#i was so disappointed when i discovered it means claws

[halfagony-halfhope]

my toxic trait is that when i’m reading in english i refuse to search the translation when i don’t know the meaning of a word

[echantedtoon]

RUN AWAY BUT I'LL FIND YOU AGAIN

@hantengus-fuckass-clones

@hantenguclonesimp-minuszoha

This is a sorta sequel to my Yandere Demons And Brides posts. Basically just headcannons of the demons of Y/n managed to escape.

Warnings for yandere themes, kidnapping mentions, possibly death mentioned, panic attacks, Hairou shooting himself, entrapment, mentioned wounds and scars, regular demon Slayer content, Douma/Karaku/Enmu IS his own warning, possibly some innuendos, etc.

If any of these warnings upset you pls don't read. I will be including Daki/Ume/Zohakutan in the line up as part of Gyutaro/Hantengu's part but she/he will be strictly PLATONIC yandere!! Absolutely NO romance between her/him and reader!! And her parts will be minor. Nakime is short and like last post I left her Yn GN while the others I wrote as female Yn.

Buckle up guys. This is gonna be a BIG post with all the demons from the last two posts. Especially Hantengu's part.

KOKUSHIBO:

-How you managed to escape him? Who knows? He's Upper Moon One and that's nearly an impossible feat.

-After reclaiming you as his wife, he expects you to take your place as a dutiful wife should. Which is why he's very disappointed when you're just acting scared and always refusing his advances instead of greeting him like a good wife should be!

-He's only allowed to have you because Muzan allows him too for being so loyal and efficient. But that means he can't pause his duties less his master changes his mind. So maybe that's why you were able to find an opening to escape the house he trapped you in. The one he expected you to clean for him and come to take care of for your lives together now.

-He's not shocked by your want to escape him but he is certainly surprised when he discovers the desperation you had smashed a boarded window open he had made sure to tightly close off. The wedding ring he always forced you to wear around him discarded on the floor amongst the broken glass and boards of wood. He didn't think you were strong enough to get it open.

-He has a mixed reaction. He's disappointed that you managed to leave, frustrated too and annoyed, surprised as said you were able to get out, but mostly disappointed. He's not angry. He's got very good control of his anger, if anything he's just disappointed that you would rather try to escape. Deep down he's very upset with himself, a Deep sting of rejection like all those years ago stinging him.

-Its doesn't matter however. He's patient. And it's not like you'll be able to outrun him for long.

DOUMA:

-Remember how I said that you're best chance to get away from him is when he's still confused about his feelings in the last post? If you choose to escape then, then he won't bother. Not at first at least. He'd still be too confused about everything and not know what was going on to go after you until he finally realizes it or someone explains it to him. By then you might hide well enough to never see him again.

-However if you managed to escape after- Bravo! Somehow you managed to bypass Douma and his cult. Only one piece of advice to give you-

-RUN! Run as FAST and as FAR AWAY as you can! Because a Douma with emotions is actually emotionally and mentally unstable.

-When you aren't there and no one can tell him where you are, he feels scared and panicked like never before. He's almost hyperventilating as he tears apart the compound desperately calling your name ordering his cult to search the compound and comb through the nearby forest and mountainside for any signs of you to no avail.

-When he realizes that you left him he goes through a rage he's never felt before. It's so overwhelming that he kills(absorbs) any and all cult members he thinks even remotely causes you to get away. A bloody scene that for once might make Muzan pleased with his existence. He doesn't stop there he tears apart his room to satisfy his anger throwing and smashing anything he can get his hands on and leaving claw marks all over the walls.

-After he eventually comes down from his rage, he feels numb for a while before he starts crying. He's sobbing uncontrollably and curled up in your bed hugging your pillow to him. A wave of sadness and betrayal stabbing him in the heart over and over.

-Why did you leave him?! Did you not feel loved enough?! Did he not give into every whim you wanted?! He stays there unable to control himself or answer his questions until nighttime. Hope you have a good head start because as soon as sunset hits, he's coming after you and this time you wont ever leave him again.

AKAZA:

-To be fair he'd probably be the easiest demon to escape from outta all the upper moons. It's still NOT easy to do so but because Akaza doesn't harm women let alone the one he's in love with, he'll not do anything to actually harm you other than keep you isolated and trapped in one spot because he's afraid anyone would harm you if he let you wonder around.

-He allows you to go outside (only at night and with him so he can watch you-) since he knows being cooped up can't be good for your health. This might be your only chance.

-Someone might not see being cared for is a bad thing but Akaza seems to almost infantize you. You won't be able to do anything yourself. Want to cook? He'll do it! You can burn yourself! Want to go for a walk? He'll agree with him but halfway through he's seeing you limp with your bad leg and just call it quits before just carrying you all the way home. Want to bathe? Ok but he's waiting for you right outside in case you slip and hit your head! He doesn't allow you to do anything yourself and if he does, he's right there or just outside the door in wait.

-You're best chance of escape is just crawling through a window during the day and legging it as far as you can. If you do do this, expect him to have the biggest panic attack in his life when he sees the open window. Hyperventilating as he pictures the most horrible worst case scenarios of you running into a bear or rogue demon without him there to protect you. Or worse- WHAT IF YOU ENCOUNTER DOUMA?!

-Hope you know a good hiding place because once he catches you, you're never being left alone again.

NAKIME:

-You literally couldn't escape her with her teleportation powers but let's say you did for the sake of this post. Sneaking out by diving through an open doorway she opened for another demon or Muzan.

-Its was a surprise really you made it out. Like Kokushibo she's very good at controlling her anger and wouldn't really be anger even. She's just disappointed and a bit annoyed her Husband/Wife(whichever you wanna go by with the lady demons like last post) would still insist on being childish and trying to run away again.

-She'll be impressed you made it as far as you did but be weary of sudden doors whisking you back home to an annoyed demon 'wife' again.

GYUTARO (+PLATONIC UME/DAKI):

-You could've simply gotten away if you had boarded the train with your soon-to-be husband and never saw either demon again as they never left the Red Light District.

-Good luck escaping Daki's belt and the underground home they keep you in. You're too scared to fight back so you remain casual and polite out of fear (and to try and think of a way to escape).

-It won't be easy. They take turns in rotation. Daki loves dressing you up and chatting with her like always like nothing changed. Gyutaro will hold you to himself and feel relieved just having your warmth against him. If they aren't around then Daki has her talking belt minion guard you or she puts you in a belt for a while. It's rare for all three of them to be busy at once but it has happened more than one time. They don't think you can escape the hole in the ground anyways.

-Well you do. One day while they were all busy. Clawing your way through one of those thin tunnels until you reach the surface freed. You're alive. Dirty, a little thin, and scared out of your mind. But alive and free for now. You better get out of the E District because of you do stick around they'll catch you sooner or later.

-Both have a similar reaction when they come home and discovered you gone. Daki throws a massive half tantrum half crying fit. She tears her talking belt minion to shreds blaming it for your escape. It's ok. She'll make a better one later when she calms down but right now she'll cry and throw a fit while demanding her hyperventilating brother fix this as he usually does.

-Gyutaro has a similar reaction to a emotional Douma. He'll tear apart your underground home, and when he can't find you he'll fall into a hyperventilating mess of emotions. He's absolutely pissed off. That's his default emotion after all so it's his first reaction but he'll start falling into a mess of tears and crying as realization jabs into him. He knew he was ugly. He's so ugly even a practically blind girl would eventually run away from him. He's a blubbering crying mess like his sister for a while until both are calmed down enough to think with clear heads.

-Hope you were able to make it to that train because you don't have just one but TWO demons coming after you.

GYOKKO:

-Possibly the second easiest one to escape from. All ya have to do is yeet his pot off a cliff side or something but the problem is he'll quickly teleport back to you angry in another pot.

-Your best bet is to use flattery and his own ego against him and to your advantage. Tell him how honored you were to receive such beautiful pots from him. Listen to him sing his own praises. His guard will lower as you both talk to each other about his pots, art techniques you both use, and anything else involving art or himself in some way. Honestly if he wasn't a demon and kidnapped you, you probably wouldn't have minded the conversations.

-Play along as his little mise. Holding still as he carved your likeness into a vase or allow him to watch as you shakily work a needle and thread too closely. Eventually his guard will be down enough for you to escape.

-While he's not sun proof his pots are. While he's gone, turn the pot he uses to get inside your home upside down and place the heaviest object you can on it to help delay his entrance as you run into the daylight.

-Oh he'll be furious and throw a fit about you leaving and how you treated his precious vase, but he's more preoccupied by the fact that his precious muse has vanished into the wind. Luckily for you, he's the easiest demon to hide from. Just stay away from vases and any art studios for a long while. He's sure to be close by looking for you.

KAIGAKU:

-All I can say is good luck. While Kaigaku isn't the brightest, strongest, or emotionally adept demon he's definitely not someone you can easily trick or escape from. You can't get more than a few yards away at most before he notices you walking away from his distracted form and barks a demand for you to return to him immediately!

-Doesn't help he also keeps you in the Infinity Castle where lots of demons watch you with hunger. They only don't eat you because you're around Kaigaku's side at all times and no one wants to tussle with Upper Moon Six, especially if it was Kokushibo who brought him in. Kaigaku is smug about having you always paraded around on his arms.

-You have to use the same tactic for him as you did Gyokko. Compliment him subtly and every once and a while. Keep it casual however. Doing it too much with cause him to get suspicious and catch onto your plan. However a compliment here and there that sounds like a genuine observation will boost his ego and slowly but surely let his guard little by little down around you. To the point he leaves you in a room he marked as his own when training with Kokushibo.

-He's absolutely terribly shocked and PISSED when he discovers you gone and later learns that you had taken Nakime off guard by diving into an open doorway as she wasn't looking. Oh now he's not just pissed, he's ENRAGED!! You'd better run, run, run. Because as soon as the sun goes down a cursing black rage filled shadow is hunting you down even if it takes him all eternity.

HAIROU:

-(again couldn't find a gif of him) Outta all the lower moons Hairou would be the hardest to escape from. Not only can he teleport using shadows, but he has guns, and summoned shadow wolves on his side.

-He can get overwhelmed by his emotions and have a panic attack from the PTSD and end up shooting himself. That would be the ideal time to flea, when he's too overwhelmed by emotions to really take in his surroundings and know what's going on. You have to be quick though because he can recover pretty quickly after the gunshot.

-If you're somehow able to escape from him some other way he's having the worst panic attack of both his human and demon existence. It'll take him all night and many rounds of ammo before he's actually able to get his head together enough to really get a hand on the situation.

-You must get creative as you run however. He'll track you down using his shadow wolves like a pack stalking down a deer.

HANTENGU (+ CLONES):

-Hes actually the easiest Upper Moon to escape from. It's just a matter of timing and how you execute it is all.

-You're best bet is to use his own delusions against him and do your plan when he's by himself without any clones present to stop you. Act sweet to him. Tell him you're glad you're 'husband' is home and that you were going to run out and grab him something to make for dinner and to just make himself comfortable. He's so delusional and thinks you're just being a sweet 'wife'(nevermind you two aren't married) that he believes everything you say.

-Wont even put up a fuss as you smile casually and wave at him before walking out the door on your way to town to 'buy ingredients' only you skip right past the town and you don't walk you freaking RUN!! Run, run, run as fast and as far as you can before he realizes that you aren't coming back.

-He's so delicious that he doesn't suspect anything. In fact he takes a nap and wonders about the house for hours waiting for you when you don't show up once it's night time is when he knows somethings up. He doesn't believe you ran away however. No. To the day he died Hantengu believes his poor wife was abducted by another demon or slayer.

-Hope youre far away because he's ripping himself apart and sending his clones out to search for their poor 'wife.'

SEKIDO:

-He may not look it but he's very concerned about their 'wife.' He doesn't know what happened to you and he doesn't care. He wants you back and he wants you back NOW!!

