#spreading these horrors around the fandom

[yandere-sins]

The Orcas' Tale - Krill's Story I

a/n: I have... not much to say, although you should read the warnings. But I need you guys to know that this is 7.666 words long. I didn't make it this way intentionally, but if that isn't devilish, I don't know what is :')

Fandom: Original Content   Pairings: Yandere!Orca Merman x GN!AFAB!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Nothing explicit yet just drug-induced neediness and description of a cock doing what a cock does, Size... adoration, Begging), Violence (Thrashing, Breaking of bones, fighting machines, Verbal threats, mention of medical tools, syringes), Getting drugged non-consensually, Description of being drugged up, Animalistic behavior, Mention of blood/claws/sharp teeth, Mention of Slavery, Mention of Abuse, Depiction of spoiled Food and Seal Meat, Very long post

"It truly is an impressive recovery of such a valuable resource! Being able to compare the exact date from years ago with now makes for a great opportunity in our research, and now we have two of them! This is your chance to recover from your mistakes all those years ago!"

With pep in his step, your supervisor led you through the long, cagey hallway of the facility, making it almost hard to follow him with all the enthusiasm he was displaying. You, on the other hand, felt nothing but dread as you held onto the notes you had been giving about your new project, almost feeling scared to glance at the papers.

You already knew what they'd say. The mistakes they'd speak of.

Because you were already familiar with the mermen, who had recently been caught by the facility. You freed them all those years ago out of shame and sympathy. And you paid the price, your unpaid labor bordering on slavery. Your choice had been death or continuing their research, and after looking down a gun barrel once, you decided to invest in your studies instead, the company willing to further your education and allow you to continue testing and working with the poor creatures they kept here—albeit with supervision.

"Talent like yours shouldn't be wasted," your supervisor recited the words of the facility owner, but they sounded like a warning coming from him rather than encouragement. 

When he finally stopped at the door farthest down the corridor, you were appalled to see the number on it, finding it less than funny that they'd assigned the same room from years ago as your new laboratory again. All these little digs they made at you never let you forget that they were still angry about what you did to sabotage the facility—as if you could ever. These digs were just there to make you miserable and establish who your life belonged to. You were replaceable, but you wouldn't get out of this alive. If you wanted to survive and have even the slightest chance of escaping this place of horrors one day, you'd have to obey. 

"So do better this time," your supervisor said, smiling down at you smugly as he pushed the door open, the heavy metals screeching with cold, metal bitterness. Bastard, you thought, walking inside the laboratory. The grate floor spread above the large pool beneath your feet throughout the whole room, making your steps audible as you entered. The water was calm, undisturbed—suspicious.

"Oh, also, this one's been really angry ever since we brought him in. Better not let your head get bitten off! Would be a waste. You're too pretty to be a corpse just yet."

You whipped around with a glare, but all you saw was the smug grin on your supervisor's face before he shut the door with a loud bang. A mechanical lock slid into place with a whirring sound before everything became quiet around you. It was strange that they'd leave you here alone after what you did, but then again, there was no way you'd be able to recreate the mistakes you made. Even though you'd never receive any respect or sympathy from anyone in this cursed place, you couldn't help but stare at the metal door, plastered with warnings and reminders to leave equipment in the laboratory before leaving, wishing it would open again and let you out of here.

But that wouldn't happen.

It was ironic that they'd leave you alone with the merman you helped escape before, but the only way out was that door, and it needed a passcode to leave. One you didn't have. You'd eat, sleep, and work as they intended; there was no escaping this, even if the hope never left you. They didn't think you'd make it out alive unless they let you. Much less would you be able to help anyone escape again. Slowly, you turned forward, raising your head to look at the workstation on the opposite side of the room. You couldn't help from glancing downwards every few steps; caution was the only thing that kept you alive in this place.

But even as you made your way over to the station, your shadow undoubtedly making your presence known to the water, everything remained calm. The sound of machines running, keeping the pool intact, and the water bubbling from the pump were all that matched the sounds of your steps and breaths. For a "really angry" merman, this was suspicious. He must have known you were here, yet neither came to watch nor to attack you? You sighed inwardly, thinking about how much of a hassle it would be to actually get him to your examination area if you couldn't fish him out of the pool.

Once you reached the counters with the equipment, you set down the papers you had been given, spreading them out to scan over them. Even if you didn't want to interact again with these pitiful yet obscenely fascinating creatures, you knew that without any results from experimenting on them, you'd be stuck here for all eternity. The expectations were high that you'd find what everyone was looking for, even though the experiments were nothing short of cruel and disgusting. Drugs, surgery while awake, mutilations—those were just a few things you had watched the researchers do to these creatures. And for what? 

Eternal life. 

A fantasy.

How did you know? You were the one finding out that even if their life expectancy was closer to that of turtles, even the merfolks would die one day from old age. There was no such thing as living forever with the help of a mermaid's flesh, tears, or blood, and researching them brought forth interesting facts but not the results that this facility had been constructed for.

And yet, here you were, doing as you were told, trying to find anything that would be deemed interesting enough. 

You heard a splash behind you, making you whip around, trying to make out a sign of life. Even though the floor was raised a few meters above the surface and the partition was closed so nothing could fall in or jump out of the water, it was still unsettling to hear but never see the creature you were locked up with. You knew better than to show fear openly to apex predators like the mermaids, but it had been so long since they let you near one that you could feel its presence—or the lack thereof—frightening you to the bone.

But you had to keep going, no matter what. Turning back to your papers, you spread them out with shaky hands, scanning over the information the first-contact team had collected. A large species, presumably orca-related, male, mature, and chipped. The last fact had been underlined twice, emphasizing the importance of it. This merman had already been in the facility, and they tracked it back to when you had been foolish enough to think you could save them. It had been years. Yet he and another one, as you heard through the grapevine, had come back against any better judgment, making you wonder about the intelligence you knew these creatures possessed.

However, no matter how much information you could absorb through the notes, you knew you were only stalling time. The next step would be getting this creature out of the pool and proceeding with your experiments, but the fear made you hesitate. This merman had been starving for a week in preparation for his exams, and although hunger wasn't a good state for anyone to be in, it was thought it might help to be the one feeding them when you needed their cooperation. Like you'd do with an animal. Unfortunately, they were too clever to fall for these ruses most of the time.

You still had to try. 

Picking up some gloves, you went to the extensive double-doored fridge, pulling out the trays with seal meat on them. However, someone placed dead fish-heads between the pieces in varying states of decay. You took a deep breath, unwilling to give spoiled meat to the creature, even though you'd have to rely on it if you wanted to get anywhere. Picking out a slab of seal meat on the furthest corner of the tray, you just hoped it was mostly uncontaminated as you carried it over to the buttons that would part the floor into an opening from which the merman could be caught. 

You hated pushing these buttons, everything reminding you of the biggest mistake of your life. Sure, you saved three mermen from this cruelty, but look what your efforts got you. 2 of them came back, and you were nothing more than a slave. Nothing turned out to be as heroic as in the books you read.

The metal grated against itself as it parted wide enough to allow feeding. Smaller species could have stuck an arm through the gap, but you knew from the past that it didn't work for any of the large specimens. At least that meant you were safe from an attack for now, though it was debatable how long. The meat sunk further and further down into the blue, but nothing happened. You leaned forward over the gap in anticipation, waiting for any kind of appearance in the wet. However, when the water finally stirred, causing slight waves to appear, it wasn't a shadow that moved through it, and neither did it give any mind to the food. 

You jumped back in surprise, your body hitting the wall next to the buttons, when fingers lurched out of the water, gripping the ends of the partition and pushing them apart. Water splashed everywhere as the merman tried to widen the gap. The metal resisted initially, but even such a strong material bound to an even stronger machine relented under constant pressure. 

As the cool water hit your face, you finally snapped out from the shock, slamming your hand down on the buttons that would close the floor and set the machines into motion to work against the abnormal strength of a merman. The two forces rung with each other for a few seconds before the machine finally did its thing and closed the gap, but it felt like minutes of struggling, of holding your breath in anticipation. 

The merman held onto the metal for as long as possible, and you listened to the gut-wrenching sound of something breaking before he finally let go, the splashing of water dying down. The floor never fully closed, leaving a small gap not even your hand would fit through. Still, you were unsure if the merman succeeded in the end by breaking the mechanical device or if it had been his fingers that broke from the pressure. You wished you didn't have to find out. 

Sinking to your bottom, you took deep breaths, calming yourself. Heart racing and head spinning from the lack of a constant airflow, you watched the water, terror, and anticipation mingling. If the floor broke, it would at least delay your second encounter with this creature for a while. But if not, you'd have given it one more reason to be angry. You watched as his dark shadow—no, body moved through the water, his movements agitated, restless. All you felt was misery, knowing you were causing this distress to him again.

You still had no clue which one of the three it was, although the body was too large to be the smallest of the three "Lyr". Due to the experiments, he had lost a significant amount of body weight and muscles, as well as his mental stability. They would have put him down had you not freed them, as he became a risk quickly. You thought you were doing them a favor by saving them, but you had no idea if Lyr ever made it out in the wild. Judging by the quick thinking and the strength of the orca roaming below you, it was more likely to be either "Nerrocan" or "Krill". Their names were burned into your mind like silent reminders of your biggest mistake and greatest accomplishment alike. 

But the secret was quickly revealed when the merman finally seemed to calm down, swimming out into the back of the room for a moment and giving you time to collect yourself, too. You were still sitting on your ass, none the wiser, when you noticed black and white hairs emerging from further down the pool, slowly, cautiously drifting back towards you. As if on the prowl.

Surely he was waiting for another chance to wreck the floor open and try to escape. There was no reason for this creature not to be out to harm you, and you were such an easy prey, caught in this room with him. Your death wouldn't be mourned, but you also couldn't help pitying this merman, not knowing that your death would probably be his, too. Soldiers wouldn't hesitate to shoot something that was stronger, more deadly, and had too much freedom if they had to, even if it was a valuable species to study. You wondered which merman it was, and feeling a little safer with the floor closed, you leaned forward, trying to make it out.

The most brilliant of red spied out of the water the moment you looked down at it. Unmistakably, like polished rubies, these eyes followed your every move. You watched your own muscles tense and the horror in your expression as you realized which of the three mermen it was before you saw your own gaze fill with sadness in his eyes.

Krill.

The reason you risked everything.

His brows furrowed, then lifted as if surprised, too, although his body stayed submerged, tense and ready to act. There was no way he'd remember you, was there? Despite your doubts, you raised a hand, giving him a silly little wave before addressing him directly. 

"Hello… again."

He said nothing, and you realized he must have forgotten you. It was better that way for now… even if it stung after all you did to help him. 

Holding onto the wall, you got back on your feet, not wanting to be such an easy target and so close to him. He could try something again, and you'd be at a disadvantage if you couldn't even walk. "I'm sure it's uncomfortable, but I need you out of the water for a while. You remember it, right?"

You held your palm above the button that would activate The Fisher, a machine that could detect and catch unwilling mermaids by itself. But you were still close to the opening, so any reassurance from the merman would have been nice to have.

