#'it will be fine if i answer this believer's prayer myself in the flesh' LOUD! INCORRECT! BUZZER!

[deiscension]

[EXTREMELY LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER]

[ratmonky]

Unsafe Words

Word Count: 4.9K

Warnings: dubcon, mind break, obsession

AO3 Link

Flowers were more beautiful when they first bloomed in springtime. The colors that would faint over time would be vivid and the smell they produced wasn’t like any other. Their aroma was as delicious as a luxurious perfume but yours were sweeter than all of them.

Inumaki stroked his cock with one hand and held your panties up to his nose with the other. Your smell was enough to make him feel intoxicated but inhaling it as he pleased himself made the experience even more ecstatic.

In his mind, he was fantasizing about going on a date with you, eating your favorite dessert together, and chatting about the future ahead of the two of you.

You would laugh at all the jokes he made to hear you laugh and brush your fingers on his forearm in a flirty manner, looking at him with a smile and suggest to him that the two of you get out of here and go somewhere more private. Somewhere where you could give him all your attention.

Would you take all of your clothes or would you rather have him undress you?

He knew you would actually rather want him to tear your clothes off of you.

He hadn’t seen much of your skin and the uniform you wore didn’t help his fantasies. Inumaki could only try to imagine what color your nipples were or how supple the flesh of your thighs was.

His cock twitched in his hand as he bit back a moan.

Too much.

Inumaki tightened his grip on the base, refusing to cum yet. He still had time. It would be meaningless if he came so early.

He pressed his face into your soft pillow, inhaling your faint scent. Ahh, that would be how you smelled if he were to inhale your hair?

His grip on your panties loosened and he focused his attention on your pillow as he turned around in your bed. With his face buried deep in your pillow, he reached for one of your plushies.

From the first year in the school until you became third years, he always wanted to be a little closer to you. Not like how you treated your lower classmen. He wanted more than that.

Instead of ruffling his hair and calling him a friend, he wanted you to pull his hair and make him the center of your world.

Panda and Maki had noticed the way he looked at you. They knew him as long as you did yet you were still clueless.

He hadn’t thought he would feel this way about any person at any point in his life but here he was, humping your plushie in your bed.

He wondered what would you do if you knew exactly what was going through his head during a day. Because all he could think about was bending you over the closest surface and making you moan out his name in a prayer.

When his cock twitched, warning him that he was close, he didn’t try to stop himself this time. He pushed his hips forward staggeringly as he came on the plushie with a groan, his breathing completely out of control.

He still had time, didn’t he?

By the time you came back from your shopping trip with Maki and Kugisaki, your room was as you left it, or at least you were too careless to notice your missing panties from the laundry and the icky acidic smell surrounding your plushies.

~~~

You were clueless.

So much so that it hurt him.

There wasn’t much time left until the third years graduated and left. Once the two of you graduated, you wouldn’t call him for obvious reasons. What did you have to talk with him about anyway?

All he could say was gibberish.

He hated it.

“You’re okay?” Panda noticed that he wasn’t eating.

“Salmon.”

“You sure?”

“Salmon.”

There was a moment of silence before Panda spoke again.

“You know, I heard (name) is going to move to Fukuoka once we graduate.”

He didn’t say anything.

“It’s far away from Tokyo, isn’t it?”

Silence.

~~~

The day of graduation came but Inumaki didn’t make a move.

You moved away and he stayed.

Maki kept talking about your new life to Inumaki while he was unable to feel happy for you.

Years passed but Inumaki couldn’t move on.

It had been a hectic day at work and he was getting ready to take a shower when he got a call from an unknown number. This was the fifth time they were calling. He wanted to ignore it because the person on the other side wouldn’t understand him if they weren’t one of his friends but whether it be curiosity or boredom, he answered.

“Ahh, you picked up!”

Inumaki’s body froze. He felt like his limbs turned into stone.

“Hellooo? It’s Toge, right?” It was your voice.

“Kelp.”

“That was for greetings… Right? I kinda forgot about your language, haha. I’m sorry for calling you this late. Are you doing fine?”

“Salmon.” His lips were trembling. You sounded excited to talk to him.

“I see! I’m doing fine too, I moved back to Tokyo! I got a super small apartment and everything, I moved all of my furniture myself, can you believe that?”

“Tuna tuna!”

“I know right!” you laughed and let out a small sigh. “Anyway, I called to ask if you would wanna meet up? I thought we could catch up and I could show you my apartment. Maki and the others said they were free this Saturday, how about you?”

“...”

“I-... Was that too many questions? I’m sorry, I’m just excited you answered the phone.”

He opened his mouth but amongst the many things he wanted to say to you, he could only speak gibberish. He closed it again.

“Are you there?”

“Salmon.”

“Do you think you’d wanna come to my place for a reunion slash housewarming party?”

“Tuna mayo.”

“Is that a yes?” You sounded hesitant.

“Salmon.”

“Great! I’ll.. I’ll text you the address, don’t bring anything, I just wanna see you and others. It’s been so long!”

“Tuna tuna.”

“Ahh, I missed you all so much. Fukuoka was no good. I feel like I belong in Tokyo with everyone.”

He agreed yet again and silence fell. It must have been tiring to hold a conversation with him. Most people gave up after their first try, it felt too much like a one-sided conversation.

“I should go,” you said, he could hear the smile in your voice. “It was really great to hear your voice again, Toge. I hope it was the same for you.”

Yes , he thought.

“Okay… I’ll see you on Saturday, I’mma text my address to you, and please save my number! We might work together in the future, who knows!!”

“Tuna tuna!”

“Goodnight.”

You hung up.

Inumaki held his phone up to his ear for a moment longer even after you ended the call. His eyes slowly landed on the tent on his pants.

You had missed him. You wanted to see him.

A second later his phone buzzed in his hand.

[New Message]

Unknown Number: [ADDRESS] i live on the fifth floor but there isn’t an elevator TwT you will have to walk up the stairs SORRY >v<

