#rot girl fall is upon us. unfortunately

[trickstersaint]

core // september 26 2024

[themissingnumbers]

WARNING: FLASHING/GLITCHING IMAGE UNDER THE CUT. This also contains descriptions of gore and body horror.

[ @pkmn-monochrome - Previously... ]

Red narrows his eyes as he stares down at Cody, shutting up and listening as they explain. The corners of his lips twitch as they finish, the shadow cast over his eyes falling ever so slightly heavier.

"... So, that's how it is, hm?"

"Barely... any different..."

"... Exactly what I..."

"..."

"I've gotta say, you've really got a way with words! You're so articulate when you're scared, Cody."

He snickers to himself, hopping off the grave and pacing around, looking between the other and the Ghosts.

"Observant, too~! You're right, I really couldn't be bothered to care what you think of me. I'm not exactly here to make friends. I'm sure that'd the last thing you'd want, anyways! See, I'm just here to satiate some curiosity."

He leans in front of Blastoise, tilting his head.

"I would like to formally apologize to the oversized Sobble-in-a-shell for my language. I'm not exactly used to being around others... Twenty-six years of imprisonment wouldn't really teach a guy to have a filter, heh."

He waves a hand nonchalantly, completing the circle.

"And as for your marketable figurine of a rat, well... I'm not interested in being a snotty kid forever. Unfortunately, I don't need any hacking done to screw up my game badly enough to change some things around.

But, hey... I'm not here to make chit-chat with a couple of one-note monsters. It's all about you, the most REAL one in this room. Cody, Cody, Cody, star of the show~! Let's get back to the point. I know you don't exactly think highly of... things like me. What was it you told that one poor girl- 'You've had more than a decade to get over yourself,' right?"

He throws his head back, cackling as if the old remark is the funniest thing he's heard in his life.

"I meant it when I said that I don't CARE. But I AM nosy, and your vitriol towards REDs in particular is just so interesting... Even seein' the face clearly strikes a nerve. So honestly, I'd LOVE to hear EXACTLY what you're thinking..."

"If only you were willing to spit out any fighting words, that is! But you've been so much more polite than I expected, after all the reading I've done..."

He passes by in front of the other, looking off into the distance.

In that moment- a moment of passing footsteps, of the blink of an eye, of a lack of care... something heavy fills the air.

A damning presence looks down on Cody with a dozen eyes, countless mouths, gnashing teeth and twitching claws, two hundred and fifty-five whispering voices. It's a disgusting and shambling creature, a sick and unholy patchwork of amalgamated hearts and yellowed blood, wrapped up in tattered flesh and backwards fur, mismatched feathers and scales and blubber and skin. Writhing, wheezing, bleeding, rotting, every misplaced piece existing out of sync.

Something impossible. Unknowable. Invalid.

The feeling it imposes upon them is suffocating. Like not breathing for years, like something vile filling their lungs, a sickness that is rising, thrashing, tearing, desperate for a taste of "fresh meat" if one could even call a dead trainer that anymore.

"It almost seems like there's something you're worried about," the voices from within it hiss, layered countless times under the casual and teasing tone of Red's own that is lost under the madness...

... Yet the instant the words spill from his lips, that awful sensation is gone as quickly as it arrived. Everything is as it should be. Despite how intense it was... It was little more than two seconds of some sick kind of illusion.

Was it even real? Was that pain all false? Red hasn't lifted a finger, no less even looked Cody's way.

It's as if nothing even happened.

"I wonder, I wonder, what it could be~?" the man babbles on as he walks away, feigning ignorance- because he must be, he must be screwing around with them at this point, right? How could he NOT be?

And now he's laughing- giggling to himself under his breath, like this whole ordeal is some joke that only he's in on.

"After all, I'm just some harmless little video game character. I'm not even real, right?" he chides, "Certainly nothing like one of your big bad players who could crush your shoddy little cartridge cause you decided to be a little bi..."

He trails off, managing to catch himself.

"... Decided to misbehave. What, you don't think I hold any real power over this place, do you~? I can't cause..."

"... Permanent damage."

He slows to a stop several paces away from the monochromatic trainer, spinning on his heel to look at them with a smile that could be described as warm, but...

From heart, to flesh, to grin- there's not a single warm thing about this man in this moment. Only proven further by a final remark, laced with a threatening kind of curiosity.

"So would you like to stop trying to play nice and tell me what you really think of me... Or are you gonna let me get bored?"

[onmyyan]

🗡️Psycho🗡️ Anon, here again!

Here’s some Ashley Hunt brain rot cause I adore this man too. Not sure if you’d like it though, so lemme know…

So I was thinking about all those cliche hallmark movies and similar ones where a big city girl is forced to go to the country for some shit. Like a family reunion or she sent there to “connect to her roots” or some bullshit reason. And the entire movie is just city girl having some weird spiritual journey falling in love with the country and some farm boy beau, literally abandoning her entire established life to go pick flowers and get fucked by cowboy dick. It’s like some conservative feverdream propaganda to be honest. City=bad country=good. So what if that’s what us readers were in a AU? A hardcore city girl who wanted to get the fuck out of hick town after helping grandma. And so here the brain rot I had with how Ash is gonna pound us and make us his lil stepford wife…

We are hella terse upon arrival to our gran’s house. Meetin Ash we still polite but we ain’t here to make friends n shit. Ash bein the fine gentlemen he is, still offers to help fix stuff. We ain’t stupid, cause anything to help gran settle faster means we get to leave the hicks faster. We agree and offer to reimburse financially Ash for the extra work he’s doin. Ash ain’t stupid either and wants our time instead of money. Wants to take us out to see the town and country to show us that it ain’t as bad as we think. We reluctantly agree, cause the Wi-Fi is shit in the house and we might die from boredom otherwise…

Ash purposely fixes the house slowly each day and afterwards takes us on different outings. Sometimes it’s to the town to show us places and to introduce us to everyone. Other times it’ll be around his farm, around beautiful nature landscapes, etc. Man is an intelligent and fuckin fine ass manipulative suave, cause he’ll purposefully take us around dusk when the sun be settin when the sun be in the low with that horrible glare in your eyes…if you don’t got a hat on…And that what he do. He knows we got no hat, so every fuckin time he puts his cowboy hat on top of our head to “protect our eyes n face” and we don’t know the fucking cowboy hat rule! So here he is flauntin us aroun town on his horse with us wearin his cowboy hat sittin in front of him as he guides the horse from behind us. Smilin n shit to all the locals who obviously know something we don’t…

Durin these outings we gradually be openin up to Ash. Not because we want to. But cause we gotta as he’s the only person to talk to aside from gran. Lack of socialization be real torture…We still dead set on goin back to the city. Cause we ain’t some cliche movie protagonist. We gotta life we love back home. It ain’t shit to contrary belief. We tell him we appreciate everything he’s done for us and we’ll leave in a week since gran should be alright by then. Now this is when Ash is starting to go full yandere at this point…

As we helping Ash one day fix one of the last issues in the house, so conveniently we get injured on the head and have to be taken to the local doc for some stitches. Like the entire town, the doc loves Ash and Ash easily lies and convinces the doc to remove our IUD too while we’re knocked out from the anesthesia. We had told Ash during one of our conversations that we didn’t need to go to the pharmacy for birth control pills as we had an IUD instead. So Ash being the lovable bastard he is, told the doc that we were wanting to try for a baby asap and that I had a horrible time gettin the IUD originally inserted. So it was better for me if I was unconscious for the procedure. And so now we have no IUD but alas think we still have birth control when we left absolutely defenseless…

We get the stitches too, wake up, and Ash takes us back home and takes care of us with the small help of gran. We gotta stay a bit longer now from the urge of our gran and Ash unfortunately so we do just that. Ash is very stellar at takin care of us even though our injury is still minor and we don’t have broken legs or anything so we can navigate and take care of ourselves just fine. But Ash insists sense he blames himself for our injury. He makes sure to feed us and hydrate us and give us our medication the doc prescribed to make sure we’re fine. A while passes a bit more and we are just itchin to get the fuck out of town. We tell Ash we’re finally going to leave tomorrow. And that’s that…

Ash wants to give us a proper farewell so invites us over that night to his house for a few drinks. We see no reason to decline and blissfully go over. We get drunk easily cause we’re a light weight and in the midst of our intoxication confess to him that we find him “damn hot” and we’d have loved to pursue a relationship with him if he was livin in the city and not out in hickville. He coaxes out of us our true feelings about him and we shyly admit that we think we’d fallen for him over the time we’ve gotten to know him. And this sends this motherfucka over the final edge. He was already gonna make us his from when he first saw us, but the confession solidified our mutual attraction and “love” for each other…

Ash then proceeds to take our face gently into his hands and gently kisses our lips in response. We lean into it, letting our drunk poor decision making skills taking over. We leaving tomorrow, so why not let this happen? What’s the worst that can happen? Let’s just ride the cowboy for fucks sake. We got nothing to lose…

Ash is romantic and hella skillful. He can work our body easily and gets more passionate as we totally let loose. He picks us up and latches our legs around his waist while still kissing, all while walking easily to his bedroom to do the deed. Artfully he unwraps us and himself and he makes the best fuckin love to us we’ve ever had. Nobody ever has come close to what this fine ass motherfucka has performed on us. Our pleasure was constantly put first, the aftercare was a godsend, and we were almost having second thoughts leaving the town so soon. Almost…

We wake up hungover and sore in the best ways possible with cum still pouring out of our pussy despite it being late into the new days’s afternoon. Some tablets and water is by the bed for us to drink, which we happily do. A note from Ash is there saying he’ll be back later since he’s out working on the farm and that we should take it easy. We spend the rest of the day till he comes back bein a blushin mess rememberin last nights events. The confession, the fuckin, holy shit the fuckin…

Ash comes home and it’s a bit awkward at first. But eventually we’re both able to be mature adults and talk about the past nights events. Ash also confesses he’s been in love since he first saw us, and that he’s happy that we like him and did what we did last night. We panicking inside though cause while we still have pretty much fallen for him, we still don’t think he’s worth trying to have a relationship with being so far from the city and all. What’s a girl to do? So we try to let him down easy and explain that we just don’t think the relationship could work in the end with our different life styles and all. We still really like him, but it wouldn’t be fair to pursue something that’d probably end in heartbreak…

He understands and tells us he figured he couldn’t hold a city girl like us down. It’s so late now that he wants us to spend the night again since it’s a bit away from our home with gran. He says we can still sleep in his bed as there are other rooms in his available, cause he got a large large residence since he got a gigantic farm. He gets us fixed up with dinner and all our needs and tells us he’ll take us back to gran in the morn…

Mornin comes and we go back to gran’s. Unfortunately…she’s not doing well and the doc is immediately called over. She passes away the next mornin. We are heartbroken n a sobbin mess. We knew she was in bad condition hence why we came out to the countryside to take care of her for a bit, but we didn’t think she was that bad and would be gone so soon. Luckily…we got our loving cowboy by our side to console us. And once again our trip is prolonged even further. It takes about 2 weeks to hold the funeral for gran, with some friends and acquaintances of hers comin out of town. Then another 2 weeks to finish cleaning out the house to put it up for sale as we don’t have the money to keep it even though we inherited it. And wouldn’t you know…the stress and constant work finally caught up to us and made us ill for a solid week. Ash once again took care of us and told us just to relax. Relax and stay for as long as we need to as we were staying with Ash for the time bein…

The house finally sells when we finally get better and we take the next week to tie up any loose ends. Including those with Ash…And as we prepare to find him…we have the urge to throw up? Thinkin we’re just sick as we empty our stomach into the toilet from all the horrible stressful events that’s been happenin. But we never throw up even when we sick…so why now? And so a terrible thought quickly flashes in our head. Pregnancy? No. It’s not uncommon to miss periods especially when a person is super stressed or has gone through trauma. And besides we got a birth control that has a 99% pregnancy free rate. But for some illogical reason, we still feel so shitty and decide to go to the local pharmacy to pick up a pregnancy test…

In the bathroom at the pharmacy, we take the test and sure enough it’s positive. We pregnant. And we are shaking in confusion and fear. This wasn’t suppose to happen. How did this happen? We sobbin drivin home Ash’s place panicking about tellin him. He’s already there at the door consoling us when he sees us in tears. And through incoherent cries and sentence structures we muffle out the news to him. He’s “shocked” and tells us that he’s not upset or anything and is actually happy to hear he’s going to be a father. We still a mess tryin to process everythin and just let Ash hold us in a large sofa and whisper sweet nothings into our ear…

It’s very late at night now after we’ve woken up from our trauma induced nap layin in Ash’s bed in more comfortable clothes he easily changed us into. Now that we done cryin for the most part, logic finally takes over and we know we ain’t ready to be a mama. Especially giving birth to a baby to a man we practically just met a lil over 2 months ago. We dead set on gettin an abortion n leavin this hick town for good n never coming back. Town given us way too much PTSD understandably…

Ash comes back home and we do our best to front a brave face n explain our decision to him. We ain’t keepin the baby. We’re never coming back. We sorry to break his heart like this but we thankful for everything he’s done for us. He’s visibly upset but understands our decision. The rest of the night passes with an uncomfortable atmosphere and we don’t get a lick of sleep…

Dawn comes and we get an early call that we’re being evicted from our apartment!? The price has gone up exponentially the past month and we failed to make the payment and certainly don’t have any rainy day funds to cover it. We’re just learning about this now, no new notification about the price change a month ago, so what the fuck is going on!? The only “good” highlight is that our stuff is still there to be collected and hasn’t been trashed n dumped. What makes the morn even worse is just a while later we get another call that we’ve been fired from our job cause we’ve been deemed inadequate for the job since we’ve taken too much PTO even though we saved up so much annual leave and our family member fuckin died! Corporate havin empathy, challenge impossible!

So now we a sight to behold. A fugly hysterical sobbin mess. We homeless, jobless, and prego. The holy damned trinity of what every woman strives to be at the same time. Ash obviously comes into the room as he can’t ignore our sobbin party now as it’s so fuckin loud it rattles the entire house. We sound like a banshee puttin on the opera show of the century. Takes a long time to finally have the brain cells to reiterate the events to Ash. And lucky us he the finest beau in the land and does nothing but console us. Is our giant fuckin teddy bear, tissue, life coach, etc. He obviously tells us that his home is our home for as long as we need it. And we finally just take him up on that…

Next few days just go by mindlessly for us. We don’t know what to do. We don’t know what we can do. We’re such a wreck mentally we don’t know where to begin on reconstruction. Ash takes care of us though. Like he always has. He even offers to pick up our stuff from the city and at this point we just let ‘em. Too tired to be bothered with all the bullshit life has thrown at us we just wanna be a cow and graze all day with no worries. And Ash…beautiful Ash easily convinced us to take time off before job huntin again. He doesn’t mind bein the sole provider for us. He got plenty of money and resources for us. I don’t have to worry my pretty little head. And I don’t ever have to think of repayin him back…

Some more time passes and now that we’re out of pity party comatose I can focus on gettin back on my feet. Startin with dealin with the unwanted pregnancy. So Ash takes us to town to see the doc, cowboy hat still always on our head and all. And this is when the doc does the usual rural town schtick on us. Doc shows us that the embryo has become a fetus on the ultrasound, talks to us about the beauty of life, birth, motherhood, sends us home with photos of our fetus and an immense sense of terror in our minds…

We’re well aware of pro-life propaganda cause we’ve seen it in the streets protests back in the city. But now that we’re the ones dealin with it first hand it’s a completely different feelin. What makes it worse is that we’ve undeniably fallen for the “baby’s” father, Ash. He’s been nothing but loving to us thick and thin. Expecting nothing in return. Supportin us in all our decisions. We never found a man who came even close to Ash in performance in bed, and most certainly never found a man who was as great a friend or partner either. So would it really be all that bad to have his child? We know that he’d make a great father. He’s been great to us and we aren’t even officially his girlfriend…

Goin around town to eat something after the doc visit was an experience…Locals asking Ash when the wedding will be as life in the hicks tends to move fast. Unsurprisingly we’re seen as a couple as we’ve been living with each other, always out with each other, and doin other local courtship laws I don’t know about (like the fucking cowboy hat from day 1). And durin that ride home we make some tough decisions in the head…

When we get home and settled for the night, we tell Ash if he serious about bein happy about wantin the baby from when he first found out. There not a hint of dishonesty on his face when he pours out all his emotions on us. He wants us. All of us and what bears fruition to our love. Been wantin us since he first saw us and that’s never changed. We happy cryin and show him the photos of the fetus and tell him we’re keepin the baby then since he also wants us. Ash knows our courtship was extremely short but makes sure to let us know we’ll never regret it and he’ll make us the happiest wife in the whole world. And so he proposes right there…

And we spend all night fuckin. Chasin ecstasy highs. Ridin each other like there’s no tomorrow. We’re basically rabid feral animals at this point. And we made the sims romance marriage speedrun world record look like a fuckin joke. Going from friends to significant others to engagees in a minute…

Next day we just giggling to the local courthouse to file for the legal marriage work. We can have a fancy formal weddin later, but for now with a baby comin along and life showin how fast it changes we think it best to just ensure we’re taken care of in the eyes of the law. We’ve let our friends know of the situation after basically bein MIA for the past month. Givin them all crazy twighlight zone whiplash and glazed and confused congratulations to my new life. And with Ash’s silver tongue, he’s once again convinced us to not find a job for the time bein. Focus on ourselves. Our health. The baby. He’s got everything else covered. He can provide for us just as he always can and will…

And so the rest of the months fly by. We becomin the most domestic partner ever since we don’t have any other job. And we found out we not having 1 baby but 2. Twins! So we’re not taking a formal out of house job and bein a stay at home mom n wife instead since we’ll have a lot on our plate now. Ash is even more thrilled with this. And can’t wait for the rest of our lives to be filled with marital bliss. And many more kids as he plans to give us at least another 5…

Ash will also take to his grave what he did to keep us here. The IUD removal and head injury weren’t the only things he did. He also got the doc to give him ovulation fertility drugs. So all those times we were thinking we were takin pain killers or meds to make sure the stitch wounds wouldn’t get infected were really something to help boost Ash’s chance to “nail” us down. And boy did they work…And for poor gran? The apartment eviction? The firing from the job? Anything else? Did Ash really do anything else to manipulate things to his favor? Is he just that intelligent? He is loved by everyone, has great connections and charisma. Or is he just god’s favorite and the universe loves him unconditionally? I’ll let you decide the extent of his “yan” side…

Either way. That’s our HEA for us and Ash if we were to be a city girl who was hesitant to be with Ash in a AU. Thanks for readin. And feel free to use this and the previous smutty Delmont brother ideas I submitted in your works if you want. I don’t mind

Love 🗡️Psycho🗡️ Anon

DHEJDHDJDJDHDH HELLO??? PERFECTION??? ASH IS PROBABLY MY SCARIEST OC AND YOU NAILED THE CHARACTERZATION BABES DJDNDNDJ MY LORD??? HELLO??? HES SO SCARY AND HOT FUCK THE WAY THIS SHOT ME WITH A BOLT OF INSPIRATION OMDNDMD I NEED TO WRITE ABOUT THIS SPOOKY MF NEOW

[corvuscorona]

@v2xe I KNOW IT DRIVES ME NUTS... & that missive has other implications I still don't quite understand, too. SCROLL DOWN TO THE RED TEXT TO SKIP CRUNCHY LORE TALK but I NEEDED to write this out & if ANYONE reads it and has ANY genre of thought about it PLEASE consider telling me. Okay? Okay so:

We KNOW Neon was born IN LUFENIA as the result of their weirdo "create a Warrior of Light artificially" project, & ASSUMING that Bang the bomb's statement about her default outfit is true, it sounds like she'd have to have been sent to Cornelia relatively recently (as much as that's a useful phrase when we're talking about a Time Stuff Story...), NOT sent there at a younger age & made to Grow Up There, or she'd have been dressed in Cornelian fashion instead.