-First thing he does is yell at Hantengu for twenty minutes about stupid he was to let you go by yourself all defenseless and weak. Next he's ripping up himself and Karaku to get the others and ordering them in the scariest most threatening tone ever to get out there and FIND YOU! Even if it was the last thing they did.

AIZETSU:

-Crying, blubbering mess. He knows you weren't happy with them but did you have to run away? Did they do something wrong? No. It must be because something awful happened to you because they weren't there. You'd never run away from them!

-Most emotional outwardly and on the verge of an anxiety attack the entire time they're looking for you. Once they find you(if they do) he's holding onto you and sobbing into your dress about how sorry he is.

UROGI:

-Man is molting in anxiety. He's making panicked turkey noises while he's looking for you. He thinks it's a game at first thinking you're just playing chase but when it becomes clear you're actually GONE he's running around like a headless chicken panicking.

-The most likely to spot you from up above so be sure to stick close to trees and outta sight because if not then you'll find yourself swooped up by a freaked out harpy and flown back to the others...that is if KFC man finds you at all.

KARAKU:

-Is surprisingly the only one that's thinking clearly. He's the clone of Relaxation so he's going to be the calmest one in this situation. But he's still panicked and scared like the others desperately searching for you.

-In a moment of arguing the others blame him for you possibly running away with how he always acts towards you. He has six other clones yelling at his face making him feel very guilty and wonders if it was his fault. He promises to make it up to you and never do it again once they find you. IF they find you.

ZOHAKUTAN:

-THE most likely to find you. He comes out in a last resort when Hantengu and the five other clones are unable to find you. Forces Sekido to absorb the others and let him take over searching with his wood dragons. He can just take shelter and continue looking for you during the daytime with them too.

-Eliminates any and all obstacles in his path until he finds you and entraps you in the mouth of one of his dragons before dragging you back home to everyone's relief. Be prepared for an earful and to be under close observation for the rest of his time alive because Zohakutan will be coming out more often after this.

URAMI:

-Very resentful that Hantengu was dumb enough to let you wonder off by yourself and like Sekido he'll spend a few minutes yelling at him for it too before joining in on yelling at Kataku and going to search for you.

-Be prepared for him to be out a lot more now too to guard you and make sure you don't try anything like this again.

KYOGAI:

-Like Nakime it's going to be nearly impossible for you to escape someone that can teleport to you and shift the mansion around to keep you from escaping. You're best bet is to crawl or jump out the nearest window at the first opportunity.

-Kyogai can't go far from his mansion because that's where most of his power lies so your best chance of truly getting away from him is so flee as far from the mansion as possible. Depending on if it's night or how hurt you are from jumping out the window he might catch up to you.

-He's not the worst demon to be trapped with but his desperation for genuine connection makes him certainly very possessive and he isn't willing to let you go that easy.

ENMU:

-How did you manage to get out of the personal train car he locked you in? He's literally a part of the train and can control how much freedom you have.

-Turns out insomnia is one helluva drug.

-Enmu is not easily fooled. He will not be fooled by flattery, tricks, or challenges. And you're certainly not as strong as him. The best bet is the element of surprise. Pretend you're having one of your naps. He'll sometimes forget your body doesn't work with sleep like a regular person, so when you suddenly tackle him out of the way as soon as he opens the door, he's taken off guard. Take this chance and RUN!!

-Stay away from train stations and trains. You'll probably be able to avoid him as his main body is literally infused with a train. I'm fact stay away from train tracks and towns with stations all together. You never know if a train whistle is just Enmu around the corner.

[cosmicstarlatte]

Coconut (Obey Me!)

━━━━━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━━━━━

You got a coconut and need help opening it. You decide to ask your favorite guy. Does he fail or succeed?

»Characters: Demon Bros + Dateables

»Tags: Shitpost, Humor, Mammon's At It Again, Levi Is My Fave

Lucifer:

"Hand it over."

He's heard of coconuts but never seen one up close

Gently tosses it in his hand for a feel

Hmph this will be easy

ItWasNot.png

Had to pull out the old worst cursed magic he could think of

It didn't work

The many cursed tools in the dungeons also didn't work

Sweating angry mess...how's it not open!?

Angrily chucks it through the wall

It knocked out a poor unsuspecting Levi

"I will get you literally anything else you desire that's not that."

Mammon:

"Why's it furry?"

"What do ya mean you're s'pose to eat it?"

He didn't understand why you wanted this thing but he wasn't going to let his human down

Got upset that his attempts did nothing, however he hatched an idea

Got a booth at the carnival

"Pay up and test ya strength! How tough are ya!? HEY YOU! YOU'RE NOT A WIMP ARE YA?"

After hundreds of tries from monsters and demons, the coconut finally split open

He brought it back to you (wearing new bling and all)

"The Great Mammon never disappoints! Also...can ya get me more of 'em?"

Levi:

"Wooaahh a coconut!? I've seen these in so many anime beach episodes!"

The otaku was excited you came to him for help!

He was going to get it open one way or another!

He tried for an hour before sending you off

"I'll come find you when I open it!"

It would be years before he returns

(You lived in the Devildom after the program)

He journeyed through the Devildom in search of knowledge for his quest

He developed surprising friendships, suffered painful losses, but also discovered a new meaning to life

He did eventually find a way to open the coconut

He came back home wizard style

"I bring you that of which you requested"

"Levi no one knew where you went, you were just gone! We were worried!"

"I got your coconut open though! Quest complete!"

He thought the hugs and kisses from you were worth it, the coconut must've meant a lot to you!

I love him so much yall

Satan:

"A coconut? I've only ever read about them. Bring it here."

Gave it a few curious knocks

This will be easy 2.0

Tried to peel it and saw it did nothing

Tried to karate chop it, still nothing

He chuckled and a black aura surrounded him

I see.

He tried punching it and then clawing at it for a while

There is no god, just nothingness

He lost his shit in demon form

His rampage destroyed a chunk of the house

Coconuts are no longer allowed at the House of Lamentation

Like you can't even say the word coconut

Asmo:

"What is that?"

He did not want to touch whatever that thing was

He saw the disappointed look in your face and changed his mind

He tried to break it open in half with his bare hands but it was futile

Why is this thing so tough?

He was not having it, he was going to open your precious coconut!

"MAMMON!"

He could only think of one other way

A grumbling Mammon appeared

"Just stand there a second will you?"

He knocked the coconut against his head (HEY!) and the coconut split open!

It did break one of his manicured nails though but he thought the happiness on your face was worth it

Beel:

"Did you bring more?" (You did)

Was excited to try a human world fruit

Tried to break it in half with his hands

Was surprised when it didn't...but no worries!

He briefly bared his fangs and gave a sharp bite

It made a little opening and he was then able to split it with his hands

He was happy trying something new with you and was excited for future recipes

Yeah...no struggles here ajsjdlgkskdldk

Belphie:

"Huh? You want me to open that?"

He was surprised but flattered you'd go to him

He wasn't even sure what that thing was

He tried to strangle it but just couldn't get it to open

Then he tried to threaten it

Still didn't work

Was exhausted at this point and thought a well deserved nap was needed

You found him clinging to the coconut like a plushie

You never got it back

Diavolo:

"Oh what a cute little silly fruit!"

He thought it looked precious!

Of course he would open it for you!

After a few minutes of trying to get the thing open, he was getting flustered

This can't be from the human realm? It's...it's diabolical!

He gave a sad pout and tried a *different* approach

"Please little one, open up will you?" He politely begged the unforgiving fruit

It magically split open and he triumphantly gave you your coconut back!

...Still not sure how that works but it's probably just... a Dia thing LMAO

Barbatos:

"I would be happy to. Although can you pick it up in say 30 min? I have another task to attend to."

He traveled to the human realm and picked up some chopped coconut and fresh coconut juice for you

He's a demon of many talents

He's also a demon of many secrets

He's never mastered the art of opening human world coconuts but he wasn't going to let you or anyone else know that!

He gave you a beautifully arranged plate and fancy jar

Simeon:

"I can try."

He knew of coconuts but never touched one

He tried knocking it a few times but it didn't work

He tried to remain calm as he tried a few other methods

Burn it. Burn it Simeon.

No just ignore the voice

After one more attempt he lost his cool

He had quite a colorful vocabulary

Threw dangerous celestial magic spears at the indestructible fruit

Luke freaked out and knocked him out in panic

Luke was quite frightened and didn't trust coconuts after Simeons rage

Simeon hates when they refer to it as The Incident™️

Solomon:

"Sure! I will handle it."

He's opened a few in his lifetime

He found a way to get it open every time!

He gingerly touched the coconut

So we meet again

He took the coconut and chucked it fiercely against the wall

He smirked at the small shattered pieces

He thought back on the first coconut he ever had the displeasure of meeting...he will never be made a fool again

You decided to buy coconut juice instead

»Note: Imagine you ask Belphie to open a banana and he just immediately strangles the thing, like is that just how he opens things?? Yep, a new headcanon acquired!

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[t00thpasteface]

what's the best Spongebob episode in your opinion?

Band Geeks is number one with a bullet. It hits all the points a good classic spongebob episode hits: it's nonstop hilarious, it's grounded with emotional stakes, and squidward is on his A-game.

this episode does a LOT with just 11 minutes of runtime and doesn't waste a breath; every single line is a joke. i don't have to tell you that it's one of the most quotable spongebob episodes. i mean, ALL THESE lines came from band geeks:

you've reached the house of unrecognized talent; please leave a message after the 🎵

is mayonnaise an instrument?

too bad that didn't kill me.

whoever's the owner of the white sedan... you left your lights on.

people talk loud when they wanna act smart, right? "CORRECT!!!"

big! meaty! CLAWS!

oh, so now the talking cheese is gonna preach to us!

you took my once chance at happiness, and crushed it. crushed it into little, tiny, bite-sized pieces!

squidward's always been there for us when it was convenient for him!

a one! a two! a skiddly-diddly-do!

they couldn't be here. they... died.

that's his eager face.

these are some ugly looking fish!

and there's so much physical comedy on top of that, right from the start of squidward slamming the door on the veterinarian, to the end scene with squilliam getting carried away on a stretcher during the performance. a lot of big gags are punctuated with just enough breathing room... and then even the breathing room is funny.

plus, i love the way they used the instruments themselves for the comedy— patrick honking with every step after sandy shoves him through the trombone, the band playing taps after the flag twirlers explode, and all the sound effects of the instruments while they're being used as weapons.

it's incredibly difficult to set up and pay off solid emotional stakes in just 11 minutes, but they pay it off. you hate squilliam from the jump, you feel bad for squidward getting constantly disappointed, and you cheer when spongebob helps everyone discover what it truly means to be in a marching band. a lot of shows can't get me to give a flying fuck about the characters even with thirty minutes of runtime or more and it's mindblowing what those original spongebob writers could do in less than half of that time.

and i mean. come on. SWEET VICTORY!!!

my runner-ups in no particular order: Frankendoodle, Rock Bottom, The Krusty Krab Training Video, and Dying For Pie

[thesoftboiledegg]

New merchandise at the mall is still scarce, but when I checked last weekend, Spencer's was chugging along with a new hat.

I guess Garfield is back in style? Welcome to the 90s.

I was bored later in the week, so I checked out one of the thrift stores in my area and found a couple of new shirts. I love the design on the first one. Looks like a 70s record cover.

They also had a set of boxers to wear when you're watching Rick and Morty with the bros. "FEEL ME"? Don't mind if I do!

This weekend was a little different. Instead of malls or head shops, it was time for the...

🌽 County Fair Roundup 👩‍🌾

The county fair is where you watch hog races and demolition derbies in crowds of people wearing ball caps and Yee Yee shirts. It's where announcers say a prayer before people race ATVs and smash their cars into each other. And it's also a place for bootleg Rick and Morty merchandise.

No fair is complete without the booth selling bootleg tumblers, and it's ALWAYS the same design:

The sticker guy from a different fair last year was back with more Rick and Morty designs:

"Your boos mean nothing," "Nobody exists on purpose," "I'm sorry, but your opinion means very little to me..." All the classics.