His lips curled up into a smile.

~~~

His hair took an hour to style yet it looked the same. He had even bought a new styling gel, ugh, what a waste of money.

Apart from that, Inumaki found himself in front of the apartment building, unable to push the door to get inside.

“Inumaki, great to see you again,” Fushiguro’s voice startled him.

Inumaki turned around to see the large group heading this way.

“Yeesh, did you drown yourself in body spray?” Maki covered her mouth. Kugisaki next to her laughed and continued teasing Itadori until they arrived at the building’s door.

“Inumaki?”

“Kelp!”

“Ah, it’s good to see you again. When was the last time we saw each other? A year ago?” Maki walked past him and opened the door herself. “Probably,” she answered her own question.

There was some small talk going on, everyone was talking to him but his eyes were going back and forth between the presents everyone was holding. He stared at the bouquet of roses in his own hand.

“What did you buy?” Kugisaki asked Fushiguro.

“A toaster.”

“Lame.” She turned to Itadori to ask him what he bought next.

“I bought a toaster too…”

While the two boys were arguing about how one of them had to return their gifts, Maki placed a hand on Inumaki’s shoulder. “Panda’s coming too.”

Ah, his expression must have contorted into something vile. She perhaps thought he was only worried about Panda’s whereabouts.

“Seaweed.”

“Which floor was it again?” Kugisaki asked no one specifically.

Inumaki held five fingers up.

“Let’s get going then!” Itadori smiled, “Feels like we’re wasting time here when we can catch up altogether.”

The trio started climbing up the stairs first, leaving Maki and Inumaki to walk behind them.

“They’re still the same, huh?”

“Salmon.”

“I heard (name) invited some people from Kyoto over as well but none of them could make it.”

When he raised a brow Maki explained further.

“Curse season in Kyoto, I think. Mai was complaining about having to work overtime and all.”

“How did she manage to choose the only damn building in Tokyo without an elevator!?” Kugisaki groaned.

Maki chuckled, “It’s barely in Tokyo, and honestly, do you think she could afford one with an elevator?”

The trio started laughing. Inumaki smiled too.

“Hey,” she said, turning back to face him. Her voice was quieter. “You smell nice and not like an animal. I can't believe you finally took a bath without anyone telling you. Wait or was it because you wanted to smell nice specifically for today? For her?”

When Inumaki blushed, she burst into laughter.

Itadori was about to ask what they were talking about back there but they had already arrived on the fifth floor.

There were four different doors but they could easily tell which one was yours from the bright colored poster you had taped on it.

“What does it say?” Kugisaki couldn’t read because Itadori and Fushiguro were trying to take pictures of it.

“Welcome back Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College graduates,” Fushiguro read out loud.

“Put some feeling to it!” Itadori whined. “There are like five exclamation marks on it, you have to read it-“

The door he was pointing at opened.

“I told you I heard them,” you said with a giggle. Panda was already inside laughing quietly. You greeted them all, smiling from ear to ear before moving away from the door to invite them inside.

The younger trio walked inside first, then Maki hugged you, said something Inumaki couldn’t hear.

His eyes were on you, admiring how gorgeous you were.

“Aren’t you coming in?” you said then noticed the flowers in his hand. "Aww, Toge, you shouldn't have."

He gave the flowers to you, his cheeks flushed faintly pink as he walked past you to enter your home.

Inside, Panda and the trio were arguing about how he had gotten there before them.

“It’s a secret!” Panda yelled.

“He came from the roof so he wouldn’t be seen,” Maki replied as she hung her coat.

Laughter filled the apartment.

Inumaki felt at home, it had been so long since he heard the lively chatter of his friends.

“I’m glad you could make it,” you said, fixing Itadori’s jacket he had left on the floor instead of hanging it like everyone else.

“Salmon.” His pulse went haywire.

“I don’t know if you like beer or cognac but we have both.” He stared at you a little longer than usual so you elaborated. “When I left my job in Fukuoka, some colleagues bought me a cognac bottle. It’s bitter but I didn’t wanna waste it.”

“Heeeeyy, (name)!” Panda yelled, “Tell the youngsters to drink apple juice or something! They’re drinking from our stuff!”

“I have more beer in the fridge!” You turned around on your heels and walked into the kitchen to put the flowers in a vase, speaking louder so they could hear you through the thin wall. “Besides, aren’t they old enough to drink?!”

You peeked inside the living room to see what was happening.

Both Itadori and Kugisaki clinked their cans of beer, ignoring you while Fushiguro nodded in your direction to confirm.

“Then I don’t see the problem.” You took your place next to Maki.

Inumaki meekly walked inside, sitting between you and Panda.

“It’s nice having everyone together again.” Itadori smiled

“It really is,” you agreed. The beer tasted the best when you were with friends.

“Salmon.”

“You are so heartless, (name). You left us to move to Fukuoka.” Panda pouted as he leaned onto your shoulder, crushing Inumaki who was in the way.

“They offered me better pay.” You patted on his head, carding your fingers through his thick fur.

He leaned into your touch, humming softly. “Since you’re back here, money clearly doesn’t buy happiness.” he snickered.

“Money can buy happiness,” Kugisaki argued. “You can always buy the new fashion trends and new makeup. Don’t ever say that!”

Panda lifted his head to argue with Kugisaki while you used the opportunity to give out beer to anyone who hadn’t gotten one and you gave one to Inumaki, his fingers brushed against yours as he took it from you.

Maki gave an exaggerated sigh, “We came here to celebrate (name)’s return and her new place.” Everyone stared at her and she continued. “Let’s make sure to make her new house feel like a home.”

You listened to your friends’ cheers as they all cracked open their cans of beer, taking sips, chatting, and singing along to the faint music from the television program Panda turned on.

It would be genuinely hard to bring the gang together like this but one call from you had been enough since you were everyone’s soft spot in the group.

Years had passed.

You tried to not get lost in your thoughts and answered Maki who asked you what you were doing now that you moved here.

“Well, I couldn’t go back to working with Nanami since he finds me annoying.” You tried to humor it. “I live in a one-room apartment in the outskirts of Tokyo as you can see and work as a temporary sorcerer under someone Gojo introduced me to.”

Maki laughed, “What did you expect? Everything would be unchanged and that you’d get a job immediately?”

“I think she’s complaining about working for someone Gojo introduced her to.” Fushiguro theorized while holding his chin.

“No, she’s bummed out about living in a one-room apartment.” Itadori joined the nonsense.

“I’m just sad that I had to leave Fukuoka to live in a one-room apartment in Tokyo and work for Gojo’s friend!” you whined.

“Just like we guessed,” Maki said.

With another sigh, you rolled your eyes.

“You got yourself a boyfriend yet?” Kugisaki’s question made everyone look at you.

“I didn’t have time to find one,” you spoke behind your beer can.

“Talking about boyfriend…” Panda hummed, “Inumaki had a huuuge crush on you back when we were still students.”

“I completely forgot about that,” Maki feigned being clueless and punctuated her words by smacking a balled fist down onto her other hand. "I remember it now! How nostalgic! Inumaki always stared at you and all."

“Oh, really?” Your face softened as a faint color of pink tinted your cheeks, eyes landing on the young man who was blushing all the same. “You liked me?”

Inumaki kept nodding as if to agree with what they were saying.

“I never noticed,” Fushiguro said.

“Me neither, Inumaki is really good at hiding his feelings because he doesn’t talk much.”

“Well, that was in the past,” Kugisaki replied. “Some high school crush doesn’t last forever.”

Before anyone else could comment on the topic, Panda changed the subject, finally getting his claws on the cognac bottle to drink the last bit.

That still didn’t stop the two of you from blushing.

As the night dragged on, the chatting continued but as the time was getting late, people had to get going.

Itadori and Fushiguro left first when Sukuna’s vessel revealed to be the type who couldn’t hold his drink.

Maki and Kugisaki left together, Panda had told you that they lived together. You didn’t ask too many questions but you could tell why.

Panda took his leave right after the two girls left. He congratulated you once more before saying goodbye and leaving from where he came.

“I guess it’s only the two of us left,” you said, standing beside Inumaki after you put the presents on the kitchen counter for further inspection.

“Tuna mayo.”

“You can sit on the couch, I’ll go get some more snacks,” you informed, leaning forward starting to collect the empty beer cans but Inumaki got up to help you clean the table before finally, he slumped on the empty couch while you prepared something in the kitchen.

You entered the living room and walked around the couch to put a tray full of snacks and drinks on the low table. It was obvious he didn’t want to leave yet and you didn’t have the heart to bring up the fact that you had to get up early.

“You look different,” you said as you sat next to him, leaving a small space between. “I mean, obviously you would but unlike the others, you look more mature.”

He stared, waiting for you to continue.

“Nevermind.” Panicked, you instead reached for your beer.

Inumaki grabbed his remaining beer and chugged it until the can was empty.

Then you followed his lead to finish your own beer, once your own can was also empty, you both put the cans on the table. You felt slightly dizzy from the alcohol, you regretted drinking it too fast. You were quite lightweight after all.

You looked up at him with your cheeks tinted with a faint red from alcohol and stretched your arms. “So… you used to like me,” you said.

He clasped his chin between index finger and thumb and pretended to give the matter some serious thought. “Salmon.”

You laughed, something he hadn’t thought you would do. He hadn’t realized it until now but the two of you always had found it easy to have fun together. You were patient and you always listened to him. Always.

“I used to have a crush on you too but I didn’t think you liked me.”

Your words petrified him. The way you looked at him was indescribable, he had never thought he would see this expression on you.

You continued after a momentary silence, cheeks blushing furiously. “I mean… I don’t know, forget about it. It’s in the past. It was in the past. You liked me in the past. As Kugisaki said, a crush from high school doesn’t last forever.”