AND YET the missive about her AND the missive about Marilith both seem to imply that she didn't have a dark crystal until she had ALREADY done her whole "Well then I will simply become Chaos!!" routine once. Implying that she was only integrated into the Stranger Project after the fact???

A girl once walked these lands in ages long past. Skilled in both sword and sorcery yet pure of heart, she longed for nothing more than to see that there was peace and prosperity for all. If her time and place had differed, perhaps her end would have been a happier one. Instead, she perceived the rotting core that blights this world and chose to fall to darkness in hopes that she could lead the people to the light. I saw potential in her plight, and so I gifted her a dark crystal along with a fraction of the truth. Yes, I used her, but for good purpose. The crystal allowed her to be reborn time and time again, and more importantly, laid the fourth and final karmic piece on a board that will one day lead my dear friend to an inevitable conclusion.

+

Once upon a time, there was a girl who prayed with all her might to become Chaos. Her prayers were answered when she made a deal with certain parties she befriended. With newly acquired dark crystal in hand, she let rage devour her, and in the instant before death took her, the emotions and darkness gathered within the fire crystal reached out and took her hand. Thus the girl was reborn as Marilith, Fiend of Fire.

What does that MEAN. The only thing that makes sense to me, thinking about it now, is that Lufenia must have initially sent her down there WHILE the Stranger Project was going on, but SEPARATELY, & then Astos was like "hey I have an idea" + Nil or whoever was like "okay sure" for some reason. Like this HAS TO have been something Lufenia signed off on, because they HAVE TO have been taking her back to a station to erase her memory between cycles.

I can buy Lufenia trying to diversify their strategy after The Tiamat Incident. Fine. I can also buy them doing it in a deeply stupid way, like "having one (1) teen girl go wander around attempting to do Warrior of Light stuff by herself, even though there is a PROPHECY WITH NUMBERS IN IT" because it's not like any of the other stuff they did wasn't also deeply stupid.

But. For the sequence of events in those missives to work, I THINK it has to be true that Lufenia tried to replace Sophia with a rando at first, or there wouldn't have been a "spare" dark crystal in Cornelia for Astos to give to Neon. I THINK. In which case, he would have had to Manipulate The Situation such that WHEN HE put forth the suggestion that "hey. her instead, actually," it would have sounded reasonable, which. I don't know. I'm reckoning with it. It could mean anything. From "arranging an unfortunate accident" to "simply lying a lot in his reports to make said rando look bad." Given that I also have to assume The Tiamat Incident probably UPSET HIM VERY BADLY I am just thrilled by the opportunity this must have given him to commit crimes.

I wrote 5 whole paragraphs about Crunchy Lore instead of talking about the thing that actually matters which is: Neon seems to be 200% on board with the whole thing. Like YES Astos felt the need to be like "I used her but it was a good idea I promise" BUT. BUT. With the way Neon is about Her Principles ("world is a FUCK, and that's WRONG") & the way she does not Ever express even 1 negative feeling about her role in the plan. As far as canon is concerned, it seems to me that he literally feels worse about it than she does ???

Not to immediately get into vibes-based reasoning suddenly but hear me out okay. Neon is so straightforward; she is Smaller Jack, right down to the fact that Astos calls her "pure of heart." I'm thinking about the way Jack before the last mission in the game is like "ASTOS WHAT DO I DO." I'm thinking about the whole. THING. Where Astos has to Bear The Burden Of Knowledge while the Strangers get to forget. The plan is Jack's IDEA but ASTOS is the one who has to figure out the details & deal with manipulating the hell and fuck out of his friends over and over. As far as we know, they all fully trust him to do this + believe it to be The Right Way To Proceed.

So. WHO is that "yes, I used her, but" line for??? I know the missives are kind of. Yknow they kind of exist in that space between canon + "it is a video game that you are playing," but anyone who might potentially canonically Read One would presumably already be on his side about the whole thing. Which makes me kinda think that maybe he DOES feel bad about it... & doesn't that dynamic kind of rock. Neon "Smaller Jack" Videogames being like "I will literally do anything to fix this problem; point me like a gun let's go" + Astos being like fuck. FUCK. GOD damn it fine. OKAY. FINE. I GUESS. & being Just Barely Unable to not write down the fact that he still feels some amount of guilt about it, ____ years down the line.

I have so many things to say about Neon + Astos + the concept of Belonging Somewhere and you are going to hear about them in six to twelve business months whether you like it or not

[mulberrysilk]

Momo, hear me out...jealous Geto who gets jealous of how much time reader spends with his daughters cause he feels like they're taking her away from him, tells himself that it's because she's not doing her wifely duties of producing an heir.

He sulks all day until they're back in bed and even though he wants to stay angry he just wants to be close to her so he ends up spooning her and gently rubbing her tummy imagining their future son, reader is still a little nervous around him but she's grown accustomed to him doing the tummy thing every night.

They talk about how many kids they want, and Geto is just like "two" after he thinks about how much time she already spends away from him tending to the girls and that babies would take up more of her time.

YES LELI. OMG. BLESS UR BRAIN AFDHAJD frick this made me fall more in love with Geto AHHHHH

BOUNDED

Geto Suguru x f!reader

cw: arranged marriage au!, cockwarming, smut, with a dash of fluff, breeding, mention of pregnancy, hinted lactation kink

a/n: the link to the main fic is there in the title huhu also I have Geto brain rot. ( also sorry, no proofread ;-; ) I can’t wait to write more Geto content afdgshdhshhe

The days where Geto’s presence was sparse in a week were unfortunately too often, you didn’t complain, more like you couldn’t. He’s a busy man, your husband…husband, you caught yourself repeating silently. The way that title was bestowed upon him wasn’t as foreign as it was on the day you two married, slowly you were getting accustomed to it but you still would always greet him shyly when he returned home.

Ah yes, the home. The large old-fashioned Japanese styled home surrounded by thick woods, a green lawn along with a garden and couple yards away was the house for the hired helping hand to keep the house in tip-top shape while Geto was away. With that, he kept his promise of you not having a burden amount of household chores to do.

Loneliness wasn’t a problem, not with how the girls finally moved in recently. They were more than happy to have you around, they donned beaming smiles that warmed your heart and they would talk your ear off with anything and you would always happily listen. They’d express how a feminine touch would do Geto good, and that it was about time he had someone by his side when they’re not. Mimiko expressed that they just wanted him to be somewhat happy and that the hole of loneliness he felt could be filled in by you.

“That’s very sweet of you both to say,” you smiled warmly at them, plating the the croquettes that the three of you made as an activity for dinner. “I’ll do my best to fulfil my duty as his wife.”

The two girls squealed excitedly, hugging you from both sides, the crackle of croquettes frying in hot oil softer than their voices.

“Oh, Y/N-san, can you come with us to Harujuku this weekend?!” Nanako bounced beside you. “Mimiko and I are dying to try this crepe place there!”

Mimiko’s head bounced excitedly, nodding, their expressions reminding you of fluffy puppies wagging their tails in anticipation.

“I’ll have to ask Suguru first,” you told them, switching off the stove.

“That’s okay.” They chirped in unison, the young girls smiles wanting your heart, happy to be giving them some sort of normalcy in their lives. If a mother’s love was what you could give them, then you’ll give your all to grant them that.

But you didn’t expect one outing to become two, then three. The duration of whenever Geto was away now spent with the two girls he adopted as his own daughters, and the man of the house didn’t expect that you’d be so preoccupied with the girls that he wouldn’t even be able to steal a kiss nor a glance whenever he was home or at the headquarters.

Geto from his spot at the head of the table, glanced to the opened shoji doors that looked out at the garden where he could see you and the girls, the conversation between the donators something that went one ear and out the other.

When was the last time he saw you? Touched you? How were the girls stealing your attention so easily from him, your darling, husband?

He let out a heavy sigh, the men sat with him tensed, believing that sigh to be a bad sign. The first commander by his side, inquired quietly of his well being.

“I’m fine,” he tilted his head, eyes still on you, watching the way a smile stretched on your face as the two girls played in the pond trying to catch the fishes.

“You’re sulking,” his first commander pointed out and Geto raised his brows at the curse users statement. “A stormy cloud follows you.” The young man deadpanned.

“Sulking?” Geto’s ever present smile remained on his face masking to those who weren’t close to him of the green jealousy he felt sprouting from his chest.

Did you enjoy spending time with the girls rather than with him? Why weren’t you greedily pawing at his robes whenever he was home even if it was for only an hour or two before he’s off again? With how busy he was, how was he going to make sure his seed takes and produce an heir?

“Suguru,” you approached him after the meeting was over. You stood close to him but maintained a respectful distance since you two were not at home. “Are you done for the day?” You asked sweetly, your hands behind your back, hiding something from his gaze.

From his seat on the tatami, his cheek resting on his knuckles, he watched as you knelt and sat on your heels, kimono robes folding neatly with your movements.

“Not quite,” he answered, reaching out to twist strands of your hair between his fingers, feeling their soft texture as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. “Why?” He cocked a brow, a teasing smirk, the same one who showed you on the day you on got married on the journey to your shared home. “You miss me?”

Heat exploded in your cheeks and from the way your brains cogs seemed to malfunction, Geto assumed from your flushed face that you did miss him but was too shy to admit it,

“D-don’t overwork yourself,” you simply replied, looking away, fighting the urge to over your hot face with your hands. He didn’t like it when you hid your face from him you remembered. “I brought you some biscuits the Mimiko, Nanako and I made this morning.” You took his hand, placing it gently on your lap before occupying his empty palm with the carefully packed biscuits.

Not expecting a thank you at all, you bowed your respectfully, as you were taught, and made movement to leave. The large tatami room still had some of his followers lingering about discussing and making conversation with other member, you believed it was best to act professional as to not interrupt anything.

A soft tug at your wrist, you were pulled to Suguru’s chest, your hands finding it’s place on his shoulders for support. Before you could say anything, soft warm lips pressed against your temple.

“Thank you,” he whispered before letting go, your heart pounding in your chest.

In the corner of his eye, Geto could see his two daughters giggling behind the shoji door.

“Come home safely,” you murmured softly, the concern in your voice making Geto’s heart flutter, something he’s been feeling lately with you.

When he did get home, you had prepared dinner for the family, the girls keeping you occupied again after the meal just when he thought he could have you to himself. But he couldn’t blame them…how long have they gone without a mother figure? And there’s only so much he could give them as a stand in father.

When will he get you alone, he wondered, taking a sip of the sake you poured for him as you and the girls did the dishes together, a domestic sight, a normalcy, he wanted to protect. You looked cute in that apron too, he’d like to see you with nothing but the apron on later if he could.

And he did.

Once the girls were fast asleep in their rooms on the other side of the house, Geto wasted no time in pulling you close to him, kissing you deeply with need, tongue dancing with yours as his hands wandered your curves. The thought of how your time was not filled with him gnawing at his chest, jealousy oozing, his anger silent.

“Suguru,” you chuckled, his lips on your neck ticklish.

“Mhm?” He hummed pulling away to look at you and pinning your wrists against the mattress, before sliding his fingers to intertwine with yours. “What is it?”

You debated on telling him, the whole idea or feeling of it, childish. You slid your hands into his hair, untying his hair from the half up bun it was in, letting it fall freely. “It’s nothing.” You smiled, caressing his cheek, his high cheekbones and dark slanted eyes features of his you admired.

“It’s not nothing. I can see it in your eyes you want to tell me something,” he spoke, pressing his thigh against your core, the apron he requested for you to keep on while remaining completely bare beneath it, only the thing that’s covering you.

You softly moaned, hips rolling upwards to grind your clit against his thigh, the movement delightfully surprising him. You were getting more and more comfortable with him, slowly easing yourself to be more open with him. But he liked you like this, greedy hips grinding against him and looking at him in that way where he was all you ever needed. He shuddered when he felt your growing arousal make it easier for your slow movements glide against the skin of his thigh.

“I just missed you that’s all,” you admitted, squeezing his hands while you shuddered from the pleasure slowly building up inside you.

“Then why didn’t you come look for me?” He pressed his nose against the curve of your neck, deeply inhaling your scent. “I would’ve been more than happy to entertain you.” He sucked on your sensitive spot, earning him a sweet moan.

“I-I wouldn’t want to distract you from something important,” your arms snapped around him, nails digging into his flesh, his thigh pressing a little harder at your clenching core.

“How sweet of you,” he hummed, snaking a hand down between the two of you, your walls clenching around nothing when his cool fingers brushed against your hipbone and whining when you felt the tips of his finger ghost over your clit. “I look forward to coming home to you every night, you know that?” He slowly to massage your hardening nub in circles, slick leaking out of you. “To kiss you, to touch you, to see your pretty face light up as if you haven’t seen me in years. All of that for me? You spoil me.”

You wanted to say that he was the one spoiling you. Whether he loved you or not, it didn’t matter. You were indebted to him, to his kindness, that he wasn’t hurting you and degrading you for having weak cursed energy flowing within you unlike your relatives.

“And besides all of that,” his fingers teased at yo ur entrance, his dark eyes watching your eyes shut and your lips get bitten by your teeth. “You obediently let me fuck this cunt.”

You gasped at the sudden plunge of two digits inside you, filling you up as your walls hungrily clenched around them. His words, his voice and his touch, melted you.

“I was angry, you know,” he curled his fingers you, making you cry out in pleasure. It felt so good. Whenever he touched you like this, it always felt sinfully good. “But I could never stay mad at you.” The obscene wet, squelching of your cunt swallowing his fingers reached his ears, the sound making Geto harder. His other hand tugged the front of the apron aside, your right breast now exposed to cool autumn breeze that blew into the room.

He lowered his head, fingers still pumping in and out of your tight heat, and enveloped your breast in his mouth, his tongue circling around your hardened tip before sucking harshly, the notion making your walls clench around his fingers tighter. Your breathy moans and soft whimpers of his name were as melodious as when he first heard them, and as he continued to suckle on your breast, he couldn’t help but let his mind wonder to the thought of you already swelling with child, your breasts heavy and leaking with sweet, sweet milk.

Those thoughts were not a far away dream but one that he could achieve, and with your knees pressed to your chest, the cute apron crumpled to your waist as your breasts bounced with each thrust, he was getting closer and closer.

Geto was lost at the feeling of your tight walls embracing his length with need, begging to be filled with his seed, to milk him dry. No words except his name could fall from your lips in the moaning and breathless mess of a state you were in, your hands were gripping his biceps, taking each deep stroke so well.

The scent of sex wafted through the air, his guttural groans and moans only stirred you further to the edge, the relentless piston of his hips and the very presence of him, was all too much for you. You couldn’t remember how much you came but you could always make out and remember the sensation of when his hips would still to empty himself in your womb before slowly fucking his cum into you. n the arms of the man who you were bound to by oath, you felt peace and even love. Your thighs twitched from the remnants of your high and the excess of his seed that couldn’t be taken into your womb, leaked out and around his cock that was still nestled inside you, now soft. His body pressed against your back and his lips pressed onto the crown of your head, his hand caressed your tummy’s something he’s been doing lately.

“Sugu…”

“Yes, my dear?” He sounded so at peace, calm. No turbulent waves radiating from him.

“H-how many children do you want? However much you want, I’ll do my best to give you,” you confessed, heart pounding in your chest.

Geto couldn’t repress the smile forming on his face. How lucky of him to have chosen you as his wife. He’d never forget the day he first met you, his path was shrouded with darkness and the brief moment his eyes locked with yours and you gave him a soft smile, the kind that came form the heart, he felt bathed in sunlight.

“Two.” He answered, continuing to caress your lower abdomen.

“Just two?”

Geto was amused with how surprised you were.

“Why?” His hand trailed low, close to your core that pulsed around him. “Do you want more than that?” Even if he only wanted two initially, if you wanted more what kind of husband would he be to deny you? Besides, having a big family with you isn’t so bad.

“I-I just wanted to know,” you hurriedly blurted out, cheeks burning.

“I only want two cause I would be jealous.”

“Of our babies?” Your brows furrowed.

“Yes. They would take all your attention away from me like our girls do,”

Your heart fluttered when he called Mimiko and Nanako ‘our girls’. It was such a small thing but it meant the world to you, to be apart of his life and theirs.

“But then again, whatever you do, no matter how mundane…I’ve grown to love.”

“Isn’t it a bit childish to get jealous over your children getting more attention than you?”

That earned you a playful pinch on your waist, making your squeal and unintentionally clench around him, making him softly moan.

“I was never very good with sharing. Plus, who can blame me for getting jealous when I have such a beautiful, loving wife?”

[suicidalslasher]

forever & always. ➤ tom. h.

Happy Valentine’s Day~!!! I couldn’t contain myself and or stop myself from writing about my favorite Valentine’s day killer. So, here you go :)

WARNING: descriptions of gore and blood. in this one-shot, the reader’s pronouns are she&her.  i might make a part two of this, depending on how well it does. maybe not. i like how it ends, regardless. either way. enjoy.

The news spread like wildfire. No matter which way you went, there was always a flame, reaching out towards those to burn. Try as you may, you can't get away. The words that littered the air was nothing more than burnt ashes fluttering around, burning each object as it flies above said thing or said person. In this case, the people of a small town called Valentine Bluffs were the ones burning from the inside and out. They felt trapped within the smoke, unable to seek out which way to escape the dangers that had followed.   The terror; the trauma; the panic and anxiety attacks; All of it - they thought it was long gone.... they were finally going back to being normal, how things used to be. 

They were going back to a life that wasn't full of fear, having to look behind your shoulder constantly and being careful of who you trust. It was all going to be okay, happy once more. They'd finally be able to celebrate their favorite day once again.  But... as you may have guessed, it's not quite  easy to put out a rapid wildfire. All it takes is a small fire to expand out into something bigger, bolder, and scarier. You can't escape the flames. No matter how big or small. You cannot ignore the overwhelming burning sensation that  glazes across your skin as the fire around you grows larger, making you feel smaller and smaller by the second.  The words, however, the statement that was fluttering around like specks of ash,  wasn't at all a sentence (nor an actual fire)  but a name - Harry Warden.  1997. Valentine's day. Everybody, in & out of town, knows what happened.  For a brief period of time there, nobody celebrated Valentine's day, having thought it out to be cursed.  Yet, as time went on, there was no sign of Harry Warden. No copy cat killer version of him, neither. So, the people went back to celebrating. Writing hand written love letters,  buying cheaply made cards at the local supermarket, buying and or receiving overly priced chocolates. Anything, everything, people did it with  love in their hearts and a smile on their face.  Today was Valentine's Day, once more. Expect it wasn't the way it had been for the past 9 years. It was exactly like the day in 1997. History was repeating itself.  Instead of love, presents, and reserved dinner dates being celebrated and shared, the town of Valentine Bluffs  got decomposed, rotting corpses,  instead. Blood scattered outside and inside of buildings. 

  It was worse than before, more bodies were showing up without their hearts and the missing body piece would be found neatly placed in between a plastic heart shaped box. All of which would be sent to the police station as a joke, as  a threat.  Even a card would be taped on top or under the container, though the sentences were far from cheerful and loveable.  A few of them had been thrown aside, only having been read once. Those who opened it and read it aloud usually found themselves cringing in dismay  as they read the paragraph out loud all while  shifting around in their seat, uncomfortably.  