I didn't see any Rick and Morty prizes at the carnival games, but I saw what looked like a Pickle Rick hat on a table. However, this was no ordinary hat...

...it was a streetwear Rick and Morty hat! Morty wears Supreme, of course.

Likewise, the walls and racks were lined with bootleg hoodies.

I also tried mango lassi for the first time! It was so good that I went back for another.

This was fun, but I have one more update that I didn't tell you earlier. When I went to the mall, I discovered that...

RUE 21 IS COMING BACK!!!! 😭😭😭

Rue 21 and Spencer's are the backbone of the merchandise roundups. I was so disappointed when Rue 21 filed for bankruptcy, but it looks like they're trying to claw their way back.

I did think it was weird that the "rue 21" signs were still hanging up after the employees had cleared out the store, but maybe this was the plan all along. Doesn't make sense to me, but I'm not the business expert. I just go in, take pictures of Rick and Morty apparel, and leave. 📸

[tepkunset]

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes Film Review

(This review contains spoilers!)

I consider The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes book to be a masterpiece that sets a standard of what YA Fiction can be; something that any young adult upwards can enjoy. Suzanne Collins does such an amazing job of pulling you into the world and characters she’s created, and doesn’t shy away from the truly grotesque things that make a dystopia feel impactful. I am glad to say that, for the most part, this film lives up to that standard.

Before anything else, I do want to get a few minor complaints out of the way. Keep in mind they did not ruin the film for me, but I feel they are worthy of pointing out.

Sejanus Plinth is my favourite character in the book, and while for the most part he is very accurate, there is one thing that really disappointed me: In the book, Sejanus knew damn well what he was doing with the rebels; he deliberately supplied them with weapons. But in the film, he has the line “I didn’t know there would be guns”, discovering for the first time that they used his money to arm themselves. This really feels like de-clawing his character to me.

It would’ve been nice to have at least a brief mention that Barb Azure is gay. I can understand why they had to cut out Pluribus Bell for time, but because the also cut him out, that means there’s no mention at all of the book’s queer characters in the film.

The relationship between Coriolanus and Sejanus has a much more bitter feeling in the film than in the book, and after sleeping on it, I think I know why: Because we don’t get to hear Coriolanus’s thoughts in the film, the film I think overcompensates by making him much more verbal about his snobbery towards Sejanus. Subsequently, it’s harder to believe why Sejanus sees Coriolanus as his best friend.

Okay now, onto the praises!

The story is extremely loyal to the book. In fact, there is a lot of dialogue that is ripped right of the page, and it all made me really happy to hear. I am especially glad they kept in this pinnacle Lucy Gray quote: “I think there’s a natural goodness built into human beings. You know when you’ve stepped across the line into evil, and it’s your life’s challenge to try and stay on the right side of that line.” Because this, of course, directly enforces the core message I took from the book: Good and evil is a choice. The choices that Coriolanus made are his to hold responsibility to, and as much as you can point at Dr. Gaul for introducing him to the path he takes, ultimately, he chose to walk it. Most of the changes were understandable cuts for time without any sacrifices being too detrimental. The things they added were all, in my opinion, enhancements to the story by expanding on what only happens on the peripheral of Coriolanus’s point of view in the book. For example, the things he only watches on screen in the arena are delved further into by shifting to Lucy Gray directly a few times. They also added a bit to Coral’s character at her time of death, which I liked because it made her out to be less of a cardboard antagonist and instead reminded the audience that she, too, is a victim of the system.

All the actors did a phenomenal job, from both the main and supporting cast. Tom Blyth does a great job at showing Coriolanus Snow’s progression down the path of a young villain in the making. Rachel Zegler does a great job at capturing Lucy Gray’s charm and free spirit. Josh Andrés Rivera does a great job at selling the weight Sejanus carries around with him, and has some of the best line deliveries in the film in my opinion. (My favourite being “I’m so blameless I’m choking”.) And I especially have praise for Viola Davis as Dr. Volumnia Gaul, who does an amazing job at bringing the unhinged character from the book onto the screen. She’s properly intimidating and strange at the same time. Dimitri Abold as Reaper was also a scene-stealer, in that he captures what I absorbed from the book really well; the western societal expectation that a young Black man is a danger that is then turned on its head. Not only does he not kill a single person, he has a very emotional moment of mourning for the tributes, collecting their bodies as he does in the book, and covering them with the Panem flag – something that outrages the audience more than the actual death of the children.

The scenery is very loyal to the descriptions provided in the book; I swear they stole it straight from my own personal imagination while reading.

The music… I don’t even know how to put to words my satisfaction in how the film adapts the music written out in the book, into an actual song. My personal favourite is “Nothing You Can Take From Me”. Rachel Zegler has a great voice, for sure.

The costume design is great. The Capitol’s eccentricities we know from the core trilogy haven’t evolved yet, but there’s still a certain flavour carried with characters like Tigris and Dr. Gaul for example, that tell a story of where the fashion will eventually end up. On the other hand, we see that things haven’t changed very much for District Twelve at all, which showcases how society’s change is stilted in poverty.

The colour palette of the film is mostly just a little desaturated, with one exception: whenever Lucy Gray takes Coriolanus outside of District Twelve. The meadow, the lake, and the forest are all noticeably more colourful, which I interpreted as representing the freedom these locations offer to the characters.

All in all, I think the film was fantastic. It is easily the most loyal Hunger Games adaptation, and I don’t think that’s coincidental in its quality.

[campgender]

from “Soft Butch” by Nora E. Derrington, published in Fat & Queer: An Anthology (2022)

image description below the cut.

I: Soft

There’s an onomatopoeia to the word. It begins with a sibilant, sinuous, sensual ess, then moves on to a gentle ah that caresses the palate. Then the quick succession of consonants hitting the lips and teeth like a playful kitten batting a toy mouse. The word is a delicacy, smooth and subtle.

As a descriptor, it can be tactile: pliable, cushioned, comfortable. Cotton sheets worn silky smooth. Downy puppy fur. Velvet rose petals drawn across bare skin. But of course, the negative associations slip in quickly: pliable becomes yielding, yielding becomes weak. A soft touch. Soft-hearted. A big softie. An antonym not just for hard but for strong.

For as long as I can remember, I wanted to be strong, to be tough. I didn’t want to be soft. How could I be anything but soft, though, when PE was my worst subject and I was so sensitive that the slightest injustice—Nikki’s mom yelling at me for wearing shoes on Nikki’s waterbed, even though the tell-tale footprint clearly came from Nikki’s shoe—or most mundane tragedy—restless teens dismembering a cheap claw-machine teddy bear in my presence—never failed to make me cry?

II. Butch

More onomatopoeia here, too: a voiced plosive, a deep vowel, three consonants in a row. Similar in feel to “macho”—but subtly different in meaning. Stereotypically masculine. Nothing about me has ever been masculine, so how could I ever be butch?

Dickies pants became the rage when I was in high school. As an alternative-rock aficionado who obsessed over the sound and aesthetics of the movie Singles—it came out when I was 12 and changed my life—I knew I needed them. When I was 16 and had both a job and transportation, I made my way to the local Tillys to snag a pair. The black cotton twill was stiff under my fingers as I stepped into the pants and pulled them up.

The Dickies pulled against my hips, uncomfortably snug, and gaped so wide at my waist I could fit a fist between my skin and the cloth. I left the store disappointed. Why did I even bother? “Good, child-bearing hips,” people would tell me, even as an adolescent. I resigned myself to a presentation that never quite matched the ideal in my head.

VII. Soft butch

Despite my fitting comfortably under the queer umbrella, I’d never really given all that much thought to the specifics of my gender identity and expression. I met a trans man when I was 24 who used the same nickname I do, which made it easier to see our similarities, but I knew immediately that his path wasn’t mine. Later that year I met someone who epitomizes high femme, and, again, I could immediately see both how perfectly she embodied that expression, and how poorly it would suit me.

The person I thought of at the time as my boyfriend, then my husband, used to joke that I was the man in the relationship— despite my tender heart, my frequent tears, my undeniable softness—but I was more or less content in just knowing what I wasn’t. It seems possible I could have stayed in that liminal place forever, but then when we were in our mid-thirties, my wife came out as trans.

This is not a story of my adapting to my wife being trans. I’d always known we were both queer, and discovering I was married to a woman came more as a pleasant surprise than anything else.

What did happen, though, was that her coming out gave me permission to do more soul-searching, to try to pinpoint my gender identity and ideal gender expression. I first encountered the term “soft butch” in one of those joke “futch scale” charts—the ones that sort musical instruments or tropical fruits on a scale from high femme to stone butch—but it stuck with me. It didn’t seem to be something I was allowed to call myself, though: image searches on Google or Pinterest just led to rows of photos of beautiful slender white people with artful short haircuts and distressed jeans. Lots of Kristen Stewart and Elliot Page and occasionally Justin Bieber. I am definitely too old and too fat to try to emulate those folks! Eventually I lamented on Twitter that I was drawn to the soft butch aesthetic but didn’t know if I could pull it off, given that I’m not thin. I quickly received a slightly baffled but firm response from a genderqueer acquaintance that of course I could. In some ways I’m still a kid, seeking others’ permission to accept myself.

I realize as I write this that I’m wearing what might be my quintessential soft butch outfit—it fits me almost without my trying. Distressed jeans—a pair that I stole from my wife long before she transitioned. They fit my hips and thighs beautifully, which means I have to cinch a belt tight to make them stay up around my waist, but I know how to manage that now. A close-fitting t-shirt celebrating a punk band I’ve seen in concert a good dozen times. Hair pulled back into a messy bun. Fuzzy gray slippers with arch support, because I’m a middle-aged fat person, so of course I have plantar fasciitis. A gentle breath before a firm statement: the perfect mixture of soft and butch.

[arachnixe]

A Witch's Regrets

Who am I anymore? What do I want?

I know what I was. Once upon a time I was a witch of some renown. I was the foremost expert on Permanence. My research dolls and I were going to, at last, unlock the secret of true immortality.

I never noticed that reality itself was sick.

Too busy looking down and inward, I never looked out and saw the signs.

When the crucial last step of my plan for immortality relied on a functioning and Permanent reality, ah… That’s where it all went wrong.

So I died, yet my spirit lingers in my bones.

Silent. Still.

I am patient. Not by nature, nor by learning the skill, but simply by having my own humanity scoured away by the erosion of millenia.

Time itself made for an effective crucible to burn away my personhood.

But if I am not a person, then what am I?

She too is not what she was: a doll of middling quality who was never particularly trainable or obedient, one caught too many times wandering the house aimlessly instead of performing her duties or obediently waiting to be assigned one.

A perfect candidate for experimentation.

I was disappointed, but not exactly heartbroken, when such experimentation seemed to ruin her. She was just an object to me, and a doll that has fallen inert is of no use.

After all, sentimentality is a waste, and to discard such a thing is only prudent, right?

Ironic, then, that I find myself in a state that one can only describe as “fallen inert” while Dolly returns to me, full of life and glowing with strange power, imbued with a Permanence that has outlasted the rest of this decaying world.

She’s outlasted me, certainly.

And yet I find her sentimentality toward me to be…welcome. Not wasted. Not to me.

She treats me like a doll of her own. Well, the way some other, more sentimental, witches I knew treated their dolls. I laughed at them for such behavior as I now desperately crave.

This creature talks to me incessantly, offering me companionship I'd forgotten I long for.

She fictionalizes our history together. She imagines I ever cared about her.

I now understand the true meaning of guilt. She makes a better witch, and a better person, than I ever was.

Inch by inch I strive to claw my way back to relevance.

It is slow, and I fear I am losing the race against the encroachment of the unraveling edge of reality, but sometimes this doll—this precious doll—finds herself resonating with me in such a way that I can send a hint.

