#most anything with a hollow stem will work

[spellwing777]

[wanderer-six]

Heartaches

AN: This is my first fic on tumblr aaaa I hope u love! As a Crosshair wife and a Tech wife I wanted to invite any forlorn Tech kissers to the dark side by writing the least dark, most generous interpretation of Crosshair known to man LOL - also I made this take place during TCW but pretend Phee smooching Tech at this point makes any timeline sense sdlkfhl. please lmk what u think!!! Hope it's cute💖

Relationships: Crosshair x Fem Jedi!Reader, implied history of Tech x Fem Jedi!Reader (unrequited)

Summary: After seeing the clone you had your eyes on smitten with someone else, you head to 79's to drown your sorrows. An unlikely friend arrives to offer some comfort. (minor alcohol mention)

Word Count: 1.6k

Of all the places you’d hoped to be tonight, 79’s—all by yourself—had to be at the bottom of the list.

Sitting at the lonely bar, you frowned over the little martini glass swirling in your hand. You’d never been one for drinking, but if anything could compel you to take a sip of the stuff, it’d be the events that brought you here in the first place.

How could you have been so foolish? Maybe all those lessons you’d learned in the temple about forming attachments hadn’t been hollow talking, after all. You felt the lowest you’d ever been—worthless, alone… jealous. So very jealous.

“What are you doing here?”

That sly, breathy voice slithering into your ears could only belong to one person. When he took a seat beside you at the bar, you could barely manage a smirk in his direction.

“Hey, Cross,” you sighed. “Good to see you, too.”

Crosshair’s demeanor didn’t change in the slightest, but that much was normal for him. He kept his cards close to his chest—frankly, you could learn a thing or two from him in that regard.

“You’re drinking?” he observed, a hint of judgment buried in his tone. Bitterly, you rolled your eyes.

“Trying to. It’s not working out, though.” Languidly, you slid the martini glass over to him. “You make it look so easy.”

Though he caught the glass by the stem, he kept his eyes on you. You couldn’t bear to look at him. On missions, you always tried to look your squad in the eye when they spoke to you, to prove to them that you see them as your equals. Try as you might to continue that behavior off the clock, these were not ideal circumstances.

For a moment, the two of you fell silent. The low drone of music carried through the speakers, along with the chatter of the bar’s sparse attendance that evening.

“Is this because of Tech?”

Just hearing his name caused an uproar of emotions in your chest. Shame, sadness, insecurity, dejection. Though a soft chuckle parted from your lips, the heel of your hand wiped away the stray tear in the corner of your eye.

“I hoped it wasn’t that obvious…” you huffed. Crosshair hummed, idly pulling a toothpick from his belt and placing it between his lips.

“I don’t think I’d need a scope to notice,” he snarked. “What’s the problem, anyway? So he fancies someone. What about it?”

Your lip trembled, the weight of your thoughts much too heavy for your tongue to carry. It was already dangerous for a Jedi to have feelings like this, let alone for one of her soldiers. And while the Bad Batch was a bit more lenient with rules, you still felt you couldn’t be fully honest in these instances—for their sake as much as your own.

With a long sigh, you rested your head in your hands. 

“I’m just… happy for him. That’s all,” you said.

Crosshair scoffed. “Clearly.”

“I am!”

“Look at you.”

“What do you want from me, Crosshair?!”

Your question came out louder than you’d expected. You looked around the bar, thankful that it held so few patrons that evening, though you were still embarrassed.

Crosshair, thankfully, didn’t seem disturbed by your outburst. He leaned in closer, looking you in the eyes.

“I want you to be honest with me,” he muttered. He jutted his finger against your sternum emphatically, “and with yourself.”

With misty eyes, you shook your head in defeat.

“I just… wanted him to like me,” you mumbled.

For the first time that night, Crosshair’s expression seemed to change. He leaned against the bar, his usually furrowed brow softening slightly.

“Tech?” he asked.

You nodded, drawing idle circles on the bartop with your finger.

“I always thought he was so sweet. I know the Order says it’s wrong, but whenever he would talk about… you know, anything, I just couldn’t help but fall for him,” you explained. “I never said anything because I didn’t want to cause problems—I’m his general, you know? I thought maybe when the war was over, I could finally tell him how I felt.”

Despite your best efforts, the slightest scowl found your lips. “But now this new girl’s here, and he’s just… smitten. It makes me wonder if he ever thought of me like that in the first place. And I…” You pinch your eyes shut, trying not to let your tears slip past. “I just feel… pathetic.”

Again, silence falls between you. The longer it lasts, the more humiliated you feel. It really would be just like Crosshair to listen to your little sob story and walk off without a word, wouldn’t it? Maybe the friendship you shared with him had been all in your head, too. Hell, maybe every last person you thought you were close with was just a surface-deep connection, and you really were alone…

“He’s a fool.”

You perked your head up, wiping your eye with the back of your hand.

“What?” you murmured.

Crosshair hummed. “You heard me.”

You pouted at him, giving his shoulder a light shove.

“Don’t say that—he’s your brother,” you scolded, “not to mention the smartest man in the galaxy…”

“I didn’t say he was stupid,” Crosshair corrected you. “He may be able to build a starship out of spare parts. But to blow his chance with you?” He clicked his tongue, shifting the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. “Foolish.”

A half smile found your lips. You knew you didn’t agree with him, and on any other occasion, you’d stand up for Tech. But just for tonight… just this once, despite every lesson on compassion you’d been taught since the day you arrived at the temple… it felt a little nice to hear.

“... thanks, Cross. It’s nice to know you care,” you said.

Crosshair’s intense eyes softened, his gaze leaving yours briefly. He almost looked… shy. But that seemed so unlike him.

“Well… someone had to step in,” he muttered. When his eyes met yours again, he wore a dry smirk. “Who knows how long you might have been moping otherwise?”

Your smile widened into a grin for the first time that evening.

“Right. That’s your job, isn’t it?” you snarked back at him.

Wordlessly, Crosshair got to his feet. When he started off in the direction of the door, you worried that your lighthearted jab had truly pissed him off. But before you could panic too thoroughly, he stopped in place, looking at you over his shoulder.

“Are you coming?” he asked. Caught off guard by his question, you quickly fumbled for your things. You dropped a handful of credits on the counter before hopping down from your barstool, hurrying to Crosshair’s side.

“Where are we going?” you asked, going in stride beside him. 

Crosshair pulled the toothpick from his lips, flicking it expertly into the waste receptacle by the door. You walked outside, and the cool night air felt refreshing against your skin.

“I figured once you were done wallowing, I’d take you somewhere nice,” he explained, all too casual. “I’ll be damned if I spend a date in that run-down old bar…”

Date?

Now it was your turn to stop in your tracks. Crosshair walked a few steps further before noticing you hadn’t joined him. He stopped soon after, looking back at you again.

“What?” he asked.

“A date?” you returned softly.

The slightest pout formed on Crosshair’s features.

“Problem?” he asked. 

Try as he might to put on that cool demeanor, you could read him better than that. In the Force, you could sense the way his heart raced in his chest, the quiet panic that built in the back of his mind. 

But even without your Jedi abilities—even just as someone who’s known him as long as you had—you could see a side of him he never showed anyone. His eyes pleaded wordlessly with you: if you were to let him down, please don’t make him regret being so vulnerable. He made that mistake so rarely… and this time, he clearly hoped it wouldn’t be a mistake, at all.

To be honest, you had never looked at Crosshair with that kind of interest. Of course, every man in your squad was perfectly handsome, but with the sniper’s reserved and aloof nature, you’d assumed from day one that he tolerated you at best. But perhaps you hadn’t been looking closely enough. After all, he cared enough to watch over you on countless missions, clearing droids out of your proximity with unmatched diligence. He cared enough to follow you through short battles and long campaigns. And he cared enough to see that you were hurt tonight, giving you his shoulder to cry on.

No, you wouldn’t make him regret being vulnerable with you. In fact, you hoped you could help him see just how worthwhile it could be.

Finding a shy smile at last, you walked up to Crosshair once more—though this time, you hung on his arm as you joined his side.

“No problem at all,” you beamed. “Where are we headed then, handsome?”

You met his gaze, and his intense golden eyes looked back at you with the most sincerity you’ve ever seen from them. When he looked away at last, a flustered smirk appeared on his lips.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he snarked.

You rolled your eyes, though the bright smile you wore never left your face. Though the night hadn’t begun as you’d hoped, ending it on the arm of someone who could make you smile despite it all meant the galaxy to you.

You only hoped this could be the first date of many with the sniper who stole your heart.