Once they read it, they shook their heads as tears welled up in their eyes before they threw it into the trash bin or ripped it into hundreds of tiny pieces, not daring to open another letter that's brought in. Evidence or not, the workers couldn't keep their breakfast or lunch down when they'd read the cards.  The recent two cards had said;  From the heart comes a warning, filled with bloody good cheer, remember what happened as the 14th draws near!  And the last victim, a girl named Maryanne Anderson, had gotten a card right before she was found dead, her body laying in a ditch to rot.  Her card had read; Roses are red, violets are blue, one is dead, and so are you.  Nobody knew who the new killer was, or if it even was a new killer, copying Harry's schemes and following in his footsteps.  It could have very well been  the same man all those years ago. That's what they were saying.   (Y/N) (L/N) was in her car, driving back home from work when her favorite song had been replaced with an alarm, cutting off her favorite part. "Oh, c'mon!" She groaned, hands hitting the steering wheel in annoyance  before she goes to turn up the volume anyways, wondering what's so important that the town and the police station had to turn off her favorite song. 

She knew about the murders, she knew there was a serial killer around, she already knew this already. And yes, she was petrified, as most people were. When the first body showed up, the mayor of town announced there'd be a curfew until they found out who is doing all of this. Whether it was one person or more, they'd find a way to capture the killer. No matter what. There was not going to be another murder.

 (Of course, there was more.) 

 (The original curfew was getting home at 9:30. Now, it had gone down and you'd have to be indoors, at your house, by 6:30 PM.)  Students in school would get out earlier, as well as the adults in town. The only ones who didn't get to go home so early in the day were those who were trying to protect the people of Valentine Bluffs.  "We are sorry to interrupt that song there," came the  radio host's deep and groggy voice. "However, this is more important than your favorite throwback jams. I've gotten an officer here with me, he had just shown up not even a second ago to tell us more news on the situation we are currently in. So, please, listen carefully."  "Yeah, whatever. I already know what's going on. Tell me something I don't know." (Y/N)  turns off the radio as she pulls up in her driveway, feeling a sense of comfort clouding over her, another day, she's okay; safe and sound, unlike a few of her old high school friends that were gutted like fish and butchered like pigs. 

She shivers at both the bitter and harsh wind brushing against her  as she steps out of her vehicle and the obvious visual of whatever masked man (or men) that's around, killing innocent people for whatever given reason.  Hurrying along the steps to her porch, she digs her keys out of her jacket pocket, finding them within seconds before she's pushing them into the door as quickly as she could. She didn't show it, tried not to show it, but she was as anxious and paranoid as everyone else was. 

(Y/N) was  trying to hold back her fear but the moment she gets home, locking all the doors and windows, the uneasy feelings creep up on her and every negative emotion takes charge.     With a sigh, she falls down onto the couch with a plop, reaching for the remote, she turns on the TV, attempting to try and get her mind off of things.  Of course, every station wasn't what she wanted to watch, the news replacing every channel.  She skipped and skipped but it all remained the exact same. With a groan, she decides to listen to what they were saying, even though she really didn't want to hear it as it'd only make her anxiety worse.  "I am Jonathan Godfrey. We're sorry to interrupt your daily scheduled programs, however, a man you may know as Tom Hanniger has escaped from his stay from a mental hospital."  (Y/N)'s eyes nearly budge out of her head at the mention of the man's name,  the remote she had in the palm of her hand goes flying, falling down onto the ground by her feet. Tom? Mental hospital? It didn't make any sense! Everyone... including her, thought he was dead! She, with shaky fingers, grabs the remote to turn the volume up.   Jonathan's own eyes were wide as he read the teleprompter, his voice now grew shaky as he spoke. Fear was written across both his and his co-worker’s face. "Unfortunately, we don't have any more information or news as to where he's escaped off to. Or where he may be as of the moment. All the reports, every last piece of information we have been received  has said he's been missing since two days ago.  He can be anywhere.  More importantly, he can be here, hiding out." His voice trembled as he spoke, it was also very faint - almost ghostly. Quiet as a mouse. His skin was pale, making it appear as if he was a ghost rather than a living person that sat in the chair there.  

 Jonathan couldn't continue, this much was obvious, therefore his co-host, Abigail Miller, continued where he had left off.    "This being said, please, lock the doors and windows of your home. If you have a weapon to guard your own life and protect your ground, get it out now. Please, protect yourself the very best you can. And do not, I repeat, do not answer the door. Do not leave your home whatsoever. Whatever is outside of your house is surely not more important than your life.  

“Whether it is Tom that has been doing this or not, we're not exactly sure. All we tell you is to be careful and remain indoors until we can find Tom and or find the Valentine's killer. This has been Jonathan Godfrey and Abigail Miller, with the news. Stay safe and God bless." The program that was previously playing showed up finally, the neon colors swirling together to form the title of the show, along with a fairly way too cheerful theme song playing faintly in the distance as the introduction played out. (Y/N) had never heard of it before, but from a quick glance, it appeared to be a sitcom from the late 70's.  The only source of light was coming from the television screen, casting colorful shadows across (Y/N)'s face. She had felt too tired to have turned on the lights upon entering her house. Work was short, the hours having grown thinner because of the curfew, however, it was still tiring all the same.  She instantly regretted not doing so now, however. 

She sat in the dark, her heart thumping loudly against her chest as she pulled a near by blanket around her shoulders as if the thick fabric would comfort her and protect her. The room had gotten colder ever since the report was announced. Goosebumps ran up and down (Y/N)'s body, the baby hairs on her neck stood on end as a shiver slid up and down her spine. Despite the blanket being around her body, she felt nothing but cold, numb. Suddenly, the TV went out with a soft 'ping'.    (Y/N) gasped and her heart stopped beating all together.  She felt like she couldn't breathe, she couldn't tell if she was going crazy either when she heard what sounded like  footsteps coming down from the hallway. She sat, frozen, on her couch, unable to move, unable to breathe.  Then.... a knock. Followed by another and another. It was right outside, coming from not the front entrance but the back yard. "(Y/N)? (Y/N), please..." came the voice.  ​​​​​​​And (Y/N) recognized that voice anywhere.  She knows she shouldn't.... everybody said not to but... she couldn't help herself.  Getting up as quickly as she could, she runs down the hallway, the sounds of her feet echoing against the thin walls as she reaches the door, tugging it open.   There, on the other half of the door, stood nobody other than Tom Hanniger himself.   He looked up, surprised she had answered the door.  Giving her a weak, lopsided smile,  Tom's pulling her into a tight hug, his head falling down in the crook between her shoulder and neck, tears flooding his eyes as he soaks her shirt, silently weeping. "(Y/N).... fuck, I've missed you so much, missed you so bad." Tom confesses with a sniffle.  "Tom... I- what're you doing here? They're looking for you, you know this, right? Everybody's looking for you. And.... and I- fuck, Tom! I thought you were dead. Everybody in town thought you died the day your father did." (Y/N) didn't hesitate to hide her true feelings. She was a mixture of emotions. Angry, happy, sad, scared - she was feeling every single emotion there possibly was. "I know... I know. I-I have a lot to explain and a lot to tell you but please, right now, can we just- can we just play pretend?" He asked, moving away from her shoulder as he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his sweater, his eyes remained watery and his skin was flushed as he looked up at (Y/N).  (Y/N) guessed it was a mixture of three things - running away from the mental hospital to where her house was to  the bitter and harsh February air. Plus, the crying he had just done, too. His face was red and blotchy from all three. Despite it being so cold, sweat trickled his face, a few drips of it falling along side his cheeks. "Play pretend?" (Y/N) echoed, tilting her head to the side, unsure of what he meant.  "Let's play pretend." He repeated, licking his lips. "Let's play pretend and imagine none of this horrid, crazed shit is going on right now. Let's pretend it's only me and you. It's Valentine's day, isn't it? Let's celebrate. After all, it was one of our favorite days to spend together."  Heat rose to (Y/N)'s cheeks and she bit on her bottom lip, rocking back and forth on the bottom of her feet.  "Tom.... I-I'm...You want-" She couldn't from sentences, her thoughts were mushing together and it was all too much for her to handle. She felt like she was going to pass out. "I want you, (Y/N). I want you as bad as I did then and I want you just as badly right  now. There has never been a day where I wasn't thinking about you. You were the love of my life. I still love you, maybe even more, now. Let's celebrate, please. We can talk about everything tomorrow morning. I promise I'll tell you everything.  Right now, let's play pretend, let's act like it's just us again, like when we were teens.... I've missed you. And.... and I know you've missed me too or else you wouldn't have opened the door." And, yeah, okay, he was right.  "Tom..."  "(Y/N)." He stepped closer to her, closer than he had done before, as he rests his hand against her cheek, fingers brushing against her skin as he looked into her (E/C) eyes.  "I love you. I never stopped. And I know you love me, too.... so, please, baby girl.... can I just show you how much I love you?" (Y/N) shouldn't have answered the door. She should have called the cops when she heard his voice. Everything was too much of a  coincidence. 

Her power was working perfectly fine until Tom had shown up. 

Now that she was thinking about it.... 

There was also no victims until she had heard the news Tom had left the asylum. Three days ago.... 

Three days ago, there was the first victim; Maryanne.  If she thought too much about it, got too deep into the rabbit hole, she would have assumed Tom Hanniger was the Valentine's killer - The Miner.  Yet... looking at Tom, she knew he wasn't - couldn't - be the killer. If he was, he would've killed her too, right? Tom Hanniger's been through too much, and just like she was there before, she was going to be there for him now. Through Hell and back.  

She would stay by his side, no matter what. She still kept the old promise ring he had given her in high school, along with the note in which he confessed his feelings. In which, he told her - one day - he'd marry her. She was the perfect girl for him, as he was the perfect man for her.  A promise is a promise. When she said 'forever and always', she meant that. (Y/N) knew Tom meant it, too.  "I love you too."   Tom's quick to place his lips on (Y/N)'s and (Y/N) is quick to kiss him back just as hungry, just as fierce. She tangles  her fingers through her hair and pulls on it, earning a groan from Tom. Satisfied with the result, she tugs him into her house by the sleeve of his shirt, slamming the door shut with her foot. 

"I've missed you, baby." He says, not daring to pull away from the kiss.

"Show me how much you've missed me then, baby." She mumbles against his lips. "Oh, I'm going to."  "Let's go celebrate Valentine's day the right way then. Come on, let's go upstairs."   Tom grins and  (Y/N) smiles back before she's pulling him up the stairs and into her bedroom. 

Forever and Always. It was them until the end. Nobody would ever separate the two of them, again.... not even Harry Warden was going to destroy Tom’s happiness... not this time.

[onlyanidala]

onlyanidala fic archive

These are fics with titles E-I.

A-D     J-P     Q-T     U-Z

searchable desktop version available here

more anidala fics can also be found in our fic tag!

the link for each fic can be found by clicking the title!

Title: edges of the world Author: glompcat Status: WIP/Unupdated Rating: T Summary:  Leia Organa finds herself stuck in a strange alternate/parallel universe where the Empire never came to exist. Meanwhile, trying to navigate a galaxy ruled by the Sith weren’t exactly the Jedi Trials Leia Skywalker had expected. Or: Leia from a universe where Anakin never fell and canon Leia switch places. Now the two of them - and everyone else around them - have to deal with the consequences of their dimensional swap.

Title: eros turannos Author: emerald-leaves Status: complete Rating: R Summary:  Love the Tyrant. Oderint dum metuant- Let them hate as long as they fear. AU set in time around the Clone Wars. Note: This fic has unfortunately been removed from Fanfiction.net. However, a PDF is available upon request. 

Title: the exchange Author: misslearn Status: WIP Rating: T Summary: The Daughter has a bad day and it irrevocably changes the fate of the galaxy, twice over. Or: ROTS Obi-Wan and Anakin are swapped with their younger, TPM, selves. It changes things, in both parallels.

Title: five weddings and a funeral Author: skywalkersamidala Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  Padmé's feeling gloomy about her perpetual singleness, but everything changes when she meets an attractive stranger at her sister's wedding.

Title: flat tire Author: skywalkersamidala Status: complete Rating: G Summary: Who knew something as simple as getting a flat tire could change the entire course of your life?

Title: for a moment Author: shelivesfree Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  And, just for a moment, all the worries and concerns that troubled the young couple cease to exist. Fade away to just this. Husband and wife. Asleep. Dreaming of the sweet little life they will soon bring into the world and into their hearts.

Title: for a sith to love a jedi Author: silverdaye Status: WIP Rating: R Summary:  Jedi Knight Padmé Amidala, the Heroine with No Fear, has crash landed on a moon after a starship fight with Darth Vader. Now the two enemies are stuck on a strange moon with strange rocks that prevents them from accessing the Force. They form an uneasy truce to leave the other alone. Yet after Vader sees Amidala bathing, she keeps coming back to him and he can't keep his mind off of her.

Title: for you, i’ll risk it all Author: estrangedlestrange Status: complete Rating: G Summary:  Darth Vader was certain he had killed Padmé Amidala on Mustafar, but when a rebel broadcast reveals she is alive, he will stop at nothing to free her from what he assumes is captivity. Former Senator Padmé Amidala was certain her husband had been killed on Mustafar, but after seeing Vader across the room during a mission, she is sure that she had been lied to. Knowing the truth, she seeks out her husband, either to bring him back to the light or kill him, which ever was necessary.

Title: friendly competition Author: skywalkersamidala Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  Playing Quidditch is awfully difficult when you’re in love with the rival Seeker. Snapshots of Anakin and Padmé’s 7 years at Hogwarts.

Title: fruits of malice Author: therealthing Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  In an alternate universe, Anakin Skywalker was taken from his mother at the age of four. He was raised as Darth Vader in a loveless, brutal environment. His life takes an interesting turn when he has an encounter with a certain senator from Naboo.

Title: future imperfect Author: therealthing Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  A time travel story in which Anakin Skywalker is sent to the future to witness the consequences of his actions.

Title: fundamental force carriers Author: tanarill Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  The Sith Lord Darth Vader lived his life. He probably didn't live it well, but he lived it as well as he knew how. At the end there, he'd even managed to woman up and kill Sidious. But he was dying, and at peace with the past. The past wasn't at peace with him.

Title: getting home to you Author: irnan Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  Anakin always said it was Padme's fault, but he was the one who spotted that broom closet. Fluff.

Title: the girl from harvard Author: shelivesfree Status: complete Rating: M Summary:  Absence makes the heart grow fonder. It also makes it grow more paranoid. Padme is in her last year of Harvard. Anakin has just started at the University of Chicago. Though they won't admit it, their long-distance relationship is taking it's heavy toll. Will their love prevail or will the distance prove too much for both of them?

Title: give me a signal Author: stranestelle Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  When Padmé Amidala is unable to contact Coruscant while negotiating a loan on Scipio, the Senate suspects trouble, and sends Anakin Skywalker to go check on her. Of course, the resourceful senator isn’t really in any trouble – don't flatter yourself, Rush Clovis – but there’s definitely some brewing.

Title: hand in my hand and we promise to never let go Author: gemma Status: complete Rating: M Summary:  Anakin Skywalker was sent to build an elite Jedi team to help end the ten-year Clone Wars. Jedi Knight Naberrie trains hard to be selected and grows closer to the Jedi Master in the process. But with Jedi falling every day in battle, is it safe to follow your heart? Or will war take what's most precious to Padme?

Title: the hardest path Author:  catiiasofia & misschrisdaae Status: complete Rating: G Summary:  Padmé does what she has to for her family. Series: Three Paths Not Followed

Title: heart of a sith Author: therealthing Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  Fourteen years have passed since the inception of the Empire. Darth Vader has been asked to go to Alderaan for an unusual reason, one that Vader soon discovers will change his life forever.

Title: heirs of light and darkness Author: skywalkersamidala Status: complete Rating: R Summary:  After escaping the Jedi purge two years ago made him the most wanted fugitive in the galaxy, Anakin Skywalker has at last been captured by the Empire. He expects to be killed, but Lady Padmé Amidala, the imperial heir, has other ideas.

Title: heretic pride Author: fialleril Status: WIP/Unupdated Rating: G Summary:  Like most Republic citizens, the Naberries have never spent much time thinking about the Jedi. But that changes with the birth of their daughter Ilaré. (Or, the AU where the third Naberrie daughter is a Jedi, Padmé offers Naboo as a sanctuary for runaway slaves, Shmi is a conductor on the Tatooine freedom trail, and Anakin jump starts a reformation. Or maybe a heresy. It all depends on your point of view.)

Title: hidden Author: disco shop girl Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  Anakin is woken from his dream before it can warn him of his fate. Without that fear hanging over him he feels a disturbance in the force, and chooses to leave before it can manifest itself.

Title:  high above the clouds, my love for you is eternal Author: rogue darth skywalker Status: WIP/Unupdated Rating: M Summary:  Modern Aviation AU. Anakin is a pilot, Padme is a flight attendant. When they meet for the first time he is captivated by her. But much to his surprise she has a young son. This is a story about how bonds are broken, how families are made, and how sacrifice is sometimes necessary to get people where they are meant to be.

Title: hold me in your arms and i’m home Author: gemma Status: complete Rating: M Summary:  It's the ten year reunion for students from Coruscant high and more importantly, a long awaited reunion for two former lovers.

Title: home Author: skywalkersamidala Status: complete Rating: G Summary:  In which "Darth Vader" is no more than Anakin's playtime alter ego (happy Skywalker family AU)

Title: hypnotic takin’ over me Author: gemma Status: complete Rating: R Summary:  "By the Force… Just how many times had he seen her like this in his dreams? How many times had he run his fingers over her skin? Filled his hands with her perfect backside? Yet, when he was, by some mercy or a cruel joke, granted true sight of her, he was oblivious."

Title: i do take two Author: skywalkersamidala Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  Thirty years after their clandestine wedding on Naboo, Anakin and Padmé decide to finally do the proper wedding ceremony they never got to have, with all their friends and family present.

Title: i know your type Author: shelivesfree Status: complete Rating: M Summary:  "Am I dead?" It slips out, accidentally. She turns her head towards me, a confused look on her face and tips her head. "Excuse me?" Flashing her an impish grin, I lean casually against the wall. "I must have died and gone to heaven, because you look like an angel." The look she gives me is far from impressed. "Do you use that with all the girls, or am I just lucky?"

Title: i wish i could rewrite the stars Author: gemma Status: complete Rating: G Summary:  Suddenly, forever felt like something that could be real. They could make it real, the two of them together and out of nowhere, tears stung at Anakin's eyes. It just meant so much. Padme loving him too was the stuff of his dreams; something he'd only just dared to believe was possible. But she did.

Title: if blood be the price Author: cadesama Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  Anakin promised to free all the slaves and it is a promise he intends to keep. Struck by visions of a slave uprising on Tatooine, he runs away to join the fight. Five years later, it his new alliance of former slave worlds that the Republic fears, rather than a Separatist threat. Enlisted to negotiate a peace treaty, Senator Amidala is dispatched to find Anakin, alongside Obi-Wan Kenobi, who only wishes to bring his former Padawan home.

Title: imperial obligations Author: skywalkersamidala Status: complete Rating: R Summary:  Padmé's advisors suggest that she get rid of Vader and make a politically advantageous marriage. The Empress is less than pleased. One-shot.Series: The Empress and Her Sith Lord.

