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dearlymrme · 1 year

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Hi! For the prompts list, could you do 131 with Papa Secondo? I love the idea of him being really soft with his partner when he’s in private (or when he’s high because let’s be real he steals primos stash after a long day of papa-ing), and I think it’s a great prompt for some fun and funky Papa Pitbull content

Thank you for the ask! It was absolutely fun to write. We need more soft Secondo. I have only been high and felt serious effects twice. The first time, it made me feel so comfortable, and the sensation that my whole skin was wrapping me in a warm hug. The second time was from vaping and gave me uncontrollable laughter to the point my stomach was cramping, and I got five minute abs.

Cherry Poppers (Secondo x Reader)

Secondo x Reader || Recreational Drug Use || Age Difference || Daddy Kink || Innocence Kink || WC: 3031

His brothers call him a cradle robber, but neither of them are much better. Primo's wife is thirty years younger than him, and Terzo's current lover is twenty below. Your age doesn't matter much to him, but it does play a part. It's also about the fact that you are very inexperienced. Your friends had called you a prude, you didn't drink, you didn't party, you didn't even jaywalk, brought up by your mother to be afraid of damn near everything that was fun, that was wild and 'outrageous'.

You had realized that you lived your life under a gaslighter and got away. You needed a place to stay to get your life in order, support from people that would encourage you to live. You made new friends, and while you may not have made satanic vows yet, you certainly threw away your old ones. Then you met him. Your innocent but charismatic and eager sense to behold everything labeled 'evil' is what attracted him. Despite being the most inexperienced little swimmer of the church, you toed the water, liked how it felt, and wanted to swim.

You just needed someone to catch you when you jumped into the deep end.

And he was more than eager to be those arms.

He popped your cherry in more ways than one. Alcohol, dancing, sex, and now drugs.

The bed was comfortable, apparently one of the comfiest you had ever been on. He can only imagine the look of confusion of his brothers' faces when they enter their rooms to see all their pillows missing. Said foisted pillows were stacked as a mountain behind him, supporting you both nearly upright but conforming enough to let you relax and sink in them.

He had told you to get comfortable. You had quickly toed off your shoes, removed your borrowed hoodie, which practically ate you, and all but fell on your face into the nest, sighing in bliss. He then brought out the entertainment of the day. A small bong, marble in pattern with rich brown and cream colors, and already loaded.

You stared at the piece with wide but eager eyes. Sat up and then leaned against his side. He chuckled as you made grabby hands and then gently took the glass from him. He then waved the lighter in your face, snatching it out of reach when you tried to take it.

"Never used one before?" He asked, knowing full well you haven't.

"No. But you're gonna help me, right?" He nods and then lets you take the green Bic lighter before tapping his finger gently at the loaded dish.

"Press the lighter to it and let the smoke gather until I say when." He instructs. You swallow your excitement and try not to grin like an over eager kid before doing as he told you.

Now, you watch as a cloud forms inside the glass bowel. He gauges carefully, taking in your fascinated and excited expression as you watch the glass fog.

"That's enough." He taps your knee. "Now, seal your mouth over the top and breathe it in." You do as he instructs and lock your lips around the smooth glass opening and breathe. He bites his lip, picturing your lips wrapped around something else.

The smoke is hard on your lungs, causing a strain that you can't help but cough through it. A cloud of smoke leaves your mouth as you hack.

"Sorry." You choke, embarrassed. Secondo gives a chuckle from beside you, taking the glass from your hands.

"That's alright, ciliegia. Cough it out." He guides, and you try to breathe through it, but it's more a wheeze before it catches in the back of your throat again and you cough again.

He loads it up again. Letting the smoke gather much longer than you did before inhaling deeply. He doesn't cough, though, and you're impressed because it feels like there's something scratching the inside of your lungs.

He blows out a steady stream, and you settle into his side as he leans back against the pillows and lets his head loll. He hums, already a little high, and he feels his body practically turn into liquid as he enjoys the warmth.

"Now, we wait." One of his arms slings over your shoulder. He's casually dressed down, one of his off days, and of course, he spends it with you. He's not wearing his gloves again, and you shudder at the memory of his soft hands trailing down between your thighs, not but a week ago.

You're not the only one thinking about it. Being able to feel your skin against his has his dick quickly stirring against his slacks, and he takes a deep breath through his mouth. Ah, it was that kind of trip.

"Damn brother. I see how it is. Give us the commercial and keep the good shit for yourself."

"You nicked from Primo?" You ask and he huffed.

"He's not going to miss it. Old fart probably won't even notice until it's too late. Besides, who do you think he's growing it for in the first place? Us."

"Us specifically or like, the royal us?" He waves a hand.

"Doesn't matter. It's serving its purpose." He snickers. "For the good of the church." You laugh at his little cheer and lay your head against him. Content and very comfortable all of a sudden.

You run your hand over the bedsheets, and it kind of tickles. The duvet is embroidered with a very ugly gaudy but fancy pattern, clashes yet matches the room so well. Tracing it and catching on the fancy stitching causes your hands to tingle, and you lift one to look over it, and then you slowly begin to rub your fingers together.

It's almost as if you could feel your fingerprints. But your fingertips are just a part of your skin. You're just feeling your skin. The realization that, no, it's not your fingerprints. You just have skin. It seems to be the funniest thing in the world to you because you start to giggle and can't seem to stop.

"I think it might be kicking in." He chuckles and leans over to place a kiss on your forehead. You hum, further sinking into his side as it feels like his whole body has just opened up and enveloped you in a hug, or is that just your skin?

You're high. That's funny. You giggle again. It's funny just knowing you're high and that that's what is responsible for the giggles. Why is this so funny? It's funny that it's funny. You snicker and start to laugh again.

Secondo is now laughing with you and turns your head to place another kiss on your forehead and then leans down to kiss you on your mouth.

What an interesting feeling, his lips gliding against yours. You ruin it by breaking into another fit of giggles.

"It's good, right?" He smiles, earning a very enthusiastic nod. Then he simply stares at you, smiling joyously. It's a good look on him. You're so used to the hard glare and strong lines on his face, but he looks so young when he smiles. He's still staring. You're in the midst of breathing between bouts of girly laughter and looking him deep into his mismatched eyes.

"What?" You ask him, and his smile grows.

He breaks apart loudly and leads kisses behind your ear before nipping on your lobe gently. It sends a spark down below to your naval and has you huffing in quickly building arousal.

"Oh, don't mind me. I'm just enjoying the view." He takes advantage of your pause between fits of tittering to capture your mouth again, and this time, you moan into the kiss. His tongue his hot and heavy in your mouth as you attempt to slowly explore it. His kisses are always passionate, always letting you feel your way into what's comfortable and then gracefully leads you into something amazing.

Then you snort as his words finally hit you, and you push him lightly on the shoulder. He playfully attempts to bite your hand, snatching it up as you try to get away and laying kisses on your fingers. They tickle, too.

"Wanna try something?" He asks

"Always if it's with you." Now you're laughing at your own cheesiness.

He reached for bong again and took a deep hit. The water gurgling breaks through the room. It's starting to stink, a combination between the weed and his natural spicy smell. It's not a bad scent, but it'll definitely be stuck to you and your clothes for the rest of the day.

Then Secondo grabs you by your jaw and leans in close. You've seen this in movies. As he blows the smoke in your face, you breathe it in, eyes shining as your lungs complain. You turn away to cough again and hum as it serves to make your head feel heavier and your body hotter.

Secondo drags you back again by your chin and captures you're lips once more. This time you're taking change and he happily allows it. It's still a little clumsy and he knows that's because of the weed, you're a fast learner, you went from 'never kissed a man' to professional in a matter of weeks with his practice.

You hand skims his inner thigh, bumping right up against his cock and he's quickly reminded of just how damn hot this is. Getting you high and taking advantage of you had been the plan of the day but he hadn't accounted on it having this much effect on him.

He mentally grumbles another 'fuck you' to his older brother and breaks the kiss with a loud smack. He hisses against your chin, baring his teeth and grabs your hand as it skirts his knee.

"I'm so hard right now." He admits and then presses your hand directly against his aching dick, straining against the inner seam of his pants.

You murmur his words back to him in a daze and dare to look down at the indent of his cock in his jeans. At the sight, your core tightens and you press your thighs together.

"Can I sit on it?" You ask him because if it feels this good from just him touching you, you can't help but wonder what it would feel like if he was fucking you. You're already wet, the drug has you practically leaking, you can feel the slickness between your folds just from shifting your legs. The action sending spark of arousal further through you and your stroke Secondo's cock through his pants, wrapping your hand around the indention and giving a firm squeeze.

He groans, not expecting you to take charge, and his cock jumps against your palm.

You suddenly feel achingly empty.

"Yeah? You wanna sit on Daddy's cock?" He rephrases the question in a way that has your breath hitch and butterflies fluttering in your chest from his use of the word. Yeah, you want that. Absolutely. The longer you go empty the more desperate you suddenly feel for it. Your pussy clenches on nothing in desire for something. You nod dumbly as your hands go from gripping his dick to fumbling with his button and zipper.

He happily helps you, and together, you pull out your prize. Released from tight constraint of his pants, Secondo gives a grunt of relief and wraps a hand around his member, giving it a firm squeeze. It's flushed an angry red and already dribbling with precum.

He snickers as you thumb at the head for a moment, fascinated by the feeling of wet against your finger. Then you're distracted by the heat of his dick, hot, smooth, and soft the skin is. You trace your hands down to tangle with his thick pubic hair before throwing your leg over his and hovering in his lap. He lifts your skirt, watching as you part your underwear to the side and carefully line his cock up with your entrance.

You sink low enough to pop the head inside of you and have to bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from crying out how good it feels. Just that small amount has your legs quivering and cunt spasming. You can feel every bit of the bridge between his head and his shaft. It's hot, fascinating at how it feels hotter outside your cunt as your combined heats just melt into one, kinda like what you're doing now.

Secondo hisses between his teeth, hands grabbing at your thighs, but he makes no move to lower you. He has no intention of rushing you. He wants you to experience every bit of this at your own comfortable pace. He needs something to hold, though. If he doesn't have something to at least dig his nails into, he's going to lose his mind.

He blows out steadily through his mouth, nearly whistling before he takes in your appearance. You're flushed, your eyes are puffy and red from the smoke, and transfixed on where your bodies are joined, even though a small amount. You look so cute like this. Trusting him to take care of you, to hold back while you adjust, to help you through the dark water as you figure out how to swim amongst the sharks.

It makes his head spin, the amount of control he has over you. He pushed the first drink into your hand and then more as he helped you figure out what you had a taste for. He helped you let loose, weave and grind your hips against his as he taught you how to dance to that naughty stripper's music, and the again slowly move to something more casual in his office later that night. He's the one that pulled your cute little panties down around your ankles and ate you out for thirty minutes, stretched you out for ten, and then fucked you slow and carefully for what felt like an eternity.

He's getting high from more than just the weed. You were as good as a drug.

"Come on. I thought you wanted to sit on it."

Oh yeah. You did say that.

In one fluid and smooth drop, you take him fully . You croak a low gasp because it's tight with no prior preparation, but you're slick enough and wanton enough that it goes in easy. Your body all but welcomes the sudden fullness, the way your cunt starts to envelope around his prick, smooth skin that feels molten hot against the wet walls of your pussy.

"Fuuuuck. You're so tight." Secondo grunts as you force him to immediately bottom out. His balls, already tight, pressed against the slopes of your ass.

"So full." You describe, almost caught in a dream and press your hand to your lower stomach. You must be imagining it, but you could swear you feel a bump from his cock inside of you.

You reach up and wrap your arms around him, resting your head on his shoulder and just feeling for a moment. Secondo seems to understand this and returns your hug, running his hands up and down your back in soothing motions. It tickles, bursts goosebumps all over your body, and makes you take in tranquil breath.

"Can I move, ciliegia?" He asks you, and you nod before he rolls back against the pillows, bringing you with him as he props his knees up and starts to move.

He gyrates his hips with a meticulous rhythm, a slow ride, he's in no hurry.

You feel absolutely wrecked from the inside out and it was good he was taking charge at the moment because you can barely function properly right now, lost in the sensations of his cock dragging back and forth against your walls. Then he rubs his cockhead direction into your g-spot and you sob in pleasure.

"Shh, it's alright, piccola. Just hold onto me. Hold onto Daddy." Secondo licks his lips and takes in deep breaths, trying as hard as he can to make this last. "I'm gonna take good care of you."

The weed enhances everything. You feel as hot as an oven. He palms your ass and snickers. A literal cake fresh out of the oven. Shit, now he's the one laughing at his own joke.

You want to weep by how stimulated you feel. And when he suddenly starts to laugh, it resonates deep inside your chest while you par him with soft mumbles and whines of pleasure. He dares to thrust, just once, and your body immediately locks up on him as he plucks an intense and long-lived orgasm from you.

It crashes, tearing softly through your stomach and spreading from your limbs and curling your toes. You've never felt one like it before. It's like a movie in slow motion. Secondo grunts, as though pained, and for a moment, you thought you had tightened hard enough around him to injure him.

"Hurt you?" You mumble, brained. Secondo spits another laugh and shakes his head. He sucks in a breath, tenses, and lets out a rattled groan. He hugs you close, so close. Then he arches, tugging you as firmly to his chest as he can. His lips press gentle but firm kisses to your shoulders, nosing your shirt out of the way so he can touch skin.

He stops, and you feel it. You feel his dick jumping inside of you, hard throbs in uneven time as he shoots rope after rope of cum into your soppy wet cunt, directly into your womb. You sigh in bliss and rub your hand over your lower stomach, imaging what it must look like, having his load burning white into the pinks of your cunt.

You sit together like this for a moment, Secondo's eyes half shut as he enjoys your heat for as long as comfortable. Eventually, he's going to have to pull out, but for right now, this is paradise. You then press your lips to his ear and tell him something that's only so damn funny because of how much he considers it.

"We should fuck high as often as possible."

#secondo #secondo x reader #papa emeritus ii #papa emeritus ii x reader #reader insert #ghost the band #the band ghost #ghost band #dee answers #dee writes

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merrymorningofmay · 2 years

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idk, i’ve been trying to pen an account of my extremely, extremely mild War Experiences and every time i gave up in the end because it was a psychological horror more than anything, and how do you recap a psychological horror story except for those who already know what you mean

a year ago my family and i took our backpacks and fled from kyiv (maybe forever, we thought) to wait things out at our dacha.

in hindsight, it was a dumb thing to do, but oh well, it was baby’s first genocide. in hindsight, our dacha is in bucha district, but we wouldn’t learn what that meant until after we returned to kyiv.

our dacha is not in a village, really – it’s surrounded by other land plots and summer houses, and those are empty for most of the year, and they were empty in those days, too. it was just us, away from the highway, away from people (and whenever some people would walk past, eyeing our car and lit-up windows, it was frightening, too – are they robbers making use of the chaos? are they russians in disguise? are they locals who support russia?)

there were explosions all day and night (in hindsight, air defense, but again, baby’s first genocide), sometimes across the forest, sometimes so close our windows were shaking. in theory, we thought, nobody would waste missiles on such a nothing place with no people. in practice, we knew, russians don’t care. and if they had decided to drop a bomb or two on that spot, we would have no basement to take cover and no siren to warn us.

it was cold a year ago. our house has no heating, but it does have a fireplace. it took about three days to make the one room we were spending our days and nights in warm enough for me to take off my hat and one of my sweaters.

my dad kept himself busy chopping firewood outside. my mom kept herself busy tending to the fire. my sister and i were obsessively trying to monitor the news with what little mobile internet we had.

we had food, but nobody ate. we had each other, but nobody talked, each of us absent, in their own head. every hour or so my best friend and i would check up on each other in twitter DMs – she was in kharkiv, in a crammed bomb shelter all day round, children screaming, adults freaking out, all that. we did not talk in between these check ups, either, but just hearing “i’m alright, you?” was more comfort than my silent mother sitting beside.

i wanted someone to tell me it would be okay, and for the first time in my life i knew nobody in the world could tell me that and mean it.

i wanted to be in a bomb shelter with screaming kids and freaking out adults.

on the first or second night, i saw a dream that was full of light and joy. i don’t remember a thing about it otherwise. then i woke up freezing in the middle of nowhere, in a country that could have been dead or alive for all i knew.

we didn’t know how close russians were at any given moment, if the land we were on was occupied or not. we didn’t know if we should leave or stay. we knew if russians saw us, we would be killed, and i knew if russians saw my pretty sister and me, we would be raped, and then killed. we knew that if we were to drive anywhere, we would have to pass checkpoints. if the soldiers at those checkpoints were ukrainian, would they take our car for the army, would they take my dad away to draft him? (they would not – again, in hindsight). our dad wanted to stay, the rest of us wanted to leave. we waited for about a week until the explosions became somewhat less frequent. then we got into the car, argued some, and left.

out of our empty non-village and onto the empty road, then onto the empty highway.

when we reached the first checkpoint, i saw a ukrainian flag flickering in the wind.

if you live anywhere in the west, can tell you this: you have not truly seen the flag of your country once.

#mari rambles

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empressofthesunwriter · 1 year

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The Fox and the Sun

Demon and Demon Slayer in one? A paradox, but you were the living proof. For two good centuries, you served the Demon Slayer Corps as the Fox-Hashira, only in your mind your revenge against the Demon King, who had made you a demon. It took a kind boy with the sun in his soul to remind yourself of your humanity. Fox-Demon!ReaderXTanjiro Kamado

Chapter 2: Good or Bad?

Your prayers were been answered.

Two of the Master’s daughters, you think it’s Nichika and Hinaki, announce the arrival of Oyakata-Sama.

With the help of his daughters, he was led to the edge of the veranda, while he greeted you all calmly and welcoming, being glad that you all were fine.

All Hashira’s got in line and kneeled before him.

You saw how Shinazugawa formally smashed poor Tanjiro’s face into the dirt so that he kneeled also.