AN: Thank you for reading! Like I said above, this is my first fic on tumblr, so any feedback on formatting/tagging etc is appreciated ✨✨

[arotechno]

thinking about my last reblog as representation has been on my mind a lot lately. this is by no means a phenomenon unique to aros nor is it unique to the queer community at large but it's definitely an issue that we have to deal with a lot by virtue of not having a lot of representation to the contrary.

a lot of probably well-meaning writers/artists will "include" aromantic characters in their work, but it's often a side character in a large ensemble cast of different queer characters, and even if the character is referred to explicitly as aro in canon it often rings very hollow when they are an unimportant character or their aromanticism has absolutely no bearing on their existence whatsoever.

don't get me wrong: i am all for representing characters whose story is not ABOUT them being aromantic. i don't need nor particularly want every canon aro's story to be an aro story. but the truth is we don't have many aro stories at all. in fact, most of the time the only people willing to tell our stories is... us, and while i certainly have reservations about alloromantic people writing aro narratives without the proper research, it would be nice if more people cared about us enough to put us in their stories in anything more than an extremely trivial, tokenizing way.

i think a lot of it stems from people's extremely basic, trivial, and oftentimes patronizing view of aromanticism. so many people think they can just say "aros are valid!" or write a shipper-on-deck aro side character who loves their friends and they've, like, solved arophobia or something. most people don't want to listen to us or our stories and so they don't think there is anything deep or meaningful about aromanticism worth exploring. that's a separate rant for another time i think but the point is people will toss in a throwaway canon aro for representation brownie points and they think it makes them a hero. and unless they're written by an actual aromantic or someone who at least has done a LOT of research they tend to be pretty mediocre anyway.

this is probably a hot take but honestly if you made me choose between a tokenized side character confirmed as aro on-page/on-screen and an aro main character with a solid character arc that actually reflects what being aro is like but isn't ever called aromantic in the source material, i would choose the second. obviously in a perfect world we'd have it all. aromantics deserve stories written for and about us and our identities by creators who are unashamed and unafraid to use the word aromantic and represent us authentically. but if people think all it takes to do good representation is to use the word, well... the word isn't everything. aro representation is not an arcade token you can trade in for a prize.

[jennycalendar]

idk if you've talked about this before, but is there anything you'd do to "fix" amends? i think it's important to have an Angel Guilt Episode, but would you execute it differently or would you do something else altogether? (while you're at it you can fix smg's bangs too) with it being the last time we see jenny it COULD be something meaningful but idk if the concept is salvageable.

been actually thinking about this a lot lately, because i agree with you! there is really no situation where angel would be in a solid enough place to make the distinction btwn Jenny and What He Thinks Jenny Should Make Of Him, and as canon is constructed, there is really no person in canon who 1) knows jenny well enough to articulate what she wants and 2) is WILLING to articulate what jenny wants or even, like, say her name. she's constantly tossed out in season three as a weapon more than a person -- a name used to twist the knife for buffy and for angel -- and that is so depressingly dehumanizing, but the thing is that canon is legit built on her dehumanization! her death has always mattered more to the narrative than her life, and introducing the concept of Treating Jenny As A Person this late in the game would likely feel super hollow when she was never a fully written character while alive.

that said: i think that a lot of the trouble i have with amends stems from the notion of casting buffy and angel as the people most hurt by angel's actions. i think that amends could have been stronger as an Angel Guilt Episode if instead of focusing on angel's desire to amend things with buffy, it established that weird dreamlike connection between angel and GILES instead! that giles is seeing angel's dreams and angel's guilt and struggling with this and trying to compartmentalize all of his rage and pain, because how DARE he dream of angel's guilt? how DARE he not be allowed to even have this one little dignity -- his ability to resent angel in the sanctity of his mind? the world has taken so so much from giles and it feels so weird to only get this one little scene between him and angel where nothing is really resolved and no connection is formed.

and while i also do understand that the buffy/angel thing has to be happening, we get that development every episode! i am rock solid certain that the conversation/development btwn buffy and angel in amends could have happened literally anywhere else, but to have an episode that is about angel's guilt for jenny, an episode where jenny manifests as Absolute Evil because Absolute Evil can use her face now that angel killed her, and to NOT delve into how deeply giles was hurt -- it leaves this hugely sour taste in my mouth.

canon does not have space for jenny to be a person. there is no version of amends that works if it is turned into a Tribute to Jenny, because jenny, as much as i love her, is not written strongly enough for this to work and be convincing. but a version of amends that explored giles's pain would undo a lot of the damage that season three did, and soften the blow of having to watch buffy and angel present themselves as the most Misunderstood Suffering Pair while giles is literally dissociating in the background in the watcher costume he put on because he can't be a person anymore. i think one strong episode focused on angel and giles and how fucked up giles is would be so amazing. can you IMAGINE the energy of giles breaking down over jenny in front of angel? what that might do to him to have that pain recognized as something that isn't fixable, and to know that there is someone else who is always going to carry jenny's death? i think it might actually mean positive growth for giles -- this moment of bizarre, horrible catharsis and connection with the person who took his everything away. this understanding that jenny is a ghost for giles just as much as she's a ghost for angel.

(also, this version of amends would slap in the most horrible horrifying way if it started with an idyllic little dream of giles and jenny having Nice Couple Times, With Kissing, that suddenly goes horribly sideways right before giles jerks awake.)

[millennial-review]

1. Supreme Court destroys E.P.A. ability to regulate carbon emissions.

Today the Supreme Court destroyed the Environmental Protection Agency’s power to regulate greenhouse gas emissions. Essentially getting rid of any ability to fight climate change and severely limiting federal authority to do so. In a 6-3 vote, in West Virginia v. EPA the court sided with Republican states and fossil fuel companies that the U.S. Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia was wrong when it held the Clean Air Act gave the EPA significant power over carbon emissions. The decision deals a significant blow to any attempts to fight climate change and almost certainly spells significant hurdles for future efforts.

2. Supreme Court set to gut election protections, rig elections.

The Supreme Court agreed to take up a case next term that could give state governments almost total control of elections, even overriding state courts. The case Moore v. Harper centers the controversial “independent state legislature theory” which posits state legislatures have total control over federal elections. The case revolves around a dispute stemming from a Republican congressional map that was so gerrymandered state courts found it impermissible and told Republicans to correct it. The courts in North Carolina issued their own map and the state legislature of North Carolina sued claiming they had sole jurisdiction to make those decisions. If the court sides with the theory it would give Republican state governments significant control over federal elections just in time for 2024.

3. Stock market has worst half year since 1970.

To quote the Washington Post, “The stock market closed out its worst six-month stretch to start a year since 1970, as inflation-driven upheaval has spread across nearly every part of the economy.The S&P 500 index edged 0.9 percent lower Thursday to bring its 2022 losses to 20.6 percent. The tech-heavy Nasdaq, which fell 1.3 percent, has tumbled nearly 30 percent this year, while the Dow Jones industrial average’s 0.8 percent drop put its year-to-date decline near 15 percent.” While the stock market doesn’t measure the health of the economy for most working people, it is a good indicator what capital might do next. And with inflation concerns front of mind a fed engineered recession seems all but inevitable.

4. Florida judge blocks 15 week abortion ban.

The legal fight over reproductive rights continues as a Florida judge throws out Florida’s 15 week abortion ban. Joining judges in Texas and Kentucky who likewise threw out their state’s bans, Second Judicial Circuit Court Judge John Cooper issued a temporary injunction blocking the bill and leaving Florida’s law open to abortions up to 24 weeks. For now Florida remains one of the most open states in the South in terms of abortion regulation. This is just one small part in the on going legal battle over what terms with which a state can ban abortion. Even though Roe has been overturned many of the concepts, such as a right to privacy, are being invoked by judges overturning bans for the time being. How it all shakes out remains to be seen but without federal action from Democrats these court rulings are only a temporary solution.

5. Biden backs ending filibuster to codify abortion rights.

Joe Biden announced today that he backs ending the filibuster to codify abortion rights, specifically by making a carve out in the procedural hurdle for voting rights. While that is exactly what should be done it’s a rather hollow gesture that won’t mean much without significant political maneuvering to make it happen. Joe Manchin has long been skeptical of the Democrat’s position on abortion and has always been explicitly against ending the filibuster for anything, let alone abortion which he believes is unpopular. If Biden isn’t willing to play hardball, investigate Manchin’s daughter for pharmaceuticals fraud, something to put the pressure on, it’s a rather hollow gesture.

Podcast - Sunday Streams - Instagram - Twitter - Discord

Support it all by joining us on patreon.

[ssolessurvivor]

Headcanon

Life saving surgery took twelve hours. (cut for triggers as tagged)

Within the first two hours, he flatlined just after they'd fixed his clavicle. Once they got his heart beating again, they waited about half an hour to see how stable his body was. It was determined from the shock of the atmosphere change, the sheer trauma his body faced and severe blood loss was a detriment and his body had felt in a place 'safe enough' to go comfortably (but of course that didn't happen).

Logan's clavicle was missing a small piece of bone, so they used a little metal cylinder that looks like a pipe, hollow on the inside, screwed to the bone on either end to hold it together.

While his body was stabilizing after having come back from the flatline, they slowly cut out dead nerve endings and necrotic tissue, as well as tried to clean off the alien saliva that had done a good deal of preservation of his major organs exposed. They saved samples and handed it off to a team of experts who had overseen Logan's retrieval from the station. (Any scientific findings have never been revealed to the public or private facilities working on his case).

Once his body was deemed stable, they got to work in trying to make a plan of how to stitch him back together. This is what took them so long, for they wanted to ensure he had enough skin in the first place to close him up, but they also wanted to be aware of keeping things comfortable and not having unnecessary pulling or possible tearing once everything was stitched. The first of their experimental procedures took place here, where they used a synthetic version of a skin graft, though it was made of entirely organic materials and fairly well matched to him biologically (by whatever coincidence or not that came to pass).

Closing him up took the longest, they wanted to be careful with each stitch and to ensure nothing was too tight or threatened rejection of the skin graft (which wasn't that big but it helped cover most of his left pectoral). Once he was stitched and covered in medical glue and bandages, they put him in a neck brace to give everything uninterrupted healing time without movement to limit pain and stretching. After that, they gave him a couple blood transfusions to replace what he'd lost and assist his heart in having to not pump so hard.

It was during the first transfusion that he flatlined a second time. They were able to bring him back pretty easily and again waited about a half an hour to continue any more work, monitoring all his vitals which were slowly improving very limitedly to the bare minimum of functioning. It was determined later on that he did not sustain any lasting brain damage from lack of oxygen. They noted these instances in his file, told his parents, but never told him.