Inumaki opened his mouth to say something but he closed it when he noticed your stare at him.

“You…” you continued as Inumaki looked at you and spoke without thinking. “You still like me.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a fact.

He felt a little embarrassed, he was way too nervous. You were both drunk and it was just an observation. Nonetheless, he went warm all over, eyes wide in surprise. His heart was hammering through his chest. He was sure he was going to die of a heart attack.

There was a small moment of silence before he placed his hand on top of yours. He couldn’t hide his excitement, he was here, alone with the woman he loved. He had the biggest smile on his face and he was as red as a tomato. Ah, his friends would make fun of him if they hadn’t left so early.

He was being too obvious about liking you.

“You’re too close,” you remarked with a giggle, trying to cover your embarrassment.

Everything was happening too quickly for his head to catch up. He was already embarrassed about the whole of his feelings being exposed and now when you were looking like this in front of him was off-limits.

He couldn’t hold back anymore. He finally had you back, he was too scared to let you go.

“Kiss me,” he said, startling you.

A sudden rush of shivers running down your spine left you panting and you moved forward without even wanting to. Your body was moving on its own, your lips parted and pressed against Inumaki’s.

Your pulse quickened in both panic and confusion as his lips moved against yours, hesitant yet still hungry to taste you greedily. He pushed his tongue inside, savoring your taste as your entire mouth moved without your will.

His hand moved on your neck petting the hair strands falling down to your nape. Something closer to a laugh escaped him, it was the first genuine laugh you had heard coming from him.

He pulled himself back and you finally gained back control on your own body but something still felt foreign. Your head was dizzy. “Toge,” you managed, “I think you had too much to drink.”

“Fish flakes,” he responded.

Taken aback by his remark, you were quiet for a moment before making a move to get up from the couch. “You should leave.”

All of his remaining logical thoughts jumped out of the window as he sucked the air through his teeth, making a loud whistle sound. “Don’t move.”

Your body froze on the couch in the position you were. Your face flushed red as he carefully placed a hand on your hip and he started to lean closer to your face.

You watched him tilt his head. Slowly but at the same time desperately, he moved his hand. His hand slipped under your shirt, just enough so that his fingertips brushed the skin above your abdomen, and he whispered. “(name).”

Hearing your name come out from his lips made you feel euphoric. This was the first time he called you by your name and you wanted to hear it more.

Inumaki moved closer to you with a lustful haze in his eyes. He was already breathless for finally having you this close to him.

You felt the same way, being under him made you feel like you belonged there. It all felt wrong, this wasn’t a normal day where you were feeling aroused. You were with Inumaki and he was groping your tits. You kept trying to think rationally but your mind kept telling you that this was all you needed.

Inumaki was everything you needed right now.

Inumaki stared down at you, studying every detail of your face while he balanced himself on his balled-up fist. Your eyes and your skin, your hair around your head in a halo.

His chest heaved as he struggled to handle the new sensations you were giving his body.

You stole a quick glance in his direction and squeaked in surprise when his smoldering eyes stared back. Frozen in his place, he did nothing but look down at you under him. He sighed, he was already a little tired from everything he had done today. He was also very drunk but here you both were.

Inumaki leaned in for another kiss, his hand still cupping your tit. This time, you kissed him back, realizing that you could move again. Instead of using it to your advantage to push him away, you pulled him closer.

His weight started to settle on top of you and only then you noticed something poking your groin. You broke the kiss and looked between your bodies to see him supporting an erection beneath the fabric of his pants.

Your mouth opened and you gasped.

Inumaki took the opportunity to snake his tongue down your throat once again. You started to acknowledge what he was doing. He was rocking his erection against your groin as he kissed you. Your eyes widened. You could feel everything .

Somehow that made you moan into the kiss. His cock was achingly, impossibly hard. You moved your hips to his clothed erection begging to be released.

Although none of you said anything, both of you were thinking the same thing.

I want you.

It took less than a second for him to take off his shirt and start to fiddle with his belt.

You unbuttoned your shirt before hiking your skirt up as he was hurriedly pulling his pants down. As soon as he managed to kick them off, he pulled your panties down with force.

The way he was acting so desperate to get inside you made your breath hitch.

Wrapping a hand around his cock, he looked down at you to embed this sight of you into his mind. Another thing he had never thought he would see.

He couldn’t wait any longer.

Inumaki lined himself on your entrance and snapped his hips forward. Both of you groaned for different reasons.

“Toge,” you whispered, hands reaching out to hold onto his shoulders. “Be gentle.”

He wasn’t listening. You only realized that he wasn’t listening when he pulled himself back and thrust inside your pussy mercilessly.

A moan left your lips.

His virgin cock was being squeezed by your gummy walls, there was slick blood dripping from your pussy to the couch which told him how you had been waiting for him just as he was waiting for you.

Good , he thought. I would’ve killed them if someone other than me took your innocence.

At this moment, Inumaki was happy to know that he was the only person who had been allowed to see you like this. An animalistic snarl rose up from the pit of his stomach and he started fucking you frantically into the couch.

The pain of your hymen being torn completely forgotten, you exhaled roughly, it was too much, his rough rhythm and his cock stretching you out... it made your body undeniably aroused.

You wanted more but his cock was already twitching, threatening to spill his load inside of you. He cursed internally, it was too soon. He wanted more, he wanted to treasure this moment more.

His hips slammed against yours with force, each thrust filled with desperation to hold out a little longer so he could feel your heat surrounding him.

Nevertheless, it was futile. He could never stop himself from cumming when he had been yearning to do this for so long.

Inumaki grabbed the back of your knees and pushed them down until he got you into a position where he could fuck you deeper. He still wasn’t done indulging in your pussy, not yet.

Each and every time he thrust up into you, you moaned out his name just the way he had thought you would in his fantasies.

His pace picked up speed, he was close. He wanted to tell you who you actually belonged to by being deep inside of your guts. He grabbed your hands that were trying to push him on his chest and placed them on his shoulders instead. He leaned in closer to you, giving you the chance to wrap your legs around his hips.

Now, you were shaking your hips, moving to meet his thrusts. Gradually his cock started painfully throbbing inside you when you clenched around him. You were unable to hold onto anything but him, you were moving with him on the couch with each thrust.

“Cum on my cock,” he growled, not realizing the actual power behind his words.

You could feel the toe-curling pressure of orgasm almost immediately. A gurgle forced its way up to your throat and your body started shaking again, submerged in waves of hot tremors as white pleasure building in your gut suddenly took over your senses.

Your mouth opened in a silent cry while your legs shook uncontrollably around Inumaki’s waist. Disgustingly sloppy sounds as he thrust inside of you were all you could hear. Your ears were burning while you tried desperately to hold onto something to not completely lose yourself.

Gummy walls clenching around his cock were now threatening to suck him dry. Inumaki could no longer resist your pussy, he snapped his hips forward until they were flush against yours one last time. The tip of his cock kissed your cervix thanks to his cock being buried deep inside you in this position.

Thick seed spurted out from his cock and spilled inside your fertile womb, the warmth was irresistible, you could only think about being filled with his seed.

Inumaki brushed your matted hair out of your face and leaned in for a kiss, still rocking his hips back and forth inside you. You sloppily kissed him back until he broke the kiss to admire the look on your face. You found yourself staring at the heavy droplets of sweat that had made his bangs stick clumpy on his forehead.

When he finally pulled out of you, no matter how small your couch was, Inumaki managed to cuddle with you.

As the two of you were catching your breaths you completely forgot about having to get up early tomorrow or how you were still half-dressed or how uncomfortable the couch actually was. All of those thoughts were pushed back to the furthest parts of your mind while you buried your face in Inumaki's chest, steadily noting to talk about safe words with him in the future.

[pumpkinmaster999]

Heroes Walk in Dirt

By Jess Awh

At last call at the bar I am eight shots in, swing dancing with a broom while Sasha wipes the wood down. His face says he’s wondering how a mess like me can be trusted to clean shit up.

I tell him when I’m home I like to vacuum drunk. Drunk vacuuming is kinda like being on a swing: you blithely toss your body around the room in a tango with the vacuum, singing to yourself, forgetting certain corners. I sing the live recorded version of a John Prine song, “That’s the Way that the World Goes Round.” Sasha asks why live. The song’s got this line: “it’s a half an inch of water and you think you’re gonna drown,” I say, but on the live tape John Prine tells the crowd how a woman came up to him in San Fransisco once and asked him to play his song about the happy enchilada. She thought it went, “it’s a happy enchilada and you think you’re gonna drown.”

In my bedroom I take eight shots of Jim Beam and grab the expensive vacuum I bought at Costco with the different detachable heads which I call “my vacuum ingredients,” and I swing and sing to myself about the happy enchilada.

Sasha shrugs and scrubs the gun line. He says that that John Prine song has a verse where John Prine pretty much says it’s ok to beat your wife. It isn’t okay to beat your wife, I don’t sing that verse. I know it isn’t okay to beat your wife. My wood floors shine. I hate when dirt from the floor sticks to my feet as though it were all the world’s injustice.