"Go ahead, open that gate again. See where that gets you," Krill threatened, and you believed him. His brows furrowed, teeth gnashing as his anger returned, and you had to realize that he was no longer like the sweet merman you once cared for. Sure, he had been drugged and broken into submission back then, but he had still treated you somewhat kindly, gifting you rocks and following you around the enclosure like a lost puppy. If you didn't know it better, you two had been somewhat close back then, having come to an understanding despite your differences. That was not the case anymore, you could see it.

"You'll see, I'll get out of here, and you'll regret capturing me again."

That hurt. It hadn't been your choice. If it had been your choice, you'd have helped all those poor souls confined inside this facility, making sure that neither merfolk nor humans suffered the consequences of the greed of some rich people. But you had no choice in this matter. You never had. 

Pressing the button, you stepped aside so The Fisher could do its wonder. You didn't want to, but you had to. Didn't want to put him through the same torture again at your hands. But Krill had been foolish enough to get captured again, and you were foolish enough to still hold on to the hope that you could make a change in your life if you obeyed. This time, the machine parting the floor stuttered, and although The Fisher descended from the ceiling, it couldn't open. 

"You are a fool if you think you can capture me with that. Force me to play your little games again, Human!"

Even though you tried to ignore him, it was hard when Krill paced around the opening, taunting you. You had to watch the machines work and fail as the floor was stuck. The Fisher was unable to move as it detected the closed floor, and you wondered how you would proceed if the location became unsuitable to work with. 

With a loud crash, Krill threw himself against the floor, and you gasped as a wave of cold water splashed over you. As you sputtered, you heard the floor grating, the sound painful to both of you, evident by Krill trying to escape it by dropping below the water. But with the sudden opening appearing, the metal claws of The Fisher snapped forward, scanning and detecting where they had to go. 

Until you saw it with your own eyes, you could have never believed such a flimsy-looking machine could restrain the apex predator of the sea, effortlessly capturing him by his wrist, neck, and the space between his fin and tail. Sure, he could throw his weight around despite being restricted, but there was little he could do to hurt you unless he broke free. However, no mermaid ever broke free from The Fisher in your years of working here. It was that effective.

You watched as The Fischer pulled Krill out of the water, shiny droplets of wet falling off of him, elevating every muscle, every toned ab on his belly. He was glistening in the unnatural lightening of the laboratory like a precious gem, and your heart clenched with sadness, knowing there was nothing you could do for this beautiful creature. You had to cover your ears as he began shrieking and cursing, most of it in a language that you never bothered to learn as you'd be incapable of ever speaking it. Siren was more of a singing rather than talking in the first place, and though you liked to sing to yourself, you'd never learn it on a level that could match the skill that his language required.

As you watched him, the first thing you noticed was his size. He had grown, although the rough weight and measurements would be taken by the machine holding him in place. The time in the ocean seemed to have done wonders for him. His fins were intact, and the tag on his tail was blinking despite being such an old model. Since then, there must have been at least seven upgrades over the years, and you'd be responsible for changing it eventually.

Once he was dragged onto the research area, he finally seemed to calm down a little, although he glared at you, fury revealing in his eyes. The Fischer restricted his head movement, but his willpower remained. "You are truly the worst," he sneered. "First, you let us go, then you capture us again. What do you think we are? Your little playthings? Is it fun to mangle us? You enjoy this?"

Testing his strength against the shackles, Krill twisted and turned in the hold, but you tried not to give his words too much attention. He was different from how he was years ago, and you had to say goodbye to the semi-good relationship you two had before, the precious image you had held onto of him. Both of you were fighting for survival, as pitiful as it was, and you had a crapload of tests to run before they'd let you get away from him and pity his fate and yourself. 

With new-found confidence as you watched him rendered immobilized, you returned to the fridge, luckily not encountering any more poor attempts at making life hard for you as you opened the drawers full of tranquilizers. There was yet one to be found that could entirely knock out these creatures, but they had a significant calming effect. And—as you hoped—pain-relieving. Because there were a lot of things you had to do to him that wouldn't be easy for both of you. 

Gathering the tranquilizer shots, various test tubes, tools, and your to-do list on a tray, you carried it over to a table closer to him, taking deep breaths to brace yourself. You were tense, your fingers growing numb from anxiety. You had been assigned to the labs for most of the years, rarely encountering a merman again after what you did. And although you trained for this, the thoughts of hurting him were twisting your stomach. 

"You might think it's fun for us humans, but I wonder what you were thinking coming back here. Maybe you enjoyed the treatment more than you let on, hm?"

Your voice was feeble, even when you tried to act superior. Bantering wouldn't magically develop a relationship between you two, but you couldn't endure the silence when no one spoke. It felt wrong—like he was going to attack you again any second. You needed to keep yourself anchored to reality, or you might have fainted. After everything you went through, you couldn't remember the confidence you had to allow yourself to do something as drastic as release three orcas from a highly secured facility like this. A shame, really. You deserved confidence as you were one of the best, after all. 

Even if you couldn't let him know, you still felt anxious about something happening. You returned to the original counters, providing you with everything you needed, put on new gloves after wiping your still-wet face from being splashed with a towel, and proceeded with a mask and apron to achieve even the smallest amount of cleanliness. You'd be unable not to hurt him at the end of this session, but you at least wanted to avoid him dying from sepsis as well as getting his blood all over yourself. 

"I do not," he snapped, watching as you prepared everything, seemingly having given up fighting the machine but not you. "I came back for Nerrocan."

"Huh…" you mumbled, intrigued by this information. So it was Nerrocan who came back here, not Lyr. Interesting. "Risking it all for your cousin?" you asked, and his eyes narrowed.

"I see you still remember us," he snarled, his lips parting in a cocky grin, but it didn't reach his eyes. Krill looked… uncomfortable almost. You couldn't blame him. This all must have been beyond uncomfortable for the merman. 

"And you, me."

Silence befell you two again as you picked up the tranquilizer, wrapping your hand around the container, surprised when you realized what you were doing. It had been so long that you thought you wouldn't remember your old habits. You used to always warm the drugs so they wouldn't be so bitterly cold when applied on the mermaids. 

Krill flapped his fin despite being restricted, and you looked up at him, catching a glimpse of worry as he looked at the syringe in your hand. "Ran out of the good stuff, eh? I remember it being purple, not that icky color," he mocked, but he didn't sound as confident anymore as he was before. 

"Should have come earlier if you wanted that. I heard this one has interesting side-effects when applied."

Rounding the table, you noticed his fin flap again pitifully, almost making you hesitate. He seemed nervous, muscles spasming in the tension of his restrictions. Stepping up to his hips, you felt his eyes follow your every step, almost making you feel reminiscent of the past. You took the integrated step upwards at the side of the research station, effectively standing above him now to see better. Everything was perfectly laid out so that your work could be done effectively. That's how you had to see it, too. This was work, nothing personal.

"You don't have to do this," Krill suddenly said, unusually calm but determined. "You're not a bad person, you saved us before."

This time, you did look directly at him, giving him your full attention for a few seconds of silence. His gaze didn't waver, didn't move away. He meant what he said. At least, that's what you were supposed to believe. Sirens were prone to lying to get what they wanted, and Krill did not want the drug in your hands, warmed up by your palm wrapped around it. But it wouldn't stop you. You gulped, inhaling deeply. It couldn't stop you.

"And now I have to save myself. Please hold still so I don't hurt you."

Diverting your attention back to his hips, you drove your hands along the slick surface of his body, trying to find any space capable of being squeezed. He jerked once when you touched him, trying to get away but ultimately pressing his hips up into your palm. Eventually, you found a soft spot, pinching the skin between your fingers. Krill shuddered, his body twisting, but The Fischer kept it in place. You'd be safe, even if you hated yourself for doing what you had to. 

The syringe punctured his flesh with only a bit of resistance, and you injected the liquid tranquilizer quickly, stepping away when you were done to watch what would happen. The medication used to be a fickle thing, sometimes agitating, sometimes drugging the mermaids out of their minds. But it usually took a while before it worked. Not this version, though. So many things changed since the last time you worked with the mermaids. But it was cruel all the same.

You listened to Krill groan in pain and relief at the same time. Pressure built, his body twisting and arching, with his spine bending uncomfortably for you as the drug spread throughout him before every muscle seemed to suddenly give out, relaxing him completely and making his body sack in his holds almost lifelessly. Worried, you stepped closer, searching for a pulse. It wasn't for another half a minute before you noticed the even rise and fall of his chest, his gills flaring even though he wasn't using them. The seemingly calm state of the merman made you bolder, although the fear of him faking something never subsided. You walked up to his face, staring into the clouded rubies of his eyes, surprised to find them moving around still, searching for something or someone, despite being slower, less alert than before. 

"I'm sorry," you whispered, unsure if he could even hear you, but you felt terrible seeing what you did to him. Even if he was a creature that wouldn't hesitate to kill you, he didn't deserve to go through what the facility wanted him to. Reaching up, you brushed the hair out of his face, the strands gently gliding through your fingers without any resistance, almost as if they were a liquid defying all the physics you knew. 

Even after all this time, you remembered he used to have longer hair. It used to float above the water, coating it in strings of glossy silk. But now he sported a wolf cut that fitted him just as well. Part of his hair had turned white, with only the top remaining in the same black you were used to. You wondered if it was because of the experiments or just a natural change of color over the years when his head suddenly turned, his cheek feeling heavy as he rested it in your palm. Krill seemed as unaware of his actions as he should be after being forced into surrender by the drug, but it seemed to make the forgotten part of him that felt safe with you submerge again, the feeling almost the same as from the past. You quickly caught yourself falling back into thoughts of things long gone and got to work, cutting off both black and white strands with small scissors, hoping it wouldn't suddenly agitate him. But Krill remained unresponsive, and you pushed away your guilt to quickly store your samples.

Focusing your mind on your work, as there was so much to do, and you didn't want him to recover his strength before you had completed most of the preparations you had to make. You measured and cut down his claws, trying your best not to cause any harm to him and quickly storing the talons for further research. The size of his hands was massive, and you marveled at their humanness for a moment, driving your finger gently over the ridges and joints. Unfortunately, as expected, some of his fingertips were broken, smashed by the struggle with the floor grates. You wanted to clean and wrap them securely. But when Krill let out a long sigh, sounding almost pained just by your touching his hands, you immediately stopped, fearing his wrath upon regaining mobility.

You did further measurements on smaller areas like his hands and fins, everything that could be deducted more thoroughly by hand than by machine. Every time you came around to his head, you looked into his eyes, the guilt threatening to wash over you when they locked with yours, steadfast despite him being out of it, so you quickly moved on. 

While you were at it, you connected his chip to a reader, interested in the data that could be found on it, and removed the jewelry that hung from his body. It would only be a hindrance to your experiments, and perhaps remnants on the metal could determine where the merman was originally from. However, the weight of some of the decorations he had prided himself with—like his necklace of teeth—weighed so much that you needed to drag them over the floor, wondering how this could be efficient for a predator.

"So far, so good," you mumbled as you let the program run its course, wiping off some sweat from your forehead with your sleeve and looking at the situation for a moment. It had been too long, you couldn't really remember the exact procedure to which you should have stuck, but instead of giving your to-do list the attention to find out, your eyes fixated on something else—scars. Albeit not uncommon, there were a lot more now than you remembered, and you raised a hand to his tail, sliding your fingers over the scarred tissue, putting slight pressure on it.