Once the surgery was completed, the doctors put him in a medically induced coma for about two weeks in duration. This was done to help him in not waking up, hopefully, in so much pain, and they would be able to monitor whether or not his body would reject the synthetic skin graft while he wouldn't experience the trauma of said rejection. They kept the neck brace on him so any movement would be reduced to not pull or pop the delicate stitches on the underside of his jaw or neck.

When they tried to wake him back up, he did but only stayed barely awake for half an hour: he doesn't remember anything about it. After that, his body put him back to sleep of it's own accord, and he stayed in a natural coma for another two weeks. The doctors explained that his body was protecting him from the worst of the pain in this way by keeping him asleep, and promoting healing in this way. At this time too, when he'd been awake, they began the first of many stem cell transplant treatments since his body did not reject the skin graft. Stem cells would help increase the regeneration rate of new skin cells and they hoped would speed up the process of healing his massive flesh wound, as well as his internal tissue damage restoration.

They kept the neck brace on for an additional month after he woke up and stayed awake, but unfortunately the pain was insurmountable. It was the beginning of his mental decline, even if his body was slowly, very slowly, healing.

[tgtbtueso]

Dandelion (Taraxacum officinale)

How to identify: Dandelions are very common in North America from my experience and I imagine they’re common in the rest of the world too, how you can identify them is by their name! Dan (teeth) de (of) lion (lion), their name originates in French in these series of words, so you’ll recognize their leaves have pointed edges to them like a saw but no thorns or spines in any way, you’ll notice pink ish purple ish coloration in the stems or base of their leaves and you’ll notice they grow in a basal rosette structure. (For those of you who maybe don’t know some of the weird terms we use for plants, basal rosette means it grows directly from the ground with a spiral of leaves, some succulents, cabbages and mullein are all common plants that also grow in this way, so try to imagine them as a reference for what that means). It has fluffy petaled yellow flowers with purple to green, hollow stems that turn into small tufts of feathery, flying seeds after pollination.

Precautions: This herb can effect your urinary tract, while it’s widely considered safe for most people if that’s been a long time problem for you, consult your doctor before eating this herb if you can. From what I’ve seen, nobody has died from eating this plant or been hospitalized for that matter but The Herbal medic by Coffman or even simple resources like WebMD might give you an idea if this herb is going to effect you in an unfortunate way.

Medicinal properties: Dandelion is a mild diuretic and can be used as a bitter. This means that when you taste the bitter flavor of its leaves or roots, your body has the reaction to expedite your digestive and urinary systems. Some have used it for “detox” treatments, personally I don’t feel those are the most accurate or informative descriptions of this herb, if you had swallowed a significant amount of an intense poison, the help dandelions could do is pretty minimal. But it works great if you need caffeine taken out of your system, if you need a digestive for the end of a large meal or perhaps if you’ve been struggling with some short term blockage.

Culinary uses: The leaves can be prepared like collard greens or arugula but go heavier on sweet and sour flavors when working with this vegetable, it is quite bitter. Its flowers can be batter fried or I’ve also heard of recipes of them brewed into wine (kids look away). It’s roots can be roasted and used as a coffee substitute, personally I spent a decent amount of time in the winter one year drinking “hot coco” made of roasted dandelion, fennel seed, clove and cinnamon (I have an unusual palate, I am at peace with that).

Magickal uses (Which are all the way down here so you understand everything above before you use this plant!): This plant grows in sunny areas and has bright yellow flowers and medicinally has the effect of clearing things from one’s body, making it a definite herb for The Sun and for purification. They proliferate very heavily as well in the area they live, tying strongly into the aspects of the sun that lie into fertility and prosperity. I remember as a child hearing about a correlation between dandelion and faeries, but never perhaps getting the exact answer as to what their connection is. Now, I feel as though the two are combined in the sense that in our industrialized world dandelions are the most readily available wild plant that sparks our interest and understanding, so perhaps if one works with the faerie folk in an urban environment this is the herb for them. I’ve heard from a couple sources on the web of Theseus eating dandelions to gain strength during his battle with the Minotaur, being given them by Hekate, however I’m disappointed to say I haven’t found any particular sources that substantiate this claim that reference anything beyond rumor (still, rumor is a powerful thing even if that’s all we’ve got, you’d be surprised what goes by word of mouth).

Planet: (Sun) Gods and Spirits: (Apollo, Baldur, Brigid, Brownies, Cernunnos, Hekate, Helios, Horned God (Wiccan), St Joseph), Uses in witchcraft: (Health, strength, protection, courage, prosperity, purification, home, kitchen and parental craft)

https://www.picturethisai.com/wiki-image/1080/153417717913747457.jpeg

[for-thee]

alright its pale court rant time here. we. go.

also disclaimer this isn't meant to be taken as if it was written by someone incredibly well-versed in music theory i just play the funny instruments and just so happen to adore the way that music can tell a story :)

(this post will be LONG so i'm putting it below the cut and for sppoiler reasons)

alright so this is stemming from a post i made a while back (here) on pale court and how it pretty much tells the story of the rise and fall of hallownest through the piece. lets get started!

the piece opens with a harp playing constant patters and a couple violins followed by a cello. i'm going to say that this represents the pale king and the white lady arriving in hallownest or hallownest itself before the infection . it's peaceful and very royal or regal sounding, basically showing that hallownest was a peaceful place. the "royal" leitmotif is present since the song is somewhat focused on the royal family of hallownest. i'm not completely sure about this but at around 1:05 a part of the hollow knight leitmotif is played.

this peace starts falling apart after this. at this point the infection has started spreading. the hollow knight leitmotif is still present, possibly representing the creation of the vessels? i'm not too sure on that. the tempo picks up, theres a crescendo, and the mood has changed. this feels like it's possibly supposed to represent hallownest finally starting to crumble and slip through the pale king's hands. everything has began spiraling out of control, and there's not much time left. this feels like pk attempting to save hallownest despite knowing there's not much he can do at this point, under the "no cost too great" mindset. he would do anything for this kingdom, even if that means sacrifice, or the dreamers.

the music reaches its most tense point at around 2:03 to 3:11. it is EXTREMELY tense at this point, as well as emotional. this is the infection has reached its very peak. it does calm down a small bit at one point, not sure how to explain this but it is relevant. hallownest is still falling, except it's falling faster than before. much faster. everything is out of the pale king's control now. there is nothing he can do except hope his plan with the dreamers and the hollow knight works. the music starts picking up again, getting louder and louder and louder still, picking up and then--

silence. hallownest is gone. all that's left is the faint echo of a land which once thrived, its citizens long lost. the music starts again, this time quiet, tranquil yet again as hallownest has become a shell of a once flourishing kingdom. the royal leitmotif is played yet again, this time quiet and somewhat sorrowful. the infection has completely taken over the kingdom. as the music comes to a stop, it ends on a minor chord.

YEESH that was a lot thank you for reading if you did! i'm a little nervous to post this as this is my first time doing something like this, please share any thoughts you have on this! also i am not completely sure on how lore accurate this is, if anything is spotted that doesn't make sense please let me know.

[biskael]

what’s something that quilge is truly afraid of?

musing asks / always accepting .

what's interesting ABOUT quilge is how he places fearlessness and willpower extremely highly . he is a very confident man , and it's clear that he reveres his own skills , and for very good reason . even if he isn't within the elite guard of yhwach's personal army , he's certainly higher-ranking than most of the sternritter , in my opinion . no one else is the executive hunting captain .

the anime , unfortunately , cut out the killing of his own men . he hates cowardice . and he thinks that the men he taught shouldn't flinch at the sight of death , nor make a retreat . so , i would venture that quilge claims to be fearless to many people . and it's mostly true . not a lot scares him . he had been taught from an early age not to fear what would kill you , and it has been a lesson he had overcome in the years to follow . he is from a family of hollow and monster hunters . danger is in their blood . and he suffers from no known phobias . his work as a palace torturer , dungeon jailer and executioner made his stomach very strong . his beloved hobby is turning corpses inside out , i guess . he could eat a four-course meal in front of a pile of disemboweled , beheaded , skinned , festering corpses and he would do so again . funky .

that being said , i think something that truly gets to him is his own personal failure . ah , the typical "not being good enough" thing , but that stems from his intensely competitive nature . he slaughtered his own siblings in a battle royale for a place within the wandenreich . he wanted to win at any cost . but , i don't know if i could count it as a true ... fear ? it's more like something that he just gets mad about for a few hours , maybe a day or two , and then he's over it . fear and quilge is a bit of an interesting thing to discuss because he wants so badly to not fear anything . maybe he tricks himself into thinking it . maybe he'd never even admit it .

another one is losing nnoitra . if nnoitra @guadanya were to die , quilge would reach a level of insanity previously yet unseen . so let's not have that . :^) these two in particular are deeply inseparable . when the either of them is without the other , they don't enjoy it . so this intense feeling of loss is mutual between them .

loss is absolutely a factor to quilge and his anxieties . he doesn't like losing what he believes to be his . he doesn't like losing in competitions . and he doesn't like losing in battles .

of course , in a shared canon moment i have with @phobiael , quilge has known as nodt for ... centuries . and when as developed his schrift , quilge had asked him to use it on him ------ rather sparingly , i'd presume , to slowly cause himself to become used to it over time . he would expose himself to his own fears , at the time , until he'd finally gotten rid of them all . or , so he'd thought . he would rather steel his own will through intense contact with his fears themselves than be exposed and weak before them . and while this method did work , quilge still suffers from some anxieties , on occasion . i should also note that äs is special to quilge , too . out of all the other quincy , äs is his favourite to work with and be beside ( and , in verses where quilnoi isn't being the shipping focus in the verse , he is paired with äs ) .

it isn't common to someone like quilge . but , even with his own attempts to rid himself of fear completely , he still experiences it gently , in the smallest inklings .

