Lotura and I respectfully ask that this story to not be tagged as Lotura. This is a Lotor x Reader/Self-Insert OC story which is in no way related to Allura at all. Please be respectful of my chosen pairing.  ★

Touch Series: Part One___Part Two___Part Three___Part Four ___Part Five

Taste Series: Part One ___Part Two___Part Three ___Part Four___Part Five

Sight Series: Part One___Part Two___Part Three___Part Four

Prince Lotor found himself in a familiar situation a mere few days later, albeit a bit more…dangerous. Scratch that, MUCH more dangerous. Of course, he was still secluded in his cozy cell with his cozy food and his cozy stitches. Though, while he laid in relative comfort and skewed security, the Castle of Lions was, simply put, falling apart. In the literal sense. The ship was being attacked quite viciously and there was no news being passed to the only prisoner who was stuck in a soon-to-be death dungeon.

The Prince let out a gruff curse, his body flung up against the ceiling as the ship jerked once more when another attack pierced the hull. He had to get out if he wanted to live and learn all there was to know about the galaxies. He had to get out to, well, to explore that insistent tickling that urged him to pull your strings, to cater you to his wills and whims, to dissect you, all for the sake of discovery. When Prince Lotor was determined, he would go the distance to achieve goals. No prison would restrain him. Victory or death.

“-lura, Allura! Open cell 87A-3, Lotor’s-” a loud BANG resonated throughout the giant chamber, “Fuck! Allura, can you-God DAMMIT!”

The lights flickered off for a few seconds and Prince Lotor was met with pitch blackness. There wasn’t even a glow of energy in the room and, for a rare fleeting moment, Lotor was…hesitant. There was obviously a battle taking place outside and HE was stuck here, doing nothing. But his ears did not deceive him! He heard you and SAW you riding the lift down to his level before everything went dark. Though, as of now, you were…quiet. Did you die? Did you leave him to suffer his cruel fate?

“Lotor? Lotor, can you hear me?” you concerned voice echoed the hall.

A loud CRASH resonated again and the lights flicked on once more. The barrier caging him was still active, still trapping him, and he saw you just a few feet away hastily tapping keys on the holographic screen that denied him his freedom. The station blinked red and you slammed a closed fist upon it in frustration, cursing some expletives that he strangely found amusing. It wasn’t working, obviously, and Lotor can see your brows scrunch up in anger, as if you were running out of time.

Which, in this case, wasn’t completely wrong. You turned towards the barrier, running towards it, and began hastily inspecting it for SOME sort of weak point to jailbreak him out of there. Lotor was in there for a few days and he found nothing of use, though you were adamant about helping him. He never thought he would see the good doctor fret and worry like this for his safety. Given, he too was worried about his fate, but you…those eyes of yours, frantically flicking here and there, it reminded him of a ticking time bomb. If you didn’t figure something out soon, you would die, you would LOSE everything you worked so hard for.

“I am here, doctor,” he spoke in a wavering voice as the ship jerked once more, making him stumble to his feet, “Curses, what in the cosmos is going on out there?” “The ship, some space creatures, I don’t-” you tried to explain, but your words were too fast and he couldn’t hear you very clearly over the sirens blaring in warning, “They’re sapping the crystal, we’re running out of power and-”

The mechanism above Lotor’s cell exploded, dislodging an enormous component that began falling right over his prison. With no escape, no barrier dropping to grant him freedom he desperately needed in this situation, Lotor was left with his fate. The large chunk of metal smashed through his roof, successfully knocking it completely off the catwalk. You stared at him, horrified, fearful, scared, and his expression? It mirrored yours. He couldn’t die here, die by some slab of metal taking him out, before he got to experience the rest of his damned life.

Though, your eyes…you held a sense of immense sadness behind them. Guilt, he would even dare assume.

“Prince Lotor!” you screamed in urgency, watching as the prison cell fell lower and lower into the chasm.

The barrier was no longer active, now that it was completely disconnected from its power source, but it was a few seconds too late. Lotor was plummeting farther away your figure reaching out to him. That arm, open hand, calling him, demanding he come back. Demanding he TRY. And who was he to simply give up? That was not Prince Lotor. That was not the Galra way he was taught.

With the agility and strength he gained as an exiled Prince, Lotor quickly hopped up to his feet and rushed to the broken edge of his prison. There were more pieces of the ceiling falling down towards him and time was of the most critical essence. His mind and body went into overdrive, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he calculated the best possible route to take. He crouched and launched himself upwards, using the momentum to carry him from concrete chunk to chunk.

When the pieces dwindled down and his pathway was slowly running out, he used all his strength to propel himself as far as he could to you in one final leap. His claws reached out in the flickering light before it completely went dark. Lotor could hear his heart drop in his chest. His fingers grabbed nothing but air. Just like every aspect of his life, his goal slipped through his clutches, reminding him that fate was the one in charge here. Fate decided the outcome, no matter how much blood, sweat, and tears he worked into changing it.

“I got you!”

Your hand had managed to tightly grip around his armored wrist at the very last second. It was odd to think about, especially on the brink of death, but your voice in the endless darkness was like a starlight calling to him. A wish granted. The voice of the moon. Dear cosmos, he was grateful. And he would not take this act of grace without thanks. Still rushed with adrenaline, his other hand reached up and those claws of his latched onto your arm. He was secure, even though everything around the two of you was falling apart.

“Fuck! Lotor, you’re-ugh-you’re heavy!”

Now was not the time for this, but he couldn’t restrain himself from ordering you around, “Get me up at once and THEN we can begin insulting one another!”