You suppressed a growl.

The boy didn’t deserve this treatment.

“I am pleased to see you in good health as well, Master.”, greeted the white-haired Hashira. “I fervently pray for your continued good fortune.”

“Thank you, Sanemi.”

“If I may, Master… Before we start the Hashira Meeting, would you mind enlightening us about this swordsman, Tanjiro Kamado, accompanied by a demon?”

The master gave you all an apologetic smile. “Right. I apologize for startling you all. But first, before I tell you my decision on this matter…Inari-San, can you please tell us all your story?”

Not only you blinked surprised, but your Hashira colleagues and Tanjiro let out also surprised sounds.

“I think we all need a refresher and young Tanjiro can benefit from hearing it.”, added Oyakata-Sama.

You nodded, an order was an order, even if you did wonder why you should tell your story and began: “It happened exactly 340 years ago. I was a normal seventeen year old girl living my life. Then one night, all changed for me. The Demon King killed my family and turned me into a demon. I became like the Kitsune from our folktales, I was powerful, even so young. Kibutsuji called me his crown jewel. His best creation. For a good 100 years, I was under his rule. I…I killed and eat lots of people, sometimes whole villages. I know it was wrong, but my bloodlust was so strong. But slowly over the years, I regained more of my humanity. I got so strong that I finally could flee from Kibutsuji. I roomed this land, only eating humans who were considered monsters. Murders, rapists, pedophiles. I felt I did something good. Then one day I stumbled over an old shrine where the fox goddess Inari was worshipped. The Miko’s who lived there were old and frail. It didn’t stop robbers to enter the sanctuary and trying to steal the treasures. I protected the woman, killing the man. The Miko’s thought of me as a godsend by Inari herself, begging me to stay with them, which a did for a few years. Then one day the Master of the Demon Slayer Corps of that time and two of his strongest Hashira appeared. The Master begged that I joined their cause, which I did since I want to personal put Kibutsuji’s head on a stake. It was not simple to be accepted by the other Hashira’s. I still needed to eat human flesh to survive, the sun still burned me. It took nearly 100 years till I was so respected in the Corps that no one doubted my devotion. I saw a lot of Masters and Hashiras come and go, helped to raise future Demon Slayers, and worked on myself to reign more of my humanity. For a good 50 years now, I only need blood to survive, which comes from volunteers. 10 years ago I managed to finally master the ability to walk in the sun. I came a long way from Kibutsuji pet monster Kitsune to now being the proud Hashira Inari. And that’s my story.”

“I want you all to remember Inari-San story.”, advised Oyakata-Sama. “My Ancestor saw the potential of having a good demon on our side. Like how I see potential in Tanjiro and Nezuko Kamado. Both will be Demon Slayer and I want you to accept my decision.”

It was so silent you could hear a needle drop.

Curious you glanced at the other Hashira’s. A lot seemed to struggle with this decision, but they also KNOW you for ages, some of them you babysit as children, they knew a demon could be good and control themselves.

On the other hand, this was you and Nezuko they didn’t know.

Himejima found first his words: “Even if it’s what you desire, Master, I cannot agree to it. Inari-Sama is a special case, a rarity. She has more than one lifetime of experience and self-control on her side than the young demon girl.”

“I’m flamboyantly opposed as well!”, agreed Tengen. “Inari-Senpai was once one of the twelve Kizuki, she is different from other demons. I can’t see another demon being like her.”

“I shall do whatever it is you wish, Oyakata-Sama!”, said Mitsuri.

At least one was for Nezuko and Tanjiro.

“I’m fine either way… I’m going to forget soon, anyway.”, deadpanned Tokitou.

Another one on their side, maybe? Well, better than nothing.

“I won’t trust them. I won’t trust them.”, hissed Iguro formally. “In the first place, I loathe demons. It was hard enough to come to respect Inari-Senpai and trust her. And she has centuries of self-control under her belt.”

“Although I respect you with all my heart, that’s an incomprehensible notion, Master! I oppose it with everything I’ve got! Inari-Senpai is the only demon we can trust.”, proclaimed Rengoku.

“The Demon Slayer Corps’ mission is to annihilate demons.”, reminded Shinazugawa you all. “I request that you penalize both Kamado and Tomioka!”

Oyakata-Sama turned to you.

“Inari-San, you are on both sides. Tell me…what do you think about Kamado Nezuko.”

You licked your lips, carefully selecting the words you wanted to say.

“Kamado Nezuko…is different. That is clear. She could detect that I’m a demon, even if I was using my Blood Demon Art. She could smell it on me.”

You formally felt how the other Hashira were losing their shit after that revelation. No one besides Muzan or an Upper Moon should have this power.

You continued.

“She didn’t react hostile at me, let me even pick her up and carry her. Nezuko is intelligent, she doesn’t seem to have any bloodlust. I think…she is more like me than we think…no she is even better than me if she really doesn’t need human flesh or blood to survive.”

“Your conclusion, Inari-San?”

“Oyakata-Sama, if this is all right with you…I would take responsibility for Nezuko and Tanjiro Kamado. I’m even ready to put my life on the line. If Nezuko will eat a single human, then you can kill me with her. I won’t fight.”

That made all Hashira really lose their nerves.

“Inari-Chan, no!”, screamed Mitsure, tears in her eyes.

“Senpai, that’s crazy, we can’t lose you!”, shouted Rengoku.

You know he had a soft spot for you. When his father was a Hashira and he was a young boy, you would often play with him and even babysit him. You are pretty sure you even changed some diapers of his.

“Inari-Senpai, that’s dumb and so not like you. You really want to put your life at stake for another demon?”, wonder Obanai.

Before it really could get out of control Oyakata-Sama wanted you all to hear this letter from the former Water Hashira and your old friend Sakonji Urokodaki.

Hinaki read aloud how Tanjiro should be allowed to be accompanied by his demon sister. That Nezuko had resilient mental strength and has not lost her human emotions. Even in a starved state, she never devoured humans, and this has held true more than two years later. Although the situation seems somewhat far-fetched, it is an indisputable fact. Then came the bomb in which your old friend, Tomioka, and even Tanjiro promised to commit ritual suicide, if Nezuko should kill a human.

As you promised a few minutes ago. All right, you said they could kill you too, but it was the same thing in a way.

Your nose tickled with the salty fragrance of tears. Tanjiro was crying silent and thankful tears. He seemed so glad and relieved that at least three people were on his and Nezuko’s side.

He was a good young man, you felt it.

“So what if they commit ritual suicide and Inari-Senpai lets us kill her?”, growled Shinazugawa. “If you want to die, then rot for all I care! It’s no guarantee! Not by a long shot!”

Rengoku wanted to say something, probably agreeing with him, but you calmly turned to Shinazugawa and said ice-cold: “And yet you trust me?”

“W-What?”

“Kamado Nezuko has never devoured human flesh, where I, I eat and killed more than a thousand, and still to this day I need blood. She is better than me, yet you and anybody else can’t wait for to decapitate her and her brother who loves her so dearly and would do anything for her.”, you scolded.

Nearly everyone looked ashmead.

They were based, they knew that.

Was it because they grow up with you as a parental/sisterly figure or you earned their trust.

They weren’t thinking rationally, but with their emotions, and they were in chaos.

Only Tanjiro looked at you like…you were a divine being, coming to Earth to help him and his sister.

You fought off a blush and pointedly didn’t look in his direction. These dark red eyes with heartful tears in them were too much to handle.

“The fact is that Nezuko has refrained from devouring humans for more than two years, and also that there are three people and one demon risking their lives for her.”, sums up Oyakata-Sama. “To reject this notion, those who reject it must offer an even more convincing argument.”

Shinazugawa gave an angry grumble.

“Do you all have the will to do so?”

No one said anything, and that’s when Oyakata-Sama let the next bomb drop: “Also, there’s something I’d like to relay to you, my children. Tanjiro here has met Kibutsuji.”

You Hashiras being shocked was the understatement of the century.

Your chin meets the floor. Tanjiro meet the fucking asshole and lived?

What?!

“No, impossible!”, yelled Tengen. “After Inari-Senpai joined us 200 years ago no one has ever crossed paths with him?!”

“Is the bastard still high and mighty as ever? I hope you didn’t battle him. He probably has a new hidey-hole, did you see it?”, you shoot your questions at him, like bullets from a pistol.

The others shoot their own question at him, like what he looked liked, what his powers were, and so on.

Poor Tanjiro was clearly overwhelmed with you all shouting questions at him so Oyakata-Sama called you all to order.

“Kibutsuji has sent pursuers after Tanjiro. Though his purpose may simply be to silence him, now that Kibutsuji’s given himself away for the first time, I don’t want to let go. I also believe something’s happening to Nezuko that Kibutsuji never saw coming. Not unlikely with what happened with Inari-San. One of his own Upper Moon betraying him must have shocked him, even if it was so long ago. Can you try to understand?”

Boarheaded Shinazugawa refused to understand the Masters reasons. He was so fixed in his mindset that all demons needed to be killed, that he couldn’t see another way. Not that you could blame him, after what he experienced as a child.

Then he actually slices his arm to let the blood drop on Nezuko’s box to coax her out!

Good thing you weren’t hungry or else you would probably start sucking.

Of course, Nezuko comes not out, hello sunlight, which Obanai reminds Sanemi, and the white-haired Hashira jumps into the mansion and then again stabs Nezuko through the box.

That’s when you see red.

One second you look human, the next your whisker marks get deeper, your hair turns orange, fox ears and a tail grow and you know your eyes turn red.

With a growl you jump between Sanemi and Nezuko’s box, holding in an iron grip his Katana.

“That’s enough, Sanemi! As your Senpai I say: Stand down!”, you growl in your demonic voice.

It’s deeper more animalist than your human one.

This all took place in a few seconds, so of course, all are like statues and don’t know what to do.

They know not to cross you when you show your true self. You were a one-woman army, worth a thousand Demon Slayers.

Nonetheless, Sanemi gets his bearing back.

“Senpai, you would face off against one of your comrades for a demon?!”

“She is an innocent being, I won’t let you egg her on. You practically play with fire here!”

“Innocent being?! That’s a demon and I just want to prove to you all how dangerous she really is!”

That’s when you all hear how the box opens. Growling, with saliva running down her muzzle Nezuko stands up from it.

Fast she grips your arm and puts you behind her.

What is she…?

“What is happening?”, ask Oyataka-Sama his daughters.

“The younger demon seems to protect Inari-Sama. She put herself between Inari-Sama and Shinazugawa-Sama.”, responds Hinaki.

So you aren’t imagining things.

“Come on demon attack me.”, taunts her Sanemi. “You didn’t like me yelling at one of your kind and you want my blood. Show everyone your true self.”

It seems like an eternity passes, but Nezuko just turns away from Sanemi and hugs you.

You feel her shaking in your arms, she is fighting against her bloodlust, but she is winning.

“Good girl.”, you coo at her, hugging her back. “You are a good girl.”

Again the Master asks what happened and both his daughter tell him what transpired.

“So now, it’s been proven that Nezuko won’t attack humans, right?”, declares Oyakata-Sama.

Well, no one can argue anymore.

In the end, Tanjiro and Nezuko were now accepted as Demon Slayers and their quest was to defeat the Twelve Kizuki and the Demon King himself.

Tanjiro promised that they would do their best.

Then Shinobu pointed out that he needed medical attention, so the Kakushi arrived to take Tanjiro and Nezuko.

You helped Nezuko back into her box, giving her forehead a kiss and a promise that you would see her soon. She made cute agreeing noises at you.

Never seeing how Tanjiro looked at you, a fox-demon, been so kind and good to his sister, filling his heart with new emotions.

After the Kamado’s Siblings were gone with the Kakushi, the Hashira Meeting could take place.

You switched back into your human form and follow after the other to the meeting room.

Oyakata-Sama with his two daughters by his side sits before you. The room was dark only illuminated with lamps and you all sit in seiza before him.

You talked about how the quality of the Demon Slayer has gone bad, how this era changed so much, and how the Demon King let this chaos happen with his Lower Moon to hide his traces.

The Master let all, besides you, go, with the words that you were the best Demon Slayer since the Feudal Era.

You expected a scolding for acting out of line today, showing your true self, and commanding Sanemi, but the Master just wanted your honest opinion.

You were the oldest, you have seen death and life come and go.

Was the way the Demon Slayer Corps took the right one?

You only said this.

“Oyakata-Sama. I think we found valuable assets in Tanjiro and Nezuko Kamado. These two are something special. They are full…of sunlight. And sunlight is the best against demons.”

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#demon slayer #demon slayer FF: The Fox and the Sun #kimetsu no yaiba #tanjiro kamado #demon slayer tanjiro #tanjiro x reader #tanjiro x you #tanjiro kamado x reader

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poppyseedoncaffeine · 2 years

Text

it... fits

Lunar: Would never stab anyone. Sun: Would stab someone in retaliation. Moon: Yells "I won't hesitate, bitch!" first. Monty: Would stab without warning. Eclipse: Would stab as a warning.

...

Sun: Where is Monty? moon: I'll do you one better, who is Monty?? Lunar: Here's a better question, why is Monty?

...

moon, in a horrible German accent: Bill Nye is on break, I'm Bill Nein. Monty: Can I go to the bathroom? moon, in the same horrible German accent: Nein!

...

Lunar: When I was a kid, Eclipse told me that the paper strip that’s in the chocolate kisses were edible and I ate them with the chocolate for a year. Monty: They are! Lunar: FOR REAL? Monty: No! Why did you fall for it again?

...

Monty: You call it "really bad at darts", I call it "freestyle acupuncture." Bartender: ...I'm going to have to ask you to leave the bar.

...

Eclipse: The next time I open up to someone, it'll be my autopsy.

...

Eclipse: I gave my Brother a collar. Eclipse: *dog Moon:... this is a verbal conversation.

...

Eclipse: *sees someone doing something stupid* Eclipse: What an idiot. Eclipse: *realizes it's Lunar* Eclipse: Wait, that's MY idiot!

...

Sun: Hello, my name is Failure, and you're watching my life crumble into pieces. Sun: *waves their finger and sings like they're in a Disney Channel intro*

...

Sun: Hey, Monty, have you thought about having children? Monty: ... Monty: Does looking over you and the others not seem like I already do? Because I promise you, it sure feels like it. Sun: But we're not childr- Monty, already distracted: LUNAR, PUT THE FIRE DOWN!

...

Monty: *on the phone* Just snap his kneecaps and he’ll talk, I’m at a parent teacher conference. Monty: Anyways, you said Lunar is enjoying finger painting! That's great.

...

Monty: *dangling from a rope over a pit of fire* Remember when I said I’d tell you when we’re in too deep? Moon: Yes? Monty: We’re in too deep.

...

Sun: For self defense reasons, I'm going to pretend to be a burglar and you guys have to act wisely. Moon, Lunar, & Eclipse: Okay. Sun: If you don't want to die, give me all your money. Moon: Bold of you to assume I have money. Lunar: Bold of you to assume I don't want to die. Eclipse: Bold of you to assume I can die.

...

Monty: Everyone knows that Santa is an invention designed by the big five corporations to sell tinsel and video games to an unsuspecting public. Moon: The whole “childhood wonder” stage just blew right past you, didn’t it?

...

Sun: Isn’t a bit dangerous? Lunar: Sun, please. We’ve in a lot of unexpected predicaments before and we always escape unhurt. Sun: ... Lunar: Okay, we sometimes escape unhurt. Sun: ... Lunar: Alright, we escaped unhurt once... Then we hurt ourselves in the way home.

...

Monty & Lunar: *accidentally set the kitchen on fire* Monty: We need an adult! Lunar: Monty, you are an adult! Monty: We need an adultier adult! Get Moon!

...

Monty, texting Moon: Roses are red, Tony Hawk is a skater… Moon′s phone, auto-replying: I’m driving right now–I’ll get back to you later. *Later* Moon, texting back: Fuck you.

...

Eclipse: Dammit, you ruin everything! Lunar: You're welcome.

...

Sun: Poison is a magic transmutation potion that turns people into corpses. Moon: This knife is actually a magic wand. Lunar: Meet me in the Denny’s parking lot for a wizard duel. Eclipse: *cocks gun* Magic missile. Earth: What the fuck is wrong with you people.

...

Sun, lying on the floor, depressed: I'll never be a cop. I'm gonna have to be a robber.

...

Moon: Why were you up yesterday until 3am? Lunar: How did you know I was up until 3am? Monty: We could hear you clapping to the FRIENDS intro every 25 minutes.

...

Monty: Honestly, I am so evil. So full of darkness. I feed of the souls of the living I strike fear into- Sun: You sleep with a stuffie. Monty: He’s my sECOND IN COMMAND IN MY ARMY OF DARKNESS

...

Moon: I haven't slept in seventy-three hours. Sun: Eighty. Democratically elected leader of insomnia. Monty: Bitch, it's been ninety for me. I'm going for an even one hundred. Earth: You guys are fucking terrifying.

...

Monty: You might not know this, Lunar, but I am a flawed person. Moon: I do know that.

...

Sun: Can you recommend a book that'll make me cry? Lunar: General Mathematics 8th Grade Edition.

...

*Comments under an image of a really hot knife cutting bread* Moon: Imagine stabbing someone with this knife. Eclipse: It would instantly cauterize the wound, so the person wouldn't bleed, so it's not very useful. Monty: if you want information it is Lunar/Sun: why would you STAB a person when you can have TOAST?

...

Sun: Treat spiders the way you want to be treated. Moon: Killed without hesitation.

...

Monty: I sort of did something and I need some advice, but I don't want a lot of judgment and criticism. Moon: And you came to me?

#sun and moon show #sun and moon show Lunar #sun and moon show eclipse #Sun and moon show monty #sun and moon show incorrect quotes #sun and moon show earth

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nutty1005 · 1 year

Text

Ask not where he came from, ask not where he belonged. For where his heart desires, he will be there regardless

Original Article: https://weibo.com/ttarticle/p/show?id=2309404914117688558033 Original Author: 夏威夷美令达人秀

If I had to use a word to describe him, I would not be able to think of it, but I could think of two poems.