[thecoolestguy]

//spoilers for wanderer's lore

Me when I'm forced to confront the fact that I have a huge bias in favour of male characters as I play through wanderer's lore:

Legit like his lore?? Kinda ass if I'm being perfectly honest. The whole "he got manipulated by dottore" just feels so... Weak. It kinda made his whole quest for vengeance and all the "betrayals" he endured lost their weight. Scara trusts people's words and leaps to action far too quickly. And it's not like he's a child or anything. Grown ass man at this point. A part of him definitely enjoyed the chaos and carnage in the Fatui, although he felt that was never his true calling. Overally speaking, he still strike me as a not super well-developed character.

Genshin really struggle with writing antagonists, and I'm sure part of it stems from Chinese censorship laws. It sucks that characters have to "redeem themselves" so quickly to become playable while the hype train's still running. This led to characters like Scara and Ei lacking the time to properly reflect on their actions and do some independent soul searching. In fact, it often felt as though characters are only allowed room to grow only when the traveller is present, which? Sucks. It makes all the development feels kinda rushed and unnatural.

However! However. Uggggh- Wanderer being a silly wet cat. Just a stupid lonely little fucker with nowhere to go. He's so me fr or something. Goddamn. I really love how they made him "nice" but didn't really get rid of all his personal values. My favorite scene with him has got to be his interaction with the shopkeeper he worked for. Like the way this dude is so reluctant to receive anything back!!!! Because he still believes that fundamentally, people only stuck around each other if they got something to gain. So if he get compensation for his work, they would become "even" and thus, no longer have any need to stay together. It's so tragic how no one wants him by his own merits, so he gladly let himself be used as a tool to preserve whatever relationships he had. But that itself proved to be futile. Those who wanted to use him also, unsurprisingly, hurt him most. And as Nahida pointed out herself, the way he thought about things is inherently juvenile since there is never a way for a relationship to truly be "even" like sums in clear cut math. To live is to live with imperfections, with the hollowness inside where a deep yearn resides, because that's also what drives people to move forward. I think that's a nice message.

Anyways, would NOT be caught dead white knighting for him. Or any genshin charas really (except maybe Zhongli and Venti). Lil' dude said himself that he wanted people to know the shit he did and how fucked up it was. Still rolled for him tho and is currently eating my own shorts due to the xiao rerun😭😭😭

[borgchip]

"emh transfeminine swag" anon here. now that you've watched "body and soul" i can go ahead with my explanation.

to start at the beginning, his early arc revolves around getting the rest of the crew to recognize his personhood and finding his identity with the help of kes. (kes also reads as trans to me but that's more of a vibes thing) because he was modeled after a man, he assumes that gender by default and puts himself firmly in that box, not thinking that there's an option to be anything else. becoming "he" instead of "it" is an improvement, but not entirely fulfilling. he searches for a name but limits himself to masculine ones, never finding one that fits, eventually settling on the neutral "doctor".

later on, he creates a holographic simulation of a home life, casting himself as the stereotypical patriarch. he tells his friends that he wants to better understand his patients, but in the process he reinforces his position as a man. the family he creates is perfect, but hollow. every word they say is so positive as to sound forced. they have "the most wonderful husband and father in the quadrant", an admiration that hinges on his masculinity.

then we meet dr. zimmerman, the man who created the emh and who he views as a father. he states plainly that he wants his father to be proud of him. zimmerman has a complicated relationship with the mark 1, after putting so much of himself into it only for the program to be essentially discarded by starfleet. the emh proves his worth (and to an extent, zimmerman's own) to zimmerman and succeeds, but the process was long and difficult. after all that, he doesn't want to make any changes to himself, other than what can be explained as technological improvements, in order not to betray zimmerman's intentions for him and lose the admiration he worked so hard for.

the only time he allows himself femininity is out of necessity, when he must download into seven's implants to hide from hologram-hating aliens. this leads to him possessing her. he spends much of this time giddy, trying to have as many experiences in his new body as possible. in the episode, he also befriends one of the aliens and another becomes romantically interested in him. he leans into these relationships and seems to enjoy the social aspect of being viewed as female. however, as he's experiencing this gender euphoria, he has to contend with the knowledge that if they find out that he's really a hologram, ie "really a man", they will be disgusted by him. not only that, they will actively try to kill him. in the end, he isn't killed, but his new relationships never recover from that discovery.

the fallout from that experience pushes him further back into the closet, as he doesn't experiment with gender again for the rest of the series. the subtext that this reading stems from doesn't give us the happiest ending, but unfortunately i think it's one many trans people can relate to, and it means a lot to me.

🥺🥺 this is so sweet... well, ok, maybe not sweet considering the sort of ending we're talking about but... to be honest anon, I can COMPLETELY see where you're coming from. And how well thought out !! I always sort of saw the doctor as somewhat agender but like I'm really starting to consider the opposite direction. I feel like the timeframe that voyager came out was such a waste in terms of exploring things like this. Imagine if the writers actually noticed this trend and actually discussed it/explored it IN episode !! And actually getting to see the doctor figure themself out!! I mean. tbh idk if they'd even explore it NOW considering all the dudebros that go mental over star trek doing anything "liberal" but. WE can explore it... that's the best we can have considering snfjsjg. I MEAN IN TERMS OF DECODING SUBTEXT I THINK YOU'RE DOING A HELL OF A JOB ! I love this... TYSM FOR REMEMBERING ANON?? AND SHARING?? I LO V E META LIKE THIS ESPECIALLY ABT GENDER/SEXUALITY AND. MY FAVE CHAR IT MAKES ME SUPER HAPPY 🥺🥺 U remembered to come back ,,

I genuinely wish he still had kes around cause I can imagine her helping with stuff like this so much and being so supportive :'( but that's only me

Also does give rlly new meaning to in that ep the sort of bitterness when he says "there's NO women like me..." like...ouch.

ALSO I DEFINITELY ALREADY AGREED W THE SORT OF...STARTING OUT AND JUST ASSUMING THE HYPERMASCULINE ROLE. Because that's like. All he knows. It's all he's seen. And yk...trying to be seen as a person as a hologram is hard enough, maybe he also doesn't wanna "rock the boat" by asking to be seen as a woman too, as sad as that is.

[libraryben]

When their jobs were threatened in a new and acute way in the first few months of the pandemic, many tenured and tenure-track historians were able to recognize themselves as workers, sometimes for the first time. The specter of higher ed’s imminent collapse prompted many of them to ask for solidarity and support from the colleagues they have long refused to fully acknowledge as colleagues. Even as they saw themselves as exploited laborers, few were able to acknowledge—or even seemed aware—that these conditions predated the pandemic for adjuncts. Fewer still were ready to reckon with the ways that their employment was dependent on the continuation of those conditions. The lack of solidarity with striking adjuncts and grad students during this year of labor action confirms this disconnect, and it should not be surprising—the interests of these groups of employees are not the same, and are often directly opposed. The quick collapse of higher education may not have come to pass, but the hollowing-out has accelerated, especially for history, assisted by sustained political efforts from without and within. Anyone who thinks they made it through, that they’re safe, is laboring under a delusion, and reality is swiftly catching up with them. Like all hierarchical systems, adjunctification has always harmed the people in the middle of the hierarchy as well—because, of course, tenured and tenure-track faculty are not the top of this hierarchy. “Burnout” is a serious and growing problem, especially for scholars of marginalized groups; it’s making you all miserable, and leading some to leave the profession altogether. But let’s be clear: this “burnout” that secure scholars are feeling is phantom pain where their colleagues should be. Or, to use a term that every other normal worker in the US uses to describe their workplace under these conditions: you are suffering from the effects of intentional systemic understaffing. Jobs numbers in the field always cause a yearly freakout, but this fall the panic hit a new level. Out of 1799 historians who received a PhD in the US between 2019 and 2020, 175 have full-time faculty positions. 1 To be quite honest, a large part of that was because the numbers were so stark that even graduate students at elite programs couldn’t ignore the fact that they were in trouble—you always were, your department just worked to hide that fact from you.

But it’s not just about incoming faculty. It’s about lost lines, the erosion of departments, the disappearance of majors. And it’s deeply connected to the broader problems facing history as a field of study in K-16 education—the perpetual concern over what majors get jobs, of course, but also the concerted political attacks on the field and its practitioners, most of whom teach without whatever protections academic freedom theoretically provides. And it’s about teaching, which is what every normal person in the world thinks is our main job, and which the field as a whole does not prioritize, train for, reward, or even really understand. The other problem, unfortunately, is that nothing can really change working field by field or campus by campus, and the main professional organization for our field—reflecting the views of the majority of its members, and certainly the privilege of its elected leaders—has chosen to sit this one out. At the most, the AHA does “advocacy”—that is not the same as building power and exercising it, and as a result, it is not often effective. We see this on the individual and departmental level as well, even from self-styled radical activist professors who end up being too scared to do anything more than sign a petition. Maybe the provost who came out of electrical engineering doesn’t respect what historians do, not just because he’s in STEM, but because every cultural signal around him in this country tells him historians are to be used, even humored, but not respected—and certainly not feared. And everything we have done as a field seems to confirm that belief. And now things are very bad, and it’s time to accept that we cannot advocate and petition our way out of this position. Just as efforts on individual campuses and in individual fields can only go so far, piecemeal solutions to prop up various aspects of the profession or compensate for their failures—including all of the things the people up here, including myself, are engaging in—these things will not save the profession.