Title: in his very soul Author:  catiiasofia & misschrisdaae Status: complete Rating: R Summary:  Ten years ago, the effort to liberate Naboo from Trade Federation control failed. Chancellor Palpatine managed to rescue the young Queen Amidala and two of her handmaidens, formally adopting her as his own. The new father and daughter quickly manipulated the Senate into granting him emergency powers and creating the Grand Army of the Republic, letting the Clone Wars begin. Now, assassins are coming for Padmé Palpatine, and her father has entrusted her safety to his mysterious enforcer, Darth Vader. While neither bodyguard nor charge is happy about this arrangement, there is an attraction they cannot ignore.

Title: in search of absolution Author: rogue darth skywalker Status: complete Rating: G Summary:  Padme bit her lip as she placed one last post-it that had the name 'Shmi Skywalker' written on it. She didn't speak. She knew he needed a moment to think - to process what she was silently asking him. 'Are you ready to accept her forgiveness'"She'd want to come to her only son's wedding," She said. He shook his head, "I don't think so. After everything…"

Title: in the past Author: silverdaye Status: WIP Rating: T Summary:  It's been two months after Bespin, and Luke Skywalker is trying to come to terms with the events that happened there. During a dogfight with Darth Vader, both of their fighters crash. When they recover, they both find themselves on Coruscant at the end of the Clone Wars. Vader still aims to claim his son, but Luke has been taken to the Jedi Temple where he meets Anakin Skywalker.

Title: it’s a dangerous love affair Author: gemma Status: complete Rating: M Summary:  Lies, masks, blood and sex. The criminal underworld will swallow you up and spit you out again. One wants revenge and the other wants peace. Can their affair bring the downfall of the two biggest gangs of the underworld?

Title: it’s like deja vu all over again Author: shadowsong26 Status: complete Rating: M Summary:  Three days ago, Padme Amidala closed her eyes for the last time in a sterile white room on an asteroid at the edge of nowhere. Three days ago, she opened them again on a sleek, chrome starship, watching Dorme putting on the finishing touches to Corde's headdress, her own weighted braids a comforting blanket on her back. Padme decides to change things, decides she can save Anakin (and the Galaxy) this time. Except, as time passes, she starts to realize things aren't happening exactly the way she remembers...

Title: (it’s not so bad) being dead like me Author: estrangedlestrange Status: complete Rating: T Summary:  Recently deceased Anakin Skywalker (killed in an taco truck explosion) finds himself not in the after life but recruited as the newest member of the undead, he’s become a grim reaper. He’s told that it’s his destiny but really he thinks it’s just rotten luck. Rotten except for the fact that one of his fellow reapers is Padmé Amidala, the most beautiful woman Anakin’s has seen, dead or alive. As he struggles to come to grips with his death and his new role in the universe, Anakin finds that taking souls isn’t the easiest job out there, he also finds himself falling in love. One-shot.

[tatianafarenheit]

Devourer (open ending)

TW: GORE, slight lime,

It was pouring. The wind was howling woefully while it quickly rushed trought the trembling leafs of the Wangshu Inn’s Foundation of a tree. Even the sound of the other travelers, stopping for the night, was drowned by the white noise that rang trough-out the halls of the Inn, creating a terribly uncomfortable sensation of chaos. Xiao hated these kind of nights where the inn was bustling more than usual, and the fact that his only remaining comrade from the war was near him did not comfort him either.

He felt restrained almost rigid at the heavy awkwardness that strangled the room for the past two hours. Neither him or Yanay said a single word since they first reunited and Xiao’s mind was near overheating while trying to think of something to say.

His attempts where rewarded with emptiness and that frustrated him. He hated feeling like a kid, palms almost sweaty because he could not communicate with the only being that experienced the same pain he did, the only being who also had to witness the same horrors of war and was unfortunate enough to live on to tell the story.

Truth be told, they didn’t end on the best terms. Xiao blamed Yanay for years for the cause of his comrades deaths and vice versa, only to realize later that the person to blame was the misleading messenger between them. Yanay didnt in fact given the wrong orders, the messenger did and Xiao in fact did not leave his friends to die because he ran off, he was just too late to help.

Every since the truth emerged the both of them felt uncomfortably awkward next to each other, stuck between feeling a need to apologize and not wanting to open the wound that the sorrowful memories left behind. How easy it would be if stolen glances could be an actual form of communication. Yanay hearts raced while looking at Xiao, she felt a painful voide eating away at her heart while she looked at the broken man, a small fragment of what he used to be, almost like a living memory of the past, a guardian cursed to carry and reopen his old wounds each time he looked around him. Every single fragment of Liyue was a breathing reminder of what happened upon its lands all those years ago.

Yanay managed to find herself a new purpose, or more like the purpose found her. Ningguan found the resentful and nugatory girl and could not help but see potential in her, a woman that only needed someone to open her eyes. Ningguan offered her a job and a promise of a new start, a painfully docile life, she promised she would never have to suffer again and so Yanay followed her. Ningguan’s helping hand helped Yanay wake up, but only by her own will did she only find herself again, patching up her still bleeding old wounds hoping that one day they would stop…but they still bleed to this day.

Thats the difference between Xiao and Yanay is that Xiao accepted it, came to terms with the brokenness his whole existence represents, he got accustomed to the horrible misey that chews and spits him out every time he breathes, so accustomed to it to the point he doesnt feel it anymore. Yanay on the other hand could not, her mind still whispers menacingly to her, each time her eyelids tremble shut, the terrifying truth she had to endure. And each time, she fights it, she refuses it wholeheartedly, her resistance only making everything burn even more and even deeper.

“Im going to sleep” Yanay whispered and Xiao heard it, looking away and only giving a hum as a response. He felt bad, truly, he wish he could speak to her more, to apologize, to tell her that he can be there- but his savage heart wont let him, his prode chaining his mouth shut so he could not get himself hurt more. He tried to justify his actions by saying things such as ‘she wouldn’t care anyway’; ‘it would not help her so whats the point?’ But Xiao forgot to consider how much Yanay cared for such small things, how much she cherished in the back of her rotting soul the fact that someone thought that she deserved an apology.

Yanay laid down, her back facing Xiao, afraid of letting him see her composure falling apart each second she was next to him. And so with one last heavy puff of air her eyes closed. Xiao soon followed laying as far away as possible from her.

Xiao was awoken by the sound of the sheets being tousled around and as he looked in Yanays direction he could only see her figure hunched over. “Why are you awake?” He said in a gruff voice, slight annoyance tainting his tone from being awoken this early in the night. What he saw next made him freeze up, his blood turned cold and eyes froze open. Yanay looked back at him with tears in her wide eyes “Take them away-“ she barely whispered, her voice trembling along with the hands that gripped her sides in a crushing strenght.

Xiao felt like his world crashed down onto him, his veins thinning as he looked the the now seemingly vulnerable woman in front of him. His whole idea of who Yanay is was completely ruined, hes never seen her like this. So fragile and so… brittle- It was almost like someone’s possessed her body.

“You can eat dreams, right? Please-“ the girl cut herself short, her eyes scanning him frantically. She knew she was asking for too much, she felt it so deep in her bones that they felt like they might snap-. “I know im asking for too much but please- take them! Devour them until theres not even a single one that escapes!” Her voice was getting more and more unstable, her gaze running over the room back and forth, avoiding his apparent burning gaze. He just stared for a second, it all felt unreal to him. His breathing got labored and heavy as he saw the marking scene before him. A warrior turned to a broken maiden, looking for a kind of alleviation that only he could bring her.

Yanay took his silence as a refusal, her cheeks burning with embarrassment as she turned back to her hunched position. His gaze felt unbearably heavy on her back, almost quelling her to the point she felt minuscule. “Never mind- it was stupid of me to ask that. Please forget i ever said anything.” There it goes again, the voice Xiao was so accustomed to. He couldn’t help but feel a wave of disappointment wash over him.

Without rationality he reached out to her, his fingers grabbing onto her shoulder and turning her around a bit more harshly than what he meant.

Yanay jumped, her composure falling apart by his own hand. “Tell me what dreams im looking for..” his voice was awfully soft, so soft that it made a small electric string run up Yanay’s spine, a wave of ecstasy running over her body. But once the realization of what he really asked hit her, her eyes turned dark and cold. The kind of eyes Xiao used to have, so he immediately knew what he had to look for. “I will help you but-“ it was now his turn to look away in embarrassment, his face feeling way too scorching all of the sudden.

Yanay stared at him and thought of how she’s never looked at him in this kind of light before, he was absolutely breathtaking and innocent, not a shred of bad ill painted onto his face and so yet again she felt selfish for never trying to understand him- and now- here she is, asking him to do something that he most likely won’t enjoy. “Its gonna be a hell of a lot to take in, not only for you but me as well.” He continued and turned back to look at her. She almost gasped once her eyes met his, shes never seen them so close in order to see the true intensity they held. His gaze pierced trough her with such power that her breathy hitched. She only nodded. Xiao sighed, his fingers now trembling onto her skin knowing that whats about to come wont be able to be erased. Yanay’s perception of him was about to change even more.

“Turn around for me..” his voice was almost a whisper but still so moving that it made goosebumps rise on Yanay’s skin. She eagerly complied, her shoulders relaxing under his vexing touch. As she tuned around the sound around her began to fade, her attention fully concentrated onto Xiao. The next thing she felt was his chest pressed against her back, so tender yet so much pressure. She had to restrain herself from releasing a shuddered gasp once his body connected to hers. Her skin lit up, nerves trembling deliciously. Xiao felt it too, his eyes closing shut as he bit back a groan, his hands rose next to Yanays own hands, almost afraid of touching her thinking that shes gonna break. He was afraid that she’s gonna be repulsed by his touch but nonetheless he placed his hands in front of Yanay’s torso. “Grab onto one of my hands and relax into me.” He said again, his breath gently caressing Yanay’s ear shell.

Yanay’s lucidity began to dissolve, he was so close oh so close that if she turned around she could kiss him…to bad that will never be an option. After regaining a fracture of her rationality back, she complied to his words, her hand gripping one of his while she relaxed fully into him. His other hand gripped her jaw and moved it so that her face was right under his. Her eyes opened and looked at Xiao with such an irresistible innocence that he almost lost it. It was refreshing to see his comrade so complying and so sweetly vulnerable. Xiao leaned his head in, his lips barely above hers, so close that she could feel the heat coming from his face.

“Tell me when you if want me to stop..” he said against her lips before they met. Yanay’s heart felt like it was imploding, beating so hard and fast that it almost punched trough her ribcage but what came next took Yanay by surprise even more. Her limbs started to feel like putty, so soft and light. While her mind started to become intoxicated and slow, she wasn’t thinking of anything but Xiao and the overwhelmingly pleasurable feeling that started to spread inside her. It almost felt like and aphrodisiac, her body disconnecting from her mind, detaching so much that it almost felt like another person possessing her body. Xiao felt the affects too, his hand gripping Yanay’s jaw harder as he leaned his head in more, deepening the kiss, his tongue running hungrily over hers. While he knew that he was supposed to focus only on devouring Yanay’s horrible nightmares he couldn’t help but indulge in the sweet release that she was, a breath of fresh air. He wanted to claim her, to make her heal him with just her presence and maybe he could help her by erasing every parasitic nightmare that plagued her thoughts every night, but that wouldn’t be healthy and he knew it.

Yanay tried so hard to grip onto her lucidity but the more she tried the damned thing ran further and further away. Her flesh felt like smoldering cinder while her stomach felt like a void, it felt like feathers were running over her skin. She was so overwhelmed that she almost passed out from the electrifying feeling that he induced. Xiaos hand left hers and opted for her waist, digging his fingers in and dragging her torso impossibly closer to his. She was so delicious that it drove him mad, forget the damned nightmares he wanted to devour her. To rip her ignorant facade apart and watch her true face show itself from the ruins that he alone tore down.

His hunger was cut short when he finally reached the nightmares he was looking for and they were exactly as he expected. Corpses rotting on the muddy field while tired soldiers pushed on whith their last breath, people screaming and crying and the worst of all, the feeling of being helpless, powerless, the feeling of having to watch knowing you cant change a god damn thing.

He couldnt stand looking at the dreadfully realistic replicas of the past so he started tearing them down, devouring the from the most affecting ones to the lesser. He tore them down with each movemnt of his lips against hers and she couldnt have been more grateful. Suddenly his kisses turned from exhilarating to melting. His movements so soft and tender that Yanay felt like she was about to burst. She never realized how much she craved this feeling before and now- now she couldnt get enough of it, she was frightened that if he touched her like that one more time shed forever be bound to him, craving him each second of her existence. Her hand slowly moved to the nape of his neck, softly caressing his satin like hair.

Xiao couldnt do anything but melt under her gentle touch, his mind finally going at ease after all of these tormenting years he had to indure all alone. Afraid as if shed disappear from his desperate clutch, he held her closer, relishing into this intoxicatingly serene moment. Oh how he truly wished they could stay like this more…

[nomnomsik]

Omelas

Summary: Everyone knows about Omelas, the beautiful utopic city with perfect skies and the smiles of thousands. But even if some knew the ‘how’ of the creation of Omelas, not everyone knew ‘where’. Would you believe me if I told you that boy lived his whole life in the basement of your house?

Pairing: Jungkook x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Trigger warnings: isolation, yandere themes, kidnapping, physical violence, and blood. 

»»————-　★　————-««

The first time you disobeyed, it was at 3 am. It was early enough to not warrant any suspicion in the house you lived in, and the perfect time when everything stood still, motionless, even as you crept around the dark hallway, making your way downstairs to the cellar. 

Although some of the people in the metropolis city of Omelas knew of the supposed rumor of its prosperity, it was still mainly mysterious. Was it some kind of ritual? Well, that description wasn’t entirely wrong, you thought. 

But you knew all your life. It wasn’t some grand revelation. It began with odd behaviors carried out by your father, your only parent. You understood at a young age that your father or brother would go downstairs to the cellar with food and water. That there had to be something there. 

But with your bright smile, you greeted your neighbors. Nobody would imagine that the boy was beneath your feet, that he was living under your roof, trapped in the darkest and deepest part of the house. 

And it was within that dark cellar in the utopian city of Omelas, where the unfortunate boy lived for the many. If you believed in a superior being, then maybe that boy was what you would call a god. 

He made these beautiful skies, perfect weather, and the smiles on everyone’s faces. It was thanks to him. 

The city, known for its infectious happiness, carried this secret. Those who discovered the truth about the boy took value in the happiness within the city of Omelas, living each day with gratitude. 

If that boy lived underneath your home, did that make you a bad person for letting him rot captive, or did that make you as powerful as this god? 

However, it was a puzzling scenario for you to envision when you were younger. So spoiled rotten that the only thing you could ask your father was why the boy didn't just get up and leave.

Your father chuckled, stroking your head and sighing.

“Because something bad would happen to all of us, ___.”

It was enough to scare you at the time and make sure that you never asked again. But looking back, the memory made you embarrassed. After years of growing up and learning more about the world around you, about what it means to be mature and making sacrifices, maybe you could understand a bit more now. 

“Father, why did you decide to keep the boy in our house?” 

Your father didn’t answer this time. In fact, this was probably the first time he hesitated to answer you at all. 

You seemed to own everything you could imagine in the world, but for some reason, withholding this information made all of those possessions worthless. What was the point of having everything when something so small seemed impossible to possess? He smiled instead, ushering you back upstairs to take care of your brother. 

But why? What was so important that he needed to hide?

A sigh escaped from your lips as you managed your way through the dark, aimlessly touching around to figure out your surroundings. At least he was the honest type who hesitated when it came to lying. 

But the question about the existence of that boy would end today. You finally gathered the courage needed to find out for yourself. Survive, even if it means breaking the rules. Because in the end, if the boy had even just a few of the answers you wanted about this city of Omelas, that was enough. 

»»————-　★　————-««

The boy could barely remember the glimmering light from the sun outside within his dark prison. With his hair rugged and its length reaching to his ankles, he curled up in a ball within the darkness. 

His skin was littered with dirt that had practically become part of him, crawling with insect companions. His arms and legs were thin and there was always something in his eyes. But even still, the boy lived on, repeating each mundane day in his own hell.

He sat still in the silence of the isolated room he had spent most of his life in, staring at the door in front of him. The cadence of droplets falling from the leaky room ceiling and toward the ground floor was the only sound that could entertain him for hours as the darkness of his home submerged his form, hiding only his face. The entire room was pitch black with not one window stuck into the walls for clean air or bright light.

No matter how many times the boy stood up, wobbling over to the door and testing the doorknob, it was always locked. All he had on was a white cloth that had now taken a murky gray. Yet, he wrapped his small frame around with it, hugging it for warmth. As his eyes fluttered shut, he could make out the sounds of voices in the distance. 

“Make sure to feed him while I’m out today.” 

“Ughhh, I don’t wanna… Fine, fine, ugh, I’ll do it.”  

Jungkook listened intently to their conversation that intruded his silence through the grubby walls. He could understand them and he shuddered, slouching his shoulders even more. His head sat inbetween his knees as his crumby hands covered his ears, eyes squinting shut to fend off their crawling voices. 

The door then suddenly opened as an older boy stepped in, hastily filling up a bowl of water and dropping a tray near the door. Jungkook didn’t dare to look at him. He kept his head down, his blurry eyes focused on his crooked feet until the door slammed shut, with the sound of the lock following right after. 

Before he was thrown in here, he could barely remember the face of his mother. All he had was one fundamental concept the people who threw him in here taught him: language. 

Even if it was basic language, he learned rejection first-handedly from the people who refused to accept him in the first place. He knew the sting of words and the snide remarks in his face. He knew the sensation of tears rolling down his chin as he initially screamed for days, begging to be let out. 

But he had stopped that years ago. He had accepted that nobody would come to save him.

Back then, whenever someone had come to give him the grool they called “food”, he would run up to them, pulling at their clothes. Tears would run down his face as he continuously apologized and pleaded to be let out. 

“Please, I will be good. Please let me out, I will be good!” 

But, he was always pushed roughly to the ground by a taller man, given a look of disgust, and a door slammed in his face. Afterward, the sound of the lock went off, and then came the stomping up the stairs. 

Jungkook wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as the tray now lay empty, the bowl of water still full. He noticed it was much darker in his room than before and he crawled back to his corner, preparing to lay down on the rough and moldy wooden floors to get some sleep. 

But before he could get comfortable, he heard the sound of someone coming back down the stairs. All of his limbs seemed to freeze as he ducked his head into his chest. 

What now?

Normally, nobody visited him more than once a week, not that he fully understood the concept of time. For him, every second felt like an eternity of suffering and misery. But the footsteps got louder and louder. Perhaps, it was one of those people that just stared at him from the door. From time to time, he would see strange people visit him, standing by the door and looking at him with an unusual expression. 

It was a mixture of anger, pity, and frustration. Even though Jungkook didn’t understand what those exact feelings were, those people were the ones that usually walked away from Omelas. Knowing the existence of the boy and seeing him with their very own eyes was something that filled them much more than guilt. 

And maybe they realized that peace and happiness built upon the sacrifice of one person was nothing but fragile. 

Jungkook showed his back to the door as he laid in the darkest corner of his room. The door clicked open and a pair of footsteps entered. The silence after made his heart race. He wanted to turn around, but his body wouldn’t budge. 

He had enough rough experiences of turning around and getting his hopes up.

“Hello there.” 

He expected the rough voice of one of the two people that constantly watched over him, but instead, it was soft and echoed in his dark abyss. For once, his ears didn’t sting at the sound of another person's voice. All he was used to was the sensation of his eardrums ringing and the disgusting sound of hearing his own cries.