“The pine has ambitions without disdain; the bamboo has principles that does not bend; the plum has a fragrance that is not arrogant.”

“One’s ambitions should become even more firm as one grows older, one’s will should become even more steadfast in the face of adversity.”

Looking at the entire situation from the beginning till the end, this was the quality he made me feel throughout.

He is not an otherworldly sage, nor is he a worldly commoner. The things he did for his friends were things he deemed as reasonable.

Willing to pay any price for a friend, willing to give it all for love, and later on he was even willing to do so for people unrelated to him.

I really wanted to ask a question, what were you thinking when you called home to your family to ask for money for her mother’s medical fees, was it more painful than losing your legs?

What is light – it is something that could nourish anyone, and shine into all the unreachable dark corners. But light is also something that everyone habitually takes for granted everyday after sunrise.

People would think of him in the dark endless rain, so he was always the person who would be injured, he was the one who faced the mines, he was the one handled the stolen hat, he was the one who rushed to block the robbers while yelling for the others to escape, he was the one who sat and watched as someone else stole his life, he was the one who was tossed from his wheelchair – it seemed like everything was him.

Halfway through watching, questions flashed through my mind more than once – was it really necessary to do this for them? It seemed that everyone gave him very little in return. He was physical injured from his back to his legs, to his heart, but he would still comfort others with a smile on his face.

He might have forgotten his pain after comforting others, but the news of not being able to serve as a soldier would be the place where he left tears of his lifetime at. His father’s death, teammates, friends, lovers, it was hard to believe that after suffering so many blows, he still had not turned to the dark side, he still insisted on himself and insisted on his inner thoughts, he adapted to everything by being deeply loyal and knowing how to distinguish the right from wrong.

He lived in the compound like his buddies, his living conditions were just as difficult as ordinary people at that time, he was also influenced by society, but in the end only Chunsheng remained unchanged. Everything else had changed, Hongjun’s desires had grown little by little, and Guohua’s personality had also began to change because of love and the social changes.

Sometimes when I thought about their names, Chen Hongjun (TN: Hong = grand, Jun = soldier), I would think his family wanted him to take the hard and simple road, but he ended up arrogant from his selfishness and over sensitivity, and every step he took was wrong starting from the first. Such a path probably meant that he had never realized the true meaning of his name and went astray.

Ye Guohua (TN: Guo = country, Hua = gorgeous) was such a grand name but his youth was only obsessed about small love and romance, immersed in the comfortable life given by his family. As he became 30 or 40 years old and recalled his past when he was young, he might realize that he never had any lofty aspirations, with an innocence born from stubbornness and cowardliness because of a wealthy family. Such a wealthy environment gave birth the innocence and straightforwardness in the siblings’ personality, which made them incompatible with common life.

Chunsheng (TN: Chun = spring, Sheng = growth), what is Chunsheng, “the wild fires could not burn it all, they would grow again as spring breeze blows”.

He had experienced many joys and sorrows in his life, and he had suffered many blows, shedding a lifetime of tears. There might never be a time more desperate than losing everything when he is in his early twenties. The dream of his lifetime, a past lover, brothers who he grew up with, and a confused future.

But after these tears had finished flowing, he would still chose to start from the beginning as before. In the few decades of time, no matter what happened to his future business, the first thing that comes to his mind was always to stand from the perspective of others, and to take responsibility and comfort them. Even when he heard that he might be permanently disabled, he was only in a daze for a short time, and then he told Xiaomei that he had heard it. To be honest, Xiao Zhan’s acting skills at the doorway is one of the most brilliant in my opinion. Not only It was in line with Chunsheng’s personality, and one could see his attitude when he knew the result for the first time.

Chunsheng was not a person who constantly accumulates all the negative emotions, and he would not talk about the same thing repeatedly. It felt too painful when he rode the train as he retired from the army, when he saw his sister, and when he saw his dead father’s photographs. But people are forward looking, and so was he. He was a little shocked at the doorway, and then he was dazed for a while, calmed down, and stopped feeling sad for himself.

So when he was faced with the teasing from few friends about him as a “disabled person” looking for a job, he just laughed at himself, and I could understand his heart immediately.

Xiao Zhan’s acting skills were also really amazing. He was being ridiculed by others, and yet he was still the big brother who protected everyone since he was a child. If he displayed any unhappiness, it would not fit Chunsheng’s personality; if he looked happy, he would seem mindless.

Hence with a little self-deprecating embarrassment, audiences can sympathize with his situation immediately, and the inconsiderate ridicule between buddies and the insult of an enemy also made him determined to fight against his fate.

Later on, as life got on track, and he continued living bit by bit in gains and losses. The perfect, imperfect, sad and excited, every bit and drop was the crystallization of his own work.

I saw someone asking why the Xiao Chunsheng and his sister were still able to maintain their marriages. Even if Chunsheng’s father is suffering from mental illness, he still taught the two of them to be bold, to place the country first, to always look at the overall situation, to be responsible, and to be loyal. Audiences could see the quality of the these two siblings at a glance and know that they could maintain their marriages very well.

Both Qi Tian and Hongling told Chunsheng, you are very idealistic, you are too idealistic, there is no one like you in the world.

However, I had always felt that Chunsheng was the most practical person, being able to do things that met his inner standards in reality was his idealism.

For a childhood friend who had been together almost every day, if there was a person who would be hurt in Hongjun’s conflict with the others, his thought was very direct, that person would be himself.

And when Guohua was about to be injured by a landmine, he knew Guohua’s character too realistically, Guohua’s weakness and helplessness would even cause him to do some other things that may cause him to lose his life, if it was his other friends who stepped on the landmine, he might have done back to seek help, but he knew that unrealistic fantasies will cost both their lives.

When Qi Tian injured others because of the medical equipment, he knew that avoidance and sophistry would not be a solution, so the first thing he did was to take responsibility immediately, so that the harm to others and himself could be minimized.

Chunsheng is idealistic, but that is an idealism built on realistic actions.

As a fan for so many years, I feel that Xiao Zhan is also an idealist who is shaped by real actions. Yes, every character will have its own quality in it, but most people are either idealistic or practical. In entertainment circle, people who are too realistic can make people intuitively feel that they are too eager for quick success, while people who are too idealistic cannot survive and blend in with the general pan-entertainment.

After four years, I could feel that his reality was not unrealistic or a fantasy throughout. This might be much clearer to me than other fans. He probably would still reply to everyone’s work before the end of each night. But no matter what happens, he would always be positive and encouraging optimism. In the past few years of the pandemic, who could encourage themselves, those around them, and everyone every day?

Slowly watching until the end of Where Dreams Begin / The Youth Memories, it reminded me of the first time I saw Xiao Zhan’s works. At that time, I was not familiar with him, but his whole person exuded a personable temperament. Under his still very inexperienced acting skills, I could not take my eyes away from that face and demeanor. At that time, he had a very handsome face. Perhaps he had not figured out what his acting career would look like in the future. At that time, he was still a very inconspicuous new star, maybe I paid attention to him because of his face or for other reasons.

But no matter under what circumstances, I never thought that after so many years, in the present, suddenly after so many years, I went from going crazy while working new fan to an anything-goes relaxed old fan.

My footsteps were to follow him and look forward bit by bit, never wanting to stay in the past, and my Weibo also rarely recalled the past. He had not gone to the point of recounting the past and recalling the glorious years. He is still pondering, discovering, and exploring the most suitable way of his own style while at the peak, and he will change to someone different from last year and the year before.

A few days ago Xiao Zhan was asked a question himself, about what had changed in the past few years, he smiled and said that his age had changed.

In the four or five years since he became famous, it can be said that he had always been one of the most talked about artist in China, and even “one of” is not necessary. Looking at his choices at each stage and the situation of each drama, those of us of the same age should have one of the same feelings, when seeking enjoyment, we would feel anxious, we would think about the future, we would recall our youth, and we would occasionally feel emotional late at night, but these depended on our ordinary and simple emotions when we were not clear about our lives.

He is already in a state where he could choose anything freely for his future, and he could even choose to not do anything. There would not be anxiety like ours at all, but instead he seemed to be more elusive and diligent than before. I could see his changes every time and I believe that he is more strict with himself than anyone else, even for after many years, I have never seen him complacent. Every time we meet on screen, it would be like seeing him for the first time. He managed his physique very strictly, he handles lines with ease within one or two years, and almost no one has mentioned the matter of lines anymore.

Most of the superficial acting skills that Chinese people like to judge are smoothly and silently performing micro-expressions + crying scenes. Watching his crying scenes for so many years change bit by bit, starting from taking on the burden of “The Untamed”, and then broadcasting of “Ace Troops”, the enigmatic Gu Yiye, to Xiao Chunsheng’s ups and downs in the decades of changing times.

They were all about the pain of losing a family member, when it was his Shijie he would cry out in pain, when his mother left him in Douluo Continent he would cry bitterly, and when Chunsheng knowing his father had left he would cry silently.

From the beginning when the three of them ate together as teenagers, to the recent reunion of the three of them as middle aged men eating hot pot, he no longer had the urge to be their big brother, the unfamiliar and subtle embarrassment of mature friends who have not seen each other for a long time, the natural acting skills, the movement of the wine glass, he had been completely reborn.

The sense of justice he portrayed when he was in customs in his early twenties was completely different from the sense of justice during equipment incident in the later period. He had captured the ability to cross time and space in his portrayal, and the ability to change the characteristics of age and location of his character at the fastest speed.

I could not evaluate how much he had improved, but at least I know I had almost changed nothing from the time I first met him to now. The pandemic has affected me for three years, and it seems that I had excusably stopped moving forward for three years. Xiao Zhan had stopped nothing in these three years, when in fact, he had more reasons to relax and stop himself than anyone else.

But no matter those who pay attention to him or not, they all like to look at this mountain and its height, wondering what is on the other side of the mountain, and they all think it is the Himalayas. When he was not famous, people would want him to be famous and have more choices. After he had become popular, people would want him to be more popular than others. Even if he had become the most popular, he would be given endless demands. I think even if he reached the even higher requirements again, there will be more waiting for him, not to mention he stayed four years at the top, maybe he would be expected to stay there for eight years, ten years, or even ten thousand years. If Qin Shihuang debuted, people would expect him to write a hundred improvement measures, and they would beat down his invasion tactics of the Six Kingdoms as worthless and nonsense.

As a person who started to get in touch with this profession without a professional background, not even in his youth, no one could perform and think for him, he could only explore and change himself bit by bit, and for him, he had never stopped changing for a single moment, more than 70 performances of stage plays, filming dramas for several months at a time. We never had to worry about whether he was coasting along, no need to worry about his physical status he would show when he appears on screen, he would always be doing his favorite job with a high degree of professionalism in every moment. In fact, he could even not fumble or change and do absolutely nothing, and no one would dare to say that he is unsuccessful.

He knows what he wants, what to do, and what he should do, better than anyone else.

In the past few years, he gradually calmed down more than anyone else. I thought of the 19th episode where Chunsheng’s legs were injured, when the patient next to him told him that Guohua had stolen his military achievements. I sighed when I watched it and that hurt a little.

All of his glorious colors had been stolen, possessed, and damaged, and that was by someone as close as a brother, plus the pain of physical ruin, what kind of expression should he have when he heard the news?

Chunsheng is bright, open-minded and loyal, should he smile indifferently like his usual personality, and show that he did not care at all, or pile up all of his grievances and burst into tears?

What I saw was that he was slightly stunned in disbelief at first, then with a little bit of shock, then he lowered his head and pondered for a while, and quickly returned to the original expression of pretending to be indifferent. After everyone dispersed, he was alone in tears and pain, thinking about his experiences, thinking that he might not be able to do what he loved most in the future, thinking that even if Guohua apologized to him, he had to comfort him instead, and let him live a good life as a soldier.

This was one of my favorite performances in all of Xiao Zhan’s dramas. He did not need words, exaggerated gestures and expressions, or any narration to express his sadness and sorrow.

After that, he still had to reopen his own wounds to comfort those who never empathized with him. It was the biggest change in life, yet afterwards everyone seemed to forget about it, and only he remembered it, and therefore his career choice was related to this experience, affecting him to want to help more people instead.

Oh Chunsheng, oh Xiao Zhan!

Who else would remember it except you, remembering the way you came here, remembering the pain you suffered, and when your legs are healed, you still needed to be successful, to start a business and to have even greater achievements.

But I still remember it.

Using a paragraph.

“We chased the dreams in our hearts together. We tried to hold the sun in the palm of our hands. I can’t remember how many winds and waves we have crossed. I am your oars and you are my wings. We remember each other’s youthful appearance, our faces full of pride. It’s you, and the youth behind you is all you.”

#xiaozhan #xiao zhan #sean xiao #肖战

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 8 months

Text

Yellow City, chapter twelve

Parker knew he was still new to all of this. He did. He knew. He’d only been here two months, on the heels of four plus years of… whatever all this was.

Regardless: he could swear there was tenderness there, and that just... absolutely could not be.

Chapter twelve of Yellow City. Warning: this fic is explicit.

AO3

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

Arthur knew he wasn’t right.

He did. He knew.

But that was the trick, wasn’t it? As long as he stayed nuts, and let Hastur play the game, he’d never have to deal with—

“Put ‘em up!” Arthur cried, unafraid of multiple bank robbers because Hastur could hold as many guns as they—

“Please. This vote matters more than almost any other,” he begged, hat (non-existent) held to his heart, peering up into the suspicious gaze (thousands of eyes, incomprehensible terror) of the being before—

“Take him away, boys,” Arthur said to (imaginary) coppers as he covered the crooked judge Tango, whose infamous criminal dealings had finally run their—-

“Well, it would just be rude to ignore this lovely gift of—” (strange, fleshy, quivering) “—cookies you brought me,” said Nodens, who was an easy sell for the vote, and seemed glad to be part of—

But it didn’t always work.

Arthur wailed, gripping his hair in both fists, rocking back and forth, and the only word he could say was Faroe.

Parker was… so done with this.

He had his own shit to figure out. Seriously. Whatever his position under Hastur was, the grief of new information from his ex-god, the point of his entire life—but that didn’t matter, because Arthur screamed.

Arthur screamed, and not the happy type of scream, and Hastur held him, and Parker was confused.

Parker knew he was still new to all of this. He did. He knew. He’d only been here two months, on the heels of four plus years of… whatever all this was. Regardless: he could swear there was tenderness there.

It was something about the way Hastur held him. The way Hastur kept Arthur from clawing at his eyes, or murmured to Arthur softly as he howled. The way Hastur endured these horrible, gut-wrenching times of sorrow that Arthur’s contract demanded.

The way Hastur leaped full-bore into the fantasies as soon as whatever magical period of time required had passed.

Parker was an observant man. He always had been. He didn’t want to see what he was seeing here: The King in Yellow was happier when Arthur was not upset.

That made no damn fucking sense.

Arthur never stopped long enough for Parker to spend much-needed analytical time.

“All right, so their lives are brief!” Arthur declared in (Blackstone Square, still stained by the ichor of an attempted coup centuries ago) the city center, holding his own in public debate. “That makes my point, not yours! That means those lives should be protected and celebrated, not taken away!”

And the murmuring (crowd of horrifying deities who’d existed since before time) gathering of shakers and doers seemed moved by his points and listened.

Parker knew what he was seeing. He did. But he couldn’t believe it. Because change—

No. It wasn’t change. They were bored. Arthur was new. That was all.

Arthur gasped. “The children’s hospital is on fire!” he declared, and took off to interrupt a bog-standard bit of worship with servants and incense and very startled priests.

Parker followed. He had no choice.

It wasn’t change. That couldn’t happen. He was seeing it wrong.

The sex did not help this resolution.

It was easier to dismiss when Hastur initiated. When Hastur initiated, it was violence and screams and the mind-bending horror of Arthur being filleted and made to enjoy it. Parker liked it rough, honestly enjoyed some bleeding and bruising, but that was too much even for him.

But when Arthur initiated—which was most of the godsdamned time—

When Arthur took that lead, Hastur gave. When Arthur made the first move, Hastur opened. When Arthur took things in hand, then Hastur…

Hastur spread, exposed, bloomed some organ Parker could not identify in gold and ebony folds that was literally impossible to look away from, like a fist around the mind, and it took all Parker had not to crawl over there on hands and knees and deliver needy worship.

Arthur just stuck his face right in there without hesitating.

Parker would have hesitated.

(Parker told himself he would have hesitated.)

It was impossible, when that happened, to stay unaffected. Impossible to feel disgust, to keep on his feet in any sense of the word, and Parker sank down or curled up and writhed in his seat or in the corner or wherever he was then, taken on that rising tide, and when Hastur climaxed, Parker always did too, even if he didn’t touch himself, because fuck everything, gods were rude.

It wasn’t like Hastur didn’t know.

(Though if Parker were honest, he would admit he enjoyed it, deep-down loved that he didn’t need to fight, didn’t need to push, that he could just drown in pleasure without clinging to control, could just let go.)

But in those times, there was change again. Those times, there was no fileting. Hastur still took control (which Parker understood), but when Arthur led the way, set the pace, and brought (and gained) satisfaction neither faked nor forced, those times were… were…

They were almost tender. They still ended wild (and Parker would never hear Arthur’s voice raised without thinking of these times again), but the joy didn’t seem to be the violence and mental control. They seemed to be… making Arthur happy?

Parker did not know what to do with this observation.

It couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be genuine, because that would invalidate everything. His rage toward the gods. His understanding that they needed to be taken down. His very belief, on which he’d built his house and raised his fort and planted his flag.

If gods could change (never mind learn to love because what even the fuck was that fantasy), then it doubly invalidated everything he’d tried to do.

Not that his life wasn’t already invalidated. It was. But this made it worse. This placed Parker completely, absolutely, totally in the wrong (and unable to earn his god’s love) because it meant his core assumptions were flawed.