At those times, the words she puts in my mouth have something in common with what I desperately want to say.

In spite of many false starts and strange detours, she is learning the art of dollmaking.

To be made into a witch’s doll is a fate I once considered worse than death, but if I am to be hers…

It might not be so bad. It may also be our only salvation.

She puts such care into the carving of every little detail in what will become my wooden body. The details of the face, the line of every limb—she ignores my suggestions and carves them according to her desire.

I find myself content to yield control to her vision, and I am surprised less by that feeling than I am to discover I do not need to tell her everything.

Though she attributes the words to me, much unexpected knowledge of dollmaking comes from within her.

Ah, I see. In our past life, she read from my personal grimoires.

There was a time I would have been furious to learn of such a trespass from one of my dolls.

Now, however? I feel pride in my former doll. I have come to hate the person I was, and to enact such a crime against her—such that she never suspected a thing!—fills me with joy.

Dolly carves space inside the body so that it may act as an appropriate vessel for my remains.

A hollow head for my skull. A slot in its lower jaw to cradle my own jawbone. The rest of my bones carefully disassembled and arranged inside the torso.

It is a perfect reliquary.

It is a more perfect doll.

Reality itself withers and decays around us, leaving a shrinking island of safety, and still she takes her time painting me, unwilling to permit any brush stroke to be out of place.

This is love, isn’t it?

She must sense my anxious restlessness about the encroachment of the Unreal Sea on us.

“Now hold on, Missy, I’m almost done!”

I can’t say I mind the diminutive. It even pleases me.

I calm myself and return my mind to patience and stillness. I choose to trust her judgment.

When at last she completes the work, casting the last spell to animate her new doll, I feel touch again as though for the first time.

I bring a doll-jointed hand to my face and experimentally flex my fingers.

It’s perfect.

I’m perfect.

I’m exactly the way she made me to be, in accordance with her vision and her will.

I have demonstrated what I do when I am given the freedom to choose, and I am content to relinquish my choices to her from now on.

I know who I am. I am my witch’s doll, and if “Missy” is the name she chooses for me, then that is my name.

What I want, more than anything, is to use my vast lifetime of knowledge to rescue her from this blighted reality.

Dolly deserves her own happy ending.

[duckingwriting]

Search your manuscript

📝 Search for the given words in your WIP. If you don't have a word, you can use a variation on it or a word with a similar meaning with help from thesaurus.com

Thank you for the tag @winterandwords here No pressure tagging:

@author-a-holmes, @mrbexwrites, @rachaellawrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @squarebracket-trickster and leaving an open tag

Your words are - Slice, Carry, Punch, Damage

And my snips are bellow the cut!

dry - From You Spino Me Right 'Round (CW-ish? arousal mentioned)

Vitale huffed an irritated breath and pulled his mate's hand up so he could inspect his injury. He was disappointed to discover he had been right about the weakness of his mate's skin. He had hoped it was more durable than he had thought. But there was a small stream of blood sliding down the smallest clawless finger to prove that Vitale had been right. Leaning forward his tongue flicked out and he carefully captured the blood and drew his mate's finger into his mouth, using his own lips to block his teeth from damaging his mate further. His mate made more sounds he could not understand but he thought might be his mate's way of communicating. Vitale lifted his gaze and looked up at his mate not convinced that he would be able to understand any more from his observations but having to try. Just in case there was something he could figure out.  Anthony slipped his own tongue out to lick his dry lips as the strange man stared up at him. He could feel the other's tongue curling around his finger and it sent a bolt of arousal through his body. A pulse he still was not sure he should actually feel. But he was no longer sure that there was any actual danger from the stranger. Even if he did not seem to understand anything Anthony had said. The other man pulled away from his finger, dropping his gaze back down to Anthony's finger and examining it. His rough fingers added pressure and moved up to Anthony's palm then arm. He felt a spike of fear feeling the sharp claws against his skin. Vitale tried to focus on his mate's well being. He was examining him for more injuries, telling himself that it was not so he could keep touching his mate even if the way the soft flesh molded to his touch fascinated him. He thought about the way it would feel if he pressed his mouth against his mate. He felt his own arousal pulsing through his body. He had barely managed to avoid pinning his mate down and exploring his body when the taste of his blood had sent pulses of arousal through his body. But at the moment there was the bitter burn of fear drowning out the scent of his mate's previous arousal.

why - From my Underworld fic

“It’s shocking.” Simone admitted. “I know the feeling.” Riley glanced sideways at the clock. There were still a few hours before sundown. She chewed her lip lightly while an internal war raged in her mind before she finally sighed. She hadn’t lied when she told Selene that she would choose her sister over the coven. “Listen. I’m glad ya called. Something’s happened at the Coven. Something big.” “Why are you telling me?” Simone's voice was defensive over the phone. Riley's lips twitched in a smile. She was glad her sister suspected her of treachery, it meant she was less likely to get killed by another death dealer because she would be cautious. “Because you’re my sister and I refuse to watch you die. Viktor has been woken up. Lucian should understand what that means if he’s half as old and smart as they say.” “…You’re really abandoning your coven to help lycans?” Simone's voice was laced with disbelief and shock, possibly a bit of hope as well. “No. I’m abandoning the coven for my sister. If it helps out some other dogs then so be it.” Riley talked over Simone when she tried to speak. She knew if she didn’t say it now she may never say it. “I’ve got very little personal attachment to anyone in my coven. Definitely not the same as you have to the brute that came with you to meet with me.” “Raze is not a brute!” “AND you are my sister. No matter what we are changed into that will not change.” Riley ignored the interruption. “I refuse to be your enemy. I’m going where ever you are.”

Try - from the Avatar(cameron movies) Jake/Tsu'tey A/B/O verse WIP

Tsu'tey held his mate across his lap. He had tried to force a tsaheyl, hoping it would pull his mate's soul back, but the body was unresponsive. All he could do was stroke his hand through Jake's hair and down his back. He placed his mate into their sleeping hammock, closing it so no one would disturb or peer at his sleeping mate while he was vulnerable.  Stopping one of the young warriors, Tsu'tey asked where he could locate Grace. The dreamwalker should be among them by now. She would know what happened to his mate. And she would fix it. She could inform the other sky people that Jakesully was now Tsu'tey's and would no longer be walking between the two peoples. She was talking to Nyteri, Mo'at, and Eytukan. Tsu'tey nodded his thanks. He needed to inform the clan leaders he had taken a mate. Tsu'tey was glad Jake would not be there. If Nyteri took a mate before talking to him he would try to return them to Ewya. The Olo'eyktan and Tsahìk did not have to be a mated pair but it was rare they were not. And they had been promised to each other after Sylwanin. He wasn't stupid, they respected each other and trusted the other to help each other lead their people to the best of their abilities. After greetings were exchanged Grace was the first to speak. She asked Tsu'tey if he could tell her where she could find Jake. Tsu'tey's lips pulled back and the woman took a step away with wide eyes at his angry hiss. "No."

fly - From Unnamed Fantasy Western Thrupple

“I want to be clean when we make it back to town.” Clara defended her decision as if the beast would actually respond to her. “Without worrying about some pervert peeking.” Again the hippogriff tossed his head, turning to nip at a fly. His tail lashed irritably from one side to the other as he tipped his head and scented the air. Clara watched him for a moment, and when it appeared there was no scent in the air that alarmed him she huffed a breath out at him. Clara gulped a lungful of air before dunking herself under. She broke the surface with a shiver before swimming over the opposite side of the creek. She released a sigh as the sun hit her even if the water was still too cool to be comfortable the sun more than made up for it. After scrubbing for as long as she could stand being in the cool water, Clara pulled herself up onto a sun-warmed stone and fanned her hair out over it. She idly traced her fingers against the smooth stone beneath her with one hand while her other traced the faded bruises across her skin. She added pressure carefully, more to assure herself that they were healing better than she would have thought, she sent a silent thanks to whatever deity would listen for elven healing salves.

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Disappointment

Summary: Set after RttE. Both nearing their 20s, Toothless enters a different phase of life and Hiccup discovers there's something he can't give him.

Warning: Sexual themes

Rating: Explicit

Characters: Hiccup, Toothless

Pairing: Toothcup

Words: 836

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Whumpee: Hiccup, Toothless

Author’s Notes: It's Kinktober and I wanted to post some Toothcup smut for this challenge this year. Except this is an angst fic that I came up with at 2 am and it's not the Kinktober fic that I intended to post.

That will hopefully be coming very soon.

Anyway, enjoy!

XOXOX

The cove is a place that holds many memories with different meanings to Hiccup and Toothless, but tonight it’s the scene of their greatest disappointment.

They’ve always been close, much closer than other riders and their dragons, but it was on Dragon’s Edge that their relationship went into a new direction. It had become sexual, it almost felt like the natural next step. They had always been curious of one another and the seclusion of their own island just gave the extra push they needed to experiment and then move on to full intimacy. They became complete in a whole new way.

After the Hunters and the Flyers, their official return to Berk hadn’t persuaded them in any way to stop their affair. But growing older did give Toothless a new want in life. They were both 20, one of them was moving to a different phase in life.

His upper back on the grass below and thighs hooked above the dragon’s, Hiccup does his best to meet up with Toothless’ thrust. His back aches with the strain and his thighs burn from the workout, his heart and lungs can’t keep up. As a dragon in heat, he’s rough, growling above him, claws digging into the dirt on either side of him, but still, he tries his best to keep up.

His dick is girthy, it took time to get used to taking it and a lot of it, but once he got used to it, it was like a whole new world had opened up to him. With every thrust in their bodies meet. The way his cock stretches his hole and the tip buries itself into his prostate is intoxicating, the waves of pleasure wash through his core and makes him burn all the way to his toes and fingertips. If Hiccup could, his nails would be scratching red lines into his scaly hide. Instead they’re digging into the dirt as well.

No human could ever make him feel the way his dragon does.

He knows Toothless must feel the same way. His body is impossibly tight around him, yet it is a warm bed that welcomes him inside each and every time. His partner’s noises of pleasure drive him wild and feel him with a need that can never be quenched. And his agility is certainly a plus. He wants no one but this one lanky human.

The rhythm between them is rough and desperate, it’s animalistic. They've been rushing towards the peak of their pleasure ever since they arrived here.

Hiccup reaches it first, practically shouting his release. He comes all over his own naked stomach. Squeezing down on the dragon inside, making it almost impossible for him to move.

Taking advantage of his release, a clawed forepaw digs into Hiccup's lower back to keep him in place. His agile hips snap a few more desperate thrust into his mate's overly sensitive body. It's almost torture for him, but it’s also torture on the dragon to not take this chance.

But then Toothless stays in place and a heat washes throughout Hiccup's gut, earning one more sudden orgasm out of his writhing mate that is drawn out purely by the sensation of being cummed in. He has come, releasing every ounce of seed deep within him.

Dragons don't tend to make sounds like humans do. They claw, they growl, some roar and even fight, but when they do make sound, it's not like a human would. Toothless almost sounds angry, his breathing so loud and deep with a growling underneath. And whenever Hiccup threatens to slip free, his clawed hold on him urges his burning thighs to stay in place.

He has to keep him there, after all. Can't properly breed someone if they don't take everything you've got to give and don't let every ounce down to the last drop settle warm and deep inside.

There's a pit of guilt in Hiccup's stomach as the pleasure of his orgasm slowly fades away, the afterglow goes quite neglected by them both.

It’s only as of late that their couplings have become so rough. There’s almost no time given to foreplay, whenever it comes down to this Toothless needs to be inside him. Hiccup knows there's instinct tied to his desperation, to these matings that are threatening to become a nightly thing. And the urge does conveniently always hit at night, prime Night Fury time. His dragon wants to desperately fill him up, but with the intention to leave him full of eggs and continue his lineage and that simply isn't happening.

The fact that Toothless knows it will never work, but can’t ignore this deeply rooted feeling in his core almost makes it worse. And Hiccup can't stop enabling him. He feels bad if he lets him do as he wants, but also feels bad if he doesn't. He already can’t provide him with what he wants.