I smoke in the tub and I swim in the Hudson, so in a way no bath I take is ever clean as a true baptism. I dislike the laundromat, so I wash clothes at home and hang them on the fire escape. In a nutshell, all I can do is try, I say, in a nutshell. Trying is what we do when succeeding eludes our sight. Sasha once came over after work and laid on my bed eating pistachios, setting the empty shells down on his chest. He’s been upset because his ex is about to marry a man she loves less just to get him a green card and have some kids. I’d never ask anyone or anything to change. I would’ve vacuumed his shirt, though.

I walk to the train to work like always and Lee is waiting outside the liquor store. For whatever reason, the liquor store people hired him seemingly just to stand outside and ask people how they’re doing as they go by. He’s hardly ever inside, and when he is he doesn’t seem to be doing anything. He doesn’t have any flyers to hand out. “What’s new, Lee?” “Oh, you know, new gangsters, new crackheads.” “Oh yeah? You look spiffy. I like the blazer.” “Ah, thanks, it’s gettin’ cold.” “Yep, yep.” “My birthday’s coming up.” I like that one because he always tells me what’s new with the block when I’m really asking what’s new with him. “Shit, when is it?” “The 26th.” “No way, I’m having a party that night. I’ll bring you a piece of cake or something.” We laugh. Lee is always in a clean black button down and black pants that are never wrinkly. He’s like a blackboard that got wiped down with a wet towel. I’m gonna bring him cake because he doesn’t expect me to. We live in this charmed narrative where we move one plant into the sun, or put a sardine out for one stray cat, or organize one shelf, and then the sky opens up so sunbeams land on our shoulders like we somehow answered a prayer God didn’t even say out loud. I read this story in American Girl Magazine when I was nine where they’re walking on the beach and they find hundreds of washed up starfish dying in the sun. The one girl says “we can’t save them all, it’s pointless” and the other starts throwing them in the water one by one. She goes “but we can at least save a few, and that still matters.”

I get to the bar and this guy I know is there drinking, Grant Barber. I tell Sasha I’m going to go hide in the basement and he knows what I mean. A couple summers ago when I was bartending in Chinatown I became friends with Grant Barber because he was living in the radio station. He’d listen to my show on the mail room speakers on Sundays and say things like “I’m glad you played Patsy Cline” or “I can tell you like the music, that’s why you’re such a good host.” Grant Barber has blue eyes like Santa’s eyes, and that’s why I started buying him lunch and letting him shower at my apartment. I’m a good person but I get starfished sometimes. So I served court papers to the squatter who’d forced him out of his place in BedStuy, I went with him to the notary and everything, but when the legal shit started to drag along and he was sending me messages like “I’m gonna kill myself today” and “why won’t you answer me, I’m going to die” I stopped replying. I couldn’t fix it any more for him, and what was I gonna do, sit there listening to a dude I barely knew threaten suicide because I ignored his Facebook DMs? He said he never asked me to “fix it,” just to be there, and then he said he was in love with me. I said this is too many starfish. Actually, I said nothing.

Grant Barber talked to Blaze Foley in Austin back in 1985. I believe that story because he never lied to me about anything else besides the killing himself. “Fuck, I love Blaze Foley, seriously?” Yeah, at this concert at The Outhouse where he was double billed with Townes Van Zandt. Townes played for an hour straight, and I was there with my girlfriend, they were waiting for Blaze to come onstage but no one could find him I guess. He came on and played one song, then left again. That night is the only time I talked to him ever even though I saw him twice or three times. I’ll never forget what he said…I went to the men’s room and he was there barreling through a fifth of whiskey…slouched over a urinal. It was just us two and for some reason I started rambling about how much I looked up to him, how his music moved me, and then he stared at me and said one sentence. He said, and he was slurring—it took him a whole long minute to say this—he said “my problem is that I can’t stop being funny.”

I was funny once, at a nude figure drawing session held by a local art club. They had offered me thirty bucks to play the guitar and sing my songs while the models posed and the artists sketched them. The room echoed like the inside of a drum and the floors were shiny. I sang things I had written and they mingled with the dust lit up by the window and hovering in the air. Afterwards a girl came up to me and said “I loved your lyrics, they were so funny!” And maybe they were funny, but I recoiled because I felt stung, because I had been admitting that I was weak, which is braver than most things I do. Blaze Foley got shot in the chest by his friend Concho January’s son. That’s how he died. He confronted Carey, the son, about stealing Concho January’s veteran pension and welfare checks, and a few days later Carey shot him. Blaze’s friends covered his coffin in duct tape because he never got starfished, he knew his strength even though he looked to be made of flesh. Sasha was uninvited to his ex’s wedding because Gavin (the new fiancé) hates him, and when he found out he said fine, I’m happy for you guys, then cried on my shoulder in the bar basement later.

I love Blaze Foley but I doubt I would’ve ever dated him because I bet his hair was dirty all the time. He has this song called “Sittin’ by the Side of the Road” that’s about being homeless and being fine with it, because what do you even need besides a guitar and a meal to eat? I need a sanctuary that I can control and retreat to. The best gift I’ve ever given a friend is an invitation to stay with me, to hide in my house with the vacuumed floors, out of New York, and feel clean. This is why I wouldn’t date Sasha: his apartment is an unheeded hodgepodge of once-important or still-important things not set in order, not categorized, not scrubbed with Clorox wipes. I wonder what service he’s out there doing that makes him forget about cleaning. He texts me that Grant Barber left the bar and I come upstairs, eyeing the balled-up napkins and brown leaves sprinkled on the ground as I walk to the front door. I will clean this up before anyone else has a chance to disregard it.

[lizard-hair]

The Angel of Gotham City

(or, lizardhair posts his fic on tumblr too because he likes attention...but you should really just read this on ao3)

“Yeah, I seen it. Well, it’s shadow, anyhow.” The woman took a drag off of her cigarette. “Those wings have gotta be giant. An' I’m telling ya now, that thing is dangerous. A criminal in the makin’.”

  *

  “Do I believe this being to be an angel? Absolutely.” The man nodded, solemn. “Yes, an answer to this city’s supplications, sent by our Heavenly Father.”

  *

  “Probably just some freak’s science experiment.” The man grinned lecherously before continuing. “Or a sex doll come to life.”

  *

  “A new Rogue, maybe? It scares me, whatever it is. Flying overhead like some kinda bird of prey. Ugh.”

  *

  “I think she’s super pretty! My mommy says I made it up, but I really did see the angel! I found one of her feathers, but daddy said it just fell off a bird. He threw it out ‘cause wild birds are dirty.”

    Waylon Jones scratched his scaly head as he turned the TV off. The signal had been as weak as usual--reception wasn’t great when you lived in the sewers--but at least he had managed to tune into the news.

  “An angel, huh?” Waylon said to himself. “Seems ‘bout as likely as anything else in Gotham.” He laughed. “Wish I could see her for myself, though.” Fishing out an old flip phone from his pants pocket, Waylon used the tip of his right index claw to type in his friend’s number. “Should really just put the guy on speed dial,” Waylon mumbled.

      Drury Walker had not, in fact, watched the 9 o’clock news, so he was glad to have gotten the story from Killer Croc. He held out a hand, allowing one of the many moths that fluttered around him to alight on his palm. He spoke to it, his voice barely a whisper.

  “A God-sent angel seems unlikely to me, 5502, but a metahuman...a metahuman is quite probable.” Drury’s faceted eyes glittered in the dim room. “I could use an assistant, you know.”

  Moth 5502 flapped its wings, rising once more into the air and rejoining its brothers and sisters. Drury watched the thousands of insects as they danced, his own wings quivering in response to their movements. It would be nice to have another Rogue with proper flight abilities. Firefly relies on his jetpack, and is a damned pyromaniac to boot. Man-Bat’s transformation is unpredictable, his wings weak and unwieldy.

  “But you, apparent angel, might be the answer to at least my prayers.”

   Killer Moth flew between Gotham’s skyscrapers, doing his best to ignore the light of the city’s nightlife. Up in the dark sky, he was near-invisible--and nigh-undefeatable. Not even the Bat’s grappling hooks could reach this far. Or so I hope, thought Drury.

  It was difficult to search for a being whose appearance was unfamiliar to him, save for the knowledge that she had wings...and was supposedly beautiful. Drury had no idea of this “angel’s” habits or hiding place, meaning that locating her would be dependent on luck.

  “And I have never been all that lucky,” said Drury. Nonetheless, regardless of the results of his quest, it was exquisite to be able to stretch his wings and feel the wind blowing through his antennae. He had been lurking landbound in his hideout for far too long, he realized. But so it went when absorbed by an experiment.

  An abrupt flash of white in the darkness below.

  “Feathers,” Killer Moth said, banking to his left and beginning his descent.

   Drury stood on the roof of an abandoned office building, a safe distance away from the decrepit wooden water tower in the roof’s center. Sorry lodgings for an angel, he laughed to himself.

  “Miss?” Drury called, his voice raspy. “Are you in there? I have no wish to harm you; I only want to talk.”

  A faint noise from within the tower. Movement, perhaps?

  “I believe you and I may have something in--” Drury suddenly became aware of a smell. It was the scent of garbage and rot. “--in common,” Drury finished. This may have been a mistake, he thought. The image of rotting bones picked half-clean of meat flickered in his mind’s eye, the sound of tearing flesh echoing wetly. But when the angel emerged from the water tower, Drury’s fear vanished as soon as it had appeared.