(And again, unable to earn—)

Therefore, no.

Nope.

It was not true. He would not believe it. He would endure, and find his way through Hastur’s manipulation, and uncover the reason Arthur was being twisted (it wasn’t love, and if it was, it was wrong), and not think about the way Arthur looked at Hastur as he tried to pleasure him (because Charlie had done that, too, and Parker was in no condition to consider it). Then, when Parker got the chance—because someday, a year from now, fifty years from now, five hundred years from now, he would—he’d strike. Do something. Get revenge. Claim justice. Both justice and revenge.

He just had to hold out until then.

“It’s the docks! The murder happened this morning, and we have to—”

Did Arthur have to run everywhere?

“No, I need to see Matthew Cathode, because if he sells out, we lose the libraries, and—“

Did Arthur have to save everyone?

“Catch her! Don’t let her get away!”

Did Arthur ever fucking stop?

(When Hastur was fucking him. Or he was crying. Or asleep. That one was safe to think about.)

Parker had always been fit, and the Defiler’s false seal had made him strong; but fuck, he had never liked running.

He was gasping like a fish as they all got home this time (home, Hastur’s huge and spooky temple, sure, home), but no matter how tired he was, he couldn’t stop thinking.

Hastur had already moved to the bathing portion of the evening—utterly unnecessary to do this with water and scents, but he seemed to enjoy it—leaving Parker the first bit of free time he’d had all day.

Things had been weird out there.

Not that Carcosa would ever feel normal to him. But even for a zoo of the gods, it was weird.

The constant gaze had changed.

Oh, the fascination was still there. The amusement. The wariness (trying to actually fight Arthur or—heaven forbid, fight Hastur—ended quite badly for most parties). But now, there was… speculation.

Yes. That was the word.

Parker was good at languages, a skill he’d never really used before coming here. Over four years with Y’golonac, he’d picked up bits and pieces as a matter of survival, and now, he picked up other things.

“Could the human be responsible?” was the gist of a lot of questions, and Parker didn’t like that.

“Marked, so we can’t just kill him,” was another (though it took a few to figure out (mgepmggoka for claimed in a permanent verb form), and Parker didn’t miss that.

“Contract didn’t work! Again! It’s got to be his fault!” came a lot, and Parker really didn’t like that.

He saw no reaction from Hastur, but Hastur was hard to read. Struggling with words left Parker keenly observant of body language, and who the hell could understand a god’s?

(Parker could, and read them very damn well, but then he’d have to admit they were changing, so it was easier to embrace incompetence.)

Something was brewing.

Maybe that was why Hastur had marked Arthur (which sure seemed to be a big fucking deal).

Parker wasn’t sure that would be enough.

There came a knock on the temple doors one morning when Arthur was sane.

It wasn’t a weeping morning. It was a pillow held over his face while curled like a shrimp morning, and Hastur let him do it, and it was okay (as much as anything was okay) because at least today, Arthur wasn’t screaming.

The knock came again.

“Curious,” the King in Yellow said. “Though the Mother could send far worse.”

Figured. Was probably Asenath. She showed up sometimes, talking gently to Arthur, being a dick to everyone else. “Fuckin’ philosophical of you,” Parker muttered.

Hastur ignored that and went to greet his visitor.

Parker shifted in the bed. Over the last month, after being placed at the table to sleep several times, he’d realized that whether or not he got to sleep in the bed entirely depended on how well he played along.

Was he a good supporting character? Had he joined in The Questioning? (There wasn’t always questioning.) Had he held down the perps, or chased down the fugitives, or in some other way participated in Arthur’s nonsense?

If Parker did well, he got the bed. If he didn’t, he got the table. Fuck it, he wanted the bed, so he played along.

Not that Hastur had explained this. He had not. He’d let Parker figure it out for himself. The ass.

There might not be playing along needed today. “Having fun under there?” Parker said.

For a moment, it seemed the pillow would not answer. “Sure,” it said.

“At least you’re not howling.”

The pillow took time to answer. “Am I normally howling?”

“Yeah.”

The pillow considered. “Fair.”

Parker wasn’t sure why he was pushing. “You think howling’ll bring her back?”

The pillow inhaled. “You’re an asshole, Parker.”

“Yeah.” It was true.

The pillow shuddered. “I don’t want to get up today.”

Parker laughed.

“Fuck… what?”

“That slick foreign accent of yours, through a pillow, bitching about getting up,” said Parker. “Even funnier than when you’d get bitchy at a crime scene.”

“I wasn’t bitchy,” muttered the pillow.

“Yeah, you were.” Parker rolled onto his back. Above him, a canopy floated, posts unneeded: a sparkling golden expanse, splashed with black stars like some wild fantasy.

Looking into it felt like falling up. Parker closed his eyes.

The pillow sighed. “Maybe I was. But only because you were a dick.”

Parker considered that. “Yeah.”

The pillow’s breath was shuddery. “I miss my kid.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

Parker frowned. “What? Suffer?”

“Yes.”

Parker snorted. “Good news. You can just go fucking crazy and not suffer anymore.”

“Oh, go to hell.”

“Says the snooty pillow,” said Parker.

“Fucking… what’s your problem today?” the pillow snarled.

And Parker just said it: “I fucked up.”

Silence.

“What? Not gonna kick me when I’m down? Say, ‘I know?’ Say, ‘No fucking kidding?’”

“Sounds like I don’t have to,” said the pillow.

Parker rolled away from him. “Maybe I wish you would.”

The pillow sighed. “So. Here we are. Blood on our hands. I want to die, and I’m not allowed. You want to suffer, and you’re not allowed. What in fuck.”

Parker snorted. Snorted again. And he started to laugh. “What in fuck. Yeah. That’s it. What in fuck.”

The pillow joined him after a moment. “Gods, we’re… we’re screwed.”

“So screwed.”

“Did it to ourselves,” the pillow choked.

“Yeah,” Parker agreed, and slowly, their shared laughter tapered off.

The pillow sniffled.

Parker wiped his eyes. “I don’t got a plan now.”

“Neither do I.”

“So what do we do?”

The pillow didn’t answer.

Asenath did. “Morning, Tweedles,” she said, striding in like she owned the place, dressed in a sleeveless gown with a slit up one side in a vibrant and beautiful green.

Parker’s eyebrows rose. “What party’d you come from?”

“The ‘glad I’m not you’ party. Get up.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Tweedles?” asked the pillow weakly.

“Tweedledee and Tweedledum,” she said.

Parker scowled. “Why are you here?”

“To keep an eye on you drops of sunshine,” said Asenath, and sat at Parker’s sometimes-bed-table.

“Where’s Hastur, then?”

“Occupied,” said Asenath.

That seemed ominous. Parker really, really didn’t like that. “Since when are you doing favors for that guy?” he said.

“Since the Mother agreed it’s a really bad idea to leave you unsupervised.”

Chills ran down Parker’s spine. “Nobody would just bust in here. It’s Hastur’s fucking temple. It’d be suicide.”

Asenath didn’t answer that. “Get up. I’ll wait.”

Shit. Something bad really was going down. “He gets up, he’ll lose his damn mind,” warned Parker.

“I…” The pillow shifted. “I can do a little. Today.”

“Glad to hear it,” said Asenath. “I’ll make some tea while you do.”

Arthur emerged from the white-linen pillows, face creased, red-gold waves flattened on one side of his head. He stared at Asenath like he’d never seen another human before.

“Give him a hand, would you, sweetums?” said Asenath.

Parker wasn’t sure why he obeyed. “Whatever. Come on, Lester.”

“I’m pretty sure we’re on first-name terms,” Arthur groused.

Asenath carefully presented no expression.

“Whatever,” said Parker as if he did not care. “Do I need to carry you like a bride?”

“No.” The grouchiest no that had ever been said, that. Arthur rolled a few times to reach the edge of this absurdly huge bed and staggered toward the little bathroom area Hastur had set up for them.

Parker followed. “Shit’s happening. Stay sane, if you can. Anchored.”

“What would you know about anchored?” said Arthur, addressing the part of that he safely could.

“Only been worshiping a god of rot for decades,” said Parker.

Arthur took care of business, cleaned his teeth, then headed into the enormous, hot pool.

Parker followed course, but couldn’t let it go.“You think that felt good?” he finally said. “You think that was comforting? Stabilizing?”

“You kept doing it, so you must have gotten something out of it,” said Arthur.

“I believed him,” Parker blurted. Today was a day of hard truths. “Turns out he was stringing me along.”

Arthur sounded unmoved. “Uh-huh.”

Parker bared his teeth. “He treated me nice.”

“Nice.”

“Yeah. I mean. We didn’t go on no dates, or nothing. But... he helped me.”

“To trick you.”

“Yeah.” Parker’s voice cracked. “That’s what he’s doing to you, you know. It’s part of something. The King in Yellow doesn’t really love you.”

“Maybe.”

No, it was important they shared this heartbreak. Parker scoffed at him. “Maybe, nothing. You think Y’golonac is tricky? King in Yellow is fucking known for it. He’s fooling you.”

“Sure. But to what end?” Arthur ducked under, scrubbing his hair clean.

Parker got mad, and waited until Artur surfaced to yell, “How in fuck should I know? I’m not a manipulative god!”

“Fair,” said Arthur. “But I think it may be simpler than that.” He sloshed for the stairs out.

Parker stared after him. “What? You think it’s what?”

Arthur looked at him. “Apologize to Hastur.”

Parker stared. “Great. You’re already nuts. Fuck.”

“No,” said Arthur, and his gaze was steady, and his expression was tense. “I’m serious. Apologize, and he’ll feel better. Then it’ll get better for you.”

Parker stared harder.

“They’re brilliant,” Arthur said. “But their hearts are… almost like a kid’s.” He grabbed one of the warmed towels Hastur left for them, then padded around the intricately painted screens and spoke, words muffled. Asenath replied, similarly unintelligible.

Parker stood in the water, staring like a moron.

No. No. That couldn’t be. That…

That fit every damn thing he’d seen.

Wanting what they wanted, and throwing tantrums when they didn’t get it.

Weirdly black and white morality, however distinct from human thought.

I don’t feel better yet said Hastur the Unspeakable, the Feaster from Afar, the Lord of Interstellar Spaces.

“What the fuck?” Parker said. “What the fuck?” he said again, and stomped out of the water, grabbing a towel on his way out.

Asenath studied Arthur’s face. Softly, she sighed. “Really?”

Arthur shrugged again. “Like I said. I’m fine.”

“You look… I don’t know. Physically better, but your eyes, not so much.”

Arthur smiled weakly. “That’s because sane hurts, Asenath.”

She waved her index finger in a circle at his face. “I told you, no one is sane here. This isn’t sane. This? This is not sane.”

“Sure it is. Full acceptance of my situation. Full acknowledgement of what I’ve done.” Arthur’s hands shook. “Fuck, I want coffee.”

“They don’t have coffee.”

He startled. “Sure they do. I’ve been drinking it for years.”

She just gave him a look that decried all arguments. “Better, though. Less like bones.”

Arthur shrugs. “He makes me eat.”

She studied him.

Arthur couldn’t meet her eyes. “What is sane, then, if this is not it?”

“No longer beating yourself up for something you can’t control or repair.”

Arthur shook his head and looked away.

Asenath fiddled with her teacup while Parker finally joined them—in his towel, soaking wet, and scowling

Parker sat.

“Classing up the joint, are we?” said Asenath.

“I killed you once and I can do it again,” he said.

She laughed. It was a surprised laugh, far from angry, and she shook her head. “Really?”

He just looked away.

“Don’t…” Arthur started. “We’re… we’re going through it here. Just don’t. Please.”

“For your sake, sure,” said Asenath. “That, and I think we can all agree I got the better deal, anyway.”

“That’s beneath you,” said Arthur.

Asenath studied him.

Parker was silent.

“You know, you’re right,” said Asenath. “Sorry, trashpanda.”

“What the fuck is a trashpanda?” Parker snapped.

“Anachronistic term for a raccoon, because bud, your face is some colors it’s not supposed to be. Are you sleeping?”

He looked away again.

Arthur took a slow breath. “If you’re going to do that, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Now, they both stared at him.

“I fucking killed her,” Parker said.

“He fucking killed me,” Asenath said at the same time.

“Yeah?” said Arthur. “And look where we all are! Here we are, and we’re stuck, and we’re owned, and maybe it mattered in the beginning when both of you got brought back from the dead to serve your new owners, but how can it possibly matter now?”

Parker stared at him, all eyes.

Asenath touched Arthur’s hand. “Thanks. You’re right. You are. I’m being a dick. Thanks.”

Arthur dropped his gaze. “Not totally useless,” he muttered.

“You think you’re useless?” said Asenath.

Arthur shrugged, not looking her way. “Rescuing tea towels isn’t helping anyone.”

She leaned back.

Parker swallowed.

She conjured a teacup and slid it his way.

Parker took it. “Thanks,” he murmured, meaning so much more than tea.

Asenath did not say try not to break that one, and so progress on all sides was made. “So… tell me, Arthur: what do you think it was like here before you came along?”

“Eh?” he said.

She just looked at him.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” said Arthur.

“Yes, you do,” said Asenath firmly.

Arthur swallowed. “I guess…like it is now. The gods did whatever they wanted.”

Parker inhaled and held it.

“You think you’re not helping, too,” Asenath said. “Both of those statements are incorrect.”

“In what way?” Arthur said.

“Let’s start with the gods. You know the Dreamlands are wrecked.”

Arthur rubbed his face “Yes. I know that. I mean… I don’t fully understand, but I know that.”

“The only life left for all these gods is contracts,” said Asenath.

Oh, Parker really, really, really didn’t like this. He scowled. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Asenath eyed him. “Guessing the Defiler wasn’t big on catching you up on current events.”

“You know he wasn’t!”

“Right. I’m expecting you to hang onto this,” she said. “Remind him.”

Parker’s jaw clenched. “I’ll try.”

She nodded. “So here’s the thing. All the gods had their own place out there, once. Those places came from accidental worship, from dreams of humans, from people adoring gods they did not know. But when the Fire of Y happened, it ended all of that.”

Arthur just nodded. His strain to stay here was terrible, making his hands shake, writing lines in his face.

She kept going. “Realms collapsed. Entire domains just folded up like fucking napkins, too stained for anything but the trash. The world behind the world collapsed.”

Arthur was trying. So very hard, he was trying. “So why didn’t they just go back to Outer Darkness?”

“Because they would lose the forms that they spent millennia crafting. They would abandon all the flesh and power and individuality they spent centuries hoarding. They’d exist, but not as themselves; it would be almost like being erased. There is no dying for them like there is for us, where some essence of self continues on. To return to Outer Darkness would be loss of everything they’ve become, and as close to death as they get.”

Arthur struggled. “Okay. I think I’ve got it. So they… took their sinking ship, because there wasn’t a lot else?”

“Sinking ship?”

He shook his head. “Please keep going.”

She eyed him. “All right. So. The King in Yellow is this big… plans guy? And they almost always work. He’s fucking brilliant. Everybody kind of hates him for it.”

“Good thing he wasn’t the one aiming for a world filled with rot, then,” quipped Parker.

“Yes,” said Asenath, and Parker’s smirk melted. “He’d have won. He’d have had backup plans, not just one straightforward idea based on one guy who could fuck it all up if he slipped in the shower.”

Parker stared.

“My point is, he saw where this was going,” said Asenath, “he expanded his own domain, and made it… habitable for his siblings and relatives. But that doesn’t mean it’s ideal for them.”

“A sinking ship,” said Arthur.

She nodded. “Turns out you were right. Yes.”

“So?” said Parker.

“So, it’s been difficult to balance this. We are all in his home. Even the Mother, when she chooses to step into the mortal world. But it doesn’t suit any of us because it’s made for him.”

Parker was frowning. “But there’s nowhere else to go.”

“Yep!” she said brightly. “Until two weeks ago, when somehow, this little guy conjured his hometown from his childhood.”

“You don’t know that was him,” said Parker, and wasn’t sure why he was feeling defensive.

“We don’t. However, no one else here has any reason to remember Harper’s Hill.”

“How do you know that?” said Parker. “How would anyone know that?”

“Everyone knows everything they can about this little guy,” said Asenath, gesturing at Arthur. “He’s changed Hastur. He’s changed Dagon. He’s changed the minds of every single god he’s talked to. When I say Arthur Lester is making a splash…”

“Nobody is changing,” Parker snapped.

Asenath’s look said please don’t be an idiot. She moved on. “The Mother set things up in terms of how they could access Earth from now on. She did it to protect us; she did it to punish the gods. Contracts are literally the only way any of them get to go to Earth now—and it’s seriously limited, and always temporary, and if they try to screw over their host, everybody suffers.”

“She made it fair.” Parker looked completely flabbergasted. “She… tried to make it fair.”

“Well, yeah,” said Asenath. “No system is perfect, but she tried.”

“But I thought…” Parker stopped.

Arthur looked so thoughtful. “You thought it was to their advantage.”

“It is to their advantage!”

Arthur had one of his moments of clarity, and he sat up. “They need us. They need humans.”

“Now, you’re getting it,” said Asenath.

“Oh, bullshit,” said Parker.

“It’s not.” Arthur looked at him. “Unless you really think Hastur would have put up with me bossing him around for five years and calling him fucking John for just any reason.”

Parker made a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Fine. I’ll give you that. He wouldn’t do that if he had any choice. He would’ve done it some other way.”

“What’s this… why are you… talking about this?” said Arthur.

“Because Harper’s Hill isn’t the only thing that’s gone wonky,” said Asenath. “The Contract system stopped working, and I hate to say this, but Arthur, you’re the only new thing that’s happened here in centuries.”

They both stared at her.

“What do you mean, it stopped working?” said Parker.

“I mean that the King in Yellow worked carefully with the Mother to create the contract system,” Asenath said. “And until this week, it’s worked exactly as intended.”

“This week?” said Parker.