Krill's body jerked immediately, and you jumped back from him, observing the merman. His head rolled forward in the restraints, tired eyes searching for you but unable to focus. 

"Not there… touch..." His speech was slurred, another effect of the new drug, but you couldn't help but smile faintly at him, seeing how he still resisted. 

"I need to count them," you explained, hoping it would soothe his mind. If he could understand it. You couldn't be sure it had any effect, but if you were in his position, you would have wanted to be told what was going on, you thought. "It won't hurt, I promise."

Measuring tape in hand, you placed your clipboard with an empty page on top of his body, moving from his fin slowly upwards and jotting down your findings. There were a lot of prominent scars standing out from his body markings, but even more smaller ones barely visible. It felt quite intimate to search his body so thoroughly, but it had to be done. Krill moved pitifully against and into your touch as if unsure where to go and unable to understand what was happening. Even if it made you lose your balance a few times, you let him, feeling bad for all you were doing. It was the slightest bit of freedom you could give him without risking your own head.

By the time you reached his chest, some clarity had returned to his eyes, and he couldn't control the sounds coming from him. You tried not to agitate him with pressure and touch, but you had to do your work. An arrangement of chirps and sighs, some grunts, and nervous jittering rang out, echoing through the rooms. Deep breaths pushed his chest out, and sighs bordering on moans shivered through his whole body. But you were content as long as he didn't throw his weight around and push you off the step and into your medical equipment. 

"Must you be so thorough," he slurred as you examined his chest, following the curve of his pectoral muscles with your fingers. You looked up at him, his head crooked to the side, still too heavy to hold up on his own despite the metal neck brace, but his eyes were clearer now, following you more intensely. 

"I have to, I'm sorry. I don't want it to be uncomfortable, but I have to document them."

Writing down your finds on your clipboard, you must have pressed it down a bit too hard on his chest because Krill's head fell back, a long groan escaping him, back arching again. "Sorry…" you repeated, the guilt beginning to eat you up, but he only rolled his head in the restraint. 

"No…" he muttered. "Not uncomfortable... I feel weird. It's hot. Make it stop."

You were unsure what to do, but there were only a few more scars before you'd have to move on to his arms and, eventually, his backside. You wanted to at least get the chest ones down before you would have to give him another shot of tranquilizer, as Krill was growing more restless every time you touched him. You wished the examination could have stopped there. That you could have released him and put him back into the cold wet, but you needed to finish this. Even when he started gnashing his teeth and twisting in his restraints again.

"What are you doing?!" he suddenly snapped, much more coherent than before, his head jerking forward, ruby-red eyes glowering at you. You tried not to let it get to you, tried to make it quick so he wouldn't have to suffer, but Krill wouldn't let it go. 

"Stop it!" he demanded as you inspected another small scar around his nipple. It was barely visible against the lighter-toned skin there, but you found it, grazing over the nub a few times while working out the details of the scar you needed. Krill was getting more aggressive with his protests, lashing out at you while many different kinds of sounds escaped him, and it was almost amusing to think that it was because of your touch. You couldn't help spreading your palm over his nipple once, letting the elastic of your gloves weigh down and rub over it, causing every muscle in his body to harden instantly. You shouldn't have abused this situation like this, but seeing him react so sharply, his breath coming out in a drawn-out hiss, was somewhat a relief. Knowing it wasn't all terrible, all cruel and painful. But you caught a grip on yourself quickly, working efficiently until you could finally step away once you had found every last scar on his chest.

"All done," you assured him, unable to keep yourself from grinning a little as he let out a strained but haughty hmpf. He was almost back to his new normal, which made you glad. The drug was awful, but it was good to know he wouldn't be broken down this easily. Your back was turned for only a second when you heard him rattling in his restraints, more clear in his mind again as it seemed. It caused you to want to tease him a little.

"I liked it better when you were quiet, Krill. You didn't react to every one of my touches as if I was trying to seduce you."

"How dare you! I can't believe I am back here with you as if you are…" The word seemed to elude him as he bit his tongue, and you turned to look at his face, so much tension in his expression that you thought he was going to burst. Krill wasn't looking at you for once, focusing on his own body. Walking up to him again, his gaze shifted from straight down back to you, a spark of something you couldn't pinpoint washing over him. Insecurity? Fear? No way. 

"Don't come closer again!" he hissed, tossing a bit more in his restraints, and you stopped in your tracks, subconsciously listening to him like an idiot. But Krill wasn't being malicious; something was wrong. Even though you two weren't on friendly terms, you could tell something was off. His gills were flared, pupils blown wide open. He looked mostly like the monster you had to believe he was, but there was a sense of panic that an apex predator shouldn't ever display unless something terrible was happening to them. And you couldn't ignore it, or him for that matter.

"Hey!" you called out, hoping your voice could ground him from whatever he was going through. Stepping closer despite his body thrashing wasn't easy. You had to be careful, but you weren't heartless enough to leave him to his own demons after you caused them. The drug could have had hallucinogenics, which would not only have put you in danger but Krill too. You needed him if you ever wanted to regain some recognition or freedom in this place, and he needed you since you were probably the only person in the whole facility who would do anything to make the experiments at least a bit more humane. You couldn't abandon him like this after all he's been through.

Instead of putting yourself at risk of being thrown across the room by Krill accidentally slamming his body into you, you stepped up to his head instead, waiting for the moment that you could grab onto him and hold on with all your strength. You expected a struggle that would leave both of you wounded, but the moment your hands clasped around his face, Krill went rigid, suspiciously still. Another wave of fear overcame you, your instincts telling you this was wrong, but you tried your best to stay strong for both of you. "Shh, shh," you mumbled, calming him, and finally, the strength in his neck gave way, and his head fell back. 

You two stared at each other for some silent seconds, and you rubbed your thumb over his cheek comfortingly. "It's all your fault," he uttered, exhaustion washing over his expression. You couldn't blame him for feeling this way, and you made sure his hair wouldn't sting his eyes by swiping it out of his face gently, still shushing him like a parent would to their child. He looked like he was in severe pain, as if he felt fear for the first time in his life. You couldn't believe it was true, but you felt heartbroken for him all the same. Even if he was called a monster, even if he was a killer and a creature or an animal. Even if he wasn't like you, he didn't deserve any of this. 

"Why are you doing this to me again?" he asked, his voice cracking as a wave of sadness washed over his expression. You had never seen a mermaid actively being sad. Angry, panicked, drugged, yes. But sad? You didn't even think that was possible. What could you do to soothe this whale of a man to the point that you weren't suffering the consequences of other people's decisions? Nothing came to mind, and it was awful.

"I haven't done anything yet, just precautions," you assured him. "You're okay, you're safe. I can't change what I have to do, but I promise I'll try to make it as painless as possible. I–"

"No," Krill interrupted you. "Not that. Not the experiments. This." 

You heard the restraints rattle, causing you to look up at his hand, his cut-down, broken claw pointing downward at his body. You halted your comforting, leaving your palms on his cheeks while looking at Krill with a confused look before you stepped away, fully aware that he looked after you, even forcing his head forward again to watch what you were doing as you stepped around him. 

A loud gasp escaped you as you watched the tip of his cock exit from its slit. The moment your attention was on it, it shot out inch by inch until its massive size stood proudly, pulsing and jerking above his hips, having emerged fully within seconds of horror and amazement. A glistening drop of pre-cum collected at the tip as you stared at the massive erection, the bubble popping and spilling onto his chest as you watched it, unable to look away.

"I tried to forget," Krill lamented from behind you, his body sacking in the machine holding him up before tensing and straining again, a pained groan escaping him while his cock flopping in the air, unbothered by its owner's distress. It only produced more pre-cum and jerked ever so often, the shaft pulsing with need. 

"I wanted to forget you so badly."

You forced yourself to look away from his cock, and Krill let out a brief trill in response, sounding almost disappointed. But he didn't shy away from your eyes, gazing at you, defeated and a little… desperate. 

"Help. Me," he breathed, and you let out your own shuddering breath at his request. You only ever wanted to tease him. You didn't want to cause any pain or suffering, especially not the sexual kind. It was unheard of that the drug caused the mermaids to act this way. But you were about to learn what caused this.

"Why me?" you whispered, knowing now he could hear you. 

"Because I remember every touch of you. Every moment we spent together. Every little piece of memory we made in this godsforsaken place, and I need you. I already feel like I'm losing my mind, and I can't take it anymore. At least take responsibility for what you're doing, this is your fault."

"Krill…"

"It's useful for you, isn't it?" he suddenly changed his tune. He looked angry, but the twisted desperation was unconcealable. "My seed. You can have it. Take it all if you must as long as you do something." 

His words were followed by a groan, sounding in so much pain, and you watched his cock jerk, hips lifting, trying to reach an unavailable source of comfort, a connection to something that wasn't there. "Fuck, I held it back for so long. You and your shitty drugs! I had it under control! I didn't need you at all—didn't even think of you!"

Another long howl escaped him, head rolling from one side to another. He looked completely out of his mind when his gaze fixed on you again, needy and desperate. You had no way to find out if it was because of the drugs, and that worried you. 

"I lied," he confessed, his breath leaving him ominously. His admission was completely out of character for a creature like him, which took you aback, but when Krill looked back at you, there was a different kind of determination in his eyes. A savage one—mad even. You wanted to run away, far, far away from him, but his eyes, full of drugged madness and terrifying adoration, didn't let you act on your whims. As if he hypnotized you.

"I thought about you constantly. You were always on my mind. I thought about coming back so many times, but I couldn't leave the others. But now they don't need me anymore, and I have you back. You're the only one left for me, please. Please help me. Help me, my mate."

His voice was sugary sweet as he pleaded with you, your heart skipping a beat when you watched this destructive, dangerous creature reduced to a begging mess. It wasn't what you wanted for him, and you didn't want the kind of control he was hovering over your head. But you felt the heat spreading throughout your whole body as he called you his.

"We're not mates," you tried to deny it, shaking your head, the implications too severe. "That's the drugs speaking."

"Gods," he groaned loudly, licking his lips as his eyes scanned over your body. "I wish they were."

His hips jerked again, impatient and in desperate need of release. If you were truly mates, that would be bad. It would be an instant invitation to be locked in this facility forever until you passed away. If anyone happened to check on you, seeing the state Krill was in, they'd assume the worst, delighted by these new possibilities. You had to find a solution before that. 

"Fuck," you muttered, and Krill groaned in agreement. "We're not mates!" you insisted, moving towards his side again. This was absolutely bonkers, but every touch seemed to send him further down the spiral—and so were you, even though you refused to admit it.

"This is strictly professional."

"It's whatever," he rejoiced when he felt your hands back on his chest, a little too happy about this smithereens of body contact for it to be just because of the drugs. "Help me, mate."

"Do me a favor," you asked, rolling your shoulders and readying yourself for what you had to do. You couldn't believe you were going to do it; jerking off a merman was definitely not in your job description. But if it would help with not being confined for all eternity as a pathetic mating buddy, then you had no choice. You just needed the push to actually do it.

"Say 'please' again."

Krill's lips parted in a disturbingly wide grin, red rubies sparkling as he looked at you, filled with a sickening hope and adoration that made you shudder.

"Please."