  She appeared very human, this angel. Nothing like Moth or Croc. The only abnormal features were the broad white wings and feathery, coal-grey hair. And the eyes. The angel’s eyes were visible even in the faint lights from the city below, yellow irises locked on the other metahuman.

  “Greetings,” said Drury. “I am he known as Killer Moth.” He took a small, non-threatening step forwards. “And you must be the angel I’ve been hearing about.”

  “I’m not a miss," said the angel. “I’m no angel, either.”

  Drury flicked an antenna. “Apologies...mister?”

  A nod. Then a pause. “You’re really...Killer Moth? The Rogue?”

  “I am indeed,” said Drury. The not-angel looked more relaxed now, though his wings still seemed ready to pop fully open at any moment.

  “What do you want with me?”

  “Let us start with your name, hmm?”

  Yellow eyes darted to the side, then back to Drury. “I’m Giovanni.”

  Giovanni? A large name for such a small creature, thought Drury. But out loud he said, “A fine name for a young gentleman. Italian, are you?”

  “My grandparents were.” A flash of those strange irises. “You really think Giovanni is a good name?”

  “Yes?” said Drury, caught off-guard by the odd question. Don’t tell me that this boy has an ego the size of Riddler’s, he thought.

  Then Giovanni smiled. It was wry and crooked, but there was genuine happiness, too. “Cool,” was all Giovanni said. He walked over to Drury-- past Drury, and plopped down on the edge of the roof. “Have a seat,” Giovanni said over his shoulder.

  Drury hesitated, then shrugged. He sat to the boy’s left, and the two both rearranged their wings as they looked out over Gotham.

  “It’s nice here,” Giovanni said.

  Drury couldn’t help but scoff. “Few would have such kind words about this city.”

  “It’s nicer than where I was. I’m from Bludhaven,” Giovanni said before Drury could ask. “It was all steel mills and fisheries. So much stinking fish...”

  “What prompted you to leave?”

  “I...just didn’t belong there. Bludhaven might have been where I grew up, where I lived, but I was never really... alive while I was in that place.”

  Though Drury was a poor judge of emotions, the young man he was sitting besides appeared sorrowful, yet angry. Drury sighed inwardly and decided to ignore it in order to keep the conversation moving. “And now you are in Gotham, residing in a water tower full of what I assume is your own garbage and leftovers.”

  “Yep,” said Giovanni. He turned to face Drury and winked. “But fuck, do I ever feel alive.”

  “...You are a peculiar young lad, Giovanni,” Drury said, feeling something akin to amusement.

  “They called me that a lot back in Bludhaven,” Giovanni said. “Just in more... impolite terms.” He got to his feet and yawned, then shot a grin at Drury. “Do you know what else they called me, Killer Moth?”

  Drury’s mouth formed something that could be considered a smile. “Pray tell, what else did they call you?”

  Giovanni snapped his white wings open, and Drury could now see that there was a line of ink-black on the very bottom of the secondary feathers, along with an obsidian patch at the tips of the primaries.

  “Seagull,” said Giovanni, and he dove off of the roof. He was out of Drury’s view for only a few seconds before shooting, with a great flap of his wings, into the night sky. Drury heard the boy let out a whoop of joy as he flew higher, then shot back down to the roof, a gust of wind heralding his landing.

  Drury nodded slowly, smile still pulling at his lips. “Gull,” he said. “A shorter alias for a new life, perhaps?”

  Giovanni laughed, and it was the cry of ocean birds. “If you’re asking me to team up with you and commit crimes, my answer is “hell yes.” I mean, this is Gotham, and I am one of those scary metahumans.”

  Drury stood and patted Giovanni’s bony shoulder. The young man obviously knew what he was getting into, and was not only willing, but enthusiastic . It was strange, but he felt almost proud of the boy. These younger folks are impressive. Evolution at its finest, I suppose, Drury thought. To Giovanni, he said,

  “Come now, I will show you to my laboratory. You are most welcome to take up accomodations there.” Drury paused. A Rogue he may be, but he wanted to make this clear. “However...if you follow me, there will be no going back to your civilian lifestyle.” With that, Drury stepped off the edge of the roof and into the warm air.

  Killer Moth caught an updraft and began gliding upwards; a moment later, he heard the sound of feathered wings flapping after him. My luck has finally changed, it should seem, he thought. Croc and my dear moths will be overjoyed.

  “I like the sound of it,” Giovanni said to the lights of Gotham City as they unfurled beneath him. “Gull.”

[commandercrouton]

KogKag Week Prompt #2

Demons/Humans

Summary: I decided to do a different approach to the prompt, making Kagome a demon, and Kouga a human. Enjoy!

Kouga returned from his hunt early in the morning to find the village meeting in the center of town. He quickly dropped off the animal he killed in his tent, and rushed back to the meeting. He hoped the reason they were meeting was good. He was disappointed to discover the full moon had a blue ring around it as it reached the highest point in the sky. The water demon would need a sacrifice.

“How long will we sacrifice our children, our friends, our family to this cold hearted beast!?”

“We should fight her!”

“How can we fight a demon? She will destroy our homes and crops with floods. She will make sure fish avoid our traps. We will starve and die anyways if we do not please her!”

Kouga looked around his village and saw each villager trying to voice their own opinion whenever the dreaded blue ring appeared around the full moon. He was familiar with all their arguments, but it all ended the same. The village would succumb to pleasing the demon and sacrifice the person that was chosen. They could not risk losing an entire village for the pleasure of one’s safety.

He couldn’t stand to see one more family being ripped apart thanks to this demon. He rushed forward to the front of the crowd, and found himself facing the village leader.

“I volunteer myself to the water demon. I will go proudly for our village,” Kouga announced for all to hear. Mixed reactions were heard throughout the crowd. There were sighs of relief, and voices of disapproval. What would they do without the most gifted hunter their village had?

“It is a noble action to give yourself to the beast. Are you sure?” The village leader asked Kouga.

Kouga nodded in affirmation. He could not let the village know what he was truly planning. If he was going to kill this demon, he would need surprise on his side.

That night, Kouga was fitted in the finest silks their village had to offer.The many garments allowed him to hide his goraishi, the family heirloom passed from father to son. His long, unruly, black hair was smoothed and brushed into a fine ponytail. The village priest uttered a final prayer for Kouga’s soul before he was pushed into the icy waters.

Kouga fought the urge to survive and swim to reach the surface. The farther he sank in the lake, the darker it became. His lungs were begging for the relief of air, and he could feel himself losing consciousness. Kouga thought he saw a light in the distance, before everything went black.

Kouga slowly stirred into consciousness as he realized he wasn’t in the water anymore, and he could breathe again. He immediately coughed up water that resided in his lungs, and gasped hungrily for air.

“You’re up,” said a small voice next to him.

Kouga blearily opened his eyes and saw a little fox kit demon staring at him.

“The Lady of the castle wants to see you,” the fox kit continued. “Are you well enough to stand?”

The Lady of the castle? He must mean the water demon. Kouga knew this must be his only chance to slay the beast before he was killed. He may be a human, but he knew he could do it.

Kouga nodded and slowly stood. He looked at himself to see the fine silks his village dressed him in was replaced with fur clothing. It did do a better job of warming him in the icy depths of the lake, but he realized with sadness his weapon must have been lost in the depths as well.

The fox kit led Kouga through the hallways of the castle before they came upon a grand entrance to a massive throne room.

“Lady Kagome, I have brought the newest villager to you,” the fox kit announced, bowing to a figure sitting on the throne in front of him.

“Thank you Shippou. Please leave us,” Lady Kagome answered in a kind and authoritative voice. Shippou bowed gracefully, before he left, closing the door to the throne room, leaving the two alone.

Kouga looked at the petite figure sitting in the throne. He was surprised by how young and beautiful she was. She sat on a green throne that seemed to have grown from the plants that grew in the depths of the lake. Her dark hair was adorned with a water lily crown, which went well with her beautiful blue silk dress.

Kagome stood and walked from the throne to meet this newcomer directly. She could not help but notice how his gaze roamed over her body appreciatively. He was no doubt mesmerized by the silk dress she wore that was made from the waves of the lake itself. Each movement caused a ripple to run throughout her dress.

“Who are you, and why does your village continue to discard your human beings to my castle?” Lady Kagome demanded.

Kouga stood transfixed, shocked by the words the demon spoke. It must be a trap.

“Answer me,” she demanded.

“My name is Kouga, and our village does not discard humans to your realm. You demand them every blue moon! If we do not follow your command, you flood our village, and destroy our homes!” Kouga was shocked by how loud his voice came out.

Her laughter filled the air. It was sweet, and melodious, like a creek trickling over rocks. “I am not familiar with your human jokes, but I am sure this is what that must be,” she concluded. She smiled warmly at him, and Kouga felt his knees weaken.

“It is no joke. I am a sacrifice,” he stated weaker than he intended.

Horror and disgust formed on the water demon’s face as she realized what he spoke was truth. “I have never intended the village to discard their humans. Every one that has been sent here has been released and given gifts to live back in their human world. I may be a water demon, but I am no monster.”

Kouga watched her closely. “Prove it.”

Lady Kagome balked in response. “I will not. This is the third human that has been sent down here this season. My home is not waste for your humans to discard of unwanted villagers.”

Kouga watched her, disbelief still etched on his face. Lady Kagome did not know why his opinion of her mattered, but she found herself calling Shippou back in with the records he kept of every visitor she received.

“Shippou, please recite all human visitors that I have brought back to the castle, and what their outcome was. Tell no lies,” she commanded.

Shippou recited of old and young villagers, some that survived that fall in the lake, and some that did not. Kouga caught the look of sadness on Kagome’s face as Shippou spoke of a young girl who did not survive, no matter the efforts to save her. She was no older than five.