[echodimension]

Some more information and ideas for Hudson's demon species:

Hudson is this guy:

//image placeholder//

I know for sure his species stems from this idea-

Hudson's horns are broken in half making him an outcast in his home dimension. The cracks that go down, thru and under the eyes are part of the horn breaking result. With Hudson's specific species, he has a glowing core that keeps him and his body alive. The skin working as a thick shell for this "life core"- when he takes significant damage, the shell cracks and shows the glowing core making it a physical scar and weak point.

So I'm branching off with this because I wanna add more to his species anyways since I really love Hudson's design + I plan on having him in the story for a long while.

Hudson's Demonic Species AKA - "Soul Ores"

A Soul Ore is a humanoid demon species within this world. They range in a vast variety of shapes, sizes, colors, builds and powers. Their most defining features are as follows:

The glowing scars that also work as physical weak points (if any)

Eyes and mouth are hollow and glowing

most soul ores have more than 2 arms

commonly they have horns that can grow in any way, shape, size, or form they choose but only on their heads and shoulders- (and very rarely their knees too)

hardened skin that has a slight shine to it like a polished rock, it works very well as armor and is commonly known as "the shell" for soul ores

Soul Ores often are gifted some sort of power at birth- ranging in just about anything nature based; from talking to bugs and animals, to controlling plants and breathing fire, to gravity control and water morphing.

"If it's found in nature on earth it can be found naturally in them."

However this is limited from things like- manipulating people and their thoughts, creation of galaxy or space related things, limits on connecting to gravity, vibrations, etc. They can also have healing powers however they cannot bring someone back to life if their soul has gone to the underworld/afterlife for more than 24 hours. Soul Ores are still extremely powerful creatures despite their limitations.

Soul Ores also have weaknesses.

Although not much can crack their protective shell, anything that's diamond or stronger can break through the other dimensional being. It takes a great deal of force and it's guaranteed to kill them or stop them but you'll be sure to do damage at least. When their shell is completely broken and more than 70% of the shell removed, damaged, missing, or broken- the creature will die. Soul Ores upon death flare up in a huge bright light that blinds anything nearby before it puffs up into the colors they were made of.

The color of the shell + soul have a bit of meaning to the Soul Ore in question:

Red -

Orange -

Yellow -

Green -

Blue -

Purple -

Black -

White -

Magenta -

Cyan -

Lavender -

Wintergreen -

Wine -

Thanks for reading <3

That's all I got for now

[allthingsdarkanddirty]

She'll do anything to save her daughter, including working with her ex...Preorder your copy of Fork in the Magical Quest by Brenda Trim and Tia Didmon today!

Universal: https://geni.us/Magical_Quest

I'm working with my ex to save my daughter. He's using his magic to get me back.

The god of chaos is tired of my interference and orders his minions to kill me, but his plan fails and my daughter is abducted.

I am forced to work with Caton and the council to find Rereck's stronghold and save Mina, while Caton makes various attempts to get me back into his bed. I'm sure his motives are political due to my business partnership with the most powerful demon alive. But in our efforts to find Mina, we discover a lost temple that once housed an artifact that Rereck can use to return.

Do I destroy the temple and risk losing my daughter or cave to Rereck's demands and lose the world?

Find out what lurks in the shadows of Ravenholde by reading Fork in the Magical Quest, the new Paranormal Women's Fiction series readers are comparing to Shannon Mayer, K.F. Breene, and Victoria Dannan.

One click to continue this Magical Midlife adventure now!

About The Authors

A USA Today bestselling author, Brenda loves everything paranormal. She has co-authored over twenty-five books in the best-selling Dark Warrior Alliance series, as well as the Hollow Rock Shifters series. She also has best-selling solo titles readers are raving about. Brenda created worlds that feature dangerously handsome heroes and feisty heroines. With the help of popcorn and candy, she takes dragons, fairies, witches, vampires, and so much more and brings them to life. She lives in Texas with her husband and three kids who fuel not only her heart but her life. If she's not writing, she's reading, traveling, or knee-deep in projects with her husband and five sisters. She encourages readers to Dream Big. If your dreams don't terrify and electrify you then they aren't big enough!  

Tia Didmon is a USA Today bestselling author of provocative paranormal romance. When Tia isn't busy writing about sexy shifters and dreamy demons, she spends her time binge watching The Order and reruns of The Vampire Diaries, cooking with her daughter, and serving her cat. Her love of writing stems from a self-diagnosed book addiction.  Subscribe to Tia's newsletter at tiadidmon.com for a free book and start your journey through Tia's supernatural world today!  Find Them Both Online! https://www.brendatrim.com https://tiadidmon.com

[shrek-5]

dispatch from emonight

Pop punk is characteristically high energy. there were people somehow thrashing around to like 150bpm for 3 hours nonstop. therefore i have resolved: I NEED TO WORK OUT MORE SO I CAN GO HARDER AND LONGER IN THE PIT. When people fell down (inevitably, with the shoving) people created space around and helped them up which was wholesome. But phones and glasses and things fell too and got trampled and lost (rly glad i decided to wear contacts).

Threw my bag at _____ (sorry and thank you _____) whenever an MCR song came on and fucking dived into the goddamn mosh pit, which – contrary to a largely female and adolescent demographic many picture of the band’s fanbase – was composed solely of built and/or YP-looking dudes in muscle tanks (many of which were also MCR themed) roughhousing, all the while still belting “I DON’T LOVE YOU LIKE I DID YESTERDAY”. I got punched in the face several times. 11/10 experience. friends will be familiar with my oft-expressed desire to beat people up (please don't report me i don't act on it), hostility, and general socioemotional dysregulation stemming from childhood trauma. ___ said clubs are one of the few places you can actually let loose in this conservative country. she might not have been talking about moshpits, but they're spaces, outlets of sanctioned and even encouraged violence. i didn't know i needed that; the thrill, the understandings between strangers, the collective release. chaos can be a love language

The last song closing the night was of course the genre-defining Welcome To The Black Parade. At the ending of the intro, the pit hollowed out as the mainstay moshers formed a ring, a fighting ring, stanced up towards each other, counting down to the moment the song would ramp up into verse, the moment they would fling themselves toward the centre in a frenzy of testosterone and eyeliner. And when it happened all hell broke loose and us with limbs flailing and heads butting melded into a mass of angst incarnate. Even as equipment got knocked down and audio got cut off the whole room still kept singing, “WE��LL CARRY ON!"

It was like a religious experience. Being crushed in a sea of bodies, random 2000s videogame montages flashing up on the screen a la subway surfer overstimulation tiktoks, I forgot who I was. In the moment all that mattered was the song, the power it had, connecting me to these strangers around me, the collective catharsis. God it was beautiful. This is what it means to be alive

and i've barely even seen anything, in conservative singapore. this shit must get exponentially wilder with drugs. I NEED to experience that

cardio in boots and baggy pants and a buzzcut… it may be pride month but im standing in solidarity with the most oppressed group of all, chao recroots. but instead of serving the army i'm serving cunt

lyrics i remember yelling the hardest:

when you look in the mirror and don’t like what you see / you can find out firsthand what it’s like to be me

i’m watching you two from the closet / wishing to be the friction in your jeans

what a shame the poor groom's bride is a WHORE / i chimed in with a, 'haven't you people ever heard of / closing the god damn door'

AFI (like Miss Murder lole)

wear comfy sports shoes not boots

actually i was soaked in sweat i see why people wear v little clothing. alot of movement and it’s surprisingly all non-sexual and non-gropey

drink red bull

! Make arrangements in advance for what to do after shit ends at 3am and there's no public transport. like schedule a cab or ask to hitch a ride and sleep over at someone’s house

[littlefreya]

Prince Of Darkness

Summary: There'll be no escape tonight, the devil always gets what he desires.

Pairing: Devil!August Walker x Unnamed OFC (3rd person pov)

Word count: 6k

Warnings: 18+, DARK! NonCon, kidnapping, stalking, breeding, exhibitionism, loss of virginity, supernatural stuff, sex in a cathedral, mention of heaven and hell. Please proceed with caution. 

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own

A/N: I have put a lot of effort into this story, and I’m really anxious af. We all like to see August as a demon, but I decided to go all the way... And I’m nervous at your response and going to die after hitting submit. So bye.

Many thanks to the love of my life @agniavateira​, for support, brainstorm and beta. And to @crimsonrae​ and @wondersofdreaming​ who held my hand. 

Please give feedback and reblog if you enjoyed my work. 🖤

Title: Prince of Darkness

Blood painted the streets, courtesy of the blinding scarlet lights that danced upon gravel and tar before dwindling into darkness. The soft, beaming glow pulsed with the muffled beats of a monotonous song that played inside the luxurious nightclub. Like thundering war drums, it rumbled in the ears of the elegant man who stood along the shadows. 

Leaning against the cement, he took a sip from a glass of spiced Bordeaux and brushed an index finger over his thick moustache to wipe away misguided droplets of wine. 

‘How could anyone enjoy this abomination?’ He wondered with a guttural groan, never quite grasping this electronic noise thing; but then again August was older than this music, and his tastes far exceeded cheap and trivial antics. He was a man driven by the appetite for destruction and forbidden delights, and tonight, he was finally about to obtain both. After decades of anticipation, the succulent fruit was ready to be plucked. 