Arthur trembled.

“Same time the weird little town showed up,” she said. “Nobody’s been able to create a contract all week.”

Parker stared.

Arthur rubbed his face, heels of his palms digging into his eyes. “Where’s… where’s Hastur?”

“Doing maintenance.”

Parker couldn’t wait. “You’re not fucking telling me you think Arthur’s fucked up the contract system.”

“I’m not thinking anything,” said Asenath. “But they’re thinking it.”

“Why?” said Parker, who already knew.

“Because he’s changing everything.”

“So I’m destroying what little is left, is what you mean,” said Arthur unsteadily.

“Not what I said, hon. It’s for the better.”

“Because he’s alive,” Parker said and knew it was not true.

“Naw,” she said. “Arthur’s not the first living human who’s been brought here, and he won’t be the last—though without a black mirror, it takes an awful lot of doing. They generally lack the patience for it.”

Kid’s heart, Parker thought.

But Arthur wasn’t hearing them. He looked at her, and his gaze was naked. “Where’s Hastur?”

“He’s coming,” she soothed.

Parker was very good and did not comment.

Arthur rubbed his eyes. “I can’t.”

“We’ll share the load,” said Asenath. “Let go.”

He gave her such gratitude in that expression that Parker’s chest mysteriously ached.

“We?” said Parker.

“He just stuck up for you. Not gonna do the same?” she said.

Parker stared. “You’re more of an ass than I am.”

“Had longer to work on it, my dear.”

And that brought another thing to mind: “I heard them say you’re the last ‘original witch.’ The fuck does that mean?”

“Pre-Fire, dear one,” she said.

“What’s with the pet names?”

“I’m trying not to insult you.”

He sighed. “What’s the significance of being from before the Fire?”

“I’m the… I was the last witch who remembered how things were. Just changes the atmosphere a bit down there.”

“They were talking about it like it’s a sign of the end.”

She sighed. “They’re blaming him for that, too. Stupid, I know.”

Arthur finished his tea and put the cup down. “So. Are we ready?”

Oh, great. “For?” said Parker.

“Cathode. Fuck’s sake, Parker, I’m not putting the briefs together for a hobby. You’ve got to read them.”

Parker folded his arms on the table and rested his forehead on them. “Cathode. Sure. Who the fuck?”

The doors banged open like a gong, and they all jumped.

Hastur floated there, silhouetted against the bright sky. His hide seemed darker than ever, true void enfleshed, and his golden robe gleamed like twin suns, too bright, casting watery reflections all over the temple.

Parker shuddered. He’d never get used to this, he realized. To the presence of a god, of a being so huge. His eyes watered.

Arthur headed for him at once. “There you are! Cathode’s waiting.”

Hastur caught him up, and Arthur leaned in, draping over the unspeakable limb that held him. “I see. Let us make you presentable, shall we, little detective?”

“I’m fine!” Arthur declared, completely nude.

“A different tie, perhaps?” said Hastur, fitting him into a sort of trousers and suspenders situation, all yellow, loose in the legs and cinched around the ankles—and it should have looked so incredibly stupid, but on Arthur, it did not. It made his nipples dusky and his chest well-formed, teased his stomach dipping out of sight beneath the temptingly loose waist.

Arthur looked tasty. Parker already knew he would not look tasty.

“You sure about this tie?” said Arthur dubiously.

“Far better with your eye color,” said Hastur.

“Guess you’re the expert,” Arthur said as Hastur brushed his hair.

Asenath stared at all of this in silence.

“Up,” said Hastur, tossing an identical outfit to the table.

“Yeah, yeah,” Parker muttered, grabbing it.

“Fuck me,” Asenath whispered, still staring at Hastur.

“What, witch?” he said.

“I’ll come today.”

Hastur hesitated. “We are grateful for your aid this day, and relieve you from this burden.”

“Sure, cool, thanks. I won’t miss this. We’re seeing Cathode today, apparently.”

Many of Hastur’s tentacles clenched.

“We need her,” said Arthur. “Cathode and you got a history, remember? Mama Laveau’s approval is going to matter.”

They all eyed him.

“Cathode,” said Hastur.

“Yeah. You remember.”

“Of course,” Hastur lied, and offered a hand to Asenath.

“Thanks, I’ll walk,” she said sweetly.

Parker dropped his towel and slouched forward, looking grim.

“Hey,” she said. “Weird. That actually works on you. Sort of a… Hollywood sexy fireman thing.”

He stared at her. “A what? Fucking… what words are you speaking?”

“True ones.” She vanished the tea set with a wave of her hand. “Let’s roll out.”

Arthur’s jog was steady and smooth.

“He really runs everywhere?” Asenath said, breathing easily. She’d swapped out her dress for the kind of bodysuit she’d worn in Cloud City.

Parker thought she looked more comfortable. “All the damn time,” he panted.

“You know you’re dead, right?” she said. “You shouldn’t be breathless.”

“The Mother brought you back right.” Parker didn’t bother mentioning the more obvious changes, because they had already been clear, if internal. “Mine didn’t want me strong.” And how bad that had been, to be torn from barely-remembered Dark World afterlife, to be reborn naked and screaming, weak and wet, shuddering from strengthlessness he’d never known in his life, even as a child.

“Hm,” said Asenath. “Hastur’s got it bad, you know.”

“No, he doesn’t. It’s a plan.”

Asenath just looked at him.

“It’s manipulation,” Parker stated.

She rolled her eyes. Then her gaze locked onto something far ahead, and her eyebrows rose. “Ooooh,” she said, soft. “Cathode. Kthanid.”

“Oh, shit,” said Parker, and began falling behind.

“Don’t.” She grabbed his arm and forced him to keep up. “Not now. This is gonna get tricky.”

“No shit!” he hissed. “Let me go!”

“No,” Asenath said patiently. “You are not my favorite person, Detective Yang, but Arthur forgave you, so for his sake I’m not going to let you trip yourself up here. Stick with us. United front. I’m here, too. And Arthur’s got his own magic.”

“He’s got—” Parker stumbled and bared his teeth. “What the fuck does he have, anyway? Is there a name for it?”

“It’s Arthur.” She shrugged. “I dunno. I guess we could call it… Lestering?”

Parker stared at her in disbelief.

“Stairs,” she said, and there were.

What she’d seen was a forest, trees well-spaced and free of underbrush, beyond which rose a crystal castle.

The thing gleamed like pain, refracting, and Parker couldn’t look at it clearly. It shone with blue from the sky and yellow from the other sky, with glaring reflections like attacks from the double-suns, and the stairs were just fucky.

Just. Just fucky, no two ways about it.

Asenath subtly fed magic into him, and he was so fucking pissed she had to.

At the top of the stairs, the crystal palace gaped open, no gates or doors, merely a squared-off way through the wall huge enough to accommodate even gods of Dagon’s size. Arthur ran right through, sliding his hands over himself, making motions that were clearly smoothing down his jacket and adjusting his hat and fixing his tie.

(Parker knew part of this madness was his withholding the truth of Faroe’s death, and that knowledge ossified, tumored, so his heart had to beat around it in pain.)

Hastur was uncommonly silent. No prompting, no asking questions (“What now, little detective?”), or any of that. He just followed, and he stopped at that entry, same as he had outside Dagon’s area.

Parker knew the facts of this place. Knew who’d built it, knew why. It hadn’t hit him before that Hastur actually tried to honor other gods’ territories even though he’d built them.

Y’golonac hadn’t done that. Not at all. Any time he could slip a tendril of rot into someone else’s soil, he did—and they just burned it away, and little fuss was made, and occasionally duels, and violence. But Hastur… wasn’t doing that.

It wasn’t respect, exactly. It felt more like… a touch of caution. Maybe even a lack of foolishness.

Moving slower now, Asenath released Parker’s arm. He had a choice to stay with Hastur, or follow. Y’golonac had hated Kthanid. Parker thought Hastur did, too. Whatever this turned out to be, he had to see it play out. He followed.

Arthur jogged into the central courtyard without even an ounce of hesitation. “Hello? Mister Cathode?”

And holy fuck, the god did come.

Huge. Bigger than Hastur (though that was no indication of power), this being walked in absolute silence, warping the air around him as if it shifted essence in response to his presence (which most definitely was an indication). Vaguely humanoid, he had bat-wings, and a face full of tentacles, all of them questing and lifting and moving around as though sensing Arthur’s presence. His eyes were a deep gold, gleaming and polished.

Parker was breathing too fast.

“Shh,” Asenath said. “Let him handle it.”

Arthur took off his hat, or tried. “Mister Cathode. I’m sorry we’re late.” Because he saw—

For one weird moment, Parker saw what Arthur saw: a distinguished man, old, with a long but neatly trimmed beard. He wore a suit with a black cape, spats on his shiny black shoes, and a walking cane that screamed hidden sword and he knows how to use it. Kthanid tilted his head. “Mister Lester. You are late, indeed; but I’m inclined to forgive you. Come. Walk with me. Let us talk.”

“Is it okay if my husband stays at the gate?” said Arthur. “I know you don’t want him in here. I know you’ve had some strife.”

“Your husband,” repeated Kthanid, absolutely unreadable. “Yes, I think that’s for the best.”

The husband growled. “I do so as a courtesy.”

“And it is appreciated,” said Kthanid. He nodded at Asenath. “Mother’s Own.”

She beamed and waved. “Did you like the cookies?”

“Yes. They reminded me of something I’ve never tasted now, or yet, though I like them very much.”

“Speculoos cookies,” she said. “Though to be fair, I stole the recipe from Biscoff.”

The fuck was she saying? Parker made a face.

Kthanid chuckled, low (and what was that sound, how was it so calming), and gave her a nod. “Good. Do as you like.”

Asenath tilted her head toward Parker.

“He still smells of rot,” said Kthanid. “Keep him close.”

“Can do,” she said, and threw her arm around his shoulders.

Parker glared, but did not pull away. “We following?”

“Fuck yeah, we’re following.”

Kthanid walked.

Arthur, who did not seem to have heard (or comprehended) any of that, walked with. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

“Yes. We share an interest, though I feared your—” owner “—partner might prevent our meeting.”

By the door, Hastur made rude curls with his tentacles.

“Let’s clear the air on that,” said Arthur, walking calmly, hands in the pockets of his silky yellow trousers. “I know he’s got a past with you, sir. I also know you have no reason to believe some guy you’ve never met before, but I stake my honor on the fact that he has changed for the better.”

Changed. For the better. That couldn’t even happen. Parker clenched his teeth. It was why they all just needed to fucking die: gods did not change.

(But Hastur had. And Hastur still was.)

Nope, Parker thought. Negative on that.

Kthanid studied Arthur, face-tentacles tasting the air around him as though to discern what perfume of madness he wore. “I accept that for now. Assuming he can behave.” He had no eyebrows to waggle, but he somehow gave that impression.

Arthur colored a little. “He does when it matters.”

Kthanid’s laugh was an amazing thing. It was the second time Parker’d heard it, and for the second time, it soothed his nerves, flattening the hackled edges of his thoughts. He shook his head sharply, trying to keep his guard up.

“Fair enough. Why don’t you tell me why you’re here today, and let us see if our goals truly do align?” said Kthanid.

So Arthur did. Arthur talked about people without options; about the poor, those without help, who started working at the docks (everyone did) but never really managed to rise beyond that. He talked about education, and funding, and food. He talked about children, and orphanages, and little girls who… who had…

And he stumbled a little, getting lost in his thoughts, briefly forgetting where he was, what he was doing, why.

“And some would take advantage?” Kthanid prompted gently.

“Yes! Yes,” said Arthur, audibly relieved to have found the path through the thick woods of his mind, and resumed.

Kthanid was…

Parker had trouble staying mad around this guy. It was infuriating. Or it would be, if he weren’t around this guy. “Fuck,” he murmured.

“Just let it happen,” Asenath murmured back. “It’s his thing. Calming. Soothing. Even healing. If Arthur stayed here long enough, he might recover.”

“We both know that isn’t going to happen. No wonder he doesn’t get along with blondie back there,” Parker murmured. “This is… this is the opposite of insane.”

“Yes.”

Stupid gods. Parker hated them all.

(Or wanted to.)

“So this vote is going to take away what freedoms they have,” Arthur explained. “They won’t even have opportunities to do more, no matter how skilled, or anything else. It can’t happen, sir. This matters more than maybe any other vote in my lifetime.”

“That may be true,” said Kthanid, and ducked with him through another doorway into a room that blew Parker’s mind.

The center of this palace was huge. Open. A great, vaulted chamber, dark up high and dark all around and fucking bright below.

Many stories down sat an enormous round mirror. In it, a different sky shone; clouds slid across, and birds, and it was the wrong blue, and it scared Parker because it was somewhere else, maybe somewhen else, and he knew he’d never seen that particular sky before but he could have if he’d been born sooner.

“This is my Viewing Room,” said Kthanid, and gestured. “Through my looking glass, I can see any possible outcome to any action by any living thing in the worlds.”

“That’s really valuable, sir,” said Arthur. “But who maintains the lines?”

Parker could not for the life of him figure out what Arthur had translated that into.

“I do,” said Kthanid. “Through my essence. It is a gift from an Outer God, he who is known as Yog-Sothoth. I’m sure you haven’t met.”

Kthanid was probably amusing himself with that statement—Yog-Sothoth was banished, and had been forever—but like always, Arthur did something weird in response. “Oh, sure,” he said. “He’s all right. Mama Laveau is still pretty mad at him, though.”

Kthanid stopped and stared at him.

Asenath stopped and stared at him.

Parker looked back and forth. “Um,” he whispered. “You know he’s crazy, right? He didn’t speak to Yog-Sothoth.”

Asenath stayed quiet.

“Interesting,” said Kthanid. “That was one of the possibilities I saw, but I didn’t think…”

“What was?” said Arthur.

“A gift,” Kthanid said again, as if rewinding to the previous subject. “Such an interesting one, too. Do you have any requests?”

Parker shook his head. Whiplash, both of them.

Arthur stared. His eyes tightened. He licked his lips. “Yes,” he said.

Kthanid waited.

“Could…” Arthur swallowed. “I’m sorry. This is going to… shorten our… our meeting. But could I see my daughter?”

“Oh, fuck me,” Parker said.

“Yes,” said Kthanid, and steadied Arthur, who’d begun to hyperventilate, who’d lost all strength in his legs, who stared up at this god of anti-madness with tears streaming down his cheeks, who—

There was a whump, and Parker found himself at the gate, next to Asenath, as if he’d been thrown there. “Fuck!” he shouted, and tried to run back in.

Hastur grabbed him up.

“NO! Let me go! He’s alone in there!”

“He’s fine,” said Hastur grouchily.

Parker snarled. “He’s seeing his daughter right now. That what you want? You think that’s going to go well? You think he’ll be fine after that?”

Hastur was so still. It seemed even his massive hearts had gone silent, and Parker twisted wildly in that grip to no effect. “He will be fine,” said Hastur.

Asenath paced, exhaling, puffing out her cheeks. “That’s a whole thing. Damn.”

“His daughter, or an alternate?” said Hastur.

“Dunno. Kicked out,” said Asenath.

“What are you waiting for? Go get him!” snapped Parker.

“Arthur is marked,” said Hastur. “Kthanid is… regrettably honorable.”

“Regrettably!”

“He won’t take or harm him,” said Hastur.

“You sure? Because I ain’t sure,” snarled Parker, feeling so much better now that he could be angry again. He kicked the air. “Arthur’s got that whatever that makes him special. All the gods want to keep him. That guy just might want to do a bait and switch, or something worse.”

Hastur ignored that like it was worth nothing. Like the protest made no sense. Like Parker (exhibiting protectiveness for reasons he had yet to analyze) was being absurd.

Parker kicked wildly. It did nothing.

Kthanid reappeared. He carried Arthur in his arms.

Hastur went very still.

“He sleeps,” said Kthanid, handing a very unconscious Arthur over. “He will be all right.”

“You showed him his dead child?” Hastur rumbled, and it was a warning growl.

“Yes,” said Kthanid. “I think you’ll find he needed it.”

“What did he fuckin’ see?” said Parker, louder than necessary, because his anger was slipping again, and it wasn’t fair.

“If he chooses to tell you, that’s his choice to make,” said Kthanid. “I will betray no confidence.”

“We’re done here,” said Hastur, sweeping back down the stairs.

Parker stared.

“Do you want to see something, too?” said Kthanid so gently, so lightly, so kindly.

And Parker knew what was on offer, and didn’t know how this guy knew to give it: Charlie.

Oh, no. No, no, no— “Fuck no,” said Parker, and ran down the stairs, ran with all his might, so hard and so fast that he damn near fell and broke his neck, damn near matched Hastur’s flying speed. Then he had to stop at the bottom and bend over, gasping, exhausted and trembling.

“Come on, tough guy,” said Asenath, fortunately not nearly as kindly as Kthanid had been, because that tone, Parker could take.

“Fuck you,” he said, but because she’d been wry, he let her take him home.

Parker sat at the little table that was sometimes his bed, freshly bathed, feeling utterly wiped out.

He could’ve seen Charlie, but why? What good would it do?

What good… would it do?

Arthur was still asleep. Hastur had woken him long enough to get him to eat some fish and some fruit compote, and that was it. Whatever it had cost that man to stay sane and see his daughter after death, it had wrung him right the fuck out.

Asenath was gone. Parker wasn’t sure when she’d left. She hadn’t said anything.

“Such a unique little human,” Hastur was murmuring (as if anybody cared), finally tucking Arthur into bed.

“Surprised you aren’t fucking him,” Parker said because he was hoping to get hit because that would distract because that would (surely) help. “You usually do when some other guy touches your shit.”

Hastur was silent.

So much for that volley. Parker sighed. He tapped his fingers on the table. And then he figured, Why the fuck not? Maybe he’ll get mad, and said, “Sorry. By the way.”

Hastur grabbed him. Just yanked him out of the chair, up into the air, so close to the mask that the power of Hastur’s magic threatened what little stability Parker felt he had left. “What?” said Hastur.