You followed his order and hauled him up the platform with struggled grunts and pained whimpers. He crawled up and allowed himself a second to breathe, though the threat of danger was still hovering the ship. The room was dark and the only thing he could use as a point of reference was…your hand. Your warm, soft, smooth hand. Tethered together, you led him to the stairs, where a glow of red was illuminating the only exit available. Lotor ran with you, too eager to get as far away from this hellish prison as fast as he could, and he tightened his hold to remind himself that he was in your debt.

The Paladins and Princess were in worse for wear. As it turns out, all the power from the castle has been sapped from a swarm of Titan Anguisobers. Energy sucking space eels, in short. Floating in a dead vessel around an empty asteroid field was the least of the crew’s problems, however. Without healing pods to assist you in aiding the more sore wounds, the castle was stuck with primitive Earth medicine practice. Meaning you were now overloaded with work.

The hospital wing in the castle was completely destroyed as well. All medical supplies were gone or unsalvageable. Prince Lotor knew this would only slow down the recovery process. Hence, why all of the members of Voltron were currently gathered in the main command center, himself included. Now that things were more calmer, Lotor could take time to reflect on all the events that happened.

His stare was on your person, observing you once again, though this time without the restraints of his prison’s barrier.

Exhaustion was clear on your face, as well as all the other’s in the room. Allura was passed out, no doubt from having her life source directly connected to the energy crystal. What those eels took from the crystal, they took from her as well. Coran was tending to her, but otherwise, she had no injuries on the surface. The same could not be said for the Voltron Paladins, though. This was a battle lost. It showed on their defeated expressions.

“Shiro, I need a hand here,” you ordered, that bored tone no longer mixed in your words like before, “Put some pressure there-yes, just like that. Pidge will be fine, the bleeding has stopped.”

It was like watching a completely new you. There was no hostility, but Lotor supposed the urgency with everyone’s health pulled out the sense of professionalism to the surface. He could see you were more comfortable with them than you were with him. He took no offense to that. In fact, he would praise you for your caution, even if there was none hovering around you now. Shouldn’t there be? He could easily harm you if he so desired to do so. He could very well snap your neck before the Paladins had a chance to step in. Did you feel safe with the Paladins surrounding you?

Prince Lotor could touch you, but a quick glance down to your forearm told him that he already had in the worst way possible.

Four, no, five lacerations, all about two to three inches long, scarred down along the length of your arm. The wounds were still open, still sensitive, though the blood has long since been dried and wiped away. They didn’t need stitches, no, just bandages. However, with limited supplies going around, it was the good doctor’s ridiculous selflessness which left you being unattended to. Stupid, he thought. If you died, if you bled out, who would take care of the injured? This was why he was no medic at heart. Their morals were too closely tied to accursed emotions.

Prince Lotor was honorable, to an extent. He caused this injury, so he will heal it. Given, this wasn’t what he had in mind for his next test on exploring your odd habits. You were touching the Paladins just fine. Skin contact did not make you flinch away like before. For now, all he could rightly conclude was that you despised any contact from HIM. Solely him. So, why then, were you so willing to save him from falling in that pit? Did something change? What was added, or taken away, from his experiment?

The questions piled up and he could see his hypothesis crumble to pieces. Too many anomalies, not in a controlled environment, missing background information.

More data was needed, but seeing you wince in pain, Lotor realized that he needed a subject that was well and alive. He wasn’t done with you yet. Lifting himself off the wall he was leaning on, the Prince walked right up to you, disregarding Shiro’s warning stare. That stare which told him his defenses were active and the big guns will come out if he so much looked at you wrong. Those raised hackles was something Prince Lotor knew quite well.

“Did your stitches come undone?” you regarded him carefully when he stood in front of you, but not in the sense of wariness, more like concern for his well being.

Ever the caretaker, you were. Lotor waved his hand, arm showing that his stitches were still, in fact, set in place. If he was to say so, he was probably one of the few who came out unscathed from today’s attacks. A small glimmer of relief passed your eyes, relief of…not having to heal him and knowing he wasn’t injured. You knew that deep down, it could have been much, much worse.

“Doctor, your arm,” he nodded towards your injury, decidedly leaving out that his claws cut into you because he was nervous at the time, “Would you allow me to aid you?”

Shiro narrowed his eyes at Lotor and he could very well feel the stare pierce his back. He paid no mind, seeing as he was the only one here who was in good health to lend a hand. They needed all the help they could get. You studied him, those calculating eyes boring into his stoic face. Lotor could hear it, hear you weigh the pros and cons of his question in that little head of yours. Oh, if only he could read your thoughts, he would poke and prod and dissect your brain for days. And days. And days. Until you lost your beautiful mind in his madness.

You lifted your arm to him slowly, still on the fence about offering yourself to his services, “Don’t-”

“Touch you. Yes, I will refrain from doing so, good doctor.”

He had already indulged himself once and now, you gave him your skin so willingly. Of course, this was for science. Heal you so you may heal others. All you did was give and give and he would gladly push that limit of yours. Prince Lotor picked up a spare roll of bandages once you gave him the nod of approval. Everyone else was on the road to recovery and there was just enough on the roll to cover your arm.

He got to work, slowly, carefully, and with the tenderness of a lover. This was so new to him, touching but not touching. Healing by the demands of the patient. Give control to get controlled in return. Perhaps it was the intimacy of flesh touching flesh which left you uncomfortable? That was one possibility he would have to explore by getting closer to you, both through the mind and body. Challenge accepted, challenge very well accepted.

It was the thrill of not getting what he wanted. Not yet, anyways. Prince Lotor found it fun, even though he knew he could, he WILL, get you in the end. Instant gratification does not happen in science. When he finished his job, following your demands of NO CONTACT ALLOWED, he was granted that first door to access your heart.

A flicker of trust behind your eyes.

And he was absolutely ready to devour you whole.