[willherondalesdragontattoo]

for the real ones: best tsc crack ship

@bookishjules tagging the queen here 👑 (we had too much fun making this lol)

[cinema-wasps]

i used to think i sounded mean but saying 'i hate romance' is literally so freeing

[vhstown]

please stop scrolling and take the time to read this.

i don't think people understand the extent of the horror happening in palestine right now. "death" means nothing to people because of desensitisation so let me just tell you what white phosphorus is. it's being used in israeli munitions and has been and will continue to be fired across gaza and the palestinian borders.

white phosphorus burns when it comes into contact with oxygen (at nearly 800°C or 1500°F. the human body can withstand ~50°C for reference.) the air you breathe in ignites and it is near impossible extinguish. it sticks to clothing and skin and is very difficult to remove because it will continue to ignite in air. it burns flesh up to the bone and even past the bone because it penetrates tissue and is absorbed VERY easily. if you inhale it it'll destroy your respiratory tract and lungs. it can cause failure in multiple organs including the liver, kidneys and heart. it is being released in one of the most densely populated places on earth.

the only way to treat someone exposed to white phosphorus is to submerge them in saline or water and to pick out the substance with forceps, and when you undress a wound the substance can re-ignite. this is just ONE weapon that is being used to kill palestinian people right now. palestine does not have access to medical care, humanitarian aid, power, or internet. their hospitals are being bombed. gaza is one of the most densely populated places in the world with over 50% of the population being children. many children are the sole survivors of their families. there are videos of children experiencing panic attacks and symptoms of ptsd. the fact that israel has committed war crimes in plain sight means that we can only imagine what will happen to the palestinians in complete darkness.

israel has and will continue to deny this. your interests and fandom will still be here, you will wake up tomorrow morning and see your friends and family, but an entire nation of people are being wiped off the map. being silent is being complacent. reblog, spread information, tell people in real life, attend protests, sign petitions, call your government offices, at the very least be angry and upset and horrified because once you become numb and indifferent and hopeless the oppressors will have already won.

what's happening right now is more than a genocide and once it becomes a part of history we'll wonder how the world let this happen. genocides have been part of all nations. just because it is far away does not mean you don't have to be concerned. the fact that YOUR governments and YOUR idols and the people around YOU are supporting the mass eradication of an entire group of people should scare you. it shouldn't make you feel anything less than sick and angry and disgusted. DO something about it, no matter how small you feel your voice is, because palestinians no longer have one.

[edit] links to some helpful reblogs: one & two

post on how you can help palestine

learn about palestine with this masterlist of info

+ a further reblog of mine

[edit 2] about palestinians "not having a voice" at the time i wrote this post internet connection was cut off entirely and even journalists weren't able to report for a period of time — that is all i meant by that. they of course have a voice and i never meant to undermine how people are risking their lives in gaza to get information out there and i apologise if thats what people took from it, it was not my intention but it is entirely my bad. please continue to spread information and updates from gaza as they come.

[lo-fi-charming]

so i've been keeping up with TMP as it's airing, which has been fun, it's actually really nice to experience this kind of story weekly since i came into TMA late and listened up to the s4 finale in like, a month or two. i've been enjoying the new characters and statements, and while i was worried i'd have trouble actively listening (my attention span/executive functioning can be really variable when it comes to podcasts), it's been surprisingly easy for me to actually listen to each new ep the day it drops publicly

all this to say im enjoying the show! but i've found myself feeling increasingly frustrated with a couple things i keep seeing when it comes to discussions of it

to me, it seems... there's been a pervasive reluctance to take TMP as what it is. and i do understand that. it'd be stupid to pretend TMP doesn't exist exclusively because of TMA and that show's success, that it's a successor that was pitched as being similar. it's a story being written by the same people (plus guests), in the same universe (roughly), going for about the same tone and maybe themes.

i just feel like it's a bit of a shame, though, that so many folks seem unwilling not to carry TMA with them when they're engaging with TMP

i don't know where or when it was said, but i swear there was a comment made by jonny and/or alex about how TMP will have some commonality with TMA in terms of world-building, but also, people who listened to TMA first may find themselves theorizing in the wrong direction because we're judging things based off what is no longer concrete, reliable information; things are going to work differently in the world of TMP, and since we have preconceived notions on what is relevant or how things work, that's going to influence how we engage with information presented in TMP if we let it. and that's not even considering the fact that they've been explicit in conveying the idea that TMP was written so you can experience it fully without having listened to any of TMA at all!

i'm very much someone who tries to engage with media on its own terms, largely taking things at face value until i'm given reason to suspect otherwise. that's something i'm trying my best to still do with TMP, even though obviously, i've also listened to TMA and am basing some of my thoughts and personal theories on what we know from that

but that's what i mean to say i guess, it's something you have to actively choose to do. and it feels like, just based on what i've been seeing in fandom spaces, that a lot of people are having a bit of an odd time with TMP because of a reluctance to do that?

i think the easiest way to explain what i mean is to point to a general acceptance, already on the level of fanon it seems, to interpret the computer voices as Our Jon and Martin (+ Jonah/Elias, maybe). now obviously we have the actual real world reason why their voices are present in TMP, because of course jonny and alex were going to come back as voices in the show in some way. and i 100% agree it's a perfectly logical conclusion to then interpret their inclusion as being related to Jon and Martin somehow. i'm personally very into the theory that it is in no way them - not in any way that matters - but specifically their voices that have been stolen (by the Web?) as a means to help spread fears in other realities. but that's really not how i've been seeing people play with the concept? it seems largely 1:1. and again, i totally understand where people are coming from with that - especially when you consider how it can be a super fun concept for horror and angst, or even just the fact that folks want an excuse to carry their favorite characters into this new show and still play around with them. i promise i don't mean to bring this up as a means of making anyone feel bad or like, chastised for interpreting things a certain way and playing in the space!

it's the biggest example of what i mean though, and was a huge point of frustration for me when we were first being presented with TMP. it's not just that i don't want the voices to be Jon and Martin proper (i am very into their Ambiguous End, i believe it's best to leave that as a space for fans to play in); in all honesty, i think it's kind of a shame and maybe even a bit boring (im sorry!) to be engaging with TMP this way

and it's not just stuff like that - i've been seeing a fair amount of people expressing frustration and feeling disappointed with how TMP is hitting, but i mean, i feel like that's inevitable when you're going into it expecting More TMA? i saw at least one person basically say "ive been waiting for it to make me feel the way TMA made me feel, and it hasn't yet", and i really just feel like that's setting yourself up to be dissatisfied! beyond the fact that we're only 5 episodes in and the story has barely gotten a chance to happen yet, a huge element of this new show is that it's being approached as a largely collaborative effort, it seems, with lots of guests coming in to help shape the story and more writing and plotting influence that isn't jonny

obviously it's fine to not be super into that! undoubtedly it's a question of taste. but you do have to acknowledge that that's the case and adjust your expectations accordingly, or else you're not going to have a great time

i really like TMA, i had a great time with it, but even if TMP is a sequel to its parent podcast, it's not the same thing - and personally, i don't want it to be! i do hope that's a sentiment that is able to be more widely felt by some fans as we gain more distance from TMA while TMP is airing. i just think more people would be able to enjoy it that way, and come up with more interesting theories and interpretations of things! but those are really just my own personal thoughts

[drchucktingle]

Hello, Dr. Tingle. Just finished reading Camp Damascus and I wanted to let you know that I loved it. ^_^ That ending blew me away. Couldn't stop reading until I was done. Loved the characters. It gave me some things to think about, too. Great book, thank you very much for writing it. Looking forward to Bury Your Gays. Hope you have a wonderful day!

thank you i am so glad to hear you enjoyed CAMP DAMASCUS it seems to really be resonating with this timeline. you never know what art will do when it leaves your cupped hands and starts to flutter around the room. will it crash or will it grow and bloom and spread out far and wide with a million flashing wings. camp damascus has spread far and wide because of buckaroos like yourself. it is sort of IN THE CANON now when discussing queer horror and that is so powerful it is honestly overwhelming for me to think on. i sit back and think 'whoa chuck and all the buckaroos got together and we actually bent this timeline around us'

i think BURY YOUR GAYS has the potential to be like this as well for a number of reasons. it is a BIG BIG SWING of a book and it has a lot to say about art and what it means to be a creator, about the value of FANDOM and being inspired by what came before you: shows, music, books, film. about the humanity of all this and how these are things that should be nourished and cherished. about how everything is fan fiction in its own way and fan fiction is valid

it is about how queerness weaves into all that. how it weaves through fandoms and what happens when it does. about the responsibility of queer creators.

it is also about asexual buckaroos and representation and how the letters of fun alphabet trot need to support one another. (STRAIGHT is also about this)

anyway that is a bit of a ramble but i just cant wait to see how BURY YOUR GAYS bends this timeline as well. i think we are just getting started bud. i think CAMP DAMASCUS made a dent and BURY YOUR GAYS is going to tie this strings of this reality in a big beautiful bow

i am so thankful to have my buckaroos here with me when it happens. this is our way as buds, the whole dang lot of us. this is our trot together

oh and PREORDER BURY YOUR GAYS

[psalacanthea]

Are we going to talk about how scary being the Inquisitor is for a Lavellan or…?

I mean, the more and more I have played this game, the more the Chantry shit is terrifying. Over and over again, you see painful and irrefutable evidence about the shit humans did to elves in the name of the Maker. The Exalted Plains is an obvious example.  (I consistently call it Dirthavaren you don’t like it fight me bitch) 

Like I think the entire fandom can agree on fuck that bitch sister Amity. The Chantry crusades destroyed what was left of the elves, destroyed them. Culture, body and spirit. Like be honest, there aren’t many Dalish clans left and each time a new game/book comes around, another one bites the dust. It’s so easy to lose your clan in Inquisiton and even easier to accidentally kill off Marethari’s. Hell, you can choose to kill Zathrian’s. 

The Dalish are dying out, any way you slice it.

Then suddenly a hole rips open in the sky and everybody thinks Lavellan did it. It destroys the Conclave…don’t tell me for one second that the humans didn’t immediately start developing an ‘elves and vengeance and antiMaker’ conspiracy theory. The ‘remain silent’ dialogue option in that first interaction isn’t a stoic ‘I don’t give a fuck’ to me, it’s more of a ‘whatever I say doesn’t matter I’m already dead’ for a Dalish Inquisitor. 

The true horror is knowing that they wont just kill you, they’ll call for a bloodbath on elves across Thedas.

“For the elves were guilty of the greatest sin, of turning from the Maker.”

You’ve damned them all and you can’t even remember how or why. For a First, it must be terrifying to realize even if you try to diplomatically talk your way out of it, they’ll never believe you. As a hunter or warrior, you know it’s hopeless. All you can do is throw yourself forward as the villain, claim that whatever happens you acted alone and take as many of these shems out with you as you can.  As a mage you know if they take pity on you, you’re condemned to their mage-slavery prisons.

“Whatever you think I did, I’m innocent!”

But then they believe you (barely, like thank the Creators the Lavellan clan taught you how to talk to humans civilly and not panic) but it’s basically a hostage situation. There’s one other elf with you and even if he’s not Dalish thank Mythal because shit you were scared and you’re still scared but at least it’s something. His name is ‘Pride’. You take it as a sign from the Creators that it’s not time to give up yet. Suledin, you think.