He continued to speak of villagers whom Kouga knew himself, but realized they only mentioned villagers from the last few years. He knew the village has been doing this since he was a child, and now he was a man of one and twenty.

“Pardon me, but how long have you resided in the lake?” he interrupted Shippou.

“I made this lake my home six years ago. My old home was polluted from blood and weapons of warring towns. I chose this home because it was far from battle,” Kagome answered.

Kouga knew that no new water demon announced their presence demanding the sacrifices as demons typically do. He must have been crazy, but he believed her.

“Lady Kagome, I request you make an appearance to the village, and explain to my village what has occurred, respectfully of course.” Kouga bowed.

“Will this stop your village from sending me humans to save?” She asked.

He nodded in response.

“Then I will do it. Kouga, please stand by my side, so they shall not doubt me.”

Lady Kagome grabbed Kouga’s hand, and he felt a surge of electricity shoot through him. He looked at this young woman, and saw kindness hidden by strength. Kouga found himself falling in love with this water demon. Kagome dropped an opaque stone that formed a bubble around the two. Kouga knew it was for his benefit, since he could not breathe underwater.

The two arose out of the water, shocking the villagers into a frenzy. Kogua saw the sun setting in the distance, and realized a day must have passed.

“I am the water demon, Lady Kagome, who resides in this lake. I beg of you, please do not send me sacrifices. I am a kind demon who chose this village because of the peacefulness. I was forced to leave my last home due to war. I vow I will not send floods to destroy your crops. I vow I will not let your village starve. If you heed my words, and believe in my honesty and truthfulness, I will be your guardian. I will protect your village, and all those who come to reside here. All I ask is you do not pollute my waters. Here is the man Kouga, the last man who you threw into my waters, left to drown in the bottom of the waters. I saved his life, and now I give him back to you. Let him attest to my truth.”

Kouga stepped forward and spoke to his small village. “Lady Kagome speaks the truth. She has only resided here for six years. Let us end the sacrifices. Let us end the separation of families. She means us no harm.”

The villagers were wary to believe the water demon, but they could not deny their own Kouga was standing there in flesh and blood.

“As a sign of faith, I will marry this human before me. As long as our children resides in this lake, and our home is treated with respect, your village need not worry,” Lady Kagome announced.

“I’m sorry, what?” Kouga asked her.

“We will marry.”

Kouga doubted what she said would come true, but the next week, he found himself standing on the edge of the lake, waiting for his bride to appear from the lake. When she emerged, the village leader resided over their ceremony, and the two were bonded. Kouga now had the lifespan of his mate. They loved each other for many years before they both succumbed to old age, leaving their children being to reside in the lake and watch over the village their father came from. When their children came of age to find their own homes, they chose which one was to stay. And so their family ruled the lake for centuries, while the tale of their water demon mother whom married a human man grew into legend that stayed with the village until the end of its days.

[aswithasunbeam]

The New World, Part II

Part I | Part III

Summary: When Eliza prayed for her husband to return to her, this wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. (Horror/ Zombie AU)

Warnings: Graphic Descriptions of Violence; Major Character Death

Eliza wiped a cool rag over her husband’s brow and wondered if it was possible for human meat to go rancid like that of cattle or chickens.

After finding the will to check on her children and warn them against leaving the room, she had returned to the basement to find the servant girl almost entirely devoured. Her husband had retreated back to his cot and watched contentedly as Eliza dragged the carcass back outside. With the horrifying task complete, she had fetched some water and cleaned the blood from Alexander’s face.

She’d also opened his sealed office for the first time in the month he’d been dead. Inside, she had found an old night shirt and some of his favorite books. After cleaning him up, she helped him change (desperately ignoring the bullet hole and the hastily stitched up incisions from his autopsy) and settled beside him on the cot to read out loud, pressed close to his side.

A peaceful hour had passed before she noticed him grabbing at his stomach again. His abdomen looked slightly distended from the feast of flesh on which he’d gorged himself. He couldn’t possibly be hungry again, Eliza thought with distress. 

He’d leaned forward suddenly and vomited up a vile combination of flesh, blood, and organs all over floor. He’d been violently ill ever since, vomiting on and off and rolling miserably on the cot. She sat at his side, cooing at him, soothing him, massaging his stomach as she always did.

And so, she was left wondering if the girl had been tainted in some way. Did he need live meat to eat? Or had he just eaten too much?

The only positive thing about his sudden illness was that she was spared the dilemma of finding more food for him. Where else could she go? Would she need to dig up cemeteries? Lure unsuspecting visitors into her basement? Or simply lead Alexander outside and bar the doors, hoping he wouldn’t find his way back in?

She passed the long hours by reading aloud anytime he wasn’t actively vomiting. The words seemed to soothe him even if he didn’t understand them. Once she thought she saw his lips moving, but he didn’t make any noise and he didn’t look to be forming any actual words.

The thought occurred to her that she should write someone about this development. If the reason for Alexander’s sickness could be pinpointed, it might help the living mount a defense against the rest of the creatures rampaging their country. But to whom could she write? President Jefferson? She recoiled at telling her husband’s erstwhile enemy anything about a weakness of his, even now. And how could she even send such a letter?

No, she’d simply stay with him and see him well. She’d find a way to keep him fed, too, whatever it did to her conscience. “I love you,” she told him, firmly, issuing the statement like a vow as she interrupted a passage of Plutarch’s Lives. He met her eyes, and for the first time looked almost as if he understood her.

She found herself feeling slightly light headed and fatigued as time marched into the wee hours of the morning. The letters on the page began to swim, and she closed her eyes for a moment.

~*~

“Eliza?”

She sighed sleepily, pressing her face into an extraordinarily comfortable pillow. Her husband’s aftershave tickled her nostrils. She felt warm and safe for the first time in so long.

“Eliza? Wake up.”

Her brow furrowed slightly. Was that Alexander’s voice? It sounded rough and weak, barely more than a whisper, as though he were suffering from a bad cold. Had he been ill?

Reality hit her all at once. He’d been more than ill. He’d been dead for a long month.

Her eyes opened wide and she sat up, pushing away from his chest where she’d apparently fallen asleep. She shook off her strange dreams and stretched. The candle had burned down in the night so she couldn’t see her husband’s face.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she whispered to him, rubbing a hand over his middle. “Is your stomach better this morning?”

“Somewhat.”

Eliza gasped and snatched her hand away. She strained her eyes in the darkness to see him. Had he really spoken? His voice has the same scratchy hoarse sound as what she’d thought had been her dreams. Had he truly woken her?

“Please don’t be frightened,” he said calmly. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I…I didn’t think you could speak,” she told him, fighting to return her breathing to normal.

“I couldn’t, before,” he answered simply. Before what, she wondered. “Are you well, dearest? You fell asleep quite abruptly last night. I was worried for you.”

She felt her head swimming again at this latest bizarre turn of events. She shook her head, and set about quelling her dead husband’s concern. “Fine, darling, just…exhausted, I suppose.”

“Would you like to lay beside me a while longer?” he offered, scooting back on the cot. His words were sweet as honey to her ear, but she found herself leaning away.

She thought about lighting a candle again. It might help to see his face. For all that she’d wished he could speak last night, she couldn’t shake the sudden feeling that she was alone in the dark with a dangerous predator. Was he salivating with hunger again? Would he lure her to him and devour her as he had that girl’s body?

“Are you afraid of me, Betsey?” He sounded hurt. “I’m sorry about biting you yesterday. I was…not myself. I assure you I’m feeling quite restored to my senses.”

She still felt wary, but it was off-set by a little flutter of hope. Would this happen with all the creatures? Was the sickness the body’s way of purging the unholy urge to consume human flesh? Would they all be restored to themselves?

She took a breath to settle her nerves and crawled forward in the dark to rest beside him on the cot. She stretched her arm around his torso and pulled him close. Perhaps, she thought, her prayers had been answered after all.

~*~

When she woke again, it was to the sound of a rifle firing.

She sat up and realized with confusion that she was in her bed, not the cot downstairs. Had it all been a dream? A dark, terrifying dream? Someone was shouting. Her eldest son’s voice was demanding someone leave immediately. She pulled herself from the bed and hurried into the hall.

Alex had his father cornered at the far end of the hall, holding the smoking hunting rifle. Her husband looked better to her eyes than he had yesterday, though he was holding a hand to his chest. Had her son really fired?

“Alex,” she whispered.

“Stay back, Mama. You don’t need to see this,” her son demanded.

She ignored him and padded down the hall to her husband’s side.

“Did you carry me upstairs?” she asked as she peeled his hand away from his chest to inspect the damage. The bullet had hit him in the sternum, but there was no blood. She met his eyes, a clearer blue, no longer dull and milky as they had been yesterday.

He smiled weakly at her. “I thought you’d be more comfortable.”

“Mama, get away from it,” Alex demanded once more, voice panicky.

“Oh, for goodness sake, Alex, calm down. It’s all right, it’s only Papa. He won’t hurt us,” she assured him.

“It tried to bite me!” Alex exclaimed, his voice high. “It bit the others. That…that creature isn’t Papa. Not anymore.”