“Hey, what’s your name?” 

He finally turned around, his long hair falling over his entire face. Jungkook adjusted himself in the dark until a match was ignited and a candle illuminated his room. He cautiously took in the appearance of his peculiar guest, moving some of his hair out of the way.

It was a girl, dressed modestly in white, yet she took a seat on the dirty ground like it was nothing, just waiting for him. 

“What’s your name?” She asked again, setting the candlestick onto the floor.

“J-J…” Jungkook started, mouth dry as he cringed, clawing at his ears at his own voice. “Eh-haa…” He whined, feeling the festering sores on his body begin to sting.

“I’m ____ .” You extended your hand to him as you watched the boy tilt his head to the side. 

“Jungk…ook.” He mumbled, extending his index finger at poking at your hand. “What’s this?” 

“It’s a handshake.” You beckoned him closer, grabbing hold of his hand and shaking it. But Jungkook froze, suddenly slapping your hand and backing away.

“I’m… dirty.” He grumbled, retreating back into the shadows. 

“I wouldn’t have come here if I was worried about that kind of thing.” You smiled, trying to get a look at the boy’s face. 

“Why are you… here? Are you going to... yell too?” He asked nervously.  

“Well, I live here with my family. We’re not really a typical family. I don’t know my mother— But that doesn’t really matter. I came to see you, personally. Oh, but don’t tell anyone that I was here, okay?” You instructed to the confused boy who stared at you overwhelmed. 

For his first interaction in so many years, he couldn’t function. You seemed to notice his expression, pushing your questions to the back of your mind. You’ll just have to see him at another time. 

“Will you let me visit you again?” 

“You want… to see me, again?” He mumbled, again self-conscious of the dust and dirt that covered him. 

“Mhm! Please tell me you’ll say yes.” You pleaded, clasping his hands together in yours. 

It was as if his eyes glimmered in the smally lit room as your warm hands embraced his cold ones. His heart was thumping loudly and he felt breathless. This feeling was different. 

It wasn’t like when that scary man first threw him in here or when he refused to be pried off his mother’s arms. It wasn’t the type of feeling where his blood was rushing to every part of his body, desperate for an escape. His body felt warm for once and he didn’t want to let go.

“Then, yes… Yes, please visit… me, again… please.” 

 »»————-　★　————-««

The terms of Omelas’s utopic society are strict and absolute; there may not even be a kind word spoken to the child. But here you came— 

“Jungkook!”

The next day, regardless of those rules. 

“Hi…” He whispered in the dark, cheeks flushed as he reached out for your hand, melting against your gentle touch. “How are you?” 

“Hmm,” You hummed, tapping your chin. “I’ve been good for the most part. Though, the weather’s been strange lately.” 

“I can’t see anything outside from here.” Jungkook shyly confessed the obvious. “But if you say it’s been strange lately, then the weather’s strange!”  

“Yup! So, actually, I wanted to ask you something, Jungkook.”

“Okay.” He nodded obediently. 

“Do you know where you are right now?” 

“I’m here with you. In the dark.” He answered innocently, still holding onto your hand. 

“That’s… Yes, well, that’s technically not wrong I guess, but not what I meant.” You chuckled. “Do you know the city you live in?” 

“Oh,” Jungkook started, looking down as he began to think. “Omel—” He stopped, tilting his head to the side. “Omel...ette…? It was something similar… Omeless? Hmm...” 

You felt somewhat guilty at the laugh you failed to hold in, but Jungkook heard it, looking worriedly, as if you were choking on something.

“A-are you alright? W-Was I wrong…? Ahh…” He panicked, shaking your shoulder. “I’m sorry…” He began to apologize, bowing his head multiple times until his forehead collided against your shoulder. “Ow! O-oh, I’m sorry, did that hurt? Wait, are you choking?! ___?!” 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry.” You sighed happily, taking a deep breath. “But you were close. It’s Omelas. We’re in Omelas, Jungkook.” 

Jungkook’s lips pulled into a partial smile as his eyes seemed to reflect the light from the candle. Then, his expression broke into an uncontainable smile as he began to sniffle, with tears welling in his eyes that he let calmly slide down his face. 

“What’s wrong?” You whispered, cradling Jungkook’s crying face with your hands. 

“I-I’m so, so, happy…” He choked out. “I feel so happy right now. Thank you… You’re the first person to ever praise me… to ever care for me… Thank you, ___.”

 Your expression morphed into a frown as you let the boy embrace you, unaware that your grip had tightened.   

“Of course, Jungkook.” You smiled after several minutes of silence. When you let go, you stood up, walking back over to the door. 

“See you tomorrow,” Jungkook whispered, waving in the dark. 

You gave him a smile, softly closing the door. Then, you jammed the key in, locking it shut, your expression still in a deep frown. Jungkook hummed, listening to your footsteps as you climbed up the stairs and until they faded off. 

I’m sorry, Jungkook.

»»————-　★　————-««

"Are you satisfied?"

You dropped the key into your brother's hand, giving a small nod.

"I guess you can say that."

It was the morning, with the smell of coffee floating in the air. You snuck into your brother's room right after breakfast, handing him back the key as per the agreement. He wouldn't say a thing to father as long as you gave it back. It would be foolish to try to argue your way to keep it so you simply watched him tuck it back into his wardrobe drawer.

"I trust you, sis."

You were on your way walking out of the room until you turned around, confused.

A pair of serious eyes looked back at you, almost glaring.

"I said, I trust you."

"Right..." You gulped, softly closing the door.

When you stepped outside, you saw the happy mothers and fathers cheerfully cooing at their children, encouraging them. There wasn't any hostility between siblings, parents, or peers in Omelas. It was always warm whenever you watched them.

But it was so cold in your own home.

Maybe it was because the boy lived with you. It was as if he was trying to pull at least someone down with him. 

Your family. 

And you probably deserved it too. Nobody wants to believe they're doing something terrible, let alone a terrible person.

In one scenario, you're the hero, the savior, the protector of peace and happiness. But in another, you're the villain, you're the antagonist in the story, tormenting a young boy.

But what about the boy himself? Where did he want to fit?

You scoffed at yourself. Of course he would want someplace other than there. Any other location was one million times better, right? Nobody would ever want to stay there. But, wasn't that only because you knew of a much better place?

When nightfall came, you slept. You didn't bother to ask just once more for the key again. You closed your eyes, prayed for a good dream that wouldn't come, and slept. A part of you wondered what Jungkook was doing, what he was thinking.

Was he upset? Would he still be hopefully waiting for you?

It filled you with guilt, but you shifted in your soft bed, throwing the blankets overtop your head.

Forget it. Forget him.

Each day when you woke up and stepped outside to see the smiling faces on the people of Omelas, it reaffirmed your choices, your decisions.

This is the right thing to do. These are the people you are protecting.

But it was always when night came that those thoughts came rushing in.

"How dare you say that you're protecting these people when you're using someone for your own good. How dare you say you can protect these people when you can't protect the one person who matters."

It was then that your feet found the cold floor, pulling a stuffed bag from out your closet and tiptoeing into your brother's room, secretly grabbing the key from the drawer.

»»————-　★　————-««

At the sound of the door creaking open, Jungkook swiftly turned around. His eyes sparkled in the darkness as he saw your familiar figure slip in through the door.

“___!” He whispered. “Where have you been? I missed you…” Jungkook mumbled, shyly looking over at your motionless figure. 

“I see.” You replied, silence quickly filling up the room. Jungkook looked worriedly at you, fidgeting with his grimy hands.

Jungkook sat silently for a second, biting at his lip as his voice quivered. 

“Aren’t you going to make an excuse… ____?” 

“Huh?” You asked, looking back at him. 

“Aren’t you supposed to make up a reason why you didn’t visit me? Can’t you just lie to me, instead? This feeling… It hurts.” 

You stood motionless as you stared at his figure, almost analyzing the boy. He was naive, but not stupid. And if it was based on how you felt, you’d say he was quite clever. He knew his position strangely well for someone who seemed to be unaware of everything on the surface.  Jungkook understood how to read someone. It seemed pointless to lie to him.

“No, I just… I felt guilty about leaving you all alone again. So that’s why I came, today. To tell you I can’t see you anymore.” You sighed, looking away from his slouched shoulders and hanging head. 

“Hey, ___. Can I ask you a question? Do you choose the people up above on the surface, or do you choose me?” 

You were broken away from your thoughts as you turned to stare at him. It was dead silent and your lips had gotten dry as you pondered exactly what you wanted to say to the boy. This was your fault. “I can’t choose you, Jungkook.” 

“H-huh? W-what do you mean you can’t…” 

“I can’t choose you, Jungkook.” You repeated in a dead, monotone voice.

“W-what are you saying?” Jungkook grew quiet for a second. “....Why are you saying... things like that?”

“Because...” You started, sliding over to him and cupping his cheeks. “You created this city, Jungkook. You’re the very source of everything that happens. I can’t bring you up. I can’t do that when I know thousands are going to suffer. Because of you, we understand the splendor of our lives. We know that we are not free just like you, but yet, we understand the full extent of compassion.” 

Jungkook’s eyes widened as his lips parted. 

“W-what are you…” 

You gave Jungkook a sympathetic smile as he quivered in his corner, staring at his hands, so filthy, so dirty.

“So...Is… Omelas more important than me? Are the people up there more important than me?” He asked once again, almost in disbelief.

“...Yes, they’re much more important, Jungkook.” You sighed. “How many times do I need to repeat—” 

“What…” He choked out in a cry, making you jump. “No… I… I… don’t… like that… at all…” 

He grew quiet again, his nails scratching marks down his arm.

“That’s honestly… un...acceptable…” He whispered. “We were so happy, just the two of us down here!” He yelled, hands gripping and clawing at his hair. “I didn’t need anything! I just needed YOU!” 

“Jungkook, stop-” 

He tumbled over you, holding you down on the infested floor as a chill split down your spine. Even though his arms were so thin, he was pressing hard against your wrists and his sharp and uncut nails were piercing your skin, drawing blood. An irrational thought flashed in your mind: Was he going to kill you? What if he actually killed you?

“WHY? Why are you trying to leave me? Why do you want me to be all alone again? What is it about the people up there that’s more important than me?! I don’t…I don’t understand!” 

"Who's up there that you care about more than me?” He spat coldly, his eyes going blank. “I let you continue to visit me all this time because I had faith in you! Because I trusted you!” He sobbed, once again feeling the sensation of his tears slide down his face. 

“How could you trust someone you barely even know?” You whispered under your breath. “How stupid.” 

“Why do you keep saying things like that?!” Jungkook yelled as you began to resist and push back. 

“What do you want me to say then? That I’ll stay with you here forever, Jungkook?!” You yelled, giving him a hard shove. “Do you seriously think you’ll be able to live up on the surface if you even had the chance?” 

“O-of course!” Jungkook shouted, his hands trembling as they clutched against the cloth that covered him, right over his heart. “Of course I could! If you’re with me, of course I could!”

“Knowing that someone else would have to take your place?” You argued. “What if I took your place, huh? You would be driven insane by your inability to do anything! You’d have to bitterly accept reality, how cruel and unfair it is. And most of all, you’d blame yourself for causing another to suffer. Because you know that it should’ve been you. Because you know that two people have to carry heavy burdens instead of one now!” 

“But even so, I want to go outside! I want to see the sun! I want to see the stars! Is it so selfish of me to think that way? I’ve given everyone in this city all they could ever want, right?! You said so, right?! So why can’t I just wish for something even once?!” He sobbed, curling up on the floor. 

“Am I wrong…? I didn’t have entertainment, friends, happiness, or loved ones while I numbly sat here every day of my life. You’re telling me it’s wrong to be let out onto the surface after doing so much for the people here? Do I have to stay here all alone by myself and have no one ever commend me for all the hard work I’ve done? Will nobody praise me even though I never wanted to do this? Why do I have to be all alone?”

Jungkook felt tears roll down his cheeks as he laid motionless on the dirty floor. 

“I can’t praise you for such a thing though, Jungkook.” You looked away from him, knowing he would only glare at you. “It’s wrong and it would insult you. I can’t praise the obligations you were set on by others. I can’t praise something when you never had a say in it. I can’t praise it, I can’t...”

“So you’ve come here to mock me?” Jungkook whispered with growing venom. 

“No, I-I…” You stumbled through your words. “I started to wonder if I was assuming what you wished for. I thought it was obvious you would want to go outside, but I realized that you had never said those words yourself. It’s foolish to think now, but what if you were scared of how to carry a proper conversation? Of how you looked? What if you somehow got more scared of how people would react to you on the surface instead of being here? What if nobody would ever help you again?” 

Jungkook sat silent, his body relaxing only a tad bit. 

“It’s wrong for me to do in perspective of everyone who lives here in Omelas. But… why do we deserve to live in happiness? What did we ever do? We’re not noble nor self-sacrificing. And I personally don’t owe anyone in Omelas anything. So... I brought a bag full of things. I want you to go outside, Jungkook. I want you to leave and explore. I want you… to live…” 

“I won’t tell you what Omelas will turn into. Honestly, I don’t know what will happen and I don’t want to flood you with negative thoughts for my well being. All I ask is you make your decision tonight. The bag’s here, the door’s unlocked.” 

“So… you were testing me?” Jungkook asked incredulously. 

“I was a bit too mean, wasn’t I?” You turned away. “Well, you said you could live on the surface and I believe you. Go see the sky. Go see the stars. And tell me all about them all one day.” 

“But, what if—” Jungkook started, until he found your index finger against his lips, silencing him. 

“Don’t ask me to come with you. I won’t.”

“But—Omelas will…”

“I know. I know, Jungkook.” You sighed. “I know I’m stubborn, but I can’t leave this city behind. Omelas was everything I’ve ever known. I’m not brave, I honestly don’t even think I'm a good person. I’m scared of what’s going to happen, but that’s all the more reason to smile through it. After all, that’s what we’ve been good at here in Omelas.”  

"I don't understand. I want you to come with me. I want to be with you. Why must I have to make more sacrifices?

"I'm sorry, Jungkook." That’s all you could say until he accepted it.

He held onto you, his dirty hands holding on your arms, his hair brushing up against your shoulders. You looked fondly down at him, patting him on the head.

"Now quickly. You have to leave before the sun comes up."

Helping him up to his feet, you pulled the door open, your fingers intertwined with his. When you led him up the stairs and down the hallway, you brought him to the entrance door and into the outside world.

The sky was slowly getting brighter, its orange hues slowly growing. Jungkook stopped for a second, taking everything in. His past memories were so blurry, but they were slowly piecing back his home together, Omelas, together.

He breathed in the air greedily as if he could taste it too. You looked over your shoulder to see him paused, smiling. When Jungkook looked back at you, he stared at your outstretched hand, taking it.

"I'll tell you all about the stars, sun, and sky," Jungkook promised. "So wait for me." 

»»————-　★　————-««

"What have you done?" A seething voice came from the hallway as you reentered your house, closing the entrance door.

"Good morning, father."

"Do you understand the weight of your actions? Do you?!" He shook your shoulders violently until you slapped him off. "Do you know how hard I worked to make Omelas the city it is today?"

“How hard you worked...? Did I hear you correctly? What exactly did you work hard for? Everyone here was content with sticking their hands out ready to receive and receive. You didn’t work hard for anything. You didn’t try to accomplish anything yourself. All you did was rely on the one boy who gave you everything.” 

“Just you watch Omelas crumble then. It’s all over…” He groaned, holding onto his head like his life was over.

"Then maybe you should've asked to become a god."

»»————-　★　————-««

A/N: I was inspired by many things for this work. First and foremost was The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas, which references a lot like how the boy lived in the cellar of the largest house, what his whining sounded like, and the strangers that came to visit him. I definitely kept the descriptions much tamer, but nevertheless hoped to convey the rules of Omelas. I was also inspired by parts of Dororo and Tower of God, the former with the inability to stand his own voice and the latter with Jungkook’s explosive anger and possessiveness. Hope you enjoyed!

[buggiesbuzzing]

AMARANTH [ c. cullen ]

TITLE :: Amaranth

CHAPTER ZERO :: The Beginning of the End

PAIRING :: Carlisle Cullen x reader, various x reader

GENRE :: Drama

SUMMARY :: Once leading a life of what she seen as relative normality, a sudden change sends poor y/n into a disastrous spiral.

PREVIOUS <

NEXT >

MASTERLIST

Y/n had a normal life, as normal as she could possibly have, and she was happy with the mediocrity. She was rather successful; she was getting married soon, she was working as the personal assistant to a regional manager for some big corporate business and made good money — hell, she even made an effort to reconnect with her parents, before they passed away, that is — she even planned on going to college after getting married so she could pursue a career as a pediatrician. But, of course, life hardly ever goes as planned.

Her life came crashing down towards the beginning of January, during her bachelorette party with a few of her close friends. At first, she hated the idea of having a bachelorette party, but after endless pestering, her friends convinced her to go to a club with them. However, Y/n happened to more introverted and somehow came up with an excuse to hang out in the empty alley behind the club for a breather, and sneaking a secret smoke. She lit the tobacco and inhaled the chemicals, her lungs stinging since she'd abstained from cigarettes for a while. She knew they were toxic to her health, but in overly stressful situations, she would break out the ol' cancer sticks for a bit of relief.

The cool night breeze sent shivers down her spine. She was not wearing the most comfortable winter outfit. Quite frankly, she was freezing her tits off at the chill. The outfit she was in was a pretty small dress with a pair of black boots, revealing a lot of skin, which was borrowed from one of her friends’ closet.

Her cigarette had almost completely burned out when she heard some gravel being kicked around while feet quietly shuffled around on the ground. She became slightly paranoid at the thought of someone being in close proximity to her. She dropped the cigarette butt and stomped out the faltering flame, picking it back up once it was out and tossing it in an outdoor trash bin. When she turned back to see if an animal was causing the little noises, but she was met with a man who had stunningly pale skin and blond hair held up in a ponytail. She was terrified, and her eyes scanned him, looking for any sign of familiarity. Alas, she found none. He was wearing a pair of jeans, but no shirt, which she found strange, especially because it was January and there were flurries of snow falling to the ground.

Y/n had no idea what was going on, but couldn't help the small, scared whimper that she let out when he clamped his cold hand around her mouth with fast, bruising force, ensuring that she couldn't scream out for help. Tears streamed down her cheeks as he sunk his rather sharp teeth into her clavicle. She was terrified, she could only see a glint of red in his eye, before a rush of intense pain coursed through her veins. The blond pulled away from her neck, a bit of red liquid dripping from the corner of his mouth. She choked out a sob and fell to the ground once his hand left her jaw, bare knees hitting the rough, loose gravel.

The doors of the club opened, to reveal a couple of Y/n's girlfriends, worriedly chattering; the stranger darted off, not wanting to be caught. She struggled to stay conscious, her vision becoming worse by the second, black dots spotting her surroundings. She squeaked out a small "help" before collapsing on the ground entirely, the ache still running through her body.

The girls panicked, seeing their dear friend fall unconscious in their peripherals, turning and running toward her. At first, they thought she was a goner, but one of them thought to pull out a small mirror from their purse and stuck it below her nose. Although it was minor, her breathing caused a slight fog on the mirror, letting them know she wasn't dead yet. They let out sighs of relief and did their best to pick up their friend, but the heels they chose to wear were no help to them. Instead of attempting to lug her out and flag down a cab, they focused on trying to find out exactly what happened and who they had to kill for causing this.