There is an orb, a weapon that caused this. Solas tells you it’s elven and your heart sinks.

“Eventually, the humans will find a way to blame elves…”

You become Inquisitor and things are a little better but the humans call you Herald of Andraste. You don’t believe in their Maker but none of them care. You know your clan would feel betrayed, think you’ve given up your gods. You haven’t of course but the terror is there…what if the gods think you’ve given up them? You talk to Cassandra and Leliana, trying to understand the human chantry and maybe figure out a way for your two beliefs to coexist. 

 But no.

You realize it wont help. Cassandra talks about spreading the Maker’s word to all corners of Thedas…you remember the lonely howls of the wolves across Dirthavaren. You know what ‘spreading the Makers word’ means. Leliana at least acknowledges what the Chantry did, but she dismisses it with words. All those lives and hopes and dreams dismissed with the words ‘that hate won’t just go away if you dissolve the Chantry’. You understand what she really means, though. 

She’s saying that the hate will never go away, not until the elves are just like humans. The Chantry will never stop.  She says she wants elves to be part of the chantry so they survive and you try not to taste bile in the back of your throat when you think of what that means.

“My father says humans are like weeds that choke out the grass…”’

Slowly, slowly, slowly...they consume you.

[heavenlyraindrops]

♱Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Fifteen♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Fifteen Warnings: profanity, violence, gore Visit the first tag on this post to see all other chapters.

♱ In which the purest soul in Heaven falls from grace… for the Devil. ♱

[Chapter Fifteen]

Your knees knocked against the floor as two exorcists hauled you in by the arms into Sera’s office. Your arms smarted in their vice-like grip. She stood outside the window, wings spread, her silhouette a terrifying shadow, an omen of what was to come. The sky was darkening, and Heaven’s city lights glowed past her dark figure. 

The exorcists let off of your arms and you yelped as you landed in a heap onto the floor. Sera’s wings fluttered slightly as she turned, and you drew your own in protectively. 

“You may leave,” came the order, directed at the two angels behind you. They turned on their heels, footsteps clacking smartly out before the door shut.  

You looked down at the floor.

You heard Sera sigh. “Oh, [name]. What happened to you?” Her voice cut into your heart, patronizing and disappointed. Your wings twitched with the emotions raging through your gut. 

“She’s become a fucking slut, is what’s happened to her,” a voice spat from the shadows. You looked up to see Lute step out, into the twinkling lights glistening past the window. Your heart tore as you saw Emily behind her, hands clasped together so hard her knuckles had turned white. Her face was ashen as she stepped farther away into the darkness. 

Lute’s golden eyes turned to you, accusing, and she tossed something at the table. It glinted in the half-light before landing with a clink. 

The bracelet. 

Sera clasped her hands together in front of her as she turned towards you, away from the window and stepped towards you, painfully slow and deliberate. She stopped before your huddled form and another slow sigh escaped her lips. 

“Can you explain this to us, [name]?” 

You opened your mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words. Your eyes searched here for any emotion, any sadness, regret, something you could latch onto and convince Sera to let you go. 

“Well?” Lute snarled.

You shuddered. “No.”

Lute whirled to Sera, fists clenched and eyes blazing as she thrust out her remaining hand towards you. “See this? This is why we need to get rid of her. A dumb whore like her that would trade away her virtue for sex-“

“Lute,” Emily said shakily.

“-I say cut off her wings, take her halo and cast her down into the pit where she belongs.”

Emily placed her hands over her mouth, shoulders shaking as she watched Lute and Sera look at each other, then you.

Suddenly a blow of pain struck you full in the face. You fell back, feeling hot blood drip down your nose and lips, a metallic tang in your mouth. The area seared with agony.

Lute had kicked you. 

“[name]!” Emily screamed, dashing towards you and collapsing down onto her knees next to where you hunched over, shaking. You gasped, palms spread on the floor to steady yourself, hair handing in front of your face as you watched golden drops of blood drip onto the pristine floor. Emily’s small hands smoothed down your back, her voice stuttering out concerned questions, but you couldn’t hear them. 

She pulled you up, gripping you by the shoulders. You noticed tears glistening in her eyes. “[name], say something!” She cried, shaking you. “Anything.” Her arms slid down yours and fell back to her lap defeatedly. “Did you… is this real?”

Blood burned sweet in your mouth. You swiped your thumb across your split lip, and the gilded liquid smeared. 

“Yes.” 

The single word dripped with your shattered dignity. Emily recoiled. She looked up at Sera pleadingly, eyes wide with horror. Sera stared back, expression saying:

I told you so. 

Your vision drifted to Lute, who’s fists were still clenched and shoulders squared.

A single tear tracking down her face. 

Emily’s arms flew around you again. “Still! She doesn’t deserve to be treated like this, no matter what she did…” her pleading face turned to you. Sera closed her eyes, which had become bloodshot from tears that she hadn’t allowed to fall, and let out a shuddery breath. 

Why was everyone crying, except you?

“It’s just love,” Emily’s voice snapped you back to reality. “How can you punish her for being in love?” You hung your head and pulled away from her. As you broke contact, a cold feeling settled over you like a heavy blanket. Emily was shaking even harder now, speaking through her sobs. “Please, Sera. Please, don’t let her fall.

“Emily,” Sera snapped, voice loud and harsh and clear as she wrenched the younger Seraphim up by the hand. “Preserve your dignity. Do not give it away for someone who has none.” Her eyes fell to you accusingly. Emily looked down, tears still dripping down her cheeks. All the hope drained from your body. Sera wasn’t on your side. 

Lute stepped forward, her face hidden by her hair as she looked down. She tilted her head up and you caught a glimpse of her expression: cold, stoic- she didn’t want to give away any emotions. 

“Do it, Sera,” she sneered. Sera heaved another sigh. Emily let out a small, broken sob as Sera released her hand and walked forward towards you. 

“Rise, [name].” 

You didn’t move. 

“Rise!”

Lute grabbed you by your collar and pulled up. You coughed as it cut off your airways and scrambled to your feet. “Get up, fucker.”

Sera folded her wings against her back neatly and pressed her hands together. “You have committed a sin, [name],” she sighed. “Multiple sins. And normally we would make you repent,” she sighed, waving her hand dismissively, “but the mere act of creating a- union-“ she spat the words- “With Lucifer Morningstar himself, is unforgivable. We trusted you, [name], to restrain yourself. And it would be very unfair to cast Lilith out but not you.”

A snake of fear coiled inside your stomach. 

Sera flicked her hand again, and a searing portal cut through the air to open a rift. You could see the red sky beyond. The snake coiled tighter. 

“Lute,” she ordered. “Cut off her wings.”

Your heart seized. “What?”

Sera’s eyes narrowed. “It’s a necessary procedure, [name].” You stumbled back, wings drawing into your back.

“Bullshit,” you gasped. Lute reached for you with her one good hand.

The dam broke.

You let out a piercing, desperate scream as you jerked away from Lute, tears streaming down your face. Emily let out a whimper at your crazed reaction, but Sera shut her up with a single glare. Lute struck out with her spear and your foot caught over it as you crashed to the floor. You groaned, heaving yourself up, but Lute planted her foot on your back and shoved you down. You gasped for air, unable to breath, and your wings flapped crazily, sending up a flurry of feathers. 

Something stabbed through the tip of your wing and you let out another blood curdling scream as golden blood pooled onto the floor. You entire body went limp. Your wing twitched, Lute’s spear still skewered through it, and Lute placed her foot on the other one, preventing it from moving. 

“Lute,” you gasped. Lute’s foot was trembling on your back. “Please, don’t- I thought- I thought we could have been friends-“

Lute bit back a sob and you froze, not expected that from her. Emily began crying again, muttering the same thing over and over like a mantra.

“I can’t watch this, I can’t watch this, I can’t, I can’t watch thi-“

Sera took her hand and guided her out of the room. She turned her head away, away from your wretched state. “I can’t watch this either,” Sera said. 

“You’re the one who ordered this!” You screamed after her back. She ignored you.

Once Emily had disappeared through the door Sera paused, addressing Lute who still had her back turned to her, instead opting to glare down at you who lay on the floor. 

“Make it quick,” Sera said briskly, refusing to meet your gaze. “I’ve infused the blade with a magic that won’t let her wings regrow.”

Lute didn’t reply, too fixated on you. 

The door closed, and then you were truly alone.

-

A/N: had real fun writing this one folks

[thekristen999]

Fuck it Friday-- Repost

Like others, I started reminiscing about fandom around the time of the shooting and decided to re-share my story:

Trying Hard to Remember, Trying Hard To Forget

This is thorough, painful examination of the healing process using the dichotomy of Eddie not remembering the shooting while every second was burned into Buck's memory. It's a brutal look at the slog-fest of injury recovery and emotional trauma.

Snippet:

The last bandage covered most of Eddie’s right side and Buck stood there studying it, his breathing a little harsher, his fingers trembling until he shook his hand to still them. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie said, leaning his left hand against the edge of the sink. He’d have to sit down soon, but he needed to see this through.

Taking a deep breath, Buck removed the tape, revealing an eight-inch line of staples running from below Eddie’s armpit to the back of his shoulder.

Eddie bit his lips, looking at them, imagining what the ER doctors had to do, swallowing against the sudden feeling of awed horror. “I was told the surgeon only broke one rib during the procedure. They managed just to spread the others without causing additional fractures.”

Buck swallowed, his voice low. “To repair the lung?”

“Bullet nicked the upper left lobe after it damaged the thoracoacromial artery going in.” Eddie swallowed, looking at Buck in the mirror, suddenly understanding what the chaos of the scene had to be like, knowing the procedures that had to be performed to save him. “You must have gotten to the ER like in….”

“Four minutes,” Buck said with a shuddery breath. “We got there in four minutes.”

Eddie swallowed, because it hit him now, how close it’d really been, how even a minute or two later and it would have probably been too late. He’d had a hemopneumothorax and suffered a great deal of blood loss. Or that was what the doctor told him. Because anytime Eddie tried to think back to it all….

He stared at his reflection, at all the healing wounds.

“Thank you, Buck.” It sounded so damn inadequate to Eddie’s ears.

“There’s nothing to thank me for.”

Eddie stared at Buck in the mirror, at the sincerity in his eyes, the rawness there making Eddie’s heart pound. “I’m here because of you.”

..

tagging those who might be interested or have words to share:

@exhuastedpigeon @hippolotamus @diazsdimples @dangerpronebuddie

@cafecitoeddie @elvensorceress @elenaazra @homerforsure

@mellaithwen @spotsandsocks @operationbigskye @deedo2313

@the-likesofus @spaceprincessem @thebestbooksaround

@eddiebabygirldiaz @epicbuddieficrecs @shyaudacity @andavs

[kittyamore0]

Part two of my sweet baby where ethan is their and he wants to hold the baby and you have a talk with him about the baby and agree that he can be involved with the e

A:N: HELP I DIDNT EXPECT ‘My sweet baby’ TO BLOW UP SO QUICKLY???

Our sweet baby…

゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧

゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧

[PART II]

RATING: SFW

FANDOM/GENRE: Horror, dark romance, scream 6, ghost face, fluff, and slight angst

TAGS: @kittiescrownedsoul, @ilovechickenwings, @alice121804, @baby-alien11, @0000-lover-girl, @astrelvs334, @babywantskith, @homebyeleven, @liyahsocorro, @iatemyhampster1, @christianyelichislife, @lil4chry, @kaiawolf

READER: To my Anons, I'll be answering your questions and putting the link for part 2 for you since i cannot tag you!