Parker almost lost it. Held on, grasping what Arthur had said earlier, though now he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea or bad. “Sorry. That… before. When we…”

Hastur waited.

In for a penny… “I’m sorry I took him from you. Okay? Sorry.” So graceful, he thought. Terrific with words. This would go over swell.

“Did Arthur tell you to do that?” said Hastur, who never missed a damn trick.

Whatever. “Yeah,” said Parker.

“And you listened,” said Hastur.

“I get it, okay?” said Parker, not sure what he was going to say next. “You staked a claim, or something, and it don’t matter if nobody could see it. You knew. And Arthur still picked me over you that night. Okay? I get it. I’m sorry.”

Silence. Stillness. Parker shivered. Was this it? Was the violence he’d craved before about to be dumped upon him after all, now that he knew it would do no good, would earn no favor? That would just figure, wouldn’t it, to suffer and be shredded and cry, when the god he’d once served wouldn’t even care?

“An unexpected wisdom,” said Hastur, “and most pleasing.” And he tucked Parker into the bed.

No shredding or breaking or crushing or gouging. Parker waited a moment to make sure that was real, then finally released the breath he’d been holding.

Beside him, Arthur did his buzzy little snore, the tiniest sound, like some kind of baby bug.

It was soothing. Parker was here, in one piece. He hadn’t been crushed. Maybe that conversation hadn’t done any good, but it hadn’t done any harm. “Hope you’re happy,” he muttered to Arthur’s stupid limp face.

“Sleep,” Hastur commanded.

Parker could not refuse.

He woke. Woke, to the sound of Arthur singing elsewhere in the room. Woke, to a feeling so familiar, so missed, so shocking in its return.

Parker woke, and was afraid, because for the first time since he’d died, he felt strong.

#malevolent au #malevolent fic #hastur/arthur #the king in yellow #arthur lester #parker yang #the dreamlands #tw:explicit #tw:gore #yellow city #cloud city

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aelaer · 2 years

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🔫

Another whump icon prompt filled! And this is the last of my pre-written fics before my first poll, so now I *have* to work on figuring out how to write Loki...

Also a fill for @badthingshappenbingo! The bad thing happening to the protagonist is pretty light, *but* it's still a not-terribly-fun thing, so I figure it works out.

I was trying to write something else for this for ages (read: almost 3 years), but it never came out the way I wanted it to, and I still had this ancient prompt to fill so I figured I'd try not to make a huge story out of it and just do some writing exercises to get back into it. And the normal stuff wasn't working so I flipped the angst on its head to something a bit more BAMFy. Still a bad thing happening though.

The MacGuffin here is pretty simple but hey, it works.

Lightning Before The Thunder Rating: Gen No pairings

On occasion, Doctor Strange still had to do mundane, normal-people things. He still needed to buy food and even magic wasn't quite as effective as the dry cleaners two blocks away for his suit, whenever he needed to wear it for whatever occasion presented itself.

Today it was the bank. The New York Sanctum still sat in the city it was named after, which meant that every year property taxes were due. And sometime between the Blip and now, the automatic payment to the city on the Sanctum's bank account stopped going through despite nothing changing, which meant Stephen had to go talk to someone to get it fixed. He figured it'd be easier to do it in person than try to navigate the menus in the bank's phone system and never ending hold times that characterized every customer service center after the Blip.

Despite his rather unfortunate infamy that came with his involvement with the Infinity Stones and the last battle against Thanos, he wasn't recognized nearly as often as, say, Tony Stark or Steve Rogers once were. In casual wear people rarely recognized him, and it was only once he gave his name that recognition lit up in stranger's eyes. He was thankful for the relative anonymity.

Stephen wasn't sure if said anonymity was a blessing or a curse when four armed robbers stormed the bank five minutes into his appointment. On one hand, they may have shot him for it if they thought he was a threat.

On the other hand, maybe that would have meant that the security guard wouldn't have been shot.

Each second of calculation felt like a minute. He could go immediately on the offensive and attack them, but their guns were pointed at clerks and patrons as they shouted for everyone to get down. They had already shot someone and the man was bleeding heavily.

He had a life to save first. He needed to play doctor—and hostage—before he could do anything else.

Stephen crawled to the security guard even as the robbers shouted orders across the building. He shed his outer shirt and pressed it against the security guard's bleeding shoulder. When he cried out in pain, one of the gunmen turned to him.

"The fuck you doing? Get on the ground!" He turned the barrel at him.

"I'm a doctor," Stephen said, voice even. He'd certainly faced worse, though he was really regretting not bringing the Cloak with him. "Let me help him."

The man hesitated, but another spoke up as he addressed the majority of the people by the counters. "Stay on the fucking ground and y'all live, right? Just stay there. No phones!"

That seemed to be enough for the gunman focused on Stephen. "Stay there," he ordered.

Stephen complied. Underneath his blood-soaked dress shirt he silently applied subtle healing magic to constrict blood flow from the wound, the glow barely going through the cloth. The security guard frowned at what would have been an unusual, warm feeling.

"What…"

"I'm a doctor," Stephen repeated. The blood flow was slowing down. He glanced over his shoulder to gauge the situation. Once he heard sirens outside and the gunmen were separated, he could act.

The security guard winced. "Is it—supposed to feel like that?" He glanced at his shoulder with a grimace that twisted into a confused frown as he caught some of the glow from underneath Stephen's shirt. "What the—"

"My name," he cut him off, words soft yet sharp, "is Doctor Stephen Strange. Do you understand?"

The man's eyes lit up in recognition. His gaze went beyond him to the action in the background. "Can you—can you help—"

"Everything will be fine," Stephen reassured him. "Just concentrate on breathing."

"Hey! No talking!" It seemed one of the robbers noticed their whispers. Stephen glanced up to see a gun being waved in his general direction, which was more annoying than frightening if he was to be entirely honest. Then again, his line of work had rather desensitized him, perhaps to a rather alarming degree. He wouldn't be able to get a shield out fast enough to stop a bullet.

Hmm. Were there spells out there that could? Probably. It was physical damage, so those that held against that may hold up.

His silence seemed to appease the gunman enough to get him to back off—or maybe it was the sirens finally at the building. Good. It would take a couple minutes for them to set up a perimeter, then he would act.

Stephen's chance came soon enough. The gunmen were split now with only two in the main foyer, and one of the two was wandering to the far end of the room to peek down the halls. Great.

He moved the security guard's hand to his wounded shoulder. "Press as hard as you can," he muttered. When the man did so, Stephen slipped his sling ring out of his pocket.

The first gunman was out in a blink. With one gesture Stephen tore the gun from the man's hands, scattering it to the other side of the bank. In the next the man fell through a portal that deposited him on the stairs of the building outside with barely a second to shout.

Still, his buddy heard the brief commotion, which worked perfectly for Stephen. He came from around the corner at a quick walk. "Jerry?"

That gunman suffered the same fate as Jerry.

The bank employees and clients were staring at him now, naturally. With the other two robbers in the back room, Stephen felt it was safe enough for him to stand without anyone else getting hurt.

"Stay there," he told the other hostages. "I'll be right back." He strolled his way into the back where the other two robbers were.

They weren't even facing him when he approached. Disarming them and placing a portal under them almost felt like cheating. So it wasn't even two minutes later that Stephen was back in the front of the building. "All four of them have been deposited outside," he said to the person that looked like she was a manager. "Call the authorities and let them know it's only civilians within the building now, and that we need an ambulance."

At her startled nod, he went back to the wounded security guard to see how he was holding up. "Medics will be here soon," he told him. "You'll be just fine."

"Thank—thank you."

"Don't mention it."

As he heard the front doors open a few minutes later, Stephen realized that he probably couldn't just slip away as he would have preferred to after giving the paramedics a summary. The civilians would definitely point his way, which meant he'd have to talk to the police.

Ugh. There went the rest of his day.

#bad things happen bingo #prompt: hostage for macguffin #mcu #stephen strange #doctor strange fanfiction #doctor strange #prompt fill

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bluestar22x · 3 months

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Chapter 3: The Aliens Among Us

Alien Son - Chapter 3: The Aliens Among Us

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: Unbeknownst to him, Cade was a product of an experiment with the goal of raising a super solider. Saved from that fate by his adoptive parents, he is still hunted. Eventually, as it always does, his past catches up with him, though now there’s another plan for him, one he could’ve never imagined.

With the help of friends, Cade must escape his captors again, resuming his life on the run in hopes of finally ending it once and for all, before another generation of his family line has to suffer the consequences.

Rating: 18+ series (explicit content, sensitive topics)

Chapter Word Count: 800(ish)

Series Warnings/General Info: Science fiction, mpreg (due to fictional science), violence, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, friendship (found family), romance (male x female), eventual love scene, violation of autonomy (by the antagonists), cloning, inter-species relationship (sort of - Cade is part human/more human than not), xenophobia, alien super human abilities

— Don’t like, don’t read or comment! —

xxx

Thirty-one years ago…

“Mr. Dalton!” Marquis exclaimed as a man with crew cut dirty blonde hair passed his open office door, playing with the collar of his black suit. “Could you step inside for a moment?”

“Yes, sir.” The man strolled into his room and closed the door behind him.

“How are the preparations going for the mission tomorrow, Russell?” Marquis inquired, his eyes momentarily falling on the head of security nameplate pinned to his chest.

“They’re going well sir,” Russell answered professionally.

Marquis gave him a friendly smile. “Call me by my first name, Russell. You’re not in the military anymore and we’re basically the same age. You’re making me feel old. I only turn forty next year.”

Russell laughed. “Sure thing, Marquis.”

“John informed you of the address the aliens are staying at?” Marquis asked.

“Yes,” Russell confirmed. He shook his head in disbelief. “Aliens from space in Miami?”

“Sounds like a set up to some kind of joke, huh?” Marquis smiled.

“They really look exactly like humans?” Russell questioned, the concept bizarre to him.

Marquis gave him a grim nod. “Down to their blemishes. They are the most perfect shapeshifters. We wouldn’t have known they weren’t human if they didn’t revert to their true form when they die.”

“I can’t imagine being a simple store keeper, almost getting robbed, seeing a customer get shot trying to talk the robber down, and then boom, their form turns gray and mutated. The proportions of their body becoming all wrong. That would haunt my nightmares.”

“Well,” Marquis paused, “At least he got ten million dollars to keep his mouth shut about it.”

“We lucked out that Leena was shopping at that store that day,” Russell mused. “The government would’ve surely picked up the body and never shared it.”

“And now we get to bring in the rest, save humanity from their threat, and make some discoveries that could change the world,” Marquis stated brightly.

“And your pocketbook,” Russell added.

“Hopefully.” Marquis grinned. “The golden ticket would be getting them to tell us where their ship is.”

Russell cocked an eyebrow. “You mean the UFO?”

Marquis guffawed. “Yes! Strange times we live in, huh?”

“Strange, indeed.” Russell frowned.

Marquis sobered up. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just, how sure are we that they are trouble?” Russell asked as he pondered. “They haven’t harmed anyone. The one that got shot saved that shop owner...”

“Trust me,” Marquis replied quickly. “There’s some shady stuff going on. They’ve been hidden for years, hiding from us, studying us for a reason, and it starts with a big old I.”

“Invasion,” Russell guessed.

Marquis nodded. “We are doing the world a favor both in bringing them in and finding out everything we can about them. We could even put the U.S. ahead in the game of war. Not that we aren’t already ahead.”

“How do we know anything we discover about them will be useful?” Russell inquired.

“Even if we don’t find the ship, they may have foreign inventions in their home, and if we don’t get anything to sell the military, then we may find a cure to a disease studying their bodies; who knows?” Marquis shrugged. “Chances are, we’ll get something out of it. I like my odds.”

Russell gave him a single nod and sighed. “Well, unless you have any other questions, I’ll get back to work.”

Marquis smiled cheerfully. “Sounds good. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Russell gave him one last nod and left the room.

Present Day

“What happened during the capture?” Cade asked.

Marquis’ lips curled upward. “You believe me now?”

“Not really,” Cade muttered.

Marquis opened the vanilla folder on the table and pulled out a photo, placing in on the surface a few inches from him. The photo was of a gray colored creature, who looked humanoid, but was definitely not human. Its eyes were closed, and it was lying on a steel table, a thin cloth covering it from the waist down. There was a bullet hole in its head.

“Believe me now?”

Cade gaped at the photo. “This has to be photoshopped.”

“My jars of Alosian limbs and organs would like to argue with you,” Marquis declared.

“So, what happened with the…raid?” Cade inquired, averting his eyes after they focused in briefly on the bullet wound. It looked real enough.

“It was a mess,” Marquis answered. “Three of the five Alosians managed to escape in a car. But some of my security agents caught up to them and rear-ended the car. Ended up losing all three of those Alosians, but it was better than the alternative.”

“World domination,” Cade said mockingly.

“You don’t believe me,” Marquis noted. “But the two females left behind admitted so much in so little words.”

“What did they say?”

“That they were part of a group of scouts looking for a new planet to live on.”

xxx

Series Masterlist

xxx

#Alien Son Series #Original Story

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roman-catholic-mass-readings · 5 months

Text

22nd April >> Mass Readings (USA)

Monday, Fourth Week of Eastertide

(Liturgical Colour: White. Year: B(II))

First Reading Acts of the Apostles 11:1-18 God has then granted life-giving repentance to the Gentiles too.

The Apostles and the brothers who were in Judea heard that the Gentiles too had accepted the word of God. So when Peter went up to Jerusalem the circumcised believers confronted him, saying, ‘You entered the house of uncircumcised people and ate with them.” Peter began and explained it to them step by step, saying, “I was at prayer in the city of Joppa when in a trance I had a vision, something resembling a large sheet coming down, lowered from the sky by its four corners, and it came to me. Looking intently into it, I observed and saw the four-legged animals of the earth, the wild beasts, the reptiles, and the birds of the sky. I also heard a voice say to me, ‘Get up, Peter. Slaughter and eat.’ But I said, ‘Certainly not, sir, because nothing profane or unclean has ever entered my mouth.’ But a second time a voice from heaven answered, ‘What God has made clean, you are not to call profane.’ This happened three times, and then everything was drawn up again into the sky. Just then three men appeared at the house where we were, who had been sent to me from Caesarea. The Spirit told me to accompany them without discriminating. These six brothers also went with me, and we entered the man’s house. He related to us how he had seen the angel standing in his house, saying, ‘Send someone to Joppa and summon Simon, who is called Peter, who will speak words to you by which you and all your household will be saved.’ As I began to speak, the Holy Spirit fell upon them as it had upon us at the beginning, and I remembered the word of the Lord, how he had said, ‘John baptized with water but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit.’ If then God gave them the same gift he gave to us when we came to believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, who was I to be able to hinder God?” When they heard this, they stopped objecting and glorified God, saying, “God has then granted life-giving repentance to the Gentiles too.”

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 42:2-3; 43:3, 4

R/ Athirst is my soul for the living God. or R/ Alleluia.

As the hind longs for the running waters, so my soul longs for you, O God. Athirst is my soul for God, the living God. When shall I go and behold the face of God?

R/ Athirst is my soul for the living God. or R/ Alleluia.

Send forth your light and your fidelity; they shall lead me on And bring me to your holy mountain, to your dwelling-place.

R/ Athirst is my soul for the living God. or R/ Alleluia.

Then will I go in to the altar of God, the God of my gladness and joy; Then will I give you thanks upon the harp, O God, my God!

R/ Athirst is my soul for the living God. or R/ Alleluia.

Gospel Acclamation John 10:14

Alleluia, alleluia. I am the good shepherd, says the Lord; I know my sheep, and mine know me. Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel John 10:1-10 I am the gate for the sheep.

Jesus said: “Amen, amen, I say to you, whoever does not enter a sheepfold through the gate but climbs over elsewhere is a thief and a robber. But whoever enters through the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. The gatekeeper opens it for him, and the sheep hear his voice, as he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has driven out all his own, he walks ahead of them, and the sheep follow him, because they recognize his voice. But they will not follow a stranger; they will run away from him, because they do not recognize the voice of strangers.” Although Jesus used this figure of speech, they did not realize what he was trying to tell them.