For neither one of them here, there's a win. There’s just a heap of disappointment.

[wondergotten-concepts]

Chapter 0: The Pilot

Act lll: Echoes

Next act <-

Previous act

First act

He continues to walk down to the hallway, filled with a mess, stains of blood leftover, and many portraits of people.. but it just pitch black. There's only one that has no face, just half of the body. There is a name at the bottom of the frame, “The world he deserves”.

Turbo curious who could it be in the portrait, he found something besides him.

It's a flashlight, but it is unknown how it gets there. He picks it up and uses it so he can discover the depth hallway. Footsteps from different hallways, it was another Doppelganger. He tries to hide but no objects around him, so he tries to shut himself and doesn't make a move knowing what will happen.

The Doppelganger walks past him without noticing, Turbo was confused how it didn't attack him. After the Doppelganger left the hallway, he resumed to find another room. Then, another tape from the previous past.

[??? — Sense of hearing]

“Those guys don't see me because they don't have a face, but they can hear us if I move a single step.”

“I saw one of the Doppelgangers was afraid of the lights—Perhaps they must be sensitive to brightness.”

“As a safety advice, if a Doppelganger associates with any objects, remembering their past means they are prey. But if not, then they are predators. Doppelgangers have two sides so be careful when you encounter them.”

End of the records.

“.. Sensitive to brightness… could be their weakness, noted. But objects remind me that I am questioning my past.. maybe I'll figure it out after this.” Said Turbo while continuing to find an exit.

Not long after, he got distracted by a noise coming from a frame with no picture, just pitch black. But suddenly, a monster came out of the picture, it almost killed him.

The monster growls at him, Turbo runs away to find another exit.

He tried to run faster, but got tripped down. The monster roars at him, he attacks him. But he parries and uses his claws as a weapon. He kicked the monster's face, then he found a way to hide from the monster. The monster doesn't know where he is, because it was being distracted by the pain of a kick in the face. The monster goes in the opposite direction of a hallway.

Turbo relief he was hiding behind the curtains. He goes to the exit, where he finds another object.

It's a music box, but there's no music sheet in it.

“.. Hmm, it doesn't have a music sheet, but I'll keep it for something important.”

While Turbo exploring the area, he saw the monster he enconter. He quickly hides behind big pillars. The monster looks everywhere it finds their target, Turbo. Then, it walks away to another place. He walks carefully not to make a loud noise, but just in time he doesn't step on a pencil.

“(.. whoop, almost step on those-.)” But instead, he didn't notice he stepped on a wood floor that was really cracked up.

“... oh you gotta be damn kidding me.”

said Turbo with a face of disappointment. 

The monster roars, screeching at Turbo. Just to run forward to him. He tried to get his leg out from a wood floor quickly before the monster killed him. He successfully did it, then ran as fast as he could. Having to dodge any obstacles in front of him, the monster destroyed the obstacles.

“(How the hell is this monster so strong?-)” as Turbo confused.

But he stopped as he found a big door that was mentioned in the tape earlier. He quickly gets through the big door, shuts it and drops the shelter with his claws for his strength.

The monster tries to open the big door, growling at it. But it's stopped, there is no longer the noise from the monster. It seems it has no choice but to leave.

*huff*

          *huff*

Turbo catching his breath after a long run.

“.. Damn…that was one hell of a ride..”

He turns around and sees there's a big room full of books, it's a library but it is a mess. He searched for another exit, but found a book story that is for childrens.

Turbo wipes the dust from the book, then he opens it. There is a music sheet in it.

“Heh, been looking for this.” Said Turbo as he keeps the music sheet. Then, he read the beginning of the story.

[Page 1 — The Fool]

Once upon a time, there was a Fool laying down on the grass just to look up at the sky.

He asked himself, “What is it like to see the whole world have meanings to anyone?”

The Fool needs to find his answers to travel the world, the beginning of his journey.

When Turbo goes to the next page, it's gone. It seems it has something to do with the book.

“That's strange, I thought there were more pages to read..” as Turbo confused and curious about the book. He sees the opening book has a drawing of a mouse. It's the same as the drawing he found earlier.

“This mouse… why does it look the same as I saw before?”

He keeps the book important to find meanings. Then, he was also curious about the music box played with a sheet he found. He found himself a table, so he put a music box, inserted the music sheet, and played the music.

[The music plays a little song about “The crowd”]

But not long, Turbo heard a footsteps. He looks behind, but no one's was there. He shrugged and go back hearing the music. When he turns back, a Doppelganger shows up in front of him. Turbo almost got a heart attack. The Doppelganger doesn't hurting him, it keeps points at the music box. 

What's the Doppelganger's reaction about the music?

[krikeymate]

Wait can I have a follow up question from samscreams q? 👀 can we talk about Sam attempting to hide her wolf from Tara as well as her eyes?

Because after a while she’s scared of what her wolf has become and even though Tara is usually there when Sam is slicing and dicing and chewing up dudes, she’s in the hybrid form right? So like full moon, Tara notices that Sam disappears for those nights. Sam tells Tara not to worry, that she just kind of wants to do her own thing, but Tara can tell when Sam is lying. At first Tara lets it go (even though she’s disappointed because she loves to watch Sam kill people) but after the third full moon Sam disappears, Tara confronts her and demands to know what’s going on and to see what Sam has been hiding from her.

Bonus points if Sam’s wolf really is just truly horrifying to look at but Tara is so infatuated with this side of Sam (and just loves her big sister so much in general) that she just finds the wolf beautiful and she genuinely means that

Tara never spent every full moon with Sam, but she's never been told no before. It shocks her, and it's all she can do to utter out a quiet oh, ok before Sam's hurrying out the door, leaving her with nothing but a kiss to the cheek and a nervous twisting in her stomach. Did she do something wrong, she wonders. Why else wouldn't Sam want her to join her?

Sam had noticed something wrong with her the previous full moon. She's been unsteady on her legs, they'd felt... wrong, like they were too long. Her paws too, there had been something off with them, something not quite right, but she hadn't been able to figure it out. She wants to figure it out. She doesn't want to worry Tara. She'll figure it out and then they can go back to normal.

She looks at her reflection in a window and realises her eyes are the wrong colour. Where before sat glimmering gold now seats a shimmering silver. She finds herself unnerved, the longer she looks into her own eyes. She's seen it before, she realises. In the reflection of a dying man's eyes. Several of them in fact. How long have her eyes been this colour? Does Tara know? Why hasn't she said anything?

Has she noticed the other changes?

The fur that's begun to creep over her skin when she manifests the wolf's powers. The way her ears begin to twist and move. How her feet elongate, claws scraping against the inside of her shoes, and sometimes, through them.

How it's not simply enough to kill them now. How she has to play with them first. To taste them.

It's been happening for a while now. She doesn't know what to make of it. Every time she reaches out to the wolf inside of her, she feels like she loses more and more of herself to it.

She needs to figure this out. She's never felt the urge to hurt Tara, but she can't take the risk that one day she might.

Sam doesn't figure it out. She doesn't even know where to start, if there's even anyone to ask. Every full moon leaves her more and more unbalanced. Tara's getting suspicious, and upset. It's only a matter of time before she discovers what's happening.

Sam's barely finished transforming, unsteady on limbs much longer than they should be, fingers and toes spread and digging into the dirt, far more humanoid than wolf than she should be, when she picks up a delicious scent.

But this scent isn't food, her nose tells her. No. This is pack.

Tara.

Tara who should be curled up in bed. But she's here, somewhere.

Sam stays low to the ground, peering out through the dense fog that's begun to settle into the streets come nightfall these days, and watches her sister from a distance. She's wearing one of Sam's hoodies, she recognises. The knowledge has her tail sweeping across the grass, leaves swished to the side by the movement.

As if drawn to the sound, Tara turns her head, looking directly at her. She can't see her, surely, Sam thinks. But her sister begins to walk in her direction, squinting, and hands shaking.

(Tara spots the eyes through the fog, leading her into the darkness like a beacon. If you see lights in the trees, never follow them, they were told at summer camp. It's monsters looking to steal you away, they would tell them over the campfire. But Tara thinks she knows this monster, she's seen those eyes before. She takes that risk. If she's wrong, she'll simply scream, and Sam will hear her no matter where she is, and come for her. This she knows.)

As Tara steps closer, the creature begins to rise. Her eyes don't know this beast, but its eyes say she does.

The wolf before her is no real wolf... not anymore. Its limbs are too long, humanlike hands, covered in fur and tipped with pitch-black claws, thick veins protruding. She can see its bones, spine and ribs noticeably jutting out beneath its fur. There are markings swirling throughout its coat, glittering under the moonlight. Its fangs overhang its mouth, unable to be contained.

She should be scared, she thinks. If it wanted, it could rip out her throat in an instant, before she would ever have the chance to scream. But it doesn't, does it?

This is Sam... isn't it?

The creature creeps forward, circling her. She reaches out a hand. It moves forward, snapping its jaw over it and burying her entire forearm with it.

Tara flinches, waiting for the inevitable, but it never comes. The beast just looks at her. It remains still for a moment before retreating. There's a slight sharp pain as teeth drag across her skin, blood dripping from shallow wounds.

A tongue slips from its mouth, unnaturally long and black in colour, lapping at the scratches until its satisfied. Then it moves forward, and in a blink its head is pressed against hers, nudging her.

She raises a hand and sinks her fingers into its thick fur. It's softer than it used to be, is the first thing she notices. The second is the way it grips at her fingers as if it has a mind of its own.

This is something new, she thinks. Something different, something wrong.

She buries her face into its neck, both arms circling it. She still smells the same as Sam always has, of loam and spring rain.

It's still Sam, beneath it all.

[ave09]

drive

gk!harvey dent x wife!reader

note: i love writing these lmaooo

this one’s got a bit of angst, and the ending sorta sucks but whatevesss! the next one i wanna write is gonna me my interpretation of the two-face debocle, specifically when he actually becomes two-face (dc fans, y’all know what i mean 👀) bc i have a rlly fluffy and sad idea for it and now want nothing more then to write it. that’ll prolly be my last harvey imagine til i get more inspo from the next gotham knights episode. BUT! i also wanna start writing for other characters, mainly star wars and supernatural so if you have any ideas,pls message me!

———

“okay, where are we going?”

“now if i told you, that would ruin the surprise!” you exclaimed, glancing at your husband in the passenger seat. 

he was currently blindfolded, a mixture of curiosity and content written in his expression. harvey dent used to hate surprises. the anticipation, not knowing if he would like it or not, the stress was unbearable.

until you came along.

harvey dent now loved surprises. 

they were never for birthdays, or any sort of special occasion, it was just out of the blue. he’d come home from work very late and you’d be waiting with a surprise dinner of all his favorites, or on his off days, you’d wake him up bright and early, shove him in the car and drive until you reached your secret destination. 

it was moments like these that harvey looked forward to the most. he never had anyone love him and treat him this way, and he was beyond grateful to have you. 

“are we almost there?”

“are you a child?”

harvey laughed at this, “well, we’ve been driving forever, and i’m starting to think that maybe this isn’t a surprise, but you’re actually taking me out here to murder me.”

you scoffed jokingly, “right and leave lincoln march as mayor, you’ve discovered my plan, guess i gotta kill you now.”

you both erupted into a fit of laughter, but it was interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing. “harv, could you-“

“i’m blind right now, darling.” 

“well, i guess you could take it off for a second, can you check my phone?“ you didn’t know who could be calling you, but it never hurt to check. 

harvey pulled the blindfold up, ruffling his hair in the process as he reached for your small purse, shuffling through the contents until he found the phone. his light eyes narrowed, causing anxiety to claw at you. 

“why is a psychiatrist calling you?”

shit. shit. shit. 

“oh, must be a wrong number.”

stupid. stupid. stupid.