POV: 2nd person

WRITING STYLE: One-shot, fluff, and angst

PARING: Ethan Landry x Reader

Reminder: Do NOT transfer, translate, modify, copy, or steal my ideas!

CW: Labor, Fem! Reader, pregnant reader, newborn birth, swearing, knife, fighting,

゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧

"Hurry, Sam!"

Tara gestured towards Sam, as Sam and Tara weaved through the crowd of people at the hospital. "Tar Tara! Slow the hell down!" Sam shouts when she nearly trips on her feet, still being dragged by Tara.

"No. You start running faster!" Tara retorted. Sam could only hear a loud bang, caused by Tara's hands slamming on the front desk.

"Hi, my names Tara Carpenter. This is Samantha Carpenter. We're here to see our friend [Name] [Last name] who is currently going into labor as we speak, and you know, we were the ones who brought [Name] here. Yet, they took her from us and didn't even tell us where she went and i would like to know straight away to be there for my friends whose in pain. So, yea."

Sam chuckled at Tara's fast, angry rant. Tara just put on a, 'tell me right now or Ill fuck you up,' innocent smile while the nurse stared at her, disturbed. "Uhm...yea, right...[Name] [Last name], right? She's She's in room 317. I I'll I'll tell them, the doctors, you both are making your way there..." Tara hummed. "Thank you," she whispered.

"c'mon, Sam." Tara eagerly grabbed Sam's hands and once again dragged her towards the elevator.

Surprisingly, no one was in the elevator, but that only meant the faster they get to you. Tara kept pressing the button and Sam literally had to hold her arms to restrain her from breaking the button.

Tara had practically ran when she heard the elevator ding when she felt it stop. "Oh, my god. Tara! Calm down. Shes okay! God...dammit, Tara!" Sam started running too.

Tara shook the doctor by his shoulders and Sam was holding Tara by her waist, trying to pull her away. "Miss Carpenter, we assure you [Name] is fine " He was cut off when your screams came from inside the room.

"Let me in, or i swear to fucking god " The doctor sighs before opening the door letting Sam, and Tara.

Tara runs to you and grabs your hand, while Sam feels her phone buzz. "Mindy's on her way. Gale wants to come. Dont know about the rest..." You weakly nod and so does Tara. "She can come..." Sam lets out a quiet 'okay,' while a dirty look spreads on Tara's face.

"Push one more time, [Last name]," you whimper and shake your head. "Hey, hey...look at me," Tara looks you in the eyes with a determined look on her face. "You can do this, just a few more.."

You let out pained screams, as your vision grew blury and fuzz filled your ears, blocking out every sound...until it soon filled with a babies cry.

"There he is..." Tara covered her mouth with both of her hands, on the verge of tears. Sam awed at him. "Can... can i hold him?" The doctor nodded and handed you the crying baby.

You smiled and softly kissed his forehead. more tears streamed down your face, and Tara cooed at him.

Sam turned around to the knocking, seeing Gale and Mindy waving like crazy people. Sam rolled her eyes at Gale. Gale was literally taking pictures.

"Hi, Elijah..."

.₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ..₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ..₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

Your keys jingled, working on unlocking and giving you access to your front door. It had been 2 weeks since your son, Elijah, had been born.

You walked into your living room, spotting Mindy bouncing Elijah on her knees. "One...two...three!" She turned Elijah to face her and let out a, 'Rah!' in his face.

She smiled and mouthed, 'hes been very good,' you just chuckled. "Oh, look! Who's that? Mommy! Mommy's here. Lets go!" She picked him up and lifted him up high, making her way towards you.

"Hi, baby boy...you're so cute. Yes, you!" Mindy grabbed her coat and boots. "Im gonna head out. Tara called, something about watching a movie. See you, [Name]," She waved and left. "Bye, Mindy!"

You walked over to Elijahs little comfy chair and placed him down, strapping him in. "Mommy's gonna make dinner, okay? Okay!" You blew into his neck, rubbing your face into his neck.

Your eyes perked up, as your home phone rang. You rushed over, hesitant to pick up. This had reminded you about how you were stabbed in the stomach 2 weeks after you found you were pregnant, and this is 2 weeks after Elijah had just been born.

You took a deep breath and put the phone to your ear.

"Hello, [Last Name's] residence. How can i help you?"

"[Name...?]"

The man breathed out.

"Im Im sorry, but...who is this?"

"Ethan. Ethan Landry."

Your throat went dry, and your hearts pace quickened. You looked over to Elijah and worry crossed your face.

"Okay. Look, whatever sick fucking joke you're playing, its not fucking funny!"

"Oh, im not playing jokes, [Name]..." You jumped back when the voice came from behind you. You turned around to see your ex-boyfriend, Ethan Landry. "I've missed you, [Name,]" You dashed to your kitchen counter and pulled out the biggest knife you had, eventually standing in front of Elijah.

"Im not here to hurt you, or Elijah," You shook your head, and he slowly lifted his hands next to his head. "You're lying. You're a sick fuck!" Ethan whimpered and mumbled something. "I didn't want Quinn to stab you. I told her multiple times to be careful, and she didn't. She's the sick fuck! I pushed her away, and " You laughed in disbelief.

"You only pushed her away when you found out i was pregnant. What if i wasn't? Gonna let her kill me?!" Ethan shakes his head and sighs.

He stepped forward, you stepped backwards.

"I fell inlove with you since the day i saw you, and me and Quinn were planning to kill Tara and her friend, excluding you, but Quinn thought otherwise." He started and you quirked an eyebrow at him

"Quinn didn't like you. I did though, so thats why i always defended you whenever she said some bullshit about you. I planned to marry you, have a baby with you. Just like this, but then again...not like this...I spent most of my time with you, rather than planning with my dad and Quinn. Guess that got her pissed." He shurgged.

"I was always gentle with you, honest. The only time i wasn't honest was lying about liking that dumb 21 movie...and liking your friends, Tara, Sam, Mindy, and everyone else..." He chuckled

"I loved you, [Name]. I still do, and i want to continue my life with you! You're all i have, all i need and want, all i could ever imagine, both you and Elijah. I have no one else than you and Elijah, regardless i want no one else, please..." You hadn't even noticed he had gotten so close, until he grabbed the knife, threw it backwards and embraced you.

"Let go! You...!" You squirmed in his arms, but his tight hold hadn't faltered. "Im sorry...Im sorry, Im sorry, Im sorry! I never meant to hurt you! I loved you! I'll never hurt you on purpose! I never meant to! Please believe me...!"

Eventually, you gave up squirming, crying into his chest. Everything he said. Thats what you're noticing now about him, he was right. He treated you right, never hurt you except for the scream encounters, but he had never intentionally hurt you. He would say sorry, and always end up at your door with this stupid smile on his face with gifts in his arms.

Talked about starting a family with you, cooked with you, cuddled with you, rode roller coasters, watched movies, all of it.

"I....I forgive you..." His eyes lit up, and he smiled brightly. "You do?!" You nodded. He rested in the embrace for a moment. "Can...can i hold Elijah?" You took a deep, shaky breath, but nodded.

He got up and stared at Elijah, before unstrapping him and taking him into his arms. "He looks like you..." You smiled at Ethan

You stood up, and dusted your knees. Elijah leaned towards you a bit, wanting you to hold him now. You chuckled at Ethans pout, but he gave Elijah to you anyways. You bounced Elijah on the side of your hip, before staring at Ethan.

Ethan stared into your eyes. Oh, how he missed those captivating eyes. You both stared at each other for a while, that momment both making you close your eyes when Ethan placed his hand on your cheek and learns in forward, closing the gap between you both.

It was a sweet, chaste kiss. One that you missed. He pulled back and rested his forehead against yours.

"I love you [Name..]"

"I...I love you too, Ethan..."

゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧

゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧*̣̩☽⋆゜゜✧

[olderthannetfic]

What happened for people to decide that your fictional interests are representative of your morals? most fandoms, fan fiction etc were built off of 'immoral' content. They were made to be communities, for people to share their love for media, and if you didn't like those posts... you ignored them. when the rise of the terms proship and antiship started I considered myself an anti, because I was told that proshippers were evil- they supported abuse, grooming, pedophilia, anything you could think of. The thing is, when you're antiship, you don't realize your own arguments apply to yourself too. Toxic yuri/yaoi or whatever is literally proship. It's a toxic relationship usually fueled by abuse. Yet you don't find hate for these ships, why? Because nobody shipping them supports it in real life. If you enjoy horror movies, violent video games, do you support murder? If you enjoy writings about abuse, are you an abuser? If you enjoy historical media, do you support racism? If not, then you are acknowledging the fact you can enjoy 'problematic’ media without it changing your morals.

And the thing is, l'm not here to spread hate. In fact, I get it. I understand why there are so many antishippers, because I was one. The terms proship and antiship have been thrown around without consideration of their actual meaning. Proshippers have never stood for immoral deeds in real life, it just means to ship and let ship- Anti harassment, anti censorship. Most proshippers will tell you themselves they are completely against pedophiles or the like. In all honesty, what has the antiship movement actually done for victims, or for children? They harass people online because they enjoy fiction. Proshippers make their own spaces, and yet they invade them. They focus on the safety of FICTIONAL children and victims instead of the real ones, the ones actually asking for help.

An individuals morality should not and almost always does not depend on fiction.

--

[sheeple]

Miracles don't exist | 11: Home not so sweet home

Genre(s): Riddle!reader / Slytherin!reader / kinda slowburn / little happy moments Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Theodore Nott x Reader / Harry Potter x Riddle!reader Summary: Being the Dark Lord's daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy's is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father's arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his follower’s sons. Warning(s): Moldy Voldy [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist] [Playlist]

The sun is shining brightly with not a cloud in the sky. A soft breeze sways the leaves on the trees which tower over the manor. And despite that sunny and happy weather outside, you feel dreaded entering the house.

The pointed roofs and gothic architecture never looked so menacing as now. The perfectly manicured lawn looks like it has thorns and skulls as flowers while the white peacock in the distance looks like an omen of death.

Both you and your cousin stand at the end of the long driveway, your luggage floating towards the front door. Aunt Cissy motions for the two of you to hurry up. 

Glancing at each other, Draco gives your wrist a reassuring squeeze before marching up the gravel path. You linger for a while longer until you can't.

It's quiet when you enter the manor. More than usual. All sounds, even those from outside, seem to have disappeared. No creaking of the house, ticking of clocks, nothing.

Your aunt turns to you, a sorrowful look on her face. "The Dark Lord is expecting you in the library."

You want to shake your head. Scream, cry, yell that you don't want to see him. You're scared. So fucking scared to meet him. But, you don't have a choice.

With a meek nod, you turn on your heels and make your way towards the library. You ignore Draco's shaken look as his mother hugs him and leads him to the other side of the house.

The floorboards under your feet creak as you stand in front of the double doors of the library. You raise your fist but before your knuckles make contact with the wood, the doors swing open.