So Jesus said again, “Amen, amen, I say to you, I am the gate for the sheep. All who came before me are thieves and robbers, but the sheep did not listen to them. I am the gate. Whoever enters through me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. A thief comes only to steal and slaughter and destroy; I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

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hajicide · 1 year

Text

on falling in love during childhood, and never recovering

sitting underneath the californian sun, i realize that i've wanted to kiss you since we were seven and playing on the playground. i scraped my hands and knees that day, tripping on the turf and you looked so worried for me. you helped me pick the little plastic beads off of my skin while i cried for the teacher. you didn't leave even when the snot was dripping down my face and i felt so cared for, so loved, so cherished.

i wanted to kiss you again, in fourth grade. by then the class had divided the cliques into boys and girls, but we still played together. you, me, and our friend named from the constellations. we would pretend to be heroes and villains, cops and robbers. our favorite game was the elements, where i would control wind, he would control fire, and you would control water. we would play on the big kid playground, the one next to the parking lot.

i remember us in class too, a few months before my eleventh birthday. we'd both scored perfectly on the practice spelling quiz, so we didn't have to take the main one. it was just us two that passed, so we spent the twenty minutes the spelling quiz took just sitting on the floor together, reading. i don't know if you remember, but i was being bullied then. but you still looked at me like i was worth something, like i was something to be cared for, cherished, loved, and all that.

i wanted to kiss you again and again, with more and more frequency all through middle school. the day you announced that you were dating one of the older girls from the grade above us, i was destroyed. i made up a fake boyfriend on the spot just so i wouldn't have to hear you talk about her and pretend it didn't hurt. you gave her your first kiss in one of our friend's backyards at night, when the energy of a years-end party started to decline.

you broke up a month later, when she started cheating on you. i didn't tell you then, but i was glad she was a terrible person, because it meant that you were single again. free from her.

i wanted to kiss you again, when our friend invited a small group of us to stay with her and her mom in their cabin on the lake, the one in the mountains. you bought a wooden sword at this variety shop in the village. you still have it, i think, stored away in a closet somewhere. i remember we bothered our friend (the one you considered a cousin) and sat on the arms of her armchair to look at memes she showed us on her phone.

i came out to you on the trip for the first time, afraid of your reaction. i was bisexual, but you didn't really care.

i think i loved you more, then.

in high school we both moved schools. you started to attend high school in another city, an hour away, and i went to the public school by my house. i missed talking to you, seeing you, but we still met up once a month or so. i stopped falling for you -- well, i stopped noticing it at least. i got my first girlfriend the winter of freshman year and i was happy, for a while. then we broke up, got back together, then broke up again. through it all, you were oblivious to the real reason i couldn't love her in the way i should.

i got another girlfriend, then a partner, then a boyfriend, then another girlfriend, then another partner, then another girlfriend, all to distract myself from thoughts of you.

in our final year of high school, you moved back to our city and lied about what district you lived in so you could go to my school. i felt to cared for then, as a friend.

i introduced you to my friends, to my life, to the person i'd become when you were gone. i showed up all my flaws and you'd smiled in the face of them, a sweet and genuine smile. and then you told me that you thought you loved my best friend.

i supported you through it, like i had with every other girl. when you started dating, kissing, loving each other, i was there for you through it all. when she dumped you i was there, holding you hand and rubbing your back through it all. i gave you advice on what to do to win her back, how to show her all the care in the world.

i moved away the next fall, off to a big city across the country so i could get as far away from you as possible. it didn't work. we talked when we could and you crept your way back into my heart without me even realizing it. you asked me to pick sometihng up for you and even though it was a two hour commute from my place, i picked it up for you, just because you asked.

and then i came back for the holiday season. we made plans to meet before i left and we spent the whole day together. we got coffee in the morning and just talked for hours, about anything and everything we could think of. you invited me to the bowling alley to see your brother and your dad and i accepted, so we went. after, i had to pick something up at the grocery store for my dad. you asked to come with me, not wanting to leave just yet. we shopped, talked, and drove around for the better part of three hours, just basking in each other's presence. then you invited me into your house when i went to drop you off at home, and i said yes.

i stayed to meet your dog, stayed to catch up with your mom, and stayed for dinner. you got me a salad, just because you'd remembered that i was a vegetarian

it was all these little things, you remembering my favorite color, my affinity for art and reading, you recalling my love for dogs, that made me fall for you all those years ago.

i tell my friends that i loved you for ten years, from ages four to fourteen, but i never tell that how i got over you. i don't think i ever will

when we talked about my friend, the one you were in love with, you told me that you don't think you'll ever love again. you quoted something you read, about how "guys only ever really fall in love once in their lives, they'll never fall in love with another person" and i understood how you felt then.

i've only ever really fallen in love with someone once in my entire life, and i don't think i'll ever stop loving him. i don't think i'll ever stop loving you.

it's been years since then. we met in 2009, although i don't really remember it. i was visiting my cousin at kindergarten, before i moved into this prison of a small town. you were there, at the back of the line to head to recess. by the fall, i will have loved you for fourteen years.

i don't think i'll ever stop.

notes: um so this is a big word-vomity and for that i am apologetic! usually the stuff i write is so much more polished, but this just kind of sprawled out of my chest in a gas station parking lot. i typed this directly into my notes app and then when i got home, i copy-pasted it into tumblr and hit post haha...

this really is more of an open letter to someone whose attention i crave. it definitely isn't a healthy relationship, i know, but i can't just... abandon 14 years (14!) of care like that. this turned out a lot more rambly and venty than i thought it would so,,, enjoy i guess?

if you read this far, i appreciate it! i love you, and i hope the rest of your life is everything you want it to be. i hope you are loved and you love others with your whole chest. i hope you find the beauty in everything around you. i hope you found the beauty in this grotesque expression of love. i hope you find beauty in love. thank you for reading <3

#writing #open letter #an open letter #writing about love #childhood love #unrequited love #on love #on care #on unrequited love #on childhood love #my writing #vent writing #this is so rambly #for b - someone i will never get over #for b - someone i hope will fade from my life and from my heart #for b

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silentmoths · 3 years

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Hello ♥! Have u ever considered angel!zhongli x human!reader ? Specifically, how u think the first meeting would go

*cracks knuckles* OH BOY let me pull out the binder and share some of the stupid amounts of idea's I've had for this kind of AU and write up a lil bit to go with each of em EHEHEHEHEH

Angel!Zhongli x Human!Reader (afab)

Multiple scenario's, one NSFW down the end (mildly dubious at first but dw it evens out), Fluff, Hurt/comfort, Religious trauma, modern setting.

Guardian Angel

For as long as you could remember, there had always been this...presence, one you could never quite comprehend. Your first encounter was when you were a child, playing with friends when you'd slipped on a loose rock and tumbled over a cliff; atleast that's what you remember happening, your friends say they heard you shriek and then they'd found you just on the ledge.

What they didnt see was the fall, that heartstopping moment where your life flashed before your very eyes, and then? a pair of beautiful wings, white, tipped golden at the very edges, and the gentle arms cradling you against a warm chest. Dark hair and amber eyes, smiling softly down at you as he places you back onto the firm ground; gentle fingers caressing your cheek.

"Be careful now, little one."

And just like that, he was gone. Naturally no one believed you when you blurted out you'd been saved by an angel; it was just a figment of your imagination, something to perhaps cope with the scare, or to garner more attention, so you chalked it up to an imaginary friend, you even gave him a name: Zhongli.

Most kids grow out of having these imaginary friends, and yet you had never quite shaken the feeling, but your suspicions are confirmed sometime in your early twenties, some fifteen-odd years since the first happening, there had been many since then; a mugger who'd trapped you in an alley who'd been knocked out by a falling brick, accompanied by a single feather, school bullies who just happened to trip on seemingly nothing when they were rounding on you; little things that seem coincidental.

It's the night a robber breaks into your share-home however, on the one weekend your roomates were out, that you actually see him again. You'd done your best to ward off your attacker, you really had, but you were just a college student living off of ramen noodles and eggs, no substance, no muscle and he? well, he had a crowbar.

You let out a scream as he takes out your knees from under you with the weapon, falling to the ground in a whimpering heap. It could have been a trick of the light, but you swear that from behind him you see the shadows move; and then it's nothing but a flurry of feathers, white and gold-tipped, the wings owner resonates with a kind of fury you'd never felt.

And then you're being lifted into that familiar, warm chest, safely cradled in the arms of the man you knew had existed this entire time, and you cling so tightly to the front of his robes, afraid that if you let go, he'd leave and you'd be all alone again, but he doesn't leave; he smiles down at you, the same soft expression you remember as he sits on your bed, a single, large hand resting against your knees, eminating a pulsing warmth that dims the pain as he hims a quiet tune, lips pressing to your forehead as the shock of the situation settles in and you burst into tears.

He's gone by the time your roomates return the next morning, the window the robber had broken in through repaired as if nothing had happened, but the fading bruises on your knees and the small, geometic diamond symbol resting on the back of your palm; but that's alright, something about the little mark ('woah you got a tattoo while we were gone!? rebel!!') was enough to tell you that he'd be a little more present in your day to day life.

It's three days later, while you're working your usual opening shift at the cafe that you take a rather handsome man's order, tea wasn't something you often had ordered, but you could certainly vouch for it here.

"and a name for that, sir?" you ask cheerily, finally looking up at him, cup and pen in hand, and you swear you've seen him before, he smiles softly at you, his amber eyes almost glowing in the dawn light.

"Zhongli."

Arranged marraige

No matter how many times you'd tried to dodge the situation, no matter the excuses or the lies, it always came back to this.

"The date has been arranged. There is no getting out of it, this time next week, you'll be married, and that's that!"

your father was a cruel man, still trapped in the past, sons were the heir's, the strong, the hard workers, daughters were good for nothing but producing children, future progeny for the cycle to continue.

You hated it, but you were the daughter of the bishop, there wasn't much you could do, no more feigning illness or injury, and the man you were set to marry? Horrible, just like your father, oh the amount of times he'd already confirmed that you'd be naught but a broodmare for him was disgusting.

You toss and turn in bed that night, listening to the near-torrential rain pounding against your window, and you just cannot do it. Anything is better than the life you'd been handed, you'd rather be a homeless pauper, because then it was a choice you'd made. So you wait until you hear your father flick off his bedroom light, and then an hour after, to ensure he was well and truly asleep before sliding out of bed and packing a very basic bag, clothes, some money, what little food you could fit without making too much noise, and of course your jewllery to pawn off, before slipping out the back door and into the garden, out the side gate and into the street.

the rain was cool, soothing against the burning rage, and a good way to hide the fearful tears streaming down your face; you'd go to the bus station, use the money you had on you now for a ticket...somewhere, anywhere but here...somewhere no one knew your name or background.

But there was one stop you had to make first.

The local park, to a statue you'd known as long as you could remember. You weren't sure if his name was actually Zhongli, angels had many names, but he had always been your mothers favorite. When you were little, before she'd passed, she would bring you here and you'd picnic beneath his watchful gaze, you'd play and eat ice cream and laugh, things you could never do at home, and when you were done, you'd both bow your heads in prayer and thank the angel for these moments of joy.

You're not too sure why, after so many years of avoiding it like the plauge, that you decide now is the best time to go and see him again, but there was a chance you'd never be back here, and you'd like to say goodbye to him, even if he was stone.

There in the centre of the dark grass he stands upon his pedestal, the rain must have washed away any dirt and grime with how hard it was falling, because the stone looked as smooth and immaculate as ever as you approach, staring up at him in awe; before clasping your hands together and bowing your head.

"I know it's been a long time since I was last here but...do you remember me? My mother, the bishop's wife, used to bring me here when I was small, we'd play and eat sweets and we'd always leave you a cup of tea...w-well...she's since passed, but I'm sure you know that... and my father is forcing me to marry a horrible man who will treat me just as badly as my father did my mother...So I'm leaving... I'm sorry I haven't come to see you in so long...I just...couldn't bare the thought of coming alone...but...I wanted to say goodbye..."

Gods, why was saying goodbye to a damn statue so difficult? your skin was chilly from the downpour now...and yet...no rain was hitting you...

You open your eyes and look up, wings... wing's shielding you from the deluge, arching gracefully over your head.

You muffle your scream with your hand.

"Do not be afriad." his voice cuts easily through the din as the tall, winged figure steps off his pedestal and lands neatly before you, wings still heeld aloft to shield you from the weather. Even as a child you'd thought he was a handsome statue but the stone had nothing on the flesh...

"How...how can this be?"

He smiles at you "It's an angel thing, we come when we are needed, but we are always watching. and I was hoping to see you again, little dove."

little dove...wow you hadn't heard that nickname in years...since your mother had passed. The angel reaches out with a gentle hand, his fingertips glowing a faint gold and eminating a warmth you didn't realise you so desperately needed until it rests against your cheek.

"You have grown so strong and beautiful after all these years...and yet, the moment you stepped into my view, I knew you were the very same, kind child... it is good to see you again... your mother is very proud."

"Y-you've seen her!?" you blurt it out before you even have a chance to stop and think, but he simply smiles and nods.

"Of course, she was always kind and righteous, you did not think she would be denied her place in heaven, did you? why, I escorted her myself."

this news makes you want to scream, after her funeral, after everyone had finally left, your father had thrown a fit, rambling about how she must not have prayed for her health hard enough, how she must have been sinning, for god to take her so soon.

A warm thumb gently swipes away your rouge tears and you feel your rapid heart beat begin to relax.

"I am sorry, your father is not the kind man people see him as...I have tried multiple times to reach out to him in dreams but..he is abusing his power for his own gain."

You could have told him that, but it was somewhat comforting to know that the angel your mother had adored so dearly was also attempting to help your father see the error of his ways.

He gently takes your hand and brings it to his lips, pressing them against the back of your palm, in that instant you feel a sort of resonance travel through your arm, a comfortable warmth resting in your heart.

"You have known love and loss, trial and tribulation, have made the bold and painful choice to leave your home. take my blessing, so that you may always have wealth wherever you go."

You blink at him, he smiles, eyes glowing ethereally in the light before he vanishes in a bright flash. you're expecting to look up and find his statue back upon the pedestal, and are confused when you find the space empty...how odd...

It's not until you reach the bus station that you realise what he'd meant by 'may you always have wealth'; you pay for your ticket with the notes stuffed hastily into your wallet, and yet, when you go to check your wallet again for a snack from the vending machine, the notes are back again....weird, you had your ticket, you had your recipt... so you take the note and feed it into the machine, watching as your candy bar drops to the recepticle.

and you open your wallet to find the note right back again, excitement naturally flooding through your body, but you're quick to tamp down on it, if there was one thing your mother had taught you, it was to use blessings wisely.

Angellic corruption NSFW

You'd never thought in a million years tha this stupid summoning ritual would work.

And yet as the bright light fades and your eyes finally adjust again, you're face to face with one of the most holy of beings.

"Do not be afraid."

You blink up at him, billowing white robe and gorgeous wings, white, tipped gold at the very end, stern, yet soft face framed with long, dark hair, looking at you cusiously, before he kneels, taking a knee before you.

"Why have you summoned me, little one?"

your throat is dry, your tongue feels swollen in your mouth, what were you meant to say here? Slowly you let your hands rest on the ground, hoping that the sigils flaring to life outside his summoning circle would do the talking.

His reaction is immediate as the room blazes to life with holy fire; he attempts to push away from you, but you grasp his wrist and keep him in place.

"It's alright, don't be afraid...I'm simply curious about something.." you murmur quietly.

"What could possibly make a mortal so curious that they would summon an angel within a trap of holy fire?" He spits, pulling his wings in as tightly as possible. "Release me."

"Oh, I will, don't worry about that. I've no intention on keeping you in a cage, but I knew you wouldn't be a willing participant otherwise... and, even if you refuse and I let you go, I'll just have to summon someone else."

His golden eyes narrow dangerously at you, and yet, you can feel the way his body trembles with fear, the sigils around the room slowly sapping away his power.

"What do you want from me?" he hisses, you smile and shove him backwards, he lands in the middle of the room on his back, and you shift with him to sit on his belly.

"You know...I once heard that there are ways to corrupt an angel...is that true?"

"What are you talking about!?"

You hum thoughtfully, leaning back,enjoying the way he grips your thighs as the ring of fire burns just that little bit brighter.

"I heard that some pretty interesting things happen when an angel partakes in sins of the flesh."

Understanding sparks in those deep, golden eyes; what you're not expecting however is how his struggle suddenly ceases.

"That is all you have summoned me for?"

Now it's your turn to blink dumbly down at him, talk about caught off guard... you were...honestly kind of expecting to do some very morally grey things tonight.

"I mean...yeah? Call me curious but I want to know."

He regards you for a moment longer before looking around at the fire trapping him in place.

"I propose an agreement...cease the fire and I will show you first hand what happens when an angel partakes in what you call 'sins of the flesh'"

Oh...oh-

"deal." within moments, the fire dissipates and so to does the fearful tremble in the angels shoulders. "But first...why are you so willing to take part in this?"

Your angel smirks and rolls until it's him sitting in your belly.

"I have served the lord for many millenia... to speak plainly, I have grown tired...why not round out my duties by finally, as he calls it 'falling to sin'?"

You gulp, now that you were stuck beneath him, you had a very good view of just how large a man this angel was... handsome and strong, and especially intimidating when he flares his wings, catching both your wrists in a single hand and pinning them above your head.

"H-hey, before we do this...what's your name?"

He regards you for a moment before responding

"Most call me Zhongli, though, if you find this evening enjoyable, instead of some convoluted summoning ritual next time, simply call out my real name: Morax."

as he leans in to take your lips in a kiss, you have a feeling you're going to be in for a very long night.

#Silentmothasks #Silentmothwrites #Zhongli x reader #Genshin impact scenarios #Genshin Zhongli #Zhongli x reader smut #kinda

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daniyanii · 3 years

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I POSTED THIS ON MY WATTPAD (melaninanimez) FIRST

Soft Yandere Dabi

You remember the exact day you met him. You were just doing your day to day job as a florist. You loved your little shop with everything you had left, because well....it was all you had left.

Many years ago your shop was actually your fathers. You used to run around smelling the flowers and playing with the petals in your own world while he worked to give you everything he could. Life was good...until it wasn't.

One day while you were playing in the back room, your father was being robbed. He was always a prideful man and would refuse to give up, but that was his downfall. He refused to give the money not because he was greedy, but because he was saving up to give you a real christmas that year.

After he refused the money the robber was fed up. Your little dream world was interrupted by a single gunshot, something heavy dropping to the floor, and rummaging through the cash register.

You heard the bell on the front door ring quickly as whoever committed this crime ran off. You were completely frozen with fear, but you slowly inched yourself out the room. Once you hit the main room you were horrified to see blood spilling down the small steps that lead behind the counter.

"Daddy?" your high voice whispered out

But you got not response, the only sound that filled the room was the spilling of blood and your jagged breaths.

You had to no choice but to walk up the steps since that was the only way to get behind the counter. You always used to run around barefoot so you had to step directly in the warm trailing blood. When you peeked behind the counter it confirmed your worst nightmare.

Your father had been shot dead.

You remember running to his body and screaming. Begging him to move or talk, asking him not to leave you. But after a few minutes of crying and pleading you knew it was over, he was gone.

He wasn't the first parent you had seen dead either. Your mother killed herself by overdosing a year prior. It took you hours to realize she wasn't just sleep. You remember bouncing on her chest laughing, and begging her to get up. But after your poured water on her hand and when she didn't move you knew something was wrong.

You always tried not to think about it but without fail it remained a constant replaying memory. It was like an annoying fly who just wouldn't go away no matter how many windows you open. You took the pain and trauma from both of those situations and pushed it all the way down to your feet. Whenever you thought about it in public you would just put a smile on your face like always and keep moving.