Eliza stepped back, fear growing again. Had he really attacked their children?

Alexander shook his head sharply. “I didn’t hurt them, Eliza. I promise. I’d never hurt our babies. You know that.”

She worried her lip, wanting to believe. She was still tense beside him, though, still feeling the instinctual desire to flee a predator when he moved.

“It did something to you, too, Mama. You look pale,” Alex added, ignoring his father’s assurance, face stark with worry.

“Alex,” Alexander started, taking a step towards their son.

Alex fired another round into his father. Alexander hissed in agony, sinking down to the floor as he clutched at the new wound, in precisely the same location as the fatal shot fired by Burr last month.

“Stop it!” A little voice called from the boy’s bedroom. William stepped into the hall, crying openly. “Stop hurting Papa!”

“It’s not Papa,” Alex insisted again, though he looked shaken.

Alexander pushed himself up against the wall and looked at their six year old. He pressed his forefinger to his lips in a shushing motion and winked. The gesture was supposed to be comforting she was sure, although his smile gave her a chill.

Eliza shooed the boy back into the room, away from the fighting and gun fire.  

“Eliza, could you give us a moment?” Alexander requested, still with his back flush against the wall. She didn’t want to, even with her eldest armed and more than willing to shoot. “Please,” he added when she made no move to comply. “I need a moment alone with our boy.”

“Go back into the room, Mama,” Alex demanded again. “You don’t want to watch this.”

Requested to leave by both parties, she finally relented and shut herself back in the room, listening at the door. The gun didn’t fire again. After a few moments, she heard someone hiss with pain. She flung the door aside, surprised to find her eldest held tight in her husband’s embrace.

“Everything’s all right now, Eliza.” Alexander assured her, cradling their boy’s head against his shoulder. "Everything is going to be just fine."

[alyraegom]

On 1.5 years: thankful reflection,

Today, I am thankful.  Extremely thankful, in fact.  And I am thankful all the more to be filled with thankfulness.

If you’ve walked with me from August of this year, you’ll know that it hasn’t always been this way.  Quite frankly, I wasn’t quite expecting myself to ever feel such a deep sense of thankfulness this school year.  Last semester was riddled daily with wrestling - even despairing - over how to love my students, that I had begun to resign to being okay with teaching them out of simply a sense of responsibility, but perhaps not a genuine care for them and their souls.  I entered this second semester with heaving sighs and desperate pleas for God to carry me through each day; if only He would equip me to sincerely love them each day at a time.  And praise God that He has answered that prayer - and today, He has filled my heart with gratitude to proclaim His faithfulness.

My students still drive me crazy.  They are extremely talkative.  They can be rude and sassy.  They poke and prod on purpose, like when they make comments that they know I disapprove of, their intentions betrayed by their facial expressions as they wait for some type of reaction.

But they are also incredibly hilarious and encouraging.  Their eagerness to learn, their persistence in asking questions, and their word vomit of random facts fills my heart. They encourage me to try again and persevere. They challenge me to see the world, to a degree, with childlike wonder. They move me to stand up for others and to be a voice of advocacy. They serve as incredibly tangible proofs that God, indeed, is good in all His creation. He wastes nothing and He makes no mistakes. He cares about every little detail in our lives. My students also provide comical relief on most days. They say the darnedest things, only made funnier by their unassuming disposition and innocence.  Case in point:

Thursday last week, in our History class, I was talking about polytheism.  I mentioned that some cultures in the past would sacrifice their children as a form of worship.

One of my students, with *sincere eagerness* exclaimed, “I want to be sacrificed!”

And I stood by the projector thinking, “Uhh… I really don’t think you do.”  I thought the funniest was over, but then…

Another student one seat over proceeded to ask: “Ms. Gomez, what’s it like to be sacrificed?”

And I might have drawn a blank for a few seconds because, what do you say to that?  I don’t know… I’ve never been sacrificed 😅

Teaching them is definitely not a field of roses everyday.  I’ve gotten frustrated more than once, and today was one such day.  I had to exercise more austerity with a student who continues to burp out loud and interrupt conversations without any trace of remorse.  But I’m learning, slowly, to be okay with this.  To be okay with the fact that days do not have to be all fine and dandy, and to embrace the craziness because reality is almost always crazy.  I am learning to not settle with simply fulfilling my responsibility, because my students deserve more.

With that, I’m also learning when to hold my tongue and extend grace, rather than allow my flesh to result in baseless explosion of anger or demanding control.  I am learning to fight to daily love my students, to commit to them.  I am learning daily to fight for joy when it is otherwise easy to just get lost in the dreariness of routine and grumble.  I am learning that fighting for these things is okay.  I do not need to feel certain emotions or happy butterflies just to be reassured of my commitment to teach them and watch them grow.  Days can be difficult and challenging, as much as they can be easy and rewarding.  God redeems all kinds of days and orchestrates them for His purposes. 

I am learning to not settle with simply fulfilling my responsibility ultimately because God deserves a joyful submission, whether circumstances are hard or easy.  I am learning that thankfulness and joy are rooted in the steadfastness of Jesus, my Savior.  And therefore, there can still be thankfulness and joy amidst unfavorable circumstances.

Praise the Lord that He is, indeed, steadfast.  In Him, there is no variation or shadow due to change (James 1:17).  All that He says comes to be; everything He sends out returns to Him having accomplished its purpose (Isaiah 55:11).  He has said that I will go out in joy and peace, and He has given the strength and power to live in joy and peace because He redeems (Isaiah 55:12; 48:20).  I am able to live with thankfulness because there is purpose in all things that come to be and pass, and God is good in all of it.

And today - this week - after I’ve had to correct at least one of my students two days in a row, I am thankful.  I am thankful for my students, who relieve my stress with their silliness almost as quickly as they can induce it with their stubbornness / rebellious nature (haha).  I am thankful for the privilege to teach, to be entrusted with the task of shaping my students’ thinking.  I am thankful for the waves of busyness that keep me on my toes, and the waves of ease that allow for rest.  I am thankful for times of difficulty and challenge that stretch me and remind me of my limitations and dependent nature, because these lead me to cling all the more to my Savior.  I am thankful for the opportunity to stand for a cause I believed in and witness solidarity.  I am thankful for coworkers who are dedicated, passionate, silly/ridiculous, incredibly intelligent and people I can consider my mentors.  I am thankful for early mornings, late nights, and short 10- and 30-minute break/lunch times that provide some sort of stillness in an otherwise busy, bustling, full day.  I am thankful for the opportunity to still live with my parents in this season, to be the recipient of their lavish love and extravagant grace, most often presented in the form of food on the table and my mom staying up most nights waiting for me to walk through the front door.  

I am thankful for long drives to Irvine that provide me with the opportunity to reflect/meditate/memorize/pray.  I am thankful for early morning Sunday Bible study with sisters + a dedicated pastor for the past 5 weeks.  I am thankful for sisters who are willing to both walk alongside me and give me the privilege of walking alongside them.  I am thankful for the promise that God hears the prayers of the righteous, and that He hears my prayers because He has caused me to stand upon the perfect righteousness of Jesus (Proverbs 15:29; James 5:16).  I am thankful for the discipline of recording prayers because I can tangibly see God’s kindness to hear my prayers and His wisdom in answering them.  I am thankful for the opportunity to play and enjoy football - a sport I never imagined I would ever enjoy (hopefully it lasts haha).  I am thankful for my car where I now usually spend time in prayer and the Word before I start the workday.  I am thankful for convictions that weigh upon my heart because they assure me of God’s work in me.  I am thankful for friends who wound in the present for the sake of my long-term growth - that they would love my soul, rather than my comfort, is terribly humbling.  I am thankful for the privilege to partner with friends who are convicted to go in obedience to the Great Commission (Matthew 28:18-20).  I am thankful that it is God who walks before them to reach the nations.  I am thankful for the sufficiency of Scripture and its power to teach, reprove, correct, train in righteousness, equip, and transform (2 Timothy 3:16-17).  I am thankful for faithful, servant-leaders who love the Lord, His Word, His church, and who submit themselves under the authority of God.  I am thankful for the privilege to study Scripture, and the greater privilege to know my Lord intimately.  I am thankful for God’s grace that pardons and continues to change my heart to be one like Mary’s in a predominantly Martha world.  Most of all, I am thankful for God who saved me, continues to save me from myself, qualifies me to share in the inheritance of the saints (Colossians 1:12), has transferred me from the dominion of darkness into light in Jesus, and is my sure and steady anchor amidst the waves of uncertainty.

And for the ability to praise and give thanks, I am all the more thankful.

I planned to write a reflection post on my first year of teaching at the end of last year, but alas, here we are 1 year, 1 semester, and 4 weeks later.  Hahaha.  Such is life nowadays, it seems; but better late than never.  This post only covers a fraction of what I’ve been reflecting on and all the thankfulness that has accumulated in my heart, but I’m thankful (again) to be able to start somewhere.  Hopefully, this will only result in an avalanche of clear thinking about the past 1.5 years.  In all things, praise the Lord!