He stands in front of the large windows that oversee a part of the gardens, his back turned to the door and his hands are clasped behind his back. He is almost as pale as a sheet, blue veins running over his bald head.

When he turns around, you have to bite back the gasp of horror you want to let out. His face can only be described as snake-like. Two slits are where a nose should be and icy blue eyes set in a too-pale face. 

He is nothing as you imagined. You once or twice have searched up the name Riddle in the school records to look at the picture of all the prefects. At that time, Tom Marvolo Riddle was a handsome seventh-year boy. Dark hair, high cheekbones, and a proud look on his face.

Tom Marvolo Riddle is obviously gone and in his place is Lord Voldemort.

You don't know whether to bow or nod, so you look at the ground once he catches you study him.

"My Heir." His voice is breathy, almost whisper-like. He opens his arms, "come here."

Your feet move with a mind of their own. You scale the size of the room and stop in front of the imposing figure. He wraps his arms lofty around you. A chill spreads through your body as a cold hand presses against your back.

Taking a step back, you try to even your breathing. "My Lord." The title comes out in a whisper. You're utterly terrified of what this man will do, will say.

He tsks disapprovingly. "When we are in company of each other, you may call me Father, my Heir."

"Yes... Father."

Voldemort nods approvingly. He studies you once again, his icy eyes trailing every inch of your face and hair. "I've been told you are sorted into Slytherin. Naturally."

You nod. "Yes, Father." You don't know what else to say. But it seems like he is expecting more. "My studies are going well. I am staying out of trouble and keep with our own kind."

It's the safe answer, one you know satisfies him. And it does. He dismisses you with a wave of his hand and you don't know how quickly you have to get out of the library. 

When you enter your bedroom, Draco is already sitting on your bed, an anxious look on his face. "Is it really him?", he asks in a whisper and you nod.

You go sit down next to your cousin. The two of you sit in silence for a while, until Draco opens his mouth. "How is he?"

"Terrifying", you admit. "You feel his power when you are in the room with him."

"Mother says he can read minds."

You look at him with wide eyes. That can't be true... right? It means that even our thoughts aren't safe.

"Well... Then we have to watch out for what we think."

Draco nods and you sit in silence once again. You lean over and lay your head on his shoulder. Draco has never been a big fan of being touched — it may come from being barely touched as a child by his parents — but for you, he makes an exception. 

"Everything is going to change from now on, isn't it?"

He hums sadly. "I'm afraid so."

You spend the rest of the day cooped up in your room, unpacking your school trunk and dusting your room. Even though Aunt Cissy makes the house elves clean your room regularly, it's always nice to do a once-over.

Around dinner time is a knock on your door and you're being called to dinner. Nervously, you make your way towards the formal dining room. It's tradition to eat there when you and Draco have returned from your year at Hogwarts.

Entering the room, you see your aunt and uncle — both looking rather unwell — and your cousin sitting at one end of the table and Voldemort sitting at the head on the other side. 

"My Lord", you greet your father with a polite nod. Unsure of where to sit, you move to sit next to Draco. But the chair next to Voldemort gets pushed back by magic and you get the hint.

With uncertain steps, you go and sit to him. Draco and you make eye contact but remain silent. 

The majority of dinner is spent in silence. You do not dare to speak out loud and it seems like the Dark Lord likes the tense silence his presence brings. It's only when the desert is brought that he speaks.

"It seems you are very popular at school, my Heir. Not a full day at home and you already received a letter." Voldemort holds up a wax-sealed envelope.

He watches how you take it and break the seal. Unfolding the envelope, you start to read. It's a rather short letter really.

Do you want to hang out sometime? It's what friends do, you know. We could meet up in two weeks. That's just enough time to miss me.

— Theo

You close your eyes. Stupid stupid boy Theodore Nott. You've hoped to keep him safe from your father a while longer, at least until the end of the summer break or Christmas or whatever. But as Voldemort snatches the letter out of your hands and reads it over, one of his non-existent eyebrows arches up.

"Theo? Who is this Theo?"

You look down at the pie in front of you. "Theodore Nott, my Lord. We've ehrm... We've-" You look for help from your aunt, but her gaze is trained on the table. "We've been introduced last summer and started hanging out this year."

Voldemort looks over at your uncle. "Is this true, Lucius?" The name of your uncle is almost a hiss.

Uncle Lucius gulps before shakily raising his gaze. "Ye-yes, my Lord. We thought the you-young Nott boy would be an excellent match... f-for your daughter... my Lord."

Voldemort hums, dropping the letter next to your plate. "Very well." And nothing more is said about Theodore or the rest of the dinner.

Once you are excused, you rush towards your bedroom to write Theo back. But when you swing open your door, you almost shriek.

A three-metre snake lays on your bed, eyes trained on you. You've heard whisper all day long, but you just chalked it up to Voldemort residing in the manor.

Carefully stepping into the room, you know exactly who this is. Clearing your throat, you open your mouth. "Hello, Nagini", you say in the strange whispers and hisses of Parsletongue.

"Hello, my Heir", the snake hisses softly, sliding off your bed. She slithers out of your room. A shiver runs down your spine at the feeling of her smooth scales gliding against your ankle.

Sitting down at your desk, you pull out a piece of paper and start to write to Theo.

Sure, we can do that. Do you have something in mind or do you just want to walk around and see what happens? I'm down for whatever.

I suggest we meet up on Tuesday in two weeks. If that's alright with you.

— (Y/n)

Taglist (bold means I couldn’t tag you): @the0doreslover @lqndkxlmqma @st4rrry @choppedpartymuffinwinner @ledtassoo @literallyobsessed @lestat-whore​ @vanishingcherry @harrysnovia @pietrobae @ireallywannasleep127 @yeolsbubbles

[dailyclarkegriffin]

Clarke Griffin Appreciation Week 2023!

Hey Clarke Kru! It's been a while since Daily Clarke Griffin has had an event, don't you think? Well, it's time to change that! We're bringing Clarke Griffin Appreciation Week back for its third year! As always, the event will run from October 24th to October 30th. (We start on Eliza's birthday and end the day before Halloween, it's the perfect time to celebrate Clarke, not to mention it's her birth month too!)

As we've done before, a list of prompts have been selected for each day to give you some inspiration for what you create for the week! Like we have said in the past, this event is hosted for all types of content creators, whether you make gifs or graphics or moodboards or videos or fic, we try to pick out themes we think will work for everyone. Check them out below!

Prompts:

Day 1: Favorite Look — For our first day we'd love to see your favorite Clarke outfit/look! Do you love her classic season one outfit? Maybe you like the black and blue outfits of season two! Or maybe give a nod to her temporary outfits like the Ark flashback or one of her dresses? Maybe you think her short hair could use some more appreciation, or you could even make a compilation of all her different hairstyles throughout the years!

Day 2: Favorite Underrated Friendship — We've done favorite friendship/dynamic, but what about a pairing that you think deserved more love? Maybe you wished we got a lot more out of the Clarke and Wells relationship. Maybe it's another one of the delinquents like Miller or Harper. Or what about Clarke and Roan? There's tons of duos to choose from, tell us your fave underrated relationship!

Day 3: Color — For this day we want to challenge all of your beautiful creative minds by channeling color! Whether that be one single color that makes you think of Clarke or a whole plethora of colors by making a rainbow edit! You could even use a color palette generator for some inspo if you want! Anything goes!

Day 4: Lyrics & Poetry — We love seeing things like this in the fandom and we want to see some more! Find a quote of some sort, whether it comes from a song or a poem or even somewhere else, and let it inspire you into creating something beautiful to celebrate Clarke! This could be in the form of gifs, moodboards, fanart, even a songfic! Whatever you want to create, we want to see!

Day 5: Bi Pride — It's not Clarke Griffin Appreciation Week without bi pride day! As always, we'd love to see all the bi love whether it's with a bi flag inspired gifset, a moodboard with cute bi aesthetics, maybe you could even use some lyrics from your fave bi musician as inspo! (Gentle reminder that this day is about bi positivity, we're here to celebrate Clarke's role as a bi leading character!)

Day 6: Halloween — The holiday is right around the corner and we'd love to see some fun and spooky ideas! You could do something orange and black themed, you can make an AU edit like Clarke as a witch or a werewolf! Maybe a manip of what you think Clarke would dress up as. You could also do some spooky horror-inspired editing if that's your thing. Even a Halloween drabble if you feel like writing instead. We hope you have fun with this one!

Day 7: Free Day — As always, we're going to end the week by giving you free rein to do whatever you like for the final day! If you have an extra idea or something you've been meaning to post, now's the chance to do it! It can be funny or shippy or completely AU or even just another compilation of your favorite Clarke moments! It's the last day so we want to see what you love to make!

There it is! Clarke Griffin Appreciation Week 2023 is officially happening! When the event begins please tag all your creations with #cgaw23 so we can reblog them here on the main blog for all our followers to see. We hope everyone interested in the event is able to participate, and we'd love it if you reblogged this post to spread the word! See you soon, friends! 💗💜💙

[mad-scientist-enthusiast]

I haven't listened to Malevolent in a while and I often forget it exists. I am much more familiar with Chambers' King in Yellow stories...

This makes it all the more shocking to me when sock puppet and/or babygirlified fanart of the podcast tagged as the King in Yellow comes across my dash.

I'm bewildered and amazed every time I see it, because you people are out here fanarting the eldritch god from a short story collection published in 1895.

This never fails to amuse and entertain me. Keep up the good work.

(Disclaimer ↓)

Yes I know it's not technically fanart of the book it's fanart of a podcast of a Call of Cthulhu campaign inspired by the book.

But you have to at least give yourselves credit for spreading 19th century cosmic horror around fandom spaces!

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Stonemilker [Joel x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Fandom: The Last of Us (HBO)

Ship: Joel Miller x you (cishet f reader)

Tags/warnings: Heartache, breakup stuff, Ellie lives and Joel is lying to her, sad sex, you know this is ending sex, Couple fighting, idk what this is folks, it's a sad story with a hopeful ending.

Summary: When Joel returns to Jackson with Ellie, something has changed. Can your relationship survive it? Takes place after episode 9 of season 1.

Words: 3,967

A/N: The title Stonemilker is the title of the first track of Björk's Vulnicura (2015), an album solely about the end of a relationship. Cheers to @rambling-in-purple for reading it before posting <3!

Joel returned a changed man. A younger man. A less hurting man.

Ellie was with him, of course, hugging you tightly in the kitchen of the small house you had been given. You had been setting the dinner table for one when she had burst in and called your name, Joel striding in behind her. You dropped the plate, and the porcelain pieces spread around your feet.

Little did you know that your life was about to shatter in the same way.

Joel gave you a warm hug, nothing more. You wanted to hear everything about their journey, but they were both tired and hungry, so you gave them time to shower and change into clean clothes while you adapted dinner to feed three.

Later that night, when you went to bed with Joel, you saw the hideous wound on the right side of his stomach. He told you what had happened since he and Ellie left Jackson.

He told you everything: the abandoned college, the stab wound, and how close he was to dying. Ellie saving him. The resort. All the dead bodies. The hospital.

His decision. Hallways of dead people left behind. His lie to Ellie.

"Joel..."

He looked at you with shrouded eyes. Where there used to be an iron curtain, there was now a thin veil that showed depths of horrors, but also hope. It scared you more than the hard metallic gaze that you were used to.