One of the girls, Stephanie, looked her up and down, seeing if she had any injuries, and came across a large, bleeding wound on her neck that looked like a bite if you squinted. Stephanie pointed out the spot to the other girl, Lisa, while she fished a makeup wipe out of her purse. She used a wipe to clean up the injury, but Y/n hissed in pain as the wipe made contact with an open part of the wound.

Y/n's eyes opened, and she took a moment to regain herself, pressing her back against the wall of the building. "I. . . I'm gonna go home." She grumbled, bending down to pick up her clutch.

"Are you kidding, Y/n? You need to go to the hospital! That thing on your neck is disgusting!" Stephanie was shocked, she was clearly concerned about the wound, but Y/n didn't seem to care as much.

Lisa chimed in, "It could get infected if you don't get it treated, Y/n, you should have it checked out."

The corner of Y/n's mouth twitched upwards, a weak smile appearing. "Steph, Lis, I can take care of this, it's nothing," It was definitely not nothing. She could feel an ache all throughout her veins and her head felt like it was about to explode. Y/n didn't want them to worry, she knew them all too well and she knew that if the weirdo who bit her gave her some disease they wouldn't stop blaming themselves. "I'll go home, get some bandages and antibiotic ointment, then I'll be good as new. Don't worry."

The girls, very reluctantly, let her go — trusting her instead of arguing with their stubborn friend. "Do you want me to come with? I can help, it's kind of an awkward spot to be fixing up on your own." Stephanie offered.

Y/n shook her head and politely murmured, "No thanks, Steph." They respected her wishes and headed back inside while she caught a cab driving by.

It took only about fifteen minutes for the cab to get her home, opposed to the usual twenty — the driver had seen the dried blood that had stained her skin and decided that it would be best to get there as fast as he could. She thanked the man and paid her fare, plus a hefty tip, before stumbling into her home. It was around midnight when she decided to stop waiting on her fiancé, Tyler, to get home since he was working late, yet again. She dressed her wound in bandages and took some pain killers along with a shot of whiskey to dull the ache, then retired to bed.

The next morning, she felt nothing but the raging pain of her blood coursing through her veins like poison. She swallowed it down with a few shots of hard liquor and her daily medicine. The entire day she was on edge, always looking over her shoulder. She took the day off from work, but her husband hadn't; something about extra paperwork to file before dinner. His parents were coming over to celebrate their engagement over dinner, and although Y/n wasn't feeling good, she wasn't going to up and cancel.

Instead of making a meal, Y/n called a nearby Japanese catering company, ordering a few plates of assorted sushi rolls to be delivered by four o'clock. She didn't worry over the cost, but rather plopped down on the couch, trying to rest before she'd have to deal with her to-be in-laws.

She must've lost track of time because before she knew it, there was a knock at the door, and she was mindlessly getting up to open it. There stood an awkward-looking teen with a few insulated cases in hand. "Ms. L/n?" In response, she nodded and he gestured to a receipt sitting on top of the boxes. "Sign on the dotted line," The delivery boy pulled a blue pen out of his pocket and handed it to her, which she took with hesitation. She signed for the food and took the boxes. "Have a nice day!" He spoke quickly as she shut the door.

"Why can I still smell him? He smells like Frito's dipped in guac," Y/n grimaced, however, the stench made her hungry. "Whatever, I can dig in once they're here." She sighed.

Only moments passed before the door opened, revealing her soon-to-be husband, Tyler, and his parents. Tyler took it upon himself to set the table and help his parents settle in for their stay. Y/n stood in the bathroom, observing her neck and shoulder — whatever used to be there was now but a faint ring mark. Unfortunately, that didn't mean her pain stopped. Thankfully, she had a higher tolerance than most, and a bit of liquor helped.

They were part-way through dinner, and Y/n was picking at her second California roll. She could just barely stand the scents her nose was taking in — and the sushi wasn't the cause. She could separate the smells too; one of them smelt like rotting pears, another was a variation of sour wine, and the final one was by far the one that made her hunger plunge deeper — it was floral, and yet bitter. The sushi was no longer of any interest to Y/n; those smells, though, they were mouthwatering.

"Oh, dear, Y/n," Tyler's mother, Jill, started. "I just don't understand why you couldn't have made the food yourself; then again, you've always been quite a lazy lady." The last part was more of a reminder to herself but still, hurt Y/n nonetheless.

Y/n smiled, but everyone could tell it was fake, and there was nothing but pure rage behind it. "Oh, Jillian, you always critique my cooking skills anyways, so I thought why not save you the trouble and just get food elsewhere." Bitterness seeped from every word she spoke as she glared daggers at Tyler's monster of a mum.

"How thoughtful." The father, Wayne, added, shoving a spicy tuna roll down his gullet.

Jill obviously wasn't happy with the retort and turned to her beloved son. "I can't see why you didn't try to get with that Jessy girl at your office, she was an absolute sweetie; but I guess you like the sour bunch."

Wayne chuckled. "Yeah, if I were in your situation, I'd take the bait," He paused, taking a bite of another sushi roll before speaking up again. "Put in some extra hours, if you know what I mean." He spat, a piece of rice shooting out on his mouth and onto Y/n's nearby plate. Tyler let out a nervous laugh, looking towards his fianceé.

As she got angrier, the smells got more intense and the sound of rhythmic beating and rushing liquid filled her ears. She snapped her eyes shut so she could try to focus, but she just couldn't. Tyler attempted to bring her out of her pained expression with aggressive shoulder tapping, he was met with a push with massive force behind it. Said push sent him hurtling backward into a wall, causing his body to leave a hole in its place before he fell to the ground. Wayne stood up in shock, confused at what had just happened, and something had completely taken Y/n over.

No longer could she ignore her hunger, or the pent up fury within her. She leapt at Wayne, smacking his head against the wall harshly, before looking at Jill, who was going through her purse desperately looking for her Blackberry.

"No phones at the table, Jill." Y/n hissed before, kicking the leg of her chair, snapping the wooden block off, and making Jill fall to the floor.

To Jill, all hope was lost. Within seconds, Y/n fell to the floor and grabbed Jill's arm, biting it. The latter cried out, but Y/n quickly grabbed as much sushi as she could handle and shoved it into her mouth, muffling the screams.

Sharp and strong teeth replaced Y/n's former ones and she mercilessly sucked the blood from Jill's arm. Y/n's eyes had gone dark, and that was all Jill saw before she'd lost a large amount of blood and lost consciousness.

Y/n physically had to rip herself away from her would-be mother-in-law to prevent herself from draining the body completely. Once she had seen what was done, tears streamed down her face. Panic set in, and Y/n stood up and looked around at the mess she made.

Something felt off. Her hands wandered to her mouth, poking at her mouth to realize that her teeth felt much stronger than before and there was a thick layer of blood on her bottom lip. "Holy shit. . ." She gasped, scared of what idea came to mind. "Am I a fucking vampire?"

It sounded even more ridiculous out loud.

Her mind circled back to the blood dribbling down her chin and onto her blouse. What a shame. It was one of her favorites. How was she ever going to rid herself of this mess? This was her house, people in the neighborhood knew her, she would obviously be suspect number one and she had zero idea how to drop off the face of the earth.

Y/n's eyes shifted around the room, looking for some sort of sudden solution to her problems. Sushi, blood, candles, broken wood. . . Candles. . . Fire. She could burn the evidence. Her mind wandered back to the gas canister for her lawnmower; Tyler always kept it full so it would be there when he needed it. She rushed out to the garage, surprised at her speed, and retrieved the red can.

She poured gasoline on the floor, making sure the bodies were doused in the extremely flammable liquid. Let's be honest, if the bodies burnt enough, the police of this town probably wouldn't care enough to look too far into it — they'd most likely mark her off as deceased as well.

She had changed into a pair of thick spandex, a pair of comfortable sneakers, and a hoodie two sizes too large; and at the ripe, late time of '1:27 AM', Y/n snatched one of her lighters and her pack of cigarettes and went outside. She lit a cigarette and took a couple of moments to reminisce. She adored her house, but it could no longer be her home. She wouldn't be safe there, and she couldn't come back. She needed to be far, far away. She couldn't spend a second more there, so she took one last hit and flicked her lit cigarette through the door of the house and took off as flames spread through the house.

Hour, upon hour — they simply passed like minutes. It felt exhilarating to not be tired. She ran all night and the sun was starting to peek over the horizon, soft rays of light filtered through the crowds of trees. She was in a forest of some kind, and she had absolutely no idea where she was. After a couple of minutes of nothing but trees for miles, she stopped.

Somehow she felt absolutely no exhaustion from the obscene amount of physical work she'd just went through. She must've been at least a couple of states away, she should be safe.

tags :: @whattheheckisevengoingon​

[kingseave]

King’s Eave - Chapter 4

TW: Death, monsters, fear, anxious tension, violence, vore, death, graphic violence

Eli awoke tasting iron, her throat sore from crying and screaming. Her eyes were blurry and stung horribly, and she winced as she blinked away blood. She struggled slightly, but found that she was unable to move her arms, and barely wriggle her torso. She was unsure if it was the unbearable pain in her sides or bonds that kept her immobile. She felt it might be the latter. 

When she came to enough to get a look at her surroundings, she wasn’t surprised to find herself in the belfry. This was Father Vigilus’s “nest”, where he kept a careful eye on his subjects from above. It was additionally his favorite place to take “guests” to have a “private chat with”, in which the guests were never seen again. Not even their bones were found. Eli shuttered at the thought as she took in the sight of one...two… three militiamen, none of whom she remembered the faces of. A tall, dark caped figure came up the stairs, who Eli did indeed recognize. Father Vigilus was a hawkish, severe looking man with large eye bags and had a permanent expression of a sneer plastered to his thin lips. In short, his appearance matches his horrid actions, making his body language sour and stiff. 

“Ah… just in time I see.” Father Vigilus said, flourishing his time piece in his hand, then clasping the thing closed and returning it under his cape.

Eli said nothing, simply staring at the man, seething with resentment.

“Oh my dear girl, it’s been too long since we’ve had such a heart to heart. Too long have you escaped the gaze of God.” He said threateningly, approaching her. “You will tell us your demonic knowledge, you wench, '' he yelled, slamming his hands on the table, forfeiting any niceties in exchange for intimidation. This did not phase Eli, who stared blankly at him with half-lidded eyes that seemed to be more interested in nonchalant resting than wasting any more precious time on looking at the man. Father Vigilus did not find this entertaining, and struck Eli across the face hard, throwing her body sideways slightly in the chair she was bound to. She gasped, gritting her teeth, side-eye glaring at the Father. A low growl emanated from her chest, and Father Vigilus smiled. 

“Did that give you a taste for what’s to come?” He asked icily, closing the gap between them. Eli growled aggressively, and spit in his face. The glob of mucus hit the man in the eye, and he dramatically rolled back, shouting. 

“You whore!” He roared, and punched her hard in the face. Her chair fell back, and before she could fall to the stone floor, the man grabbed her by her braids. Eli shrieked, tears pricking her eyes and welling until they fell and she sobbed. The Father pulled her up until her chair was level once again, and spun around, flicking the coattails of his cape as he moved. 

“I tire of our little game already, little miss Devil. Why don’t we bring in my little pet… he is much better at interrogation than I am. I think you’ll make quick friends.” He said menacingly, wiping his face with a handkerchief. 

“Bring the creature forth!” Vigilus said, shouting and gesturing vaguely at a small group of militiamen who stood in the entrance of the staircase. He strode over to the entrance, disappearing beneath the stone overhead briefly. Minutes passed and Eli gave herself pause to relax for a moment, she couldn’t wipe her face, so she allowed the wind to dry her tears for her. Her lip quivered as she remembered the distant, sad look her father gave her before his head rolled to the ground. Eli had a feeling that this would be her last memory before she’d be cut from life by her worst enemy. She was stirred from her moment of respite by the echoing sound of many separate footsteps, and following them, albeit slowly, the thumping of heavy, large footfall. Eli’s heart sunk into her chest as she remembered the stories Ysoba would tell her of the devils who dwelled in the basement of the church, and made a disturbing realization. The stories told that Church created monsters that were bound to the deep in the pits of the prisons beneath the chapel, and their claws were so long and spidery that any unfortunate prisoners issued cells closest to these wells were advised not to stay too close to the bars of their lockup, for these demons would snatch them from their beds when they were asleep. Some particularly traumatized inmates could recall the squelching and slurping that they could hear echo from deep within the pits that those very creatures made their homes. They were said to not be picky about what they ate, and would readily devour hundreds of rotting, plagued bodies when sickness spread. And now, Vigilus plans to bring one to the belfry to aid him in Eli’s interrogation, or possibly, her execution.

Vigilus walked up the stairs with more disgusting confidence in his step as he strode towards her. In his hand was a thick metal chain that snaked its way down the staircase. Two men with spears walked backwards slowly, pointing their weapons at a shadow that lumbered up the stone stairwell. Eli did not cower, but accepted that this would be her doom when said creature made its way to her. She swore she could hear the blood rushing to her ears as time flowed slowly past.

She gulped audibly as her eyes slid from Vigilus’s nasty smirk to the taloned fingers that clasped the stone. The claws of this monster were a glittering, void-black. The skin of the thing’s fingers almost matched them, and as its arms pulled the rest of its’ body forward, she could understand why the common folk called them demons. Its head pulled around the stone wall like a snake, it’s face somewhat humanoid but with a very wide, dragonic nose, it’s nostrils were narrow and somewhat vertical. Jet black feather-like fur started on the bridge of its nose and trailed up into a mane on its head that followed down its back, framed by two ridged horns. The skin of the creature was a mottled mix of a dusty burnt rose colour and a deep, gunmetal ash. It was heavily muscled, and its deeply striking amber eyes surrounded by red streaks of membrane glinted in the sunlight. The body of this beast was hulking and predatory in every right, the muscles in its back and arms rippled as it walked, and its teeth glittered pearly white as sunlight cast upon its face. The creature’s back legs were more animal-like, clawed at the tips like some sort of sick go at a lizard. It’s tail was thick and somewhat flat, and forked at the end like a snake’s tongue, but fading into a bluish lilac like a skink. What made Eli more sick than the ghastly sight of the beast was its sad, rippled and saggy stomach. It hung low in a starvation-riddle agony between its legs, the poor stretched out skin looking somewhat like a cat that was once pampered and now cast upon the street. It made Eli want to cry, and she wasn’t sure if it was in pity for the creature, or for pity for herself and where she might end up. That’s when she heard the dry, primal sound of the monster sniffing the air. She froze, and in the back of her mind, she felt compelled to smell the air too, as if summoned by some primal force she wasn’t used to. 

When she closed her eyes to inhale the air around her, the first tinge of information she received was the scent of old, metallic blood. The secondary scent that quickly overpowered the first was something she was shocked by. It smelled, to put it simply, like her. She could tell the beast was male, and that it hadn't eaten in possibly months. The rest of the scent was familiar, it reminded her of lonely sadness, of a campfire, and of coals whose origins were deeper than she could ever know. Her eyes brightened, and she finally made eye contact with the creature. He was already staring at her, his once-slitted, narrow eyes now rounded out like reflective, jet-coloured globes. They locked eyes for a few moments before Vigilus interrupted their silent communication with a tug of the creature’s chain. He seemed to let the Archbishop tug him around, even though he seemed perfectly capable of pushing back. The older man stood right in front of Eli, and bared his teeth in a sinister smile. 

“You will talk, or I’ll get our friend here to take off an arm or maybe a leg” he said, his voice close, and barely above a whisper. Eli looked from Vigilus to the creature, the corner of her lip twitching as she made lingering eye contact with those piercing yellow orbs. 

“Fine! I’ll tell you…” Eli said, faking exasperation and dread. “We Infernal hate…” she said, making a sour expression. The Father learned in. “We cannot eat or touch…” she fake gagged. “-Citrus.” She said with as much disgust as she could act out, and gagged again. She didn’t think her poor acting could convince the devout man, but his grin widened, and she was pleased to see that he was a sucker for it. She thought him a man of some level of intellect, but she must’ve been mistaken. She made quick eye contact with the chained monster, who seemed to be bemused, his brow raised slightly. His lips were curled slightly at the edges, the tips of his teeth poking out. He seemed amused at her attempt to trick Vigilus, or possibly more amused at Father Vigilus’ idiocy.

Father Vigilus noticed his “pet’s” reaction to the mentioning of citrus, and turned to look at the creature. The beast wrinkled his nose in faux disgust, shrinking down and attempting to look as tame and terrified as a gigantic abomination could. 

“Ah… seems that we should reconsider our use of silver salts in our practice” he said, turning to the leashed creature. Eli couldn’t hide her small smile, and she glanced playfully at the monster before her, flicking her dilated pupils first to him, then to the archbishop. Father Vigilus noticed the eye contact the two made, and yanked at the chain bound beast. This time, the creature did not allow the archbishop to push him around. The monster raised his massive head, pulling the Father up into the air for the excess chain was wrapped around the man’s gangly fingers. The devout man whimpered in what seemed like offense, as well as fear. The soldiers flocked the creature, ready to stab and slash at the archbishops' word. “Put me down, you vile demon, I command it!” He yelled, flailing. The beast’s tail simply flicked away the pikemen, who screamed as they fell from the tower and landed with a sickening crunch a second later. The motion seemed so easy and effortless to this being, and Eli watched in shock and disbelief as the beast walked the tied up man to the edge of the belfry where he allowed Father Vigilus to dangle a few feet over the edge. “God have mercy, let go of me!” The man shrieked as he tumbled slightly down the length of the chain. The monster put a clawed hand down hard on the chain that trailed down his neck that the archbishop’s grasp, roughly pulling the Father up a few feet. The demon’s brow quirked up in questioning. “Let… go of you?” The creature asked, his voice so incredibly deep it didn’t sound like a voice that could be possessed by a mortal being. It was rich, and the timbre of it was dark and swirled around Eli’s ears. She flushed immediately at the wicked tone of his threat, as well as the complexity of his unusual voice. The archbishop laughed nervously, then frowned. 

“Yes! You will let go of me this instant and if I won't punish you as severely, beast.” He said, panting.

“As you wish.” The creature said, his eyes shining at Eli in a mischievous yet dark way. He allowed the chain to slip from his claws, sending the man barreling down the building side while he clutched the metal for dear life. “Ah! Please just help me! I’ll provide options for you!” Vigilus said, sobbing hysterically.

“How about I give you two options?” The creature said, his tone smooth and deeply terrifying.

“Yes! Whatever you want!” Vigilus cried, his feet flailing pointlessly. The monster seemed to consider this, and thought for a moment before speaking.

“How about this? I let you fall and we see if you survive, or I let you up and you experience something worse than death. Your choice.” He said calmly yet maliciously. The Father cried out, completely ignoring the second part of the ‘choice.’

“Yes! Let me up. I’ll give you anything, no more chains!” He shrieked.

“You want up? You don’t want to plummet to your death?” The creature inquired wisely.

“No! Just let me up you monster!” Vigilus retorted.

The creature pulled the chain up, and dangled the gasping little man in front of him, and lowered Vigilus to meet his gaze.

“You have poked and prodded me for the last time.” The demon said lowly, his voice the hint of distant thunder before a great storm. The beast raised the dangling man above his face, and opened his jaws impossibly wide. 