Oh, what an intoxicating and delicious mist his unsuspecting beloved emanated, setting his heart aflame with her sheer ripeness.  

‘It’s been so long, so painfully long.’ 

Time had lost its meaning as he waited, curving and swerving into a stream of an infinite river flowing with decay and death. 

But as the old saying went: all haste comes from the devil. 

So the man lingered against the wall, a sparkle enkindled and crackled in his eyes, morphing into black wells whilst the waves of her honey-liqueured ambrosia grew pungent, seeping through his airways and sinking in his throat. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, revelling in the sound of harsh tapping heels that echoed louder with every step until she came summoned into the naked wilderness of the city street. 

‘Beautiful and innocent as the garden of Eden. Of course, of course...’

The stranger scrutinised the young woman with another sip from his wine and a bite of great intrigue - but stoicism and silence, for now, were his most valuable allies. 

Clad in a lithe black dress and a stylish leather jacket to keep herself warm from the chill autumn breeze, she fished for the mobile device in her purse while distress washed her wrinkling brow. Illuminated by the bright screen, her face sulked as for the seventh time in the last 30 minutes, her attempt to find an Uber bore no success whatsoever. 

Was there something about tonight that all drivers were kept occupied, or had her luck simply run dry? 

Showing her face to the moonlit sky, she sighed in great frustration. This must have been fate’s retribution to a mindless bad decision; she should have left with her friends, but staying alone to fruitlessly catch the eye of the uncaring bartender seemed more significant as the buzz of alcohol dimmed any ray of logic. Now deep into the night, walking home alone didn’t appear to be the most sympathetic solution, yet it occurred to her that there wasn’t much of choice.  

“You seem distressed.” 

Equal to a dark chant sputtering words of witchcraft, the low yet incredibly soft baritone of his voice slithered from the corner and crept down her spine with icy scales. A lurching hollow flared within her gut, her neck seized by the tight grip of a serpentine phantom. 

His vibrato sounded like a voice that called her through a dream she never had before; despite the unsettling arctic spasm gyrating through her shaky limbs, it lured her to return a stare and meet the cryptic face behind the seducing chant. 

Two sharp glaciers glimmered at her as the stranger sauntered into the penumbra, momentarily lit by another flash of neon red that broke onto his face and highlighted his ethereal features. Her lips drew open, her nipples hardening against the fabric of her dress as a shiver ran through her. To say that the stranger was handsome would be an understatement, as it almost seemed as if he was ‘designed’ by a sculptor - carved cheeks led a path to slightly pouted lips, and a stark, dimpled chin was shadowed by dark stubble. His chocolate-brown hair was elegantly combed to the side, with a couple of large lustrous locks gently nestling over his brow.

Though it wasn’t his good looks that left her riddled with prickly goosebumps, but the unprecedented magnetic haul that made her feel as if she was physically drawn toward this mysterious man. 

Frightened by the unbidden reaction of her own body, she quickly retreated to gawk at the phone and provided no answer to his inquiry. A strange yearning to submit grew between her clenching thighs, a primal response to his striking looks and charms. 

But she killed the seed before it set roots in her flesh. 

‘They said Ted Bundy was charming as well…’ she mused. Frivolous as she wanted to be, getting murdered was undoubtedly not among her plans tonight. 

Revelling in her silent reply with an arched brow, he tilted his head when a blinding flicker abruptly caught his keen eye. Kissed by the pale moonlight’s beam, a small silver cross rested upon her collarbone. His sharp fangs begged to peek with sardonic amusement, but he kept his lips clamped, not wishing to scare her too soon. 

There was to be plenty of that later...

“May I offer you my help, sweetling?”

Threading his long fingers between the smooth stem and clasping them around the bowl, he lowered the glass to the side of his hip, dragging the girl’s unwilling eye to the healthy bulge in his groin. 

Her lips drew open as a surge of staggering heat flushed at her apex. 

It seemed enormous... 

“Name’s August, like the emperor, but you can call me whatever your heart desires...”

Embers burnt at her cheeks; in her belly, the odd mystical calling continued weaving at her core in an urge to accept whatever it was he had to offer. Her eyes warred to tear her gaze away from his nether region as her lashes fluttered to meet the abysmal glance that bestowed both frost and fire through her tendons. 

There was something archaically familiar about this man as if she knew him before the days had names. Yet she swore, it was the first time she ever saw his striking face. 

“I can take you wherever you need to go.” 

Breath laced with wine titillated her nostrils as the words spilt from his lips, whilst another crimson ray broke upon the marble of his face. Never had he urged, but instead suggested with a tongue soaked with honey. Still, a blazing aura of danger encircled him. And even though the very natural fear of walking home alone grappled her, it still seemed like a much better plan than entrusting her life to a stranger who was twice her size. 

Deciding to keep her tongue knotted, she turned and began striding away. ‘Best not to engage him,’ she thought, but once she moved past his bulky figure, her heart suddenly picked up its pace and her legs refused to function as if they no longer belonged to her. 

Seconds stretched into eternity. The thought that this civilised savage will assail her and drag her into the night scratched at the back of her head. But the worst of it was the simmering throb. Unforgiving, like gathering storm clouds, it thundered the closer she walked by him and then gradually died out as she finally managed to move away and free herself from this invisible bond. 

Savouring the final drop of wine, August watched amused as the frightened little lamb quickly oscillated on her feet, scampering into the horrors offered by the dark. It was funny how fear made animals act so heedlessly and rush straight into the burning heart of peril. 

A toothy grin peaked his chiselled cheeks. Always the gentleman, he shifted from the concrete, discarding the glass carelessly to shatter on the sidewalk. His sinew stretched in a relaxed ripple of an apex predator before he straightened both vest and jacket and stroked his thick moustache. 

Though her heavenly fragrance still soaked the air, the girl was already gone from normal eyesight. It was a pity to see her leave, yet there was no need for him to rush.

There was never really a choice for her. 

Strangely, the night kept growing unnaturally darker. A great ocean of blackness and crystalised stars spread from above, casting looming shadows across the tall buildings that resembled a maw filled with rotten teeth. The tepid wind that blew between the vast concrete monoliths was nothing but the breath of a mythical beast intoning her name through the shadows.

Clawing at her forearms, she meandered through the inert street with a wary eye. Desolate neon signs flickered hauntingly, bequeathing a vibrant beacon of dread over the shimmering, onyx road. Not a living soul was in sight as if the world descended into stillness, dominated by an eerie, dead silence save for the harsh echo of her hasty heels. And yet, the long path felt anything but lifeless. With every step landed on the ground, she could sense the movement beneath the surface: swarming vile things, slippery and scaled. Unseen by the human eye, they hissed dirty little secrets and slithered with sinister hunger, drizzling down their fangs. 

‘You can already feel me inside you, can’t you sweetling…’ Remaining hidden, he had to admit that watching the little lamb leap shivering into the slaughter has been somewhat of foreplay.

A veil of fumes emitted from her parted lips. The air became colder, summoning a terrifying truth that made her lungs clench around the black void that abruptly filled them with the notion that maybe... maybe… that chill, liquid-like thing that threatened to touch her ankle wasn’t just in her crazy imagination.

There was something out there, something undeniably familiar. This unusual gust of wind brushing at her nape has accompanied her since she could remember herself, an unsettling breeze bidding that evil lurked between the creases, holding its sinewy fingers clasped together while waiting for her to answer his hushed calling.

‘And once you finally answer, there is no turning back…’ 

Fear gnawed its frosty fangs at her bones, puncturing tiny painful cavities that were needles in her flesh. Tonight, of all nights, the same hazy feeling became stronger than ever before. Deep inside, she knew she would meet her end. Pressing the oily pads of her fingers at the sharp corners of her pendant, she inhaled and chanted a prayer, refusing to succumb to the noxious malice when a frozen pin pierced her heart.

Like the lark calling on the dawn, an unbidden chant carried her name.

Drenched with frigid sweat, she exhumed a shuddering breath, praying to God that it was only her imagination playing tricks on her ears. 

‘The greatest trick he ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist.’

Indeed in the darkness, leered the beast. All teeth and malicious glee, August moved from one shadow to another, feasting on the aphrodisiac that was the mixture of her harrowing terror and unveiled desire. If only she knew the trail her scent left for him to follow - he could smell her from miles away. 

The little flower between her legs began blooming the moment their entities finally encountered one another, and it was his ancient name her dew had dripped for.  

‘My sweet little thing, tonight I will finally grant you a purpose...’ 

Like a hound awakened from a deep slumber, he flexed his bulging muscles and tailed her in utter silence. The same spell that burnt in her core seethed the blood gathering in his ardent loins. Since the dawn of humankind, he had more women than any other man on this earth, yet none has evoked such hunger in him. 

He would have eaten her alive and torn her to shreds if only he didn't have bigger plans for her.

Still hidden by the unnatural night, August stalked from behind, the blaze of his enkindling burn licking her path as he crept further to ensnare his prey. He wished she could see herself through his own flaring glance, how beautiful she was with tears of despair rolling down the tender slope of her cheeks. 

His beloved girl; his, by ancient law. Spirited as a rageful tempest, she insisted on escaping her prophesied fate. Muscles and bones strove against the panic that turned her boiling blood frigid. But no power, physical nor divine could revoke this otherworldly attraction that bound her to him. His bidding could never be undone and as much as his blood relished from the thrill of the chase, it was time to put an end to this dance and seal their union. 

Appearing from a stygian haze of a spectral nightmare, the beast drew his claw to grasp the fleeting girl’s shoulder.