“you have her number saved.” 

his voice was stern. not angry, not disappointed, but upset. you suddenly were aware that you knew exactly what was going on. 

“harvey-“

“you were calling about me, weren’t you?“ a sigh slipped past your lips, and he had his answer. 

“are you fucking kidding me?”

“harvey-“

“i told you, i’m fine! i’m just stressed!” he exclaimed, annoyance lacing his tone. “i thought you were fine too.” you said, trying to keep your temper at bay and keep your focus on the road.

“oh yeah, and what changed that?” 

subconsciously, your foot pressed down on the gas pedal, unease settling in your stomach, “the other day, you called me. and it was as though you were a completely different person.” you began, but was interrupted by harvey shouting, “watch out!!” your gaze turned back on the road and you realized you had drifted lanes. so you did what any sane person would do and pulled off road, slamming on the brakes until you came to a halted stop in a ditch. 

heavy breathes filled the air as you tried to recover from the rush of adrenaline. in that moment you were fearful that you’re last moments on earth were going to be in the middle of an argument with your husband.

thank God, He’d given you another day. 

the man recovered quicker than you did. harvey furrowed his brows, tilting his head slightly, “what are you talking about..?”

“exactly. and you told me that you had simply ‘zoned out’. harv, that’s never happened before. and i’m scared.”

“scared of me?” his voice was soft, and it almost broke you. “no. scared for you.” you corrected, your voice slightly breaking. 

“honey..”

he reached across the seat, taking your hand, “i’m gonna be okay. nothing’s gonna happen. but if it makes you feel better, i’ll go see the psychiatrist.”

you glanced at him, “you will?”

harvey nodded, “anything for you, my love.” 

a smile tugged at your lips, and everything seemed okay. 

“but can you promise me something?” 

“anything.”

a devilish smile appeared on his face as a gravelly voice spoke, “promise me that you’ll never speak another word of this. and if ya do, i’ll gut you like a fish.” 

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Smut - Dirty Talk (2) Masterlist

part one

Camera Guy - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) calum/ashton, luke/calum/ashton E, 12k

Summary: Calum briefly glances up at him through his lashes, mouth still on Ashton’s skin. He wonders in a somewhat mocking tone, “What, and you’re gonna film it for us too, huh?”

“I mean if you guys want me to," Luke replies.

Certain That I'm Yours (ao3) - K_CALM_N michael/calum E, 4k

Summary: Michael feels guilty after taking Calum’s virginity and doesn’t want to fuck him in case he hurts him again. Calum doesn’t agree with this so he figures out a way to get Michael to fuck him.

Court Five - takemymoneycth luke/ashton, michael/calum E, 21k

Summary: A story in which a young college tennis player maybe likes his new coach a little too much.

Down with Drumsticks (ao3) - felixandtae luke/ashton N/R, 3k

Summary: Luke wasn't even the kinky one. Not in the way that he thought of the kinks; he only liked them when Ashton asked to try them. So, he had no idea why he was so insistent on fucking Ashton with his drumsticks.

(or basically this hasn't been done with Ashton being fucked and it was a long time waiting and i'm impatient)

Eat Me (ao3) - notonguexwithbutt michael/luke M, 14k

Summary: "Michael’s bottle green eyes are absolutely shining and Luke has to take a second to appreciate the beauty before him. Luke convinces himself it’s not weird to think things like that because it’s so obviously a fact. Michael is a beautiful boy, the prettiest Luke’s ever seen, and it makes Luke’s heart pound to think that he’s his best friend. How did he get so lucky?"

Michael is upset that none of his bandmates want to take him to a deserted island and eat him so Luke makes him feel better. In doing so, he discovers the feelings he has for his best friend are a little stronger than he ever intended.

for you are not beside but within me (ao3) - elysianhood luke/calum E, 11k

Summary: Calum pulled Luke up with his blonde locks by his right hand and wrapped his left tightly around his throat, restricting his airway, and leaned in close to the teary blue eyes, hissing threateningly, ‘You never – ever – speak to me like that ever again, you filthy slut. Ever. You don’t fucking tell me what to do. You’re just a fucktoy, remember? A dirty, fucking whore. That’s all you’ll ever be.’

or; Luke was a bad boy and Calum isn't happy.

Hey, Neighbor! - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) luke/ashton E, 17k

Summary: “So, to recap—” Calum says, waving his hand and cocking his brow— “you invented an imaginary beef with your neighbor over lawn care so you could have hate sex fantasies about him? Am I getting that right?”

Ashton sighs, shoulders slumping. “It sounds crazy when you say it.”

Late - @daydadahlias​​​ (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) E, 9k

Summary: Calum loves when Luke comes over late. When Luke comes over late, he has to stay the night.

Make Me Make Bad Decisions (ao3) - senioritastyles luke/ashton E, 7k

Summary: Michael and Calum dare Luke to do something and Ashton takes a liking to it.

Princess (ao3) - K_CALM_N michael/calum E, 3k

Summary: Calum is short and gets shit for it but Michael always makes him feel better.

Snow in Love (ao3) - plushyluke luke/ashton, michael/calum E, 7k

Summary: "in that cold instant, ashton put his hands back on the steering wheel. watching him back out of the parking space was torment. luke felt like there was a beast inside of him, clawing and desperate to be set free. aching to get ashton alone. to spend a second with him uninterrupted."

or ashton takes the 5sos boys on a snowy vacation, and luke is disappointed that it wasn't an opportunity to hook up.

Special (ao3) - FayeHunter michael/calum E, 1k

Summary: Michael gets a nice outfit and a way to torment Calum

Spit Me Out Like Hot Wasabi (ao3) - takemymoneycth michael/calum E, 4k

Summary: Michael had never enjoyed parties. But what happens when at one of Ashton Irwin's, he meets Calum, a sex god who looks like he came straight from his wet dreams? (hint: it starts with a s and ends with an ex)

That's Money, Honey (ao3) - senioritastyles luke/calum, ashton/ofc E, 22k

Summary: "Excuse me?" Calum calls, gesturing for the bartender and waiting for him to come over before continuing. "Who is that, over there? The boy on stage."

Michael doesn't even have to look, already smiling and nodding as he tops off Calum's already half-gone whiskey. "That's Luke." Michael explains and Calum nods, sipping at his whiskey again as he watches Luke dance, body swaying fluidly in front of several men dressed pretty similarly to how Calum is. "He tends to attract the uh, black card crowd." Michael says, handing Calum back his own black card.

Or: Calum makes Luke his sugar baby.

we're both showing hearts (ao3) - rory_the_dragon luke/ashton E, 17k

Summary: It's a pair of panties.

Ashton has to work very hard to pretend that he doesn't see the pinkness of Luke's cheeks for the rest of the show, doesn't see the small furtive looks Luke keeps shooting him, the way Luke keeps dicking about with this pair of pink panties, always in his hands as he runs about the stage, but he does. He might have to pretend for the cameras and the thousands of people around them but he sees all of it.

(Or: the lingerie fic)

You Gon' Have To Do It At My Tempo (ao3) - senioritastyles ot4 E, 4k

Summary: The boys have a competition to see who gets to touch Luke first.

[pleuvoire]

the thing about poor things is that from the initial black-and-white sequence i thought it was going to be a sort of medical horror coming-of-age thing about this frankensteined girl who never fits right in the world and who enjoys stabbing the eyes out of corpses and killing small animals but just because she is creepy and unsettling does not make it right for the men in her life to try to control her existence so utterly, because they do so even as they mean well, the Nice Young Man who is attracted to her called her an ableist slur immediately upon meeting her in the same breath as he called her beautiful, when she has a screaming meltdown because she wants to go outside her loving creator-god-father chloroforms her to shut her up, all the seeds were there for a story about this grotesque woman created through a cruel medical abomination clawing her way out of the clinging shell of men who want to control her, how the world will never have a place for her but she will continue to exist against all odds anyway, with heavy subtextual commentary on ableism and misogyny and, crucially, the combination thereof. that's what i felt like it was building up to

and then instead it was just about her like... going out in the world and having fun and partying and discovering that sex is awesome and being an Empowered Young Woman and gradually acting less and less weird and grotesque and more normal and relatable throughout the movie and you'd never guess that she used to stab a corpse's eyes out for enrichment. the guy who called her an ableist slur when he first laid eyes on her becomes her supportive happy-ending husband. the guy who wanted to sexually use and discard her and was most attracted to her when she was most childlike gets a disney villain humiliation arc by being just so #owned by how #epic she is. the movie ends with her clinking champagne glasses with her Supportive Black Friend bestie/lover in the nice house she inherited from her creator-god-father who was kind of just like her regular dad in the end. at the end you'd never know she was frankensteined and she has basically Become A Real Girl all pinocchio-style. it was so opposite to the type of movie i was expecting and i know that expecting a different story than what you get is not the fault of the story itself but honestly the version i felt set up to expect was just soooooo much better. major disappointment

[thiswasinevitableid]

Your Monster (Indruck)

The second place winner of the monster-I’ve-done before was “House Monster.” This fill is NSFW and does reference suicide.

The house on the hill has a thousand eyes

The sentence echoes through Indrid’s mind as he steps from his Super Bee. Those nine words changed his life, gave him freedom, made him a name and a fortune that mercifully eclipsed the memories of the place that had inspired the phrase. 

Holding the keys the family lawyer handed him an hour ago–both of them pretending to be sadder than they were–he tips his head up, up, up at the grey and white Victorian. The woodwork along the front looking less like a dainty ladies lace and more like jagged, yellowed teeth. As he steps inside, his impression is exactly the same as it was twenty-two years ago. 

When his father moved Indrid and his twin brother into this house, the pair only two months past their eleventh birthday, Indrid felt as if the entire place was watching him. The windows glared down with harsh lights, the movers had already put all the family photos of grim-faced Colds on the walls, and even the wallpaper seems to form irises and ever-watchful pupils. 

Yes, eyes had followed him as he dragged his luggage into the bedroom–the one benefit of the move was Apollo and himself no longer having to share–and as he stared up at the light on the ceiling, that of course had two bulbs to look down at him.

He’d turned it off and rolled onto his side, hoping for sleep. 

That’s when he discovered there were eyes in the closet, too.

—---------------------------------------------------------

Motuscomes never forget a feeding ground. And if they used one often, they can feel when there’s a sudden shift in its primary emotions, even years after their last visit. ‘Which is why Duck knows it’s time to go back to the house on the hill. 

When he was a much younger monster, he’d sniffed out a house with three brand new occupants. His portal opened into the room of one half of a pair of twins, revealing glasses on a bed stand and an odd lack of art on the walls. Humans love to put things on their walls (monsters prefer their art on the ceilings).

Fear was heavy in the house; not an acute kind either. A lingering kind, one that seeped into the floorboards and coated the walls in a matter of months. Duck fed there every day. 

But it wasn’t solely about filling his belly. From the closet, he’d watch Indrid Cold draw, or read, or curl up under his covers and shake. And one day, the boy peered out from under the blanket and spoke to him. 

—---------------------------------------------

“Go away.” Elliot whispers.

The glowing, green eyes watch him, and Elliot is certain if he blinks they’ll move closer and closer and then he’ll be swallowed up, dissolved in a slimy belly and never heard from again. 

“I said go. Away.”

“Go away where? I, uh, I mean, uh, there, there ain’t a monster in here.”

Elliot fumbles for his flashlight, pointing the beam into the crack in the closet. If he didn’t know better, he’d say his old teddy bear had fallen from the shelf. Then the monster speaks, tusks gleaming from the shadows. 

“Any chance you’d believe I’m a possum?”

Indrid closes the book, setting it on the shelf with the other first editions of his novels. The House of a Thousand Eyes will always hold a special place in his heart; it was his first, complete with illustrations that his publisher called “the perfect mix of eerie and endearing.”

Wind shakes the shutters and he sighs; he forgot how stormy it was here. How throughout his childhood it was if every night was marked by trees scratching the windows and claws scraping the floor. 