[1] Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good, for his steadfast love endures forever. [2] Give thanks to the God of gods, for his steadfast love endures forever. [3] Give thanks to the Lord of lords, for his steadfast love endures forever; [4] to him who alone does great wonders, for his steadfast love endures forever; [5] to him who by understanding made the heavens, for his steadfast love endures forever; [6] to him who spread out the earth above the waters, for his steadfast love endures forever; [7] to him who made the great lights, for his steadfast love endures forever; [8] the sun to rule over the day, for his steadfast love endures forever; [9] the moon and stars to rule over the night, for his steadfast love endures forever; [10] to him who struck down the firstborn of Egypt, for his steadfast love endures forever; [11] and brought Israel out from among them, for his steadfast love endures forever; [12] with a strong hand and an outstretched arm, for his steadfast love endures forever; [13] to him who divided the Red Sea in two, for his steadfast love endures forever; [14] and made Israel pass through the midst of it, for his steadfast love endures forever; [15] but overthrew Pharaoh and his host in the Red Sea, for his steadfast love endures forever; [16] to him who led his people through the wilderness, for his steadfast love endures forever; [17] to him who struck down great kings, for his steadfast love endures forever; [18] and killed mighty kings, for his steadfast love endures forever; [19] Sihon, king of the Amorites, for his steadfast love endures forever; [20] and Og, king of Bashan, for his steadfast love endures forever; [21] and gave their land as a heritage, for his steadfast love endures forever; [22] a heritage to Israel his servant, for his steadfast love endures forever. [23] It is he who remembered us in our low estate, for his steadfast love endures forever; [24] and rescued us from our foes, for his steadfast love endures forever; [25] he who gives food to all flesh, for his steadfast love endures forever. [26] Give thanks to the God of heaven, for his steadfast love endures forever.  Psalm 136 (ESV)

[twsupernaturalimagine]

Never In Fact Homeless (Part 4)

Author: Abby (amorluzymelodia)

Word Count: 1642

Warnings: homelessness, drug use, suicide mention, cursing, non-con (not necessarily rape but reader is not of a sound mind)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Fic:

A few hours later and you couldn’t have moved if you’d wanted to, you were too drugged up. Leo had given you a few uppers liked he’d said, and at first you’d remembered why you’d gotten into this in the first place. The high. It was all laughs and smiles and good vibes for a while until Leo shot something into your arm that made your skin crawl. Literally. 

You saw maggots and worms crawling out of your skin and began scratching at your arms to get them off, but that only seemed to make them angrier, and more took their place. When you finally felt yourself coming down enough to calm down and tell yourself that what you were seeing wasn’t real, Leo approached you.

“Hey doll,” he slurred, drunk and high and everything in between. “Come ‘ere.” He took your hand and pulled you down a hallway, towards a back room with a bed, which he sat you down on. “Time to pay your fee.” He smiled a toothless grin at you and pushed you backward so you were laying on your back, with him over you. You couldn’t have stopped him if you’d wanted to. There were colors and shapes swirling around you, faceless creatures leering at you from the shadows, and truthfully you hardly noticed what Leo was doing to you, only his haphazard thrusts and weak grunts when he finished, landing on top of you with a huff.

You sat there for a moment, trying to decide if the man standing at the door was real or not. When his face morphed into a lizard you decided he wasn’t real and pushed Leo off of you, doing up your pants and making your way back into the main room, sitting down next to Marcus, who handed you a razor and began forming his own lines, indicating you should do the same. You had said you wouldn’t do heroin anymore, had promised yourself, and yet it was sitting in front of you, right for the taking. And your resolve was so low you couldn’t resist. So you snorted deeply, hoping the high would be a good one.

You were wrong. The maggots came back, this time with friends who burrowed into your skin. You could feel them chewing, hear them swallowing your flesh, leaving little holes behind. And it destroyed you. You scratched harder at your skin, digging in your nails when they didn’t go away, drawing blood. But the maggots fed off it, slurping it down and burrowing deeper. Something jumped out of the wall at you, passing through you and leaving you cold. Marcus was laughing too loud, scaring you. So when you couldn’t get the maggots off you picked up the razor in front of you and slashed at your wrist, hoping to drown them in your blood.

That was when you saw him. He was just a bright light but he was there, wings and all. And you cried out to him in anger and fear.

“Just kill me already!” you screamed, unaware of the tears rolling down your or the blood leaving your body. “Why are you doing this? Why did you save me? Was it to watch me suffer? To laugh at? Why?!”

He flashed bright white and vanished, which made you even more fearful oddly enough.

“Castiel!” You cried. “Castiel! Get back here you bastard!”

You tried to get up but fell over the table in front of you, knocking drugs and knows what else to the ground. You fell and could feel your head hit the ground, but wasn’t coherent enough to care. You saw him appear again, this time in his suit and trench coat and he tilted his head at you, looking concerned.

“I am sorry, Y/N,” he said. “I will fix this.”

“You’re not real!” you shouted as he reached out a hand to touch your forehead. “You’re not real…” but you were already drifting off, sleeping or into unconsciousness, you didn’t really care.

When you woke up your first thought was that your head didn’t hurt. Usually after a night like you would be in a lot of pain. But this morning there was none. That and the fact that warmth surrounded you and you could smell coffee led you to one thought.

You were dead.

It was the only explanation. Either you’d overdosed last night or Castiel was listening and had killed you. You weren’t sure if you were pleased about that, and if you truly were dead…where was the coffee coming from?

With that question in mind, you opened your eyes slowly, seeing not the ceiling of the dump you’d passed out in last night, but a plain concrete ceiling. Underneath you was a soft mattress and covering you were soft sheets and your head was placed on a comfortable pillow. The walls were bare but it was clearly a well-used room. There were flannels strewn around the room and the closet door was open to reveal even more flannels and what looked like a gray bathrobe. Where the hell were you?

Your question was answered however when none other than Sam Winchester walked through the door, causing your heart to race and you to shoot up in bed–you were surprised that that movement didn’t cause you to black out.

“Where the hell am I?” you demanded and Sam just sighed, placing a tray you only now noticed, containing juice, water, and waffles on the bedside table and sitting down next to you.

“You’re at our bunker,” he said calmly. “Castiel heard your prayer and when he found you he didn’t know what to do, so he brought you here.”

“I didn’t pray to him,” you hissed but Sam just shook his head.

“Well you must’ve or he wouldn’t have been able to hear you. He said you were pretty messed up when he found you. He wasn’t sure why but I’m willing to bet it was drugs,” he paused, his eyebrows raised. “Am I right?”

You grit your teeth and looked at your hands, startled when you realized the cuts from last night were nowhere to be seen, not even a scar. Just plain, pure skin.

“I had a bad trip,” you admitted shamefully. “It’s not the first time it’s happened.”

Sam just nodded and picked up the water, handing it to you and not looking away until you’d drank the whole glass.

“Well you’ve got Cas to thank for fixing your arms,” he said.

“What?” you asked, confused and Sam nodded.

“Cas said when he found you, you were bleeding and crying and shaking. I’m guessing your bad trip caused you to see some scary things huh?”

You just turned away from him and grabbed the plate of waffles. “Are these for me?” you asked and he nodded.

“Dean made ‘em. Seemed to think you looked a bit thin.”

You huffed a laugh around a mouthful of food. “Yeah well being homeless ain’t exactly the most nutritious way to live.”

You noticed Sam didn’t look uncomfortable at your mention of being homeless, which surprised you. Most of the time when the fact you were homeless came up with someone who wasn’t–church moms, volunteers at the shelter etc–their reactions were to look down in shame, like it was their fault or something. But Sam didn’t look at you differently, just like he knew how you felt. And somehow you believed that he did.

“You ever been homeless Sam?” you asked quietly and he smiled slightly.

“Not exactly. Dean and I…we moved around a lot as kids. Our job takes us all over the country, so we never really had a house. But we had our car so…no. We were never really homeless.”

You furrowed your brow. “So you’ve been doing this since you were kids?”

Sam nodded. “Our dad raised us in it.”

“Sounds like an A+ dad,” you scoffed. “But who am I to talk? Mine kicked me out when I was fifteen.”

“Why–” Sam was cut off by Dean entering the room, carrying yet another tray of food, this one containing potatoes and sausage.

“Ah good you’re awake,” he said and set the tray down next to it’s partner. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” you demanded.

“About that suicide attempt, Y/N,” he said gruffly. “Cas found you half alive, slits on your wrists and so drugged up you probably thought he was a hallucination. What the hell were you thinking?”

You put the plate down, suddenly not hungry.

“Who do you think you are?” you demanded. “You’re not my father or my priest, you don’t get to scoop me up off the street and demand to know all about my life because you did me a kindness. How I live my life is my business, not yours.”

“Well you’re life seems pretty screwed up kid.”

“You’re one to talk.” you spat and Dean just laughed.

“Hey kid I know my life is fucked up, I accept that. It’s you who hasn’t seemed to.”

You just scoffed and pushed the covers back, thankful Cas had healed you so you could walk fine without a hangover or injuries.

“Look I don’t need rescuing okay? I’m a big girl, I can handle myself. So thanks for patching me up but I’m good.”

“You’re not going anywhere, chief,” Dean said smugly and you glared at him.

“Oh yeah?” you demanded. “Who’s gonna stop me?”

“Y/N.” It was Castiel, and you froze. “Please, stay.”

“Why should I?” you demanded, turning towards him angrily.

“Because we care about you, Y/N,” Sam said kindly. “And we can help you.”

You took in his kind face, his puppy-dog eyes and the three of them looking at you not like a project…but like a person. So you took a deep breath and spoke.

“Start talking.”