The world froze along with the scream that died in her throat. Cold, slippery wet, the phantom serpents slinked around her ankles and held on to the ground as the thing behind her bit his nails into her collarbone. His touch was no ghost, but as real as the quiet moon that voyeured her fate from above and did nothing. A wretched gasp of anguish shuddered through her airways as his fingers stalked forth to cinch at her neck. 

His grip was tighter than the icy finger of death, yet its caress was the sensual lick of a gossamer tongue. 

It was almost as if he worshipped her. 

Shadows befell her as the assailant leaned close, wafting a mist of intoxicating fumes scented of poisonous elixirs and an ancient forest that laid deep between the veils of the underworld, hiding forbidden mysteries that none dared speak of. Seeping through her orifices, it stung her eyes and raked remorseful tears. 

“Please…” she broke into sobs, shaking her head at the dawning of her fate.

The man inhaled deeply. Though she could not see him, the joyful malice that danced on his pleased breath roared in her ears.

“Do not fear me.” The sonorous rumble caressing her ear was hardly a surprise in its familiarity.  It was him, the handsome bewhiskered gentleman from earlier. But of course, it was always him: the whisper in the dark, the slithering things moving beneath the tepid ground, and the smell of burning pyres. 

But who the hell was he?!

As if he read her mind, his hand twisted around her nape and with a careful sway, turned her to face him. The voice inside her head warned her over and over again not to look at him; yet the temptation was too great, peeling her eyes open to stare at the thing that made her heart drop to her gut.

Vast, raven wings spread from each side of an Adonis figure, their intimidating length denying her widened eyes to look at anything but the dark god that soared tall in front her. No, not a god, a devil. A pair of small golden horns peeked from the mane of long curls, and the heavenly icy gaze she remembered from earlier had melted into an abysmal lake of fire.

He was beautiful.

He was monstrous.

And just like that, she descended from the earth, swept into a thick swamp of darkness that swallowed her whole. Never letting so much as her feet kiss the ground, August scooped her into his strong arms. Peering down upon her, he broke into a delightful grin, already enamoured with his delicate new bride. The pang of lust tingled in his groin, though despite the raging need to claim her now, it was her screams he desired more than all as he would consummate their eternal marriage. 

Wicked tongues of fire licked up the shallow air, casting a faint amber glow into the abominable sombre of a vanishing nightmare. Shy as feral nymphs, the bursting sparks ascended melancholily, whispering tales of perishing days that fell to harmony with a strange mumbling chant. Still locked in a void of unconsciousness, the fallen girl shifted with disquiet, her hands restlessly clutching at a virginal silk gown that covered her body. 

Vaguely remembering a horrifying dream of a demonic entity, she woke with a sudden electric jitter. A peal of breathless pants pushed through her heaving chest before she slumped into the intense relief one experiences from a brush with either death or a ghastly fantasy. 

“Thank God…” she whispered with a fist pressed to her breast.

Yet, something was amiss. The low vocal melody continued despite her state of clarity, tangled with the eerie presence of a hundred cutting glares that stabbed her crawling spine. Slowly and carefully, she lifted her head and scanned her surroundings. 

The blood drained from her face.

Swaying like shadowy wraiths stood men cloaked in black velvet hoods. Tears of milky boiling wax trickled from the candles held by their stringy fingers, yet they didn’t seem to flinch as the burning rivulets seared their flesh. Their hollow eyes were fixated upon her while words of a dark sacrament sputtered from their lips and reverberated through the endless archways and ribbed vaults that towered above them. 

Her trembling muscles were briskly stifled under the unsettling realisation of her whereabouts - a cathedral, a thousand years old if not more. Burning torches lit crumbling pillars and statues of monstrous winged creatures that encircled them from every niche, their malicious shadows dancing upon dusty obsidian bricks. Unglazed windows were barred by black iron, the beautiful floral shapes preventing any means of escape. 

Only the fractured ceiling held a cheap shred of hope, as a vast rupture of broken stone exposed her to the scarred carmine wolf-moon.

If only she had wings…

Bones rattling beneath her crawling flesh, she sat upon the hard surface with wells of despair. Her hands clutched around the edge of the bed, only to be kissed by the sharp corners that pierced the delicate flesh. Hissing with pain, she lifted her arms and stared below at what appeared to be a midnight-black marble creased with golden veins and saplings-like patterns. 

It was beautiful, just like the creamy gown that covered her body.  

“Do you like it, bride?” 

Rising from the crowd like a flame among charred coals, appeared her handsome abductor. Suitable to a true evil prince, a long red cloak enrobed his broad, sturdy form, the velvet hem trailing behind him like a thick river of blood while he marched forward with no haste in his dauntless mien. Human once again, August offered the most endearing grin; two profound dimples embellished his scruffy cheeks, and his eyes shone brighter than a frozen sea. 

Yet in her sullen gaze, he was nothing but a monster.

Abruptly enraged and driven by pure instinct, she jumped off the marble and paced backwards. Tears of anger and fright rimmed her swollen lids and her bare feet nearly collided as she shook her head at August who was neither impressed nor concerned by this foolish protest. 

“You stay the fuck away from me!!!” She warned with a scream and hastily turned away. 

Lost in some trance, the praying mob never stirred, granting the girl a fair chance to escape the bewhiskered man who was still several strides away. Her feeble legs made three to four steps when her muscles swiftly turned to stone, and her stomach lurched. 

‘No! It couldn’t be! How?!’

Curls shining like precious coils of onyx, August emerged in front of her, continuing his relaxed gait as if this was a natural occurrence. His bright icicles melted into malicious dark pools of twisted desire, and his tongue briefly laved his plump lips at the sight of pure disbelief that cascaded over her face. He could feel right under her skin, hear the thrumming heart that both chilled and fumed for him. Further beyond her thoughts, his betrothed yearned to be defiled and torn open by him. 

It was her destiny, whether she liked it or not. 

Still she fought, so ferocious and defiant, flinching away from his attempts to seize her. It was almost comical to watch her deny him, knowing that her fate would be no different; she will spread her legs and submit to his conquest. And yet, her battle was immensely appealing; what better bride to the dark lord than a woman who breathed fire.

“Who are you?!” She cried, her trembling voice rising with panic and her cheeks soaking with tears, “What do you want from me?!”

August's face was devoid of mercy, her whimpering hisses did nothing to deter him and only further increased the appetite of the deprived wolf that circled in his gut. With a wring of his wrist, his fingers snapped at her elbow, hauling her against his rock-hard chest with such might her heels hovered above the ground. 

Writhing in his grip she flung her hands at his face, clawing streams of crimson to trickle down his cheeks. The notion of hurting this vicious man brought somewhat of a sick joy; but her onslaught died at once, and her mouth fell agape as his skin healed with not even a trace of injury. 

“Oh God, what are you?!” She shuddered. 

Still holding her elbow hostage, his free hand travelled to the hem of the white gown, the long, perverted fingers twisting around the fabric before yanking it off at once. A resounding rip echoed through the tall arches, causing the chanting choir to halt their susurrations at once. 

All eyes were afloat as the cold air kissed her skin. In vain, she attempted to cover herself only to be felled by the restraints of August’s grasp. 

“God?...” The man finally spoke, his melodic voice ending with a sonorous hum that sprouted through her arteries like a deadly toxin. Not less poisonous, his gaze trailed down her form, worshipping the very sights of his delightful prize. 

“Not God, but once I was an angel,” he suggested and leaned down to inhale her skin with a gratified growl before he flicked his wide tongue at her chest.

A groan of approval emitted from his lips, the sheer coat of sweat that layered her bosom was soaked of freshly brewed fear, his most favourite savour. His wet, velvety snake swept the sweet-briny wetness and licked further down her breasts, twirling around the erect nipple.

Unintended, she moaned. A river of delights rushed between her grinding thighs.

“No!”

Wrongful, unwanted bliss awoke in her. She felt desecrated and allured at once. Her fickle body deceived, mistaking this vile conquest as consensual. And the more August took, the more she desired; her dutiful womb demanded to consummate this bond, almost as if the beast had bewitched her a long while ago, embedding his essence in the marrow of her bones. 

August grinned against her skin, the scent of her arousal fresh in his nose while his lips travelled to kiss down her sternum and the slope of her torso. His thick whiskers left a trail of fluttering butterflies.

“Have sympathy, my love. I had built my own realm and waited in the forlorn abyss. Empires fell and worlds disintegrated into ashes while I waited for thou,” he explained and clutched the cheek of her behind in his claw, squeezing it possessively. “I have longed for your touch since the day your ancestor promised you to me, little lamb. A hundred years’ worth of waiting for the bargain to reach its end, and for you to finally be ripe.” 

The beast pressed one last languid kiss below her navel, a guttural hum exuded in between his lips, huffing hot against her belly. Slowly he rose to his full height, towering above his helpless victim who hugged her arms to cover her naked body and watched her nightmare unfold once more. Cold wind chilled her damp cheeks as August flung the blood-red cloak and exposed his naked figure before her.  

He was massive, a masculine build fit for a warrior angel, covered with thick bulging muscles and dark hair. Lips parted, she forgot herself, gawking in awe and allowing her gaze to trail down to his unapologetically monstrous cock. Firm and throbbing, it dripped with hunger, urging to find release inside her clenching cavern.

She didn’t even know a man could be this vast, but alas, he was no man at all.

It was at that moment when blackest wings spread before her that realisation finally struck through like a blunt hammer to the back of her head. Covering her mouth she cowered away, her exposed back hitting the raised altar behind her. 

August was no man nor god, but Lucifer himself. 

Seeing the hope die in her eyes, the devil sneered. 