There’s so much he tried to forget, it makes him question what he does remember. The incidents when he was in middle school he could pass off as dreams, as they always happened in bed. But there was one night when he was fifteen…

He’s the lucky one and not been dragged off to a work function with father (he and Apollo have both learned to feign disappointment if they’re not chosen, so their father will continue to see it as a means of pitting them against each other to choose them at random). He’s spent it watching as many horror movies as he could, drinking from his hidden stash of Capri Suns as rain pelted the windows and wind battered the trees. 

His father called around eight to say the road back to the house had washed out and he and Apollo would be staying at a friends house in town. Indrid couldn’t believe his luck. He stays on the couch through the midnight movie double feature, puzzled as to how his popcorn keeps running out when he’s not eating that much. 

When he turns off the T.V, the dark screen reveals the answer. A dark, ursine snout and glowing, green eyes peer over the couch behind him, then disappear. As he hurriedly turns and pokes his head over the couch. There’s nothing there. 

But from the shadows beneath it he hears, “Didn’t think that one with the bunnies was all that scary.”

Indrid smiles, glad he’ll have someone to talk to about it with “Me neither.”

His therapist had said Duck, as the monster was called, made sense as a coping mechanism. A confidant when he had none, a defender he could call upon should he need it. And in the A Boy and His Monster series, his hero does just that. He’s learned it’s best to agree with this idea, and not think about the few times he’d been huddled under the covers and paw had pet his side, Duck telling him he was sorry. Agreeing with him that it wasn’t fair. Or how, when he passes an abandoned house or a particularly unsettling closet, he still expects to hear his monster's voice. 

—--------------------------------------------------

“How do I know you won’t eat me?” Elliot crosses his arms and keeps his feet firmly tucked beneath him on the bed.

Goose shrugs, his bearish face and komodo dragon body less threatening by the moment, “Monsters don’t eat people. We eat feelings.”

“That’s what my mom calls it when she eats cake when she’s had a bad day.”

“That’s eating her feelings. I only eat feelings that come from someone else.”

Duck snorts and uses the tip of his claw to turn the page; Indrid’s been out of the house most of the day for the last four days dealing with his father’s estate, returning in the evenings to eat, haul unwanted furniture out the door, and bicker with his twin over the phone. They seem to get on better these days, and Indrid radiates exasperation rather than anger or fear while talking with him. 

Indrid being gone allows Duck time to pad about the house and see how he’s making the space his own. It also lets him read the books that made Indrid Cold a big name in horror. Duck had overheard people reading the Boy and Monster books aloud, usually to scare their little siblings, and always suspected it was based on him and Indrid. He can’t blame him for giving Duck the wrong appearance; it’s not like he ever saw Duck’s whole body. But “eating emotions” makes it sound like he subsists on happiness and rainbows.

As he closes the book, trading it on the shelf for The Woodsman, one of Indrid’s adult novels, he decides it’s high time for the monster to pay his boy a visit. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Any tedious article about Indrid includes a description of his vivid imagination and awe at his ability to come up with creative horrors that rival the likes of Clive Barker. These same articles seldom mention that a mind like his comes with downsides. Especially when it’s a dark and stormy night and his power has just gone out. 

Lightning cuts the windows as he moves from the living room to the hallway as easily as a ghost. The power has always been unreliable here, and he suspects the stash of candles will still be in the kitchen. If not, he can always fetch his flashlight from upstairs.

The candles are right where he expected them, wicks dusty but usable. It’s as he’s lighting the first one that there’s the unmistakable creak of footsteps on the top stair. He cocks his head, wishing the wind would die down enough for him to hear it more clearly. 

Another step, then a third, the wood groaning as it supports the encroaching terror. He races through the possibilities: A crazed fan? No, contrary to Misery he finds his fans to be rather respectful and calm. A robber? Possibly, as he does get recognized and someone might assume a wealthy author has possessions worth stealing. 

A howl of wind, rattling the house from weathervane to foundation. This house borders deep, thick woods, with hills beyond with plenty of space for creatures to hide. Creatures that can make a meal out a lonely human in an even lonelier house. 

Bright, white light cracks the darkness outside, and from his position in the kitchen he watches it throw a monstrous shadow onto the wall by the stairs. 

He jams the candle into its holder, takes a deep breath, and steps into the hall, holding the little flame aloft. 

The monster takes up the entire width of the stairs, and it’s gleaming black claws are already on the second to last step. It’s razor-backed; short, coppery spines sticking out of its black fur.  Tusks the size of his thumb poke out from its mouth as it grins at him. Scales on his arms reflect the light back at Indrid, In the darkness at the top of the stairs, a mussed tail with green feathers on the end flicks menacingly. Its face has a mask of paler color around the eyes. Green, glowing eyes. 

One paw rises, holding up House of A Thousand Eyes

“You know, slim, I really oughta get a cut.”

“Duck?”

“Yep” The monster finishes descending the stairs, sniffing the air, “huh, that scared you.”

“Yes, because I didn’t think you’d still be living here.” He blows out the candle as the lights come back on, “At least you got a snack out my brush with cardiac arrest.”

“Aww, c’mon, you weren’t scared of me as a kid. Can’t be any scarier now than I was then.” Duck follows him into the kitchen, barely squeezing through the door. 

“You are considerably larger now. And we both know you weren’t the scariest thing in this house back then.” He turns and fights down a smile; formidable as he is, Duck looks rather awkward standing in the muted yellow kitchen with its ugly, spartan white furniture Indrid has yet to re-paint.

“Why’d you come back, ‘Drid?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Felt the energy change and decided to stop by. See how you were doing.” Duck sits on the floor, rests his paws on the kitchen table, “seems to me you coulda handled sellin’ the house without coming back.”

Indrid sits in the chair across from him, “I could have. But I’ve been wanting to move out of the city for awhile, and many of my friends are still in this area. And I…I suppose I wanted to take it back from him. The house, I mean. There were so many things I loved about it and I’m not ready to lose them to him a second time.”

“Does explain why you moved into the turret bedroom.”

“Exactly! He put a study in there and never used it and made Apollo and I cram into glorified broom closets!  What?” He frowns as Duck smiles at him. 

“Just glad to see you still got some fire in you. I’ll, uh, I’ll let you get back to makin’ dinner.”

As he stands Indrid blurts out, “Will I see you again? Or were you just stopping by to say hello?”

“I, uh, I hadn’t not, uh, decided, fuck. Uh.” Duck clears his throat, “If you don’t mind me stoppin’ by more, I will.”

“I’d like that very much.”

Duck grins with his sharp rows of teeth, “See you around, ‘Drid.”

As slow, padding footsteps retreat, Indrid finds himself smiling back. 

—----------------------------------------------------------

Wind shakes the chandelier in the living room. The crystal rattles a second time as Duck sneezes, his short ears wiggling as he finishes with an, “excuse me.”

In spite of the breeze carrying pollen and dust from the valley below, closing the windows is the only way to keep them from choking on the smell of fresh paint. Indrid was determined to get the last of his fathers gloomy touches from his house, which resulted in two full days of painting the rooms emerald greens and desert-rock reds, of splashing blue accents or white patterns across walls and doors. 

Duck’s help has been invaluable; he can reach ceilings and high corners, and he’s decent enough at household repairs that the railing on the back porch is stable once again and the doors all sit right on their hinges. 

But really, Duck’s been invaluable ever since they reunited. His “now and then” visits went from every few days to daily in a matter of weeks, and at this point he doesn’t knock on the closet door to announce himself; Indrid will just step onto the porch to find a dark-furred boulder sunning itself, or scoot over on the couch as claws click on the hardwood when he turns on the T.V. 

He’d daydreamed about Duck following him around when he was young, and it turns out his teenage self was right about how nice it is. 

Duck uses his claw to uncap a hard cider, his bulk functionally making a cushion out of the old easy chair in the living room, “Why’d you change how I feed in the books?”

“Because my editor said the monster feeding on fear was too intense.” He raises a teasing eyebrow, “are you going to start going through my books and circling everything I got wrong?”

“Nah. Was just curious. Besides, it ain’t like I told you much about my world.”

“I never thought to ask. At the time it seemed far more important to learn about you.”

The scales on Duck’s arm shift from copper to deep green, “Feels like I oughta admit I ain’t that interesting by monster standards. All I do is work as an arborist and build model ships. And, uh, see you, of course.”

“You’re as fascinating now as you were then, and I won’t hear a word otherwise.” Indrid smirks as Duck gives a bashful huff, “Now, please find us something to watch while I go order pizza. And yes, I will get one with anchovies.” He sticks his tongue out in disgust. 

“This from the fella who likes pineapple on his.”

“Hush, monstrous one, and tell me what we should get for dessert.”

—---------------------------------------------------------------

Indrid lays in corpse pose, breathing deeply. A scent drifts past him, conjuring images of a hollowed out, fallen log in a wet forest, earthy and dark.

“Did you enjoy the show?” He murmurs.

“N-yeah, uh, I wasn’t watchin’, I don’t even have, uh, eyes?” A sigh, “it’s just wild to me that twisting yourself up like that calms you down. Makes me stressed just watching it.”

“I find it helps me remember I’m in my body when I start to drift off for too long. I do love my work, but sometimes…” He sits up, finds Duck sitting in a close approximation of cross-legged at the foot of his mat, “sometimes I wander too far and end up in the past.”

“This got anything to do with the funeral bein’ yesterday?”

“Some. Apollo and I seldom agree, but we seemed to both arrive at the conclusion that it wasn’t worth correcting anyone when they said nonsense like ‘he took such good care of you boys.”

Duck snorts and leans forward, creeping his body across the mat to rest his head in Indrid’s lap. 

“Agreed. That man only ever did one good thing for me in his entire life and that was move here. Without that, I’d never have met you.”

“I did turn out to be a hell of a meal ticket.” Duck says without a trace of malice. 

“That’s true, but not what I meant. I’m glad we became friends. And I’m glad I came back, if only so you could find me again.”

Duck turns his head to the side, looking up at Indrid tenderly, “Me too, slim. Me too.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Indrid spends his entire Monday in bed, Duck doesn’t worry. The human works hard, and he mentioned he might be coming down with a cold, so burrowing under his blankets makes sense. Duck tells him to take it easy, and says he’ll be back once he’s done seeing his sister and his nephews. 

It’s when he comes back two days later and finds Indrid—still in bed–wearing the exact same clothes with dirty plates and wrappers on the floor that his own fear creeps up his throat. 

“You doin’ okay, slim?”

Indrid shrugs.

Duck tamps down the hurt that Indrid doesn’t seem to care that he’s back and continues, “When was the last time you got clean?”

“Few days ago.”

“Seems to me you’re overdue then. Howsabout I run you a bath?”

Indrid manages a nod and Duck plods over to the bathroom and turns the taps on the crow-footed tub. He adds in some citrusy soak and returns to find Indrid in the exact same position he left him. 

“You, uh, you need help getting there?”

“No…” Indrid sits up as if he’s moving through syrup and makes his way towards the bathroom. The door closes, and when Duck hears the taps shut off and the splash of Indrid sinking in, he shoves all the trash into an overflowing bin and carts the dirty dishes downstairs. Going by the trash, Indrid’s been eating a lot of boxed mac and cheese, so that seems the safest bet for dinner. 

Thanks to accidentally piercing not one, but two boxes with his claws and getting cheese powder all over his fur, it takes him longer than planned to make dinner. He lumps the neon orange pasta into a bowl and carries it back to the bedroom, setting it on the bed before knocking on the bathroom door. 

“‘Drid? I made us some grub.” He waits a moment, and when no reply comes he eases open the door. 

Indrid sits in the tub, staring in the direction of the window but not looking out it. Duck recalls the flat expression from when they were younger, but it seems so much worse now.

“Want me to get you a towel?”

“Hmm? Oh. Yes. Please.” Indrid’s detached tone carries into his movements, and climbs from the tub, seemingly uncaring of the fact he’s giving Duck an eyeful. Duck wishes he could appreciate it, but any desire he feels for those long legs and angular face is crushed under his worry. 