Eli watched with awe as the archbishop became silent as he slid down the throat of the great creature before her. There was no blood, no gore, only the light, slick sound of the dean being readily devoured by his “pet”. Drool fell off the jaws of the creature as he lowered his head slightly, ropes of saliva pooling to the stone floor. Eli watched in amazement as the throat of the creature expanded easily to allow the priest to pass through wholly unharmed. The chain fell to the floor, no longer any hands to grasp it. The creature’s golden half-lidded eyes made contact with Eli’s while he swallowed, and the tiefling girl to his surprise, did not look away. The demon put a clawed hand to his throat and guided his meal down his chest, and groaned as the once languid flesh of his belly filled out with the weight of the live meal. Vigilus squirmed in the creature’s gut rather violently, punching and kicking to be let out after he had realized what was happening. Eli gawked at the creature, her brain trying to make sense of the scene she just witnessed. Dusk had descended upon the kingdom, and it made the beast look all the more camouflaged against the stone and moss of the buildings behind them. 

Eli looked from the beast’s undulating and heavy belly, to the thing’s eyes that were focused softly on her. He approached her calmly, his stomach jiggling as he walked, and stopped his face inches from Eli’s own. Eli broke the silence, her voice meek.

“You sure did a number on him.” She said shyly, not sure if she should be more disturbed at her nonchalant reaction to the situation, or more afraid of this man-eating beast’s proximity to her. He closed the gap, and touched his horns to hers, in a strange, affectionate gesture. She had never come in contact with a beast so much like herself, and the action set her mind into reality. 

[floatingcatacombs]

Evaluting Gatchaman Crowds Through Rui’s Outfits

12 Days of Aniblogging 2020, Day 1

Oh, I’m fashionably late to this one. Gatchaman Crowds is a 2013 superhero anime that serves as a soft reboot of the old tokusatsu franchise, only now with 21st century shitty anime tropes. From this painfully generic setup emerges a surprisingly layered evaluation of technological disruption in the smartphone era. For this reason, Crowds is a favorite amongst anime bloggers as a superhero work that’s actually trying to do something interesting.

Unfortunately I don’t care about any of these guys

But it’s also a favorite amongst all sorts of weirdos because of the character Rui Ninomiya. A horrifying amalgamation of the technolibertarian CEO and trans femme hacker archetypes, Rui is by far the most interesting character in the show, because they’re a surprisingly prescient look at how the tech industry will function throughout the 2010s. But they’re also a ‘boy’ who never leaves their house without dressing in the most girly clothes imaginable. Predictably, this is catnip for me. But the funniest part of the whole situation is that nobody ever addresses it. Rui never provides an explanation for their outfits and the rest of the cast just uses she/her until they properly get acquainted and switch to he/him.

I could tell you that Rui’s obviously trans and wrap up the post right there, but that’s honestly not the most interesting angle of attack here. So I’m just going to use whatever pronouns I feel like in the moment for them and focus on what really matters: fashion! Rui has a surprisingly large wardrobe throughout the show, so I’ll be doing the heavy lifting of ranking each of her outfits. Oh, and also maybe a little analysis of what she represents. Spoilers for the whole show, of course.

7. The Yellow Dress

Let me lay out Rui’s ideology before I lay into their fashion disaster. You see, they’re a tech disruptor who believes that governments and bureaucracies are too slow to achieve the monumental (yet unspecified) change that society needs. So, they preside over a smartphone app called GALAX that successfully predicts Pokemon Go’s geosocial AR gimmick three years early. GALAX is a technolibertarian’s wet dream – crowdsourced emergency response, interest-based meetups, and matchmaking for people who need specific help and the people who can help them, all deeply gamified.

Their outfit here is about as messy as their politics, but at the same time, what a look. She’s got blue-and-white-striped programming thigh highs on under her combat boots, which are both such trans iconography, you know? While they may just be a reflection of early-2010s 4chan crossdressing culture, it’s also totally possible that Rui directly influenced or reinforced trans girl fashion, like the accelerationist she is. What a prescient show, in all sorts of weird ways.

6. Lace-up Dress with Bunny Ears

It wouldn’t be an anime girl cosplay without some bunny ears, now would it? Rui spends 5 minutes in an early episode just wandering around the city in this outfit, listening to people’s conversations and feelings on GALAX. There’s something very funny about how nobody even notices them, like they’re completely invisible despite their ridiculous outfit. This actually factors back into the tech stuff! Like pretty much every tech company, Rui’s app and vision are both sleek and shiny but rely on tremendous amounts of dirty labor kept as hidden as possible. From Amazon’s inhumane warehouse conditions to Facebook’s trauma-inducing moderator farms to Apple’s child labor-tainted supply chains, there’s always suffering humans behind the too-good-to-be-true magic of tech companies. Rui’s lie by omission is failing to mention that the app relies on invisible extradimensional beings called CROWDS that are manually controlled by underpaid workers to assist its users. One of the workers comes to Rui challenging their vision and arguing that they should be sharing this tech with the movers and shakers of the world, not trying to keep it invisible. He threatens a collective walkout and Rui fires him. At this point, we’re not even operating on metaphors.

5. Green Business Casual

Sure, most tech companies have cruel labor underbellies, but there’s also the separate risk of moral rot. It’s what causes Microsoft to take on ICE contracts and Google to develop censored versions of their search engine at the whims of authoritarians. Many tech companies start off with an altruistic message, but without a serious ethical core, they will start doing a whole lot of evil as they bend to financial and other pressures. Rui’s version of this is extremely literal: she made a deal with the devil to gain the ability to use the CROWDS and launch her app. Except this devil is also a butch gender-noncomforming alien (there is a Lot of other gender going on in this show that I don’t even have time for) and the two of them seem to have an extremely fucked-up relationship. Like any good Faustian bargain or any bad attempt at raising more venture capital without a viable business model, eventually the whole thing comes tumbling down and now you’re doing something terribly fucked up. Rui looks good in a dress shirt, at least!

4. Whatever your abusive partner puts on when she body-snatches you

Of course the center won’t hold, GALAX is subject to a hostile takeover, and to nobody’s surprise, an app with the flimsy promise to change the world for the better can actually be way better at ripping it all apart. I guess the prescient social media parallel here is Facebook being used to propagate Myanmar’s ethnic cleansing, or really anything related to Twitter for the last 5 years. FuckedUpAlienMimic!Rui sure does have cute fangs and a way more refined fashion sense though. I don’t feel like looking into that one.

3. Business....Futch?

I know I’m not done outlining Rui’s arc, but I’m going to skip ahead for a moment to say that Gatchaman Crowds also has a second season! I’m largely ignoring it here because Rui is pretty much stripped of all plot relevance and most of her outfits are less exciting, but I had to include this one. For two episodes, she puts on bright yellow stirrup leggings and an oversized polo shirt, with a cute ponytail to boot. It’s a ridiculous look, but still feels really evocative to me. Sometimes a girl just has to put together completely uncoordinated outfits and see what happens.

Unlike the disruption-focused first season, Gatchaman Crowds season two, which aired in 2015, is about how unfettered technolibertarianism can easily descend into fascism. Goddammit.

2. The Bunny Ears Outfit Again Oh God Who Hurt Her

The weight of the world comes crashing down in Rui’s hands, she’s bruised and beaten in a surprisingly sadistic manner by her alien ex-business partner/girlfriend, and she’s locked out of her own company which is very quickly causing society to fall apart. So what does she do? She puts the bunny dress back on, and wanders the streets again until she has to call upon the powers that be to fix her own mess. It’s silly that the powers that be in this world are superheroes, but I bet you forgot that this was technically a superhero show at this point. Anyways, my extended metaphor is quickly drifting off course, but I guess this is the part where Rui gets grilled by Congress and slapped with an antitrust case.

1. Every Trans Girl Stereotype Rolled Into One

I’ve been incredibly harsh on Rui throughout this writeup, because I’m harsh on the industry she represents, but I’ll make it up with this section. Look at what she’s wearing! A choker, the gothiest Hot Topic dress imaginable, arm warmers, no less than three asymmetric garters not even holding up anything, and the tallest black boots she could find. It’s incredible! If the first outfit on this list was hinting at her relationship to stereotypical trans fashion, then this outfit just screams it. It’s the perfect goth femme hacker look, a style commitment I have no choice but to respect.

Gatchaman is a weird show. After spending most of its runtime thoroughly dunking on tech disruptors for being too optimistic and uncritical, it takes a last-minute turn into Lockean state of nature arguments. It settles on “the masses are inherently good enough that empowering people through technology shouldn’t ever be a problem”, ignoring all the suffering that happened due to Rui’s unwillingness to curate their own technology. I’d give Gatchaman Crowds an average rating, but it’s one of those interesting average ratings where instead of being milquetoast, they tried something and failed and wrote themselves into a corner. But hey, at least there’s an interestingly gendered character!

[sloppy-butcher]

Waitin’ On a Superman - Chapter 2: Living with the Flies

(The Hillbilly (Max Thompson Jr.) x female!reader)

Previous; Next 

With his hands dripping in a thick syrup mixed from blood and other unidentifiable substances, the high-pitch whining in his head finally ceased to a distant thumping. He had been granted peace at last, a reprieve from everything and everyone that had been clawing away at his mind, consuming his every waking moment with its greedy need for his attention. He was finally free, finally allowed to think clearly, finally himself, finally Max.

That's who he had claimed himself to be - Max. It was his name, his birth-right had his face not come out the way that it did, and no one could take it away. Even when the water rippled and became too murky to see through and Boy would be called on for work, Max knew he was Max and that eventually everything would settle and he would return to being just Max. It is one of the many things Max had learned since his arrival to this strange world. Everything comes in turns like how the pouring of heavy rain and hail that used to hammer on the roof of his shed - as bad as the whining would get, it would soon swallow itself up and laze its volume. And though it would never stop completely, a wish too selfish and good to be true, he found that he enjoyed every opportunity he had to think.

Right now was one of those moments, there was sacred silence in his head and he could think of anything he wanted to. He was Max and he was free to think, free to be normal. However, try as he might, his mind always trailed back to the person in the red barn. Or rather, the girl he could never seem to get rid of. 

She had been lost in the corn fields for as long as he cared to remember, forever walking to some undisclosed destination. He has crossed her path many at times before, found her mindless wandering his land like a dazed, head-less chicken, and he had dealt with her the only way he knew how - he left her for Boy to find. He would take care of this most unfortunate trespasser quickly and without much of a fuss, removing her in such a way that it hard to tell if she had ever been there at all. It was what Boy had been made to do after all, to deal with all those laughing, unwelcome people.

He supposed she had somehow gotten trapped here like he had - the corn was like a deep, sinking mud, it grabbed anyone that strayed too close and it never let go. There were no physical walls that bordered his land, not of brick or wood or stone that one could touch or climb over, but Max knew that there was something binding him to that place, he could sense them surrounding him. And her. She was trapped just like he was.

How it burned him to be stuck in the same hole as this insolent girl. This was his farm! His land! His alone and no one else's! He fought for it, through years of blood, sweat and flies, he himself reclaimed this part of the world for his own personal occupation. All he wanted was to be alone here! Safe from the eyes of the judgmental and hateful others, a sanctuary. His sanctuary. Yet here, slithering in like vermin into an open feed room, was this girl. 

When he first saw her, Max felt no remorse leaving her to the mercy of Boy. Die, he spat at her, die and never come back! Don’t you come here to laugh at me! To laugh at Max!

But after the failure of his sixth attempt to remove her stain from his fields, Max learned another lesson about this realm. Nothing stays dead, not forever at least. Even if he were to take off her head and crush her heart in his hands until it was nothing but mush under his fingernails, she would not stay that way. It was only a matter of time before she’d reassemble herself and wake as if from a deep sleep, completely normal and none-the-wiser to her previous demise. Then she’d start walking again.

Boy was beginning to get fed up with her, turning his back when confronted by her on his daily rounds rather than slaughtering her straight out. With Boy refusing to handle the trespasser, a waste of energy and time he condemned, Max begrudgingly and resentfully accepted that there was no getting rid of the wanderer in the field. He simply had to wait until she managed to squeeze her way out the fence that same way she had snuck in.

Time is the most peculiar thing to the man who never learned to read a clock. Even before Max had been taken away to this endless night-time realm where nothing aged or moved, the stars never blinking and the moon hanging lifeless in the shallow sky, he was not one able to tell when minutes turned to hours or hours to days. There was only the rise and falling of the sun and the tuning in of his T.V programs to help him navigate through the daily grind. Without these markers of passage however, he was adrift at sea, confused. Time did not exist here. Regardless, there was no denying that he did feel the weighing of age begin to get heavier and grow longer. Max knew that it had been a very, very long time since first the girl had arrived.

A thought had started to bubble in his mind whenever it would be quiet enough to think. It started as soft as the wind through an empty field then grew louder and persistent like the dripping of a leaky faucet. Eventually it became as booming and demanding as the grinding of a rusty chainsaw motor. With every passing night, Max had to put up with the thought maturing and expanding until it developed the same frequency and urgency as that of the whining.

He should try to talk to her. 

A most simple idea, when written on paper, but one that seemed completely and utterly unattainable, unfathomable, unreal in reality. Max had only spoken to one other person and it was a miserable experience to say the least. He made a personal vow then, when staring down into his mother’s mortified and busted face as her blood dripped from his clenched fist, to never utter a single word to anyone else again. People didn’t like it when he spoke, so why even try? He decided to remain a speechless monster, sparing himself the terrified looks.  And so he did - it was, of course, made easier when everyone he encountered after his oath of silence were all dead or soon to be so. The girl was the first in a very long line of lonely nights and murderous routine who had presented something of a conundrum to his vow. He couldn’t kill her so what to do now? 

He should try to talk to her. Opportunities like this don’t just fall into his lap everyday. Max, though made from mud and filth, had always the hopeful spirit. Uncrushed optimism that had only been covered in dust, untouched, but never destroyed or rotted. Maybe one day his parents would love him. Maybe one day his face won’t be so ugly. And maybe one day he could try to talk to someone like a normal human being. 

Preposterous! Unthinkable! He should just kill her! Keep killing her until eventually it sticks. Or get Boy to do it one last time. Max grumbled, hunching over with his head in his hands trying to dig out the worming voices in his ears. Though this new voice was as loud as that of the whining, it was nowhere near as painful - it didn’t make his stomach feel achy nor his chest fume with anger. Instead this voice tickled him and brought about interest of a forgotten kind. A voice that said ‘What if.’

He buries head in the dirt. Tunneling deeper into soundless soil until there would be nothing at all, digging so far down that he might lose all sense of who Max was. Anything to get away from the thought, which had now sprouted its own self-importance and action, and ground any of the daydreams that accompanied it. Oh yes, Max had started to dream about it all. In his weaker moments, he’d start imagining what it would be like talking to her. Not only that but he had started to like the fantasy, to hold on and encourage the idea of interaction like how they did on the T.V - like ordinary people. A small part of him fluttered whenever thinking about how it would go, whether that was because he feared her rejection like so many before or because, deep down, he was stupidly hopeful was a plea he did not seek to uncover. It was simply a fantasy, a dream but one that always tasted so tangible and delightful.

What if… What if…

He stumbles upon her in the corn - the very thing he had been trying to avoid entirely yet could not stop thinking about. There's an impressive silence hanging in the air as he feels his breathing hitch. She stops, her back facing him and Max knows that she has sensed him near her however refuses to react. She is quiet, completely motionless as a wind rips through the corn and between them. So close and yet so far away. He feels a rising panic in his chest like the jumping of frightened pheasants after the firing of a shotgun. It's too soon, he has no idea what to say. Hasn’t practiced anything. How would she react? Why did he care so much? Just kill her. Kill her, kill-

“I know you are there.” It was the girl who broke the inflating silence. She spoke first and her voice, ever the small and quiet thing like its master, was so ordinary and plain. Max found himself taken aback - did all people speak so distant and mundane? It was not exactly like the gnawing of his parents but it certainly was no sound from the T.V. It was just a voice, neither grand nor harsh and something he hadn’t heard in years.

“Be quick.” She answered his unsaid command. She was smart, it seemed. Somehow she knew that he was debating on killing her yet, rather than fight or show fear, she accepted it. And asked only that he would be quick and painless. A finger flexes around the trigger of his chainsaw. It was easier this way - avoid confrontation by snubbing it before it could bloom. This had already gone too far, she had actually said something to him. Acknowledged his being. It was all becoming too much for him to handle. 

“Please.” Max, at first, did not even recognize the word. He had heard it before, yes, but never directed solely at him. It was a gesture of pleading, an appeal for respect and for the saving of face in the approach of death. She had asked Max, begged him in a mellow, drawn-out tone, to do what he wanted. All without a hint of aggression, resistance or even resentment. She just sounded tired, tired beyond words. It certainly was not his parents speaking, and with knowing the outcome of attempting to cut her down, Max felt a sudden urge to act on that dream of his.

Why, on this Earth of yellow and mud, did Max mention the pigs? Of all the things he could have said, of all the ways he could have started the conversation and he just mentioned pigs. What was he thinking? The simple explanation for his outburst would be that he panicked and picked the first thing that came to mind. The long explanation would be that it was the only thing he could think of. His voice, when pushed with air, was sticky and sore and his words shook uncomfortably in his ears. But as sure as he was that whatever mutated and horrible sound he was producing would drive anyone mad, he noticed how you barely even flinched. Though small, his confidence to speak erupted at your lack of reluctance to listen. With each utterance he became bolder. With each syllable he drew closer. 

All too soon his jar ran full and threatened to overflow and Max had to think of a way to get rid of her. Tuck her away somewhere until his mind was clear again and he would think straight. Max contemplated a moment before ushering her to the red barn that had once housed Boy many, many years ago. He couldn’t stand to be near it, let alone even look at it and hurriedly pointed the girl inside. As she walked away, her back once more turned towards him, Max heard another unfamiliar phrase being directed at him.

“Thank you.” 

It was said in a heartbeat and was gone before the wind touched his face. So nonchalant she made it seem, throwing the appreciation over her shoulder like it was nothing at all. Like it carried no weight or meaning. Yet to him, it was everything. A thank you. God knows he does not deserve it - those were the forms of human kindness reserved only for the good ones. He was not one of those good ones. But she said it, offering to him her gratitude and how strange it was to wear it. 

He waited a few minutes longer, hidden perfectly in the towering corn, his brain slowly digesting the events that just happened. Not only had Max spoken to the someone, who did not hit him nor scream, but also thanked him. 

Max wanted to bathe longer in the warm glory-light of the conversation, take in and commit to memory all the little things she had said and done and how he had responded to it all. But there was a ringing in his ears, replacing all that had happened with its deafening white noise. Without fighting he turned to face the call of the void and hoped beyond anything that everything had been real and he was not dreaming again. 

[griievancess]

" i didn't even want him, you did whore. "

snow drearily falls amongst the browned mush that used to be grass. there lay the frail form of a woman, curled against the cold in nothing less than a robe. her cried could be heard across the neighborhood but no one cared. no one even bated an eye because that was HIS wife. HIS life and son. unfortunately. alcohol stained his breath like the rotting of his inner soul just wheezing it's last grasp from what was left; nothing. perched silently against the edge of the table, minho trembles very subtly, not wanting to show any ounce of weakness the 14 year old might even have left. the sharp of his canines caress his lip and he flinches slightly as a bottle flies passed his head. " hear that, you fucking brat. i didn't even WANT YOU. your whore mother kept you. out of all the men she was sleeping around with, she had to get pregnant by me. and give birth to a boy with no ounce of male in him. should of just had a girl. " one more swift kick to the females beaten body and he was out the door. not even a moment goes by and minho was at his mothers side, trying to lift her to soothe her.

two years swing by and the abuse hasn't subsided. woken from his slumber, the 16 year old minnie is awoken by the panicked sound of his mother who had grabbed him and rushed him from the home. they pass through the living room and there lay his father's bloody, deceased corpse. a male not much older than him if not even a hair younger standing above him. they lock gazes and in the first time in a long time, he smiled. they took shelter in the chilled shack of his mothers misses; this was him home now.

the snow ceased as he stood in the doorway of the shack, the now 20 year old minho gazing upon the tear stained look of his new found taker; she was gone. revenge was sweet in the hands of his father's undead self. that bastard from the grave took his mother and he was met with those same dead pan eyes from before. leo was his name. and he swore to bring justice to the honor of taehyeon lee.

he always hated the snow.