One day a young man came in staring at the ground, refusing to look up at you. Nevertheless, you still smiled and greeted him like all your other customers.

"Do you have any sunflowers?" He mumbled out still looking as far down as he could.

"Of course I do! Let me show you." You spoke with enthusiasm since surprisingly no one ever asked for sunflowers. Plus....they were your dad's favorite.

You stepped down the steps, and lightly grabbed his hand to lead him to the flowers. He seemed to tense at this but didn't pull away.

"Theyre all the way back here since people aren't usually big fans of them." You explained but quickly shut up, feeling like he wasn't one for small talk. You let go of his hand when the sunflowers came in view.

"There they are, beautiful as ever. I'll leave you to it, any other questions you have I'd be glad to answer." Since his head was slightly up now he could see you but you couldn't really see him, you still gave him your warmest smile and began to walk back to the counter.

"Um, can you actually help me pick one? I'm not very good at this." He spoke deeply, he knew that any other day he would have wordlessly walked in and wandered till he found what he needed, grabbed the first one he saw and left. But something about this woman made him have to talk to her. She radiated this warmth that even he couldn't make.

"Of course! It's not like there's anyone else in here." She turned around smiling again

She began asking him simple questions only flower related. She could tell he was a private man due to his lack of responses and she would respect that. After they picked which ones he wanted they traveled back up to the counter. He had subconsciously fully lifted his head up, displaying scorched skin and stitches. He didn't even realize until she spoke again.

"I'm sorry but your eyes are just beautiful." She confessed to him which made his eyes widen

Half of my face is burnt to a crisp but she noticed my eyes first? And complimented me...she must be joking

"I'm sorry again, I didn't mean to upset you and overstep. Here you go, free of charge." She quickly recanted once she saw his face frown

When he went to grab the flowers his hands grazed hers. He expected her to snatch her hand back after feeling the scorched skin, but she gently let go once she was sure the flowers were in his grip.

"It's alright. Thankyou for the flowers and helping me but I must pay you." He reached to his pocket but she pulled his hand out, holding it for a second.

"No need. It's nice to actually have a customer on the weekdays. Consider it a gift!" beaming brightly and the dark man

That damn smile again, why is it so enchanting? Is that her quirk?

"What's your name?" He blurted out before he could stop himself, and subconsciously tightened the hold on her hand

"Y/n L/n. What about you stranger?" Her smile never once faltered and she didn't even think about pulling her hand away

Why isn't she scared of me? Or is she just good at acting?

"Dabi. My name is Dabi." He bluntly responded

"Well Dabi, I hope to see you again. You seem like a good man." Y/n had always been like this, her kindness knew no limits. Anyone else would’ve immediately labeled Dabi dangerous…which he was

"I- Okay." For once Dabi didn't know what to say

After that day he stalked her non stop. It was such a surprise to see that once she was in the "safe" confines of her home how fast her smile dropped. How on most days her eyes would immediately begin to water as she scolded herself about being weak.

It saddened him to see how draining it was for her to act so nice. She wasted her kindness on anyone and everyone, and it took a lot out of her.

He had finally worked the courage up to go back. This time he knew he'd have to have her forever.

"Hey Dabi! Nice to see you again." she exclaimed

She remembers my name?

"Hi Y/n." He spoke lowly trying to avoid eye contact since he knew she was probably disgusting by his burnt skin and stitches

"More sunflowers?" she questioned since most people always got the same flowers

"Um, I guess you could say that." He answered knowing she wouldn't get it, but he knew that whenever he saw sunflowers (or any flower for the most part) he couldn't help but see her smile.

He considered her a flower, more specifically a sunflower.

"Well you know where they are. Need any help picking them out?" She questioned while he just nodded in response

She took a deep breath and walked down the very steps that haunted her. Almost as if she could still feel the warm blood between her toes She refused to show her pain so she did what she always did....smile the pain away.

When they got to the very back where no one could see them, he grabbed her hand. Not forcefully, but he had a good grip on her, scared that she would snatch away.

but she didn't

and in that moment he knew

she was his and his only

"Dabi are you okay?" She asked smile slowly dropped as she saw his nervous face

"Why aren't you scared of me?" He blurted out, needing to know the reason.

Her warm smile came back as she grabbed his hand a little tighter

"Well, you haven't given me a reason to be. You're really nice, and I have no room to judge anyone."

Dabi's heart was beating so fast he could hear it. He no longer could live without her, what was to come next had to be done.

"W-Would you mind taking a walk with me?" He asked nervously, knowing that any normal person would practically scream no

"Of course, the shop is slow today anyways. Come on." She took their hands and intertwined their fingers

Dabi could feel all the blood rushing to his cheeks. He never had a woman, or anyone touch him like this so willingly.

She let Dabi lead and after quite some time she realized he was walking her out of town.

"Dabi where are we going? Town is back that way." She questioned

"I-I'm selfish. I need you, I want you, and so I'll have you. You'll learn to lik-." Dabi was cut off by lips touching his

His heart damn near stopped

He had never been kissed before

He'd never even had a hug

And here she was kissing him first

"Dabi I already like you. I'll go anywhere you want, but what about my shop? It's been in my family for generations." She replied softly

I'm fucking dreaming arent I?

"W-We can arrange t-to have it looked after." He was in such shock he could barely talk

"Okie Dokie. Then lets go!"

"Are you serious? You're not gonna run or scream and call me a monster? You'll just come with me willingly?" He stared at her with udder disbelief, expecting her to kill me

"Will you protect me?" She ignored his questions and dropped her smile to know she was serious

"With my life. You'll never be hurt again." He didn't even hesitate, wrapping arms around her waist, not pulling her in for a hug because he didn't wanna scare her.

"Will you give me your loyalty?"

"There is no one else I could ever feel like this for. Only you." He confessed truthfully

"And you promise not to leave?" She was tired of everything in her life leaving

So what if Dabi wasn't "normal"?

So what if she would never leave his sight?

She finally had someone again, and she didn't wanna have to let go again.

And he wasn't letting her go

So it would all workout

"I will never leave you. And you can't leave me. I-I love you." Dabi couldn't believe he just said that but he really couldn't believe what happened next after that

"Then what are we still here for. I'm ready to go home with you." she said while pulling him in for a deep hug

He just inhaled her scent, she smelled so floral and ethereal.

He couldn't believe she wanted to be with him.

#yandere #yandere dabi #yandere touya #touya todoroki #dabi x black!reader #touya x black reader #bhna x black reader #mha x black reader #yandere mha #yandere todoroki’s #yandere bhna #yandere bhna x black reader #yandere mha x black reader #dabi #soft yandere #soft yandere dabi #soft dabi

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yandere-sins · 3 years

Note

Remember that Beast!Reader fic with the yandere prince? I loved that one! Can I please request ‘Tears’ from your prompt list for this please?

I was thinking that maybe a few years pass by while the reader is still stuck in beast form, but during that time the person appointed as an alternative caretaker for the reader (obviously the prince can’t be around ALL the time if he has to maintain his kingdom and keep up his image) slowly starts forming a friendly relationship and with even something as small as a forehead kiss to the beast, it is enough to break the curse. But the two don’t get enough time to celebrate before the prince barges in👀

I’m uncomfortable with nsfw and anything too sexual but I enjoy the creepiness and horror that follows a yandere character so I hope you can write it like that please😭🥺 Oh! And please let there be some hope that the reader will either be saved or she saves herself. Even better if the reader decides that she wants to save herself and the boy who broke her curse🤩

Thank you! So sorry if I’m requesting a lot😭🙏

Oh, my sweet little anons, when was the last time I gave you a happy end, huh? But thanks for requesting a continuation, I am glad you all enjoyed it so much ^-^ What a good idea you had there!

Tears - “Sweetie, don’t cry.. they didn’t love you as much as I did.. I’ll help you over the heart break.”

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Panting, you urged your legs forward, always one step further than you made at a time. The chilly night air burnt in your lungs, and your bare feet were icy and wet from the forest ground, but neither you nor the person holding your hand so gently in his thought about stopping. Only wrapped in a big rag, you should have been cold, but when he squeezed your hand encouragingly, you believed you could manage it all.

It hadn’t been too long since you started your way on foot down the hill the old castle sat upon. Sooner or later, the prince would find out you escaped, and surely, they would also notice your Beloved having fled the scene. There had been no reason for him to stay. Losing you was enough to get sentenced to death, his lifeless body thrown into a bog rather than buried. So why wouldn’t he leave with you? There certainly was no reason for him to stay in the wretched service of the king.

But sooner or later, they would come for you, that much was sure.

So, you two had to hurry, but even so, you couldn’t keep from smiling, especially when he looked back over his shoulder, his warm, green eyes shining without any regrets. You two had known each other far too little, but he never once hesitated to show you his affection for you, even when you still were the hideous atrocity that you had turned into to escape the prince for the first time.

Perhaps, everything that happened was fate. Even if it had been harsh and awful, it happened so that you two could meet and start a better life together somewhere new. Even if you wished now that you two could have met under different circumstances, now, you didn’t regret your life from before anymore. Now, you could simply look ahead to the future that waited for you.

Or so you thought; you should have known better.

The soaring of arrows pierced through the silence of the night. One hit the bark of the tree before you, fire spreading from its alcohol-soaked peak. Your eye widened, as did you’re companions, and you soon found yourself ducking as another one flew over your heads.

You couldn’t spare a second to look back over your shoulder as you two urged onwards, picking up the pace. Your legs were tired and shaking, but you knew that you had to go faster and faster, or else you or he would get hit. It were moments like these in which you wished you were still a beast. One which could run faster than any arrow. One that could fight and protect what was important to you. But that was no longer, true love’s kiss having sealed that specific fate already.

It was too late when you realized that the arrows so far had not been to stop you two from getting away. Instead, as they began to light up tree after tree, you realized they were there to banish the secrecy of the forest and make the dark disappear. At the same time, they made you two run into the directions your followers wanted you to go. If you looked back now, you knew who you’d see, no robbers smart enough to roam the forest around the prince’s castle, so there really was no reason for any other armed party to hunt you down.

And yet, you did, too afraid that if you didn’t, things would go way worse.

The moment you looked over your shoulder, another arrow flew past you, grazing your cheek. You knew where it would hit way before your companion cried out in pain, his hand letting go of yours as a reflex. He sank to his knee for a moment, cursing under his breath as you hurried to his side, seeing the arrow lodged in his shoulder. “Oh god,” you stammered as you sank next to him, hands hovering over the wound. “W-We can fix it, I’m sure, we just have to--!”

“There’s no time!” he interrupted you firmly as if he hadn’t just been shot with an arrow. Without wasting even another second, he got up again, grabbed you by the wrist, and moved forward. You caught a glimpse at his face, determination brimming from his features, but pearls of sweat collected at his forehead. He was clearly in pain, showing it in the way he held his own shoulder with his free hand, but he hadn’t given up yet. He would move on until you two were safe, and though you sympathized with his pain, you were so thankful he didn’t give up yet.

You two ran as fast as you could, but soon you couldn’t ignore the sound of armor behind you anymore, hooves trotting closer while torches lit up the forest more and more. It was almost spooky that no words were muttered, and you expected someone to call orders every now and then, but you had seen the clothes of your followers briefly; you knew who they were. The prince’s guards, clad in the finest silver and trained to the point of being nothing more than human dogs. They ceased speaking if not absolutely necessary, their eyes were soulless, and their hearts without a hint of benevolence. Them being after you could only mean one thing.

The prince wanted you back.

Another arrow getting stuck in the tree you just passed. You knew everything they did wasn’t fun but coldly calculated tactics. They wouldn’t hurt you. They couldn’t. Your cheek bleeding would probably cause one of them to get degraded to a chair for three months at least, so they really couldn’t afford to hurt you more seriously. But they did know who they could hurt you with. Someone whose pain would hurt you more than your own.

The next arrow missed completely, lost in the leaves on the ground. You two were running out of all the adrenaline you had, slowly and surely having exhaustion catch up to you. No! Please no! You begged the entities above that this wouldn’t be the end! There was so much more to live for, so much to see and experience! You wanted to be with your former caretaker, the only one who ever took you and your feelings seriously enough. You two could build a house and keep far away from the hustle and bustle of the cities, farming and taking care of livestock until the end of time. So please! Don’t let this be the end of it!

However, against your expectations, the one to collapse first was him. This time, the arrows didn’t miss, one hitting him in the lower back, one scarily close to his spine. Teardrops pearled from your cheeks as you fell into to mud with him, your hands scrapping along the roots and stones of the ground as you crawled back to where he laid, softly whimpering. Reaching for an arrow, you wanted to pull it out in desperation, but he began to cry out in pain before you could even start pulling.

“LEAVE!” he screamed. “LEAVE AND RUN!”

You couldn’t hold back the sobs hearing these words. “Please...” his hand reached for yours as he tried his best to look up to you. “Go, find a safe place to hide! Leave for another country and never come back!”

“No...” you sobbed, bringing one hand covered in mud and blood to your face. “I don’t want to leave you...”

“They are after you, not me,” he tried to reassure you, but you knew better. The sounds of their heavy footsteps drew closer and closer, and finding him, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill this ‘traitor’. If you went, then he’d die. But if you stayed and got caught, he’d die as well. No choice you could make would end happily for the both of you. “Please, go. I want you to-- ARGH!” Interrupted by his own scream, you began to panic, calling his name and shaking his arm, only to look up as a shadow was cast over you.

“[Name],” the prince sighed, relief showing in his face. He had this small, exhausted smile on his lips, happiness in his features as he looked at you. However, the moment he looked down at your companion, his face began to contort into a hateful grimace, his leg lifting once more to give your Beloved’s back a not-so-gentle kick. “No! Stop!” you cried, latching onto his leg as the kicks came down, your partner’s screams echoing through the forest.

“Don’t worry, I will get rid of the scoundrel who kidnapped you. I will save you! Just like I always do!”

“No! You’re hurting him! Stop it! Please... Please stop!”

Never had you imagined that you’d ever find yourself so low again that you’d beg the prince for something. Before, it had been for your life, but now, it was for the life of the only person that really mattered to you. “Oh, Sweetheart,” the prince cooed, his fingers finding their way under your chin, pulling your face up to meet his eyes. “Don’t cry... he didn’t love you as much as I do. I’ll help you over the heartbreak once we’re done here.”

The prince let go roughly as he pulled his sword from his sheath as you fell to the ground next to your partner. For a moment, time seemed to stop as you stood up in a matter of seconds. Panicked, you decided to throw yourself in front of the sword instead, but a hand grabbed yours before you could. Looking down at your Beloved, smiling warmly and encouraging as he muttered the final words you’d hear from him.

“Go.”

It was like he set you free, even if your definition of free originally included him. “Eh, Darling?!” you heard as you took off in a second spurt of adrenaline, the prince screaming your name after you. But your mind completely shut off the moment you passed the last lit-up arrow, sinking back into the darkness. Everything was blurry, your vision stained with your tears that wouldn’t go away no matter how much you rubbed your eyes with your dirty hands.

Your feet must have started bleeding as you kept running faster and faster, but you gave them no mind, not even feeling the pain. All you felt was the wound in your throbbing heart, something that the prince couldn’t heal no matter how much he believed he could. You wanted to understand your former caretaker’s action, telling you to go rather than defend him. If you had been in his place, surely, you had done the same. But it was as if you were the one who got betrayed by yourself by running away. By giving up on something hopeless, you felt like you were betraying everything you had ever stand for. How pathetic you were, running, trying to get the better future you had hoped to build with him.

Next thing you knew, you stumbled as the ground gave away to a slope before you, your body tumbling down the wet leaves and sturdy roots, your skim getting scratched by the branches of bushes all around you. It was pure luck that your fingers closed around one big tree root the moment they did; otherwise, you surely would have fallen from the cliff that opened up beneath you, instead of just hanging on to it now.

Only now your ears regained their function, the rushing of waves sounding far too deep and far too rough beneath you as to simply be a river. Had you run all the way to the shore? Was it the big sea beneath you? Either it had been closer than you thought, or you did develop some superhuman abilities after changing into a beast.

Groaning, you tried to pull yourself back over the edge, the slightly forward-leaning stone not being any help in rescuing yourself. Even more so, you had to realize the light of torches drawing closer and closer by the second, while you still struggled to escape the death by falling into the unruly water from a great height.

“[Name]!” you heard the screech of your name, genuine worry resounding from it. The prince’s face was the last thing you wanted to see, especially as he looked so damn horrified at the sight of you barely holding on to the cliff. “Don’t move! I’ll pull you up!” he called as he slit down the slope as best as he could without falling himself until he reached you. It was strange. You should have been happy that you wouldn’t be dying. That someone would save you from this horrific fate.

But all you felt was pure despair.

If he pulled you up, then that would be it. He’d take you back, lock you up again and do as he pleased with you. Who knew if you’d ever get a chance on escaping again, especially if he made an example out of your previous companion about what would happen if anyone ever helped you. You’d have nothing left but to live your life as a mere plaything, captured by the prince that was so beloved by everyone, and you didn’t want to think about all the things he’d do to you now that you were human again.

His hands reached out, and you noticed them faintly in your vision. Your decision fell only seconds before he could grab you by the arms. It was too dark to see, too dark to even speculate how deep it was, but you decided it was better than becoming an empty shell of a person if you stayed with the prince.

No matter what would await you in the depths down below, it couldn’t be worse than being a subject to his twisted, self-righteous love, you decide. Letting go was easier than you thought, making you realize your body must understand this situation very well even if it might cost it its life. The face of the prince as you slipped from his grasp was a priceless last sight to see before you closed your eyes, awaiting the inevitable.

Until your back hit the water, engulfing you wholly like the hungry, desperate maw of an animal. Deeper and deeper until it was everywhere, and only then you opened your eyes again for one last glimpse of the blurred light above.

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