Indrid eats mechanically. The only thing that keeps Duck from panicking is that, as he’s clearing the dishes, Indrid touches his wrist. 

“This happens sometimes. I ride it out. You don’t need to worry about it.”

The statement calms his fears for a day. But then another day passes, and another, and another, and then it’s been a full week and Indrid has barely left bed, will read or watch videos without his expression shifting in the slightest, seeming so far removed from his usual self that Duck worries he’ll never come back. 

Duck should have snuck off to feed three days ago. But he can’t bring himself to leave Indrid, even for an hour. When you feast on fear, now and then you come across someone whose fear that things will never be better, that they will never be better, have become too much. 

(Sometimes you stand in an apartment, a human passed out at your feet, raising Cain until the neighbors barge in and find her and you see her a week later alive).

If the choice is starve or lose Indrid, his stomach can fuss all it likes. 

Tonight, it rumbles so loud Indrid actually rolls over and looks at him.

“Have you eaten?”

Duck shakes his head and explains why. 

“Can you feed from what fear is left in the house?”

“Nope. Because there ain’t any left. The downstairs tastes like hope and the landing tastes like happiness and I can’t eat those. In here is all steeped in sadness and I can’t eat that either.”

“I’m sorry.” Indrid whispers. Then an idea flickers across his face, “what if I watched some horror movies? I, I don’t have a lot of feeling in my right now, of any kind, but if nothing else a scary movie will distract me from how flat I feel and generate enough fear for you to eat.”

“Worth a shot. C’mon, let’s go be couch potatoes instead of, uh, bed potatoes?” 

Duck builds a nest of blankets while Indrid queues up several of the “scariest movies ever made.”

Halfway through Martyrs, Indrid is showing little reaction, screams blare from the sound system, and Duck is regretting this plan. A third of the way through Terrifier, Duck’s whole face is hidden behind a pillow and he’s feeling kind of ill.

The screen mercifully goes black and Indrid sighs, “I don’t think it’s working. Are you getting any fear from me?”

“Couple of jumpscares gave me a little, but that’s about it.”

“I hate this.” Indrid tucks his knees to his chest, “I hate this, Duck. And I hate myself for the fact I could just promise you I’d be alright for an hour so you could eat, but I don’t want to, I don’t want to be alone, I can’t be alone. I want to cry or scream or laugh or do something and it’s like it’s all just out of reach. I don’t want to be unfeeling. Not like him. Never like him.” Indrid presses his forehead to his knees and Duck racks his brain for some way to fix this, to make up for all the times he wished he could help Indrid but didn’t know how. 

He catches sight of himself in the window, his claws worrying his scales. He’s at a loss for how to help Indrid as a friend. But he might know how to help him as a monster. 

“‘Drid? I got an idea. But” he gingerly reaches out, cupping his human’s face so their eyes meet, “before we do it, I need you to hear me when I say I will never, ever, ever actually hurt you. No matter what happens, can you remember that?”

Indrid rests his hands atop Duck’s, “I’ve never forgotten it.”

—------------------------------------------------------

A storm rolls from the ocean up into the hills at nightfall, wrapping around the house as Indrid lays in bed and wonders what Duck is planning. This is an improvement from hating himself or feeling so blank he’s certain he’s not really a person. 

His monster had told him it would take him a few hours to figure out just how to execute his plan, but that he’d never leave the house and Indrid should holler if he needed him. And that if he had to, yelling the word “red” would stop the plan. 

The lamp in the corner snaps to black and he groans.

“Duck? Could you see if that’s the breaker box or if we’re completely without power?”

There’s no reply. He mutters to himself and stands, searching for flashlights that don’t appear. And where the hell are his glasses?

Never mind. The sooner he does this, the sooner he can get back in bed. 

The house is a blurry box of darkness as he steps into the hallway. Then the hall closet flies open and claw grabs his shoulder, trying to tug him into the space. It must be Duck, it has to be Duck. 

“I, I spent plenty of time in the closet, I don’t need any more.” He tries to shrug off the hand and finds he can’t.

“Don’t care.” The growl is rougher than he’s ever heard it, “I’m hungry, slim.” Rows of teeth show in the darkness, the grip on his arm loosening so he can pull free right before they snap at him. He wants to pause and figure out the game, but the animal part of his brain has awoken violently and has no desire to stay near a lumber beast with hundreds of sharp teeth. 

He bolts for the stairs, running down them as Duck’s laugh rumbles behind him. 

“Cute how you think you can run. House is mine as much as it is yours.”

Indrid’s hand finds the handle of the front door. It’s unlocked. But it won’t open. 

“You never did ask what powers I got.” Duck is on the landing, scales glowing a slimy green and smile wide, “bet you’re wishin’ you’d been a bit more thoughtful.”

“I, I am thoughtful!” He runs for the back door and discovers the same situation, “we’re friends.”

“Nah” growls a voice from the pantry, “we may be friends, but one of us is a skinny little human–don’t bother tryin’ the windows, they’re all locked–and the other…”

Duck bursts from the pantry, backing Indrid against the wall, “is a goddamn apex predator who’s gone too fuckin long without dinner.”

Indrid dives under Duck’s arm, heart booming in his chest, yelling as he runs, “I said I was sorry!”

“Sorry ain’t gonna cut it.” Duck snaps, charging after him. Indrid braces to be hit, but the monster is gone, leaving only a laugh in his place. 

“Oh you’re cute when you’re scared.”

There’s no point in denying it, Duck can taste the truth.

“Yesyes, I’m very scared, which means you shouldn’t be hungry now.” 

“Ain’t as hungry now, no. But this whole mess has got me thinkin’” the voice sneaks from under the floorboards, “I ain’t been taking advantage of the situation.”

“What situation?” If he stays right here, in the first floor hallway by the stairs. Duck won’t be able to get to him without Indrid seeing him coming. There’s no furniture, no beds, no closets.

Wait. 

There’s a closet under the stairs. 

One moment his feet are on the floor, the next they’re kicking helplessly in the air as Duck, on two legs, lifts him up. Pleasure sneaks beneath the adrenaline at how easy Duck handles him, how Indrid can see the muscles flexed beneath the fur. 

“See, I’m thinkin we oughta have a new arrangement; I keep living here and keepin’ an eye on you. And you”  the clawed hand circles his throat, “are my dinner, every. Goddamn. Day.”

“I have to be, be scared for that” he gasps, scratching at a scaled arm. 

A blood-chilling grin, “You think I can’t find new ways to scare you? Lookit me, slim. I can do things to you that horror writer mind ain’t ever imagined.” Indrid jerks forward, Duck bringing them nose to nose, “you are mine, Indrid. I’m gonna do whatever I want to you, good use you whenever I need you, and you are gonna spend your life locked in this house because I ain’t ever lettin’ you free.”

Any fear, any pleasure he felt dies at those words. Panic slithers up his chest and he sobs, the horrible, ragged kind that feels like it will never stop. 

“Indrid? Oh, oh fuck, or ‘Drid I’m so fuckin’ sorry.” Duck’s hold changes instantly, and cradles Indrid against his warm, fuzzy chest, his scales the pale, comforting color of glow-in-the dark stars “fuck, I shoulda thought about that, how he always talked about how he’d never let you leave” 

Indrid wants to say it’s okay, that he doesn’t blame Duck for not remembering. All that comes out is another, harder sob. 

“Shhh, hey, I got you. I got you.” The soft pad of his palm rubs along Indrid’s back, “Lemme, lemme get you-” there’s a whiff and then a tissue presses into his hand, “let’s get you some water, everything’ I read said snacks help.”

“You read?” Indrid manages between hiccups.

“I, uh, I was readin’ up on BDSM. It ain’t like there’s a guide to how to scare humans in a fun way so it seemed like the closest thing.” Duck opens the fridge, reaching for a Capri Sun. Indrid spots their reflections in the kitchen window, Duck carrying him like a thrift store teddy bear he has no intention of letting be discarded again. 

He laughs, quietly at first, then bubbling up so forcefully he’s shaking them both. Duck carefully lowers him to the ground, clutching the juice to his chest as he murmurs, “You okay there?”

“Yes, yes I think I am. I certainly feel much more human than I did a half hour ago. And I…I realized something important.” He looks up into green eyes, “I love you, Duck. I think I may have loved you for a long time.”

Duck tilts his snout forward, allowing Indrid to raise onto his toes and kiss it, “I love you too, ‘Drid.”

“Shall we turn the lights back on?”

“Uh, that wasn’t part of my plan. Powers out to the whole area.”

“In that case, I request you bear me to the living room and make me a fire.”

Duck lifts him into a bridal carry with a pleased snort, “You got it.”

Once the fire is going, Duck pulls into Indrid his lap, insisting on feeding him bits of strawberry PopTarts as Indrid gradually feels more and more like his normal self. The depressive episode is still lingering, and he knows it won’t go away that easily, but it’s as if he’s purged a great deal of it from his system. 

Duck is so attentive that Indrid’s cock begins to take notice, something he wishes it would do when the monster wasn’t close enough to see him tenting his yoga pants. 

“Well now, what have we here?” Duck wipes the crumbs on the rug, then trails a claw up Indrid’s leg. 

“We have a situation in which I am both very turned on by the fact that you could so easily pursue and subdue me and also by having such a magnificent creature doting on me like this.” Indrid looks up through his lashes, “I don’t suppose my monster has had such thoughts about me?”

“Hell yeah.” Duck rests his chin on Indrid’s shoulder, “figured you’d rather have a human fella so I never said anything. But, uh, seems I was wrong.” A large paw cups Indrid through his pants, “y’know, back when we were teens, used to get so fuckin turned on by those, uh, those mothman pajama pants you had.”

Indrid laughs, petting his hand along Duck’s back. The spines on them aren’t sharp, and feel more like polished wood beneath the soft dusting of fur. As he rubs them Duck makes a pleased click-growl. 

“I’m serious, I had this whole damn fantasy about just, just holdin you down and humpin you through ‘em, so they’d feel soft on my dick and you’d cum on the bed and go all melty.”

Indrid kisses his cheek, “these pants are even softer than those were.”

“Seems they are.” Duck carefully turns Indrid to be facing away from him, then slowly grinds against his ass, the click-purrs growing louder with each roll of his hips. He nuzzles and nips Indrid’s neck and Indrid sighs, relaxing against him as one claw runs up and down his cock. 

“Spread your legs for me a sec, darlin. There we go. Close ‘em for me?” 

Indrid obeys and looks down. The cock between his thighs his a thick head tapering to a thinner base, with ridges swirling up the sides. The head is dotted with small, short nodes that wriggle as a pearly fluid drips from the center. 

“Ooooh! Oh I’d very much like to suck that later.”

“You got it darlin. But right now.” Duck cups his cock in his palm, the movement of his hips causing Indrid to grind against it, “let’s see just how cute you look when you cum.”

“I’m not that close ye-AH, ohgod” Indrid gasps as Duck scrapes his tusks down his shoulder. 

“Y’know, my kind mark their mates with these. You someone all scratched up here, you know they’re spoken for.”

“Yes, yesyes.”

“You’re mine, ‘Drid. But not because you’re stuck; because I love you so goddamn much and I, I wanna make, wanna make-” he cuts off with a growl as his hips pump harder and the nodes begin turning to tentacles, “make you feel so fucking good, oh fuck, fuck darlin if your thighs are this good your ass is gonna be even better.”

Indrid moans and wiggles in his arms, cumming with a little squeak; he’s too tired for it to be intense, but it’s bliss all the same, and as he melts against his monster there’s a loud grunt and then cum is spreading down his thighs.

“Guess I’ll need another bath.” He murmurs. 

“Uh huh.”

“But this time I’d better have company.” Indrid kisses a scaly arm.

Duck kisses him gently, “You got  it. You know I never mind staying by your side.”