[corinthbayrpg]

NAME. Violet Delacroix AGE & BIRTH DATE. 24 & May 16th, 1996 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Female & She/Her SPECIES. Witch ( earth + empathy ) OCCUPATION. Cocktail Waitress at Hypnos FACE CLAIM. Madelyn Cline

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: homophobia ) Violet Delacroix has always felt like her life was one long tightrope walk, the wire perpetually extending out far beyond the edge of her sight, but the consequences perilous for falling off. There was a certain burden to her family name, an expectation to live up to, set in place not just by her parents, but by the society in which they lived. An image of perfection to maintain outwardly, despite the cracks forming underneath the surface. Unfortunately for Violet, she was all too aware of those cracks.

Even as a little girl, the witch always seemed to be so attuned with other people. Teachers at school called her an empathetic child, without knowing how right they were. Though too young to recognize the hints of her own budding magic, the sign of who she would become, Violet felt aware of those around her in a way she didn’t know how to put into words. She connected with them, shared in their sadness and their joy, taking it into herself without even realizing it. And these feelings told her secrets, things that a small child shouldn’t be privy to. Like the friction between her parents, the resentment of her older sister, and the frustration of her brother. From the outside, they seemed like the perfect family, the highest standard of power and status in the community of witches in Chicago. On the inside, it felt like a family slowly rotting to the core.

That is not to say everything was entirely bad. Though her relationship with her mother always had a cold distance to it, Violet bonded greatly with her father Andrew and her siblings Camille and Lucian. She was the baby of the family, and all of them treated her as such, something which irritated her at the time, but she would later grow to miss. She grew into a girl with a passion for reading, almost never found without a book in hand, her favorite singer playing as background music at all hours of the day. She took dance classes and music lessons, and received the best instructors for honing her magic — an earth witch, just like her mother. A fact which Violet thought might bring them closer, but Annette’s cold stare never really softened when she regarded her children, no matter how hard they tried.

But no matter how the day went, it seemed as if nothing would waylay the terrors of the night. Plagued by nightmares from an early age, the youngest Delacroix began to fear sleep. The sleeping potions she was given always left her with a terrible groggy feeling, and no other protection spells laid against her mind did much to help either. It wasn’t until years later, when Violet was officially discovered to be an empath, that a workable solution was finally put forth. Unknowingly, she had been taking in the emotions of all those around her throughout the day, in particular their negative feelings, which affected her sleep at night. Only when she began to receive tutelage for her abilities as an empath, how to control what she both received and put back out into the world, did relief finally come.

Things got…. Better, after that. To a point. Not everything was so overwhelming to the young witch anymore. But it was never perfect; not like the outward image the Delacroix family projected. When both her older siblings went off to school, leaving Violet the only child left in the household, Annette’s attention was turned to her youngest daughter. Her mother’s standards were intense, an ever-reaching perfectionist who expected the same from her children, and the pressure only got more extreme after her brother’s scandalous departure. Things had been strange with him for a while, he came home from college once only to abruptly leave again after a mysterious fire in their father’s study. Though no one would tell Violet what had happened, she could only come up with her own conclusions, from the way she had seen him behave in his time at home, and the fact that their sister returned to their childhood home as well. Still, she never approached him on the matter, even when he appeared once again, deciding that he would tell her when he was ready. If only the day actually came. Instead, one day she came home to find both him and her sister gone completely.

Losing both of her eldest children affected Annette in a way Violet hadn’t seen before. Not out of concern for the welfare of said children, but for how it would be perceived by their social circle. The witches of high society Chicago were a gossipy bunch, itching for the newest scandal to use to propel themselves to higher standings. With both Camille and Lucian gone once again, this time with no promise of return, Violet’s success only became that much more paramount. And while one could say that she rose admirably to the challenge, it never seemed to be quite enough to satisfy. But she was poised to handle the burden, getting molded into an exemplary young lady, ready to carry on the legacy of the Delacroix name that both her older siblings had shunned.

One of the expectations placed upon her was that she would marry well, and to someone of their same status. Eager to embody the image both she and her mother wished her to hold, at the age of twenty-two Violet began to date the son of one of her mother’s superficial friends. She’d known him for most of her life, a relationship spanning from the days of their childhoods, and so it only seemed fitting that the two of them end up together. And it was okay. Not love, not like in all the books she’d read, but he was good to her and they were good together. They became the talk of their society, and everyone expected the pair to become a strong power couple to lead the next generation.

But something wasn’t quite right. She tried to ignore it, and did, for a long time. For nearly two years she buried the feeling inside, content that even if he wasn’t the love of her life, she would still be happy with the life they would have together. Or so she thought. But the truth has a way of making itself known, and for Violet, it happened on her twenty-fourth birthday. A magnificent party was thrown by her parents, everyone worth knowing in attendance, and right in the middle of the room with everyone watching, her boyfriend pulled out a ring and dropped to one knee. It wasn’t particularly unexpected, they both knew the connotations that came with their relationship when it began, but still, it was in that moment that the reality set it. Like a bucket of cold water to the face, Violet suddenly had to acknowledge the feelings deep inside that she had so desperately wanted to ignore — that marrying him, or any man, left her feeling sick to her stomach.

So she said no, and ran from the party. The young witch went to her father for comfort when the night was over, confessed to both her parents the fact that she couldn’t go through with it; couldn’t spend her entire life in a marriage that would be a sham, when the only time she’s ever felt the butterflies or giddiness of infatuation was around women. Andrew hugged his daughter, kissed her temple and told her he still loved her. Annette pulled her aside, a mother’s comforting grip on her arm, and spoke in low tones about how such information could ruin Violet. That it would be better for her, really, safer for her, if she kept it to herself. It was in that moment she realized what perhaps her older siblings had discovered long before; that the life that awaited her, if she stayed in Chicago, would never be a life she was truly happy with. And so with her father’s approval and one final goodbye, him even going so far as to take her to the airport, the youngest Delacroix left their family home behind once and for all.

She did not land in Greece immediately. It was a big wide world out there, most of it Violet had never seen, and though the thought frightened her, it was also exciting. She bounced around in the United States at first, exploring new cities in the comfort of her home country, before becoming bold enough to venture outside it’s borders. From England to France to New Zealand, she never stayed in one place for too long, unable to say exactly what she was looking for, only that she would know when she found it. Perhaps it was the pull of the veil that finally drew Violet to Corinth Bay, but within one day of arriving in the city, she had decided she found her place. Fortunate enough to not be cut off from her parents’ funds entirely — something she suspects is her father’s influence — Violet found both an apartment and a place of employment, and plans to set down roots for the long haul, unaware of the fact that both Camille and Lucian are already in the city.

PERSONALITY

+ cheerful, gracious, free-spirited - naïve, headstrong, perfectionist

PLAYED BY ABBY. CDT. She/Her.

[jeserai]

from my ko-fi requests / even more vampire catra au

Lit by the full moon, Catra seems almost unearthly, a wraith lit in the pale silvery light. She reaches out a hand, caught in half a bow, and Adora takes it with an incredulous laugh that splits into a yelp when Catra yanks her forward and into a waltz. She’s clearly danced before, and Adora is suddenly glad for taking lessons with Bow, because it’s so easy to fall into step together, to let Catra spin them around the room as she hums a bouncing song under her breath.

buy me a kofi!

“Spend a night in the creepy haunted castle, they said,” Adora grumbles to herself, kicking aside a pebble and listening to it skitter off into the darkness, “film it all so we can see, they said...” Adora turns her camera around to face herself, squinting as the light hits her eyes. “Guys, if I die tonight, I’m seriously blaming you. I mean it, I’ll haunt you too.”

Even now, Adora can practically hear Bow’s voice in her ear: well, you didn’t have to accept the dare, you could’ve just taken the punishment—

“And I know I could’ve taken the punishment instead of doing the dare, but after what Mermista made Sea Hawk do...no way.”

Now, Glimmer: hey, at least you’re alone?

As if on cue, she hears the quiet shuffle of something moving too far ahead to see, and Adora stops dead in her tracks. It’s probably just a bug, or a rat, and besides, it’s not like ghosts need to walk, right? Just in case, Adora switches off the light on her camera, eyes straining in the dark to even catch a hint of what had moved.

The seconds drag out as Adora tries to decide whether to continue forward or to make a run for it, and just when she’s ready to turn around and forget the dare altogether, there comes from the dark up ahead a quiet, blessedly human voice that calls out, “Hello? Is—is someone there?”

For a moment, Adora considers not responding and trying to quietly edge backwards, but then, it sounds like a girl, and she definitely sounds scared…

With a sigh, Adora turns her camera’s light back on and takes a few careful steps forward. “Yeah, do you see a light?”

“I’m not coming any closer until you tell me why you’re here.”

Which is fair. “It sounds stupid, but my friends dared me to spend the night here, so…”

The girl, still in the dark, laughs at that. “And you did it?”

“Well, yeah, if you don’t do your initial dare, you have to do a punishment, and the last punishment someone had was to run around the docks naked and singing a sea shanty, so…”

“A sea shanty?”

“My friends are very weird,” Adora says, “but his nickname is Sea Hawk, so it’s not surprising that he actually knew sea shanties off the top of his head.”

The girl laughs and Adora feels a smile slip onto her face in response; and with a voice that even sounds like fondly rolling eyes, the girl says, "Okay, fine, you sound normal enough."

And then, more quiet footsteps, and—she steps into the light. And despite the way she's squinting in the dim glow of Adora's camera, despite the smear of dirt across her cheek, despite even the cold stone surrounding them, she is beautiful.

"You're recording?" Does she sound annoyed? She definitely sounds annoyed.

"Oh—yeah, sorry. I can delete the footage later if you want, it was just part of my dare, to make sure I actually do it or whatever." Adora swings the camera back around towards herself and gives the viewfinder a middle finger, relishing the way it makes the girl laugh again.

"It's fine, I just don't really like being on camera. But anyway...what's your name, mystery girl?"

"Adora."

"Pretty name for a pretty girl. I'm Catra," the girl—Catra—says, and then, as she sidles up just behind Adora and places a fever-hot hand on hers to turn the camera back to face them, "and I hope your friends know that it's very rude to film people without their permission."

The words are chastising, but Catra is so close and so warm that Adora barely hears them. "Uh—yeah. I can turn it off and...I guess turn it back on in the morning?"

Another pretty laugh. If Catra were to tip forward just a bit she'd be leaning full against Adora. Unfortunately, she steps back and Adora pivots to face her as if led on a string. "It's your choice, Adora."

“What about the light? How will we be able to see?”

Catra shrugs, reaches out to touch the camera again. “Well, do you trust me?”

And she shouldn’t; Catra is a stranger in a strange place, and to throw them into the dark could very well mean the end of them both, but— “I don’t know why, but I kind of do.”

Catra smiles, wide and beautiful and giddy, and presses the button to turn Adora’s camera off. And the world goes dark. Adora fumbles for Catra’s hand, touches her arm, holds on tight, even when Catra laughs and breaks away—because it’s just to fix her position so she can twine their fingers together.

“Just wait a bit, okay? Your eyes will adjust.”

And slowly, they do. It’s not much, but soon Adora is able to differentiate pitch-black from dark-gray and regular black, and she can see the faint outline of Catra, so very close. “So, you come here often?”

Catra laughs again and Adora can almost see her shaking her head. “What can I say, it’s kind of peaceful, in a weird way. I stumbled across this castle ages ago when I was in a really bad place, and...I’m in a much better place now, but it still centers me, to be here alone in the dark, if that makes sense.”

And...maybe to anyone else, it wouldn't, but to Adora, “Yeah, it does. I like to be squished when I’m overwhelmed. Either in between things or beneath something...I’m like the opposite of claustrophobic, I love being trapped in the tight, small spaces.”

Catra hums and gently, slowly begins to pull Adora deep into the castle. “Hey, if I like to hang out in creepy dark castles, I can’t judge you for liking being squished. Where do you go for that?”

“My attic, usually. Old boxes and whatnot.”

“Cute,” Catra huffs out a little laugh, and then, just as Adora’s eyes are really beginning to get used to the dark, they round a corner and enter a room that is not so much a room as it is a floor and massive columns reaching towards empty sky. “This used to be the ballroom, I think,” Catra finally lets go of Adora’s hand to step forwards and do a little twirl, “it seems it.”

Lit by the full moon, Catra seems almost unearthly, a wraith lit in the pale silvery light. She reaches out a hand, caught in half a bow, and Adora takes it with an incredulous laugh that splits into a yelp when Catra yanks her forward and into a waltz. She’s clearly danced before, and Adora is suddenly glad for taking lessons with Bow, because it’s so easy to fall into step together, to let Catra spin them around the room as she hums a bouncing song under her breath. When she dips Adora, it is deep, and Adora hooks her leg around Catra’s to keep her balance, ignoring the delighted curve of Catra’s lips.

When she lets Adora back up, Catra’s brows are raised and her eyes, gem-bright blue and gold, are practically luminescent. “You’re certainly full of surprises!”

“What can I say, I’m a girl with charm—my friend and I took dance classes a few years ago. I’m pretty rusty, but I didn’t step on your toes, at least.”

“You were brilliant,” Catra compliments, and they’d just done simple steps, but Adora still flushes pink at the praise.

“What else is there?”

If she’s disappointed, Catra doesn’t show it, just nods and sweeps an arm out towards the door they’ve danced up to. “It gets dark again, okay?”

But the dark is just about familiar by now, and Adora no longer needs Catra to steer her around fallen debris. They reach a huge stone staircase, perhaps left untrod in hundreds of years but for them, and Adora climbs with Catra at her side, their arms hooked together now. Catra is humming that same song again.

“What song is that?”

Catra starts, glances sidelong at Adora, and shakes her head. “Just something I made up ages ago.”

“I rather like it.”

Catra laughs again, a pleased, lilting sound, and directs Adora into one of the rooms. The old wooden door has long since rotted away but the room just beyond somehow remains untouched by time, but for the faint layer of dust that has settled over everything. There are footprints scattered across the room—Catra’s, most likely—and Adora almost feels like they aren’t supposed to be here.

But Catra steps forward and into the bedroom without a second thought, so Adora follows her. “Welcome to my room,” she says a bit dryly.

Adora appraises it: the four-poster bed with heavy blankets perfectly made, the bookshelf full of ancient books, the desk with a blank sheet of paper next to a quill and a dried up ink bottle. The closet further in—that when she opens, reveals heavy dresses and still-shiny shoes—and the empty basin that perhaps housed water to wash in, once upon a time. It is simple, but she can imagine it in a different time, with a girl that went to balls and wore fancy gowns and sealed her letters with a wax seal, and Adora likes it.

“I like it, but how...how is it like this?”

Catra has strode over to the fireplace and now squats in front of it, hands held out to be warmed by a non-existent flame. “There are legends,” she starts slowly, “that some things...stay like this, just outside the reach of time.”

“But why?”

Catra shrugs, stands, spins on her heel to face Adora. Again, she looks like some kind of phantom, and Adora involuntarily takes a step back. “It’s what I was interested in when I came here. Why just this room, what made it like this, were there other places like it. And I haven’t really come to a clear conclusion, but...I think it’s magic. I think it’s the presence of something supernatural, something with such a tie to the place—to this room, for example—that they...fuse somehow, become immortal together.”

“So...like a pocket dimension?”

Catra considers this and shrugs again. “I suppose. What I’m most curious about is why it only affects one room out of this whole place.”

“And why no one else has found it.”

At that, Catra’s brows jerk up in clear surprise, and this time it’s Adora’s turn to shrug. “There’s no graffiti, no litter, nothing. Just our—and your—footprints.”

Catra nods slowly, a pleased little grin quirking the corners of her lips up. “Just us,” she repeats.

And suddenly, Adora is very very aware that it is just them, far off in the middle of nowhere. She then realizes that she’s dropped her camera somewhere, that it really is just them. Her throat dries up as Catra takes a slow, measured step towards her, and then another. Her eyes are still bright with some kind of secret, and they shine when she passes the window still somehow set with glass, and—

“Catra...where are you from?”

Catra does not even falter. “Here.”

And the pieces are falling into place now, and despite the mounting dread, Adora cannot bring herself to move, not even an inch. “Okay, let me—” deep breath in, deep breath out. “When are you from?”

Now Catra pauses. As she cocks her head to the side, a bewildered expression written across her face, Adora wonders if maybe she got it wrong, wonders if Catra is going to laugh. But the other girl just shakes her head and pouts a little, and Adora curses herself for the fact that she thinks the action is still somehow adorable. “What gave it away?”

“Your eyes...they glow. Normal human eyes do not glow.”

Catra nods and steps back into the light, eyes closed. This time, when they open, they are normal, and she is smiling. “Like this?”

“Well, yes, but that’s not—Catra.” Said girl gives Adora a wounded look, which Adora completely ignores. “What are you?”

Catra somehow has the audacity to wink. “I think you already know the answer to that one, don’t you?”

And Adora does. But breathing that word aloud, letting it rest in the air between them, acknowledging what she knew from perhaps the very beginning...it would make this all real. “I—you’re...god. Just open your mouth.”

With another slow wink, Catra obliges. This time, instead of dull human teeth, she suddenly has a mouth full of fangs, razor sharp and dangerous. But still somehow beautiful. She should be scared, Adora knows she should be scared, but as her breath leaves her all at once, she realizes that somehow, all she feels is awe.

“You’re the reason the room is like this, aren’t you?”

Catra’s mouth snaps shut and she pouts a little, seemingly disappointed that Adora didn’t, what, run away screaming? “Yeah…aren’t you scared? Even a tiny bit?”

“I think I’d be more scared if I didn’t already know what a huge dork you are. But can you—can you show me them again?”

Obediently, Catra opens her mouth, and keeps it open still when Adora comes close, cradling her cheek with one hand. With just the tip of her index finger on her free hand, she traces the points of Catra’s fangs: the four baby fangs, like a traditional vampire’s, and the four just next to them, larger and even more vicious. She knows she’s playing with fire, but Adora slowly increases pressure until her fingertip blooms with a bead of blood, and she watches with amusement as Catra’s eyes widen.

But before the other girl—the vampire—can get any ideas, Adora withdraws her hands from Catra’s face and steps back, her heart dancing a foxtrot in her chest. “I—will you let me leave?”

“Will you tell anyone about me?”

Honestly, Adora hadn’t even thought of that. “No, I just...think I should go for now. In case…” Adora glances down at the streak of red on her finger, then back up at Catra, who is watching her curiously.

“You’ll go,” Catra repeats, “for now.” She doesn’t phrase it like one, but it’s a question, clear as day.

“If you’ll have me again, I’d...I like to come back.” At the disbelieving arch of Catra’s brow, Adora rushes out, “I want to see you again, if you want to see me again. You could...tell me about your old life, I don’t know.

At that, Catra’s serious expression breaks and she begins to laugh. “God, Adora, you’re such an idiot—”

“But can I come back?”

In a tone that very much suggests that she doesn’t believe that Adora ever will, Catra says, “Sure, you can come back.”

(And the very next night, Adora does.)