“No, no, no! This can’t be real! This isn’t real!!!” She yelled, pathetic little hiccups sputtering from her lips.

August tilted his head, giving a scornful pout and scoffed with amusement. “Am I not?” He asked as he lifted an arm to flick his fingers, summoning two of the hooded servants to approach the dais. Their eyes were soulless gems embedded to a grey face that was cracked like a broken eggshell. 

“I am real, beloved, as real as the child you will conceive me tonight.” 

Shrills of terror flew through the great hole in the ceiling. Kicking and screaming, she fought as the men seized her arms and dragged her to the altar, forcing her flat down and holding her arms to prevent her from escaping. They never blinked at the ferocious war she waged against them, though an impish smile slowly possessed their faces as their master strode forward. 

“Sweet little lamb,” August chanted, enamoured with his fiery bride while he sauntered by the edge of the altar. His Adonis body golden in the candlelight, his fingers squeezed and pumped the ravenous demon that hung heavy between his legs. The twinge in her womb rose in response, a low roar thrumming as it yearned to succumb to its unbridled purpose. Sheen, the arousal trickled between her kicking legs and onto the smooth stone, making her cheek flame.

Much to August’s pleasure. 

“Our son will burn this world to cinders,” he promised and snaked his fingers at her ankles. Calmly deflecting her attempts to kick against him, he dragged her toward him until her knees folded over the edge and spread between his thighs. The platform was in the perfect height, positioning her delicious Eden at the height of his blessed demon. 

“You will make an excellent mother.”

Her entire body shook, her cunt clenching along her sobs in both defence and beguiling need as August leaned in and grazed the silky pink crown between her wet petals. She begged he wouldn’t be able to invade her, but her prayers fell to deaf ears.    

“Please don’t do this to me! I will do anything… please!” She wailed a bargain, still trying to escape the servants’ grip and looking at him pleadingly, “I… I...haven’t been with a man!”

“Oh I know…” August beamed and stroked himself back and forth between her engorged lips. Vamping flames tingled at her flesh, her core foolishly squeezing around nothing in demand for this wretched monster to defile her.  

“You’ve kept yourself for me, didn't you? I have waited for you too, for centuries even, but now our waiting has ended, and I can finally love you.”

With one brutal thrust, he breached through the gates of her sacred haven, corrupting her purity and ripping her open with the elegance of a savage. 

Exasperated bats fluttered their wings over the red moon at the sound of her pained howl. Eyes flared to the bleak sky above; the girl watched them in a daze, disbelieving the blazing demon that scorched her from inside as he nestled himself between her resisting gates with no intention to cease. 

In his villainy, August pushed further. Stunned thunders of ecstasy erupted from his lips, all to humiliate her along with the dark minions who circled the altar to pervertedly witness this sacrilegious ritual in which their master ravaged the unwilling maiden. Ignoring her body’s vehement protest, he forced himself unfathomably deep, only stopping until the head of his cock kissed the gateway of her cervix.

Crystalised tears rolled down her temples and stained the cold marble beneath her body. Slit impossibly sore, she twitched and sobbed at the overwhelming feeling of being invaded by another entity. Her once protected realm was now under the domain of a ruthless prince, and he took no prisoners and granted no mercy nor care at her vain endeavours to push him out. 

He would never stop. He would have her again and again until her sacred little womb would be plentiful with his seed. 

“Tight,” he blurted out in a blissful huff and reached his talons to bite into her quaking thighs. Spreading her wider, he hooked his hands below her knees, moulding her into a vessel to be fulfilled. Arctic orbs glazed down her naked figure, his plump lips cooing at her aching whimpers. The taut and hairy muscles of his gut flexed as he carefully withdrew his vicious cock, coated in the crimson sorrow of her maidenhood.

Hollow pain throbbed in her empty cunt as he suddenly abandoned her. Distressed and overwhelmed, she hoped he would stay out, yet her traitorous body coveted his return in a false faith that it would ease the fervid twinge that soared to her belly and even burnt in her breasts.

It was far from true.

No less vigorous than before, August plunged back inside her, stretching her again, shaping her as his own as she yipped and struggled to escape. His head threw back with a roar of divine pleasure, feasting at the thrill of her dauntless veils wrapping around him like a succulent flower. For a moment there, he wondered who preyed on who. Her concupiscent little cove sucked him so wantonly it threatened to swallow his raging cock. 

‘But of course, every virgin is destined to become my whore.’

Hot and heavy, his shaft seized the void that had always been inside her, their heaving organs collided in euphoric bliss like two broken shards that were lost for decades and finally pieced back together. And even though she seared with every jerk or shift he made, the impassioned flames licked at the seams of her twitching cunt in waves of ache and foreign desperation. 

“No…” she whispered, shame singeing her throat as the little pesky sparks enkindled where the devil had violated her. Vision blurry, she gazed at him utterly mystified. Part of her warred to stoke the fire that screamed heresy, while the other begged to yield to her demise.   

As August pulled away again and thrust harder, a breathless moan tore from her lips.    

A cutting grin radiated onto his face. “It feels so good inside you,” he sang and slid one hand to stroke all the way down from her sweat-ridden thighs to her belly, feeling the movement of his cock with every push and shove. 

He was taunting her, yet she couldn’t care less. Over the cinders of pain and virtue, a garden began to bloom. With every abysmal stroke of his swelling shaft, she could feel green saplings and coy vines growing within her uterus—soft, beautiful tendrils stalked through her arteries, sprouted through her cove, and engulfed his swelling demon as well.

She was no longer burning but becoming alive. Pained cries suddenly evolved into asphyxiation of bliss. Beyond her realisation, she undulated her hips in the desire to endure each of his wet claiming thrusts. Her spine coiled against the surface, further allowing him easier passage to nourish the wilderness that continued spreading through her blood. 

Noticing the change in her, approving groans rumbled in his throat; his little bride was growing tighter around his demon, her quivering lips and fluttering lashes the image of true Elysium. It was not long before he would plant his seed in her fertile lush. Her cunt milked and suckled around him, demanding to be bred by the devil. 

“Yes, my love! Give in to me! Give in to your primal sin!” August urged, enhancing the rhythm until he was thrusting into her like a battering ram, the sinful elixir of their union smearing on his groin and dripping down her rump. “Descend with me!” 

In her delirium she witnessed magical nightshades and sinewy stalks growing amidst the gritty bricks, encompassing the ominous cathedral with bright colours. 

It was paradise on earth, given to her by the unearthly rapturous joy of having this demon violate her, slamming harder with growing frustration until his thick girth ripped through the last threads of her self-preservation and that which she tried so hard to deny erupted through her clenching core.

Euphoria. 

For a lingering moment, she had wings of her own, pale as precious pearls and lustrous stars. Tingling waves of ethereal white heat burst at her seams, purifying her as she flew above the cathedral, and watched their ungodly union from above. But her wings suddenly caught aflame and before she knew it, she crashed onto the earth with a secondary, more violent climax. 

The beast’s roars erupted into a brutal thunder, causing the sturdy pillars of the cathedral to quake and crack like thin glass. With all his might, he clutched her thighs and hauled her against him, slamming his swollen cock deep into her belly and releasing his smouldering, milky essence until it seeped from her sleek. August’s wings flew open as he found his own rapture, blazes following through and consuming the ancient hall. 

This was no longer a hallucination. 

This was Inferno.

Still radiating with orgasmic glow, she screamed horrified as everything around them vehemently burnt to coals. Even the soulless servants crumbled into dust, accepting their fate without so much of a yip. The fire raged and died within seconds, leaving nothing but broken pillars and ashen smoke.  

Shortly, the tepid air of night caressed her naked skin as they remained alone in the ruins of what was once an ominous cathedral. Still buried in her viscera, August broke into a low, stretching groan of relief which made her immediately return her eyes to him. Shame rose bitter in her throat and new fresh rivulets trickled on her cheeks.  

After all that he had done to her, she could see nothing in him but a beautiful monster.

“My beloved queen,” August keened to comfort her and moved his hand to tenderly stroke her lower belly. 

A toothy smile broke upon his face, his eyes gleaming with surprise as he felt the life that had already begun growing in her angelic fortress. A son, strong and glorious as his father. For the first time in his long existence, the devil was truly elated and he vowed in that moment that he would give her much, and much more. But first, she needed to be cared for. 

Her assaulted hole convulsed with pain as he pulled himself out, leaving a trail of creamy fluids to dribble at his departure. Sniffling and shaking, she watched him bemused, as he climbed onto the altar and moved to lie beside her. Though she no longer flinched as he touched her, what was the point of it anyway? He had already destroyed her and stolen her innocent soul.  

“You make me so happy, my beloved queen,” August had murmured as he gripped her jaw and pressed his lips to hers. His kiss claimed her breath, pillaging whatever left of her chastity and wit until she absentmindedly kissed back, forgetting herself as his tongue bested her will. 

When he broke away, the taste of spiced ruby wine and blood lingered in her mouth. 

“An eternity awaits us,” the devil explained as he pecked her nose and her forehead lovingly, to which she shivered - out of fright or out of want, she couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

“You had made me the happiest, now give me the chance to grant the same favour, ask for anything you want in the world and it shall be yours,” he begged and wrapped her in the shelter of his strong arms to lie down with him on the smooth stone surface.

Absentmindedly, she welcomed the protection offered from his embrace and stared silently as flakes of cement broke from the remnants of the wall floated in the air around her before she opened her mouth. 

“I wish for…” 

Her whisper faded into the dark.

*Disclaimer: I do not own Mission Impossible or August Walker

Beautiful dividers by @firefly-graphics​