You knew why he did it. You understood him. You would probably have done the same.

"You have to tell her."

"One day, I will."

"Sooner rather than later. She deserves to know the truth."

There it was, the unyielding steel in his eyes. He never appreciated being told the obvious. But when Ellie did that, slapped him in the face with inconvenient truths and poignant teases, he grimaced to keep from smiling. When you did it, you received a glare.

You had always thought that that glare was yours because Joel didn't have any other way of expressing his reluctant amusement. And it was, but there was a smile-hiding grimace as well, just not for you.

Something had changed. You didn't realize just how much until a few weeks later, when you were out with the hunting party, and a cougar popped up so suddenly that not even the horses had smelled it. It was a young animal, probably a male looking for a territory of its own, and you were the closest to it. Your horse reared, you fell off, hit your elbow on a rock that just had to be precisely there. As if by some miracle, your head missed it, though. The wind got knocked out of you while your brain was screaming frantically at you to get up and get your gun, but before you could move, a shot rang out over the plain, and the horses neighed in fear.

Deion was by your side a moment later, brows knitted together in worry.

"You okay?"

Breath returning, you began to feel the impact of your fall. Left elbow was smarting, your ass was probably bruised, and your heart was beating a mile a minute from the scare.

"I'm fine," you managed to wheeze. He helped you up, carefully pulling you on your feet. He held your hand as he inspected your face for discomfort. You let him. It's comforting, that big, warm hand holding yours.

"You sure?" He wanted to be certain before he let you go. You nodded and forced a smile.

"I'll have a bruise, but I'm good." You've had worse, so much worse.

The warmth of Deion's hand lingers on your skin long after he releases your hand. As you get on the horse and ride back to Jackson, you find yourself thinking about how Joel never showed such concern for your well-being. And he doesn't do it now, either, when you return sooner than expected, moving like you're in pain - which you are.

"You need to be more careful," he tells you gruffly. You know it's his thing, he doesn't do softness, and yet... he does to Ellie. He speaks kindly to her, laughs with her, talks to her about things beyond mere survival. Tells her about his daughter. That's a new one, he never even mentioned his daughter to you.

It's heartwarming to see him thawed. The glimpses of who he used to be melt together with who he is now. You always suspected he was a great kind of guy before the world went to shit and he was forced to become a version of himself that he himself hated. And it hurts you more than the bruising that he cannot be this new person with you, only with Ellie. She deserves the best Joel, you know that, but don't you? After all you've been through with him?

You argue with him later that night. That's also new. While you may have disagreed with him occasionally before, you have never fought about it. Maybe it's the comfort of Jackson, the fact that a disagreement no longer means the risk of death. Maybe you have just had your fill.

"You could at least say something that doesn't make it sound like it's my fault!" you yell, unconcerned with your voice carrying over to the next room where Ellie is asleep. "You could ask me if I'm okay!"

"I can see that you're okay," Joel replies irritably. "I've seen you take worse hits."

"I am not okay, Joel!" The words are spat into the half-lit bedroom and the silence that follows is heavy from the impact. Joel crosses his arms in front of his chest and looks at you with unreadable eyes. It's not his usual glare, the one he gives you no matter the reason, because it's all he's capable of. It's just... closed. Like he has nothing more to give you.

You sleep in separate rooms that night. Ellie is unusually demure in the morning, looking from you to Joel and back to you, clearly bothered by your fight the night before. You make a mental note to talk to her after breakfast but before you can suggest an activity, Joel asks her if she wants to go out shooting.

Okay, let Joel deal with Ellie.

You go to your chores, which consist of animal care for most of the day. Deion joins you. He wants to know how you're feeling.

How are you feeling? Bruised and annoyed. Sad and confused. Touched and frustrated. Abandoned. Lonely.

"I'm good," you assure him with a light smile. "A little sore, but I've had worse."

All day he sees to it that you rest. He takes care of the tasks that will aggravate the aches of your beaten-up body. He reminds you to take a break when it's nearing lunch time.

He cares so clearly. Is this what it's like, to be with someone who cares?

Ellie is bubbly that night. She and Joel have had fun, she tells you, and you're happy for her. Ellie is a child who was never allowed to be one. She deserves carefree days. She deserves a father figure, a dad. A mom, too, but you have no idea how to be that. Especially when things are so askew with Joel. Whatever things are, were, should be. You and Joel used to be about teamwork, survival, partnership. But life in Jackson is different. What you two had, were, is not needed here. What else can you be?

Joel watches you take your clothes off when you get ready for bed. You turn your back to him, maybe out of misguided, sudden shyness, maybe to show him the bruise that has painted half your back. It was dark red yesterday, now it's turning purple.

His feet are heavy on the floorboards when he walks up to you. His rough fingers are surprisingly soft when tracing the outlines of the bruise. You close your eyes, lean into his touch, sigh softly when he kisses you neck. You lie down on the bed and let Joel take you. He's gentle, more so than usual, but every thrust pushes you against the bumpy mattress, hurting you. Neither one of you speak but when Joel has finished, he cradles your face in his hands and kisses your forehead so softly that it's barely a kiss at all. You turn your back to him when you go to sleep. Your muscles are sore from the coupling, and you quietly love that tenderness like one would a bittersweet heartache. The bruise on your lower back throbs like a young heart in love, and when you turn onto your side, away from Joel, you wish he would kiss the miscolored blossoms.

But he doesn't. He simply turns away from you, just as you turned away from him. With a canyon between your warm, spent bodies, you both go to sleep.

Ellie accompanies you to your chores the next day. After a quiet hour of cleaning the stable, she eventually asks you if you're mad at her.

"No, Ellie, why would you think that?" you ask, immediately regretting your poor choice of words. She shrugs, leaning against a stall door, both hands gripping the handle of the pitchfork, the prongs scraping loudly against the floor.

"You've been weird since we got back. You and Joel have been fighting."

"That has nothing to do with you," you lie, hopefully convincingly. Ellie looks up at you, a hard glint in her eyes.

"I'm not stupid. You never fought before, not for as long as I've known you."

You stop your sweeping but don't know what to say.

"You barely talk to each other," she insists.

"It's complicated," you tell her feebly. "But it has nothing to do with you, Ellie, I promise."

"Then what is it?"

You shake your head. "I'm not going to talk about our relationship with you, Ellie. It's not your problem."

"It is my problem if my - " she stops herself, the word parents hanging in the air for a second, before she continues: " - if you two are going to, I don't know, get a divorce or some shit."

An amused scoff escapes you before you can stop yourself. "We're not married, Ellie."

"I know. But you're, like, together, right?"

"I don't know what we are," you blurt out, averting your eyes so you don't have to see her reaction at your confession. You hear the scraping of her shoe at the floor.

"Did you count on me not being here anymore?"

Her voice is small and sounds so different from its normal curious and teasing tone. A clump forms in your throat.

"Ellie..."

"I'm in the way."

You let go of the broom and focus instead on Ellie, standing in front of her and taking the pitchfork from her so that you can grasp her hands.

"You're not in the way," you tell her firmly. Ellie looks away, and you shake your head to stress your words. "Ellie, look at me."

She meets your steady gaze, and you see how conflicted she is. Poor girl. She is a child. You can barely remember what it was like to be that age and besides, it was another world ago, but you do remember that it was difficult and confusing for so many reasons.

"You are not in the way," you emphasize softly. "But this situation is new, for all of us. This place. This dynamic. We're not just surviving anymore, Ellie, we have a chance to live. And I... I've never had that chance with Joel before. So I'm struggling a little right now. But it has nothing to do with you, okay? You just... be you. You're so good for him, Ellie, you have saved him in more ways than one."

She purses her lips, and you see her throat muscles work as she swallows.

"Okay," she finally nods, quietly. You press a smile, try to look like this problem was resolved.

"Okay." You give her a quick hug before going back to your work. Ellie seems relieved but you can't stop thinking about how you pinned it all on your own back. You are struggling, you are having a hard time of this new way of life. As if Joel has nothing to do with it. As if his broad, once so safe, and reassuring back isn't now turned to you in cool detachment.

You try to bring the topic to him later that night, tell him that Ellie is noticing and worrying. It ends in a fight and this time it's Joel who sleeps on the uncomfortable couch. You lie awake, wondering what went wrong. Is it really you who changed? Are you being a selfish bitch, jealous of a 14-year-old girl? Do you really want life to go on as it did before, in the Boston QZ, fighting for your life with Joel by your side?

Why is settling down so hard?

Nothing changes in the coming weeks. Talking to Joel is like milking a stone. Every now and then the two of you fight, as quietly as you can when Ellie has gone to bed. You still think he should tell her. He refuses to, and you can see the fear in his eyes. Ellie will be furious with him; you both know it. The longer he keeps her in the dark, the worse it's going to be. You find yourself wishing that you'll be far away when the day comes.

One early spring day you ride out with Deion to check on the traps. You've spent most of your days with him these past few weeks. He appreciates you, sees you, wants to hear your opinion. He takes you to the movies. He asks you about your past. He shows interest where Joel barely even wants you at night anymore.

The snow has started to melt in the sunshine, and you find a sun-kissed clearing where the ground is yellow with glacier lilies. The air is warm, and you can smell the changing of the season. You dismount and crouch among the delicate yellow flowers, hover your hands over them, smile in childlike delight when you see bees buzzing from flower to flower. You can't remember the last time you saw bees.

In that clearing, you ask Deion to kiss you, and he does, almost immediately. Not until the kiss is over does he express regret.

"You're with Joel."

"No, I'm not."

He smiles, and kisses you again, and you remember those first pre-teen infatuations: the warmth, the excitement, the heart-stopping angst about whether or not the subject of your passions felt the same. You remember all that but only feel it radiate from Deion. The feelings are unrequited.

That night you collect your few belongings into your backpack and leave the house. You hug Ellie and ask her to forgive you. You say nothing to Joel, and he says nothing to you.

You do not go to Deion, but instead to the boarding house where new arrivals are placed while awaiting homes of their own. Deion is kind, and he showed you what it would be like to be with a person who genuinely cares for you, but you don't want to rebuild your shattered life around a man.

A week later you mount a horse and leave Jackson. You have no plan, no light to look for, but you can finally breathe freely. Heading west, you ride at a slow pace all day, enjoying yourself more than maybe is appropriate. Your saddle-sore backside in the evening doesn't put a damper on your joy when you sit by your small fire with a cup of herbal tea. This is the start of something new, maybe disastrous, but definitely different.

The dark woods around you don't scare you, neither does being alone. You realize now just how alone - lonely - you've been these past couple of months, smack in the middle of the warm and well-organized community that Jackson is. Its friendly inhabitants weren't enough: you only wanted kindness from one single person. To be alone out here, by choice, feels a lot better than the time spent in Jackson.

When you prepare to leave the campsite the next morning, a horse emerges between the trees. Instinctively, you reach for your gun before your brain has processed the face of the rider.

It's Joel. Your mouth falls open and your legs feel weak.

"What are you doing here?" you manage when he dismounts. His hunched shoulders tell you clearly that he's uncomfortable and also stalling as he, very meticulously, ties the reins to a nearby tree. You wait impatiently for him to acknowledge you. When he finally does, his nut-brown eyes are clear in the first rays of the sun.

"I'm here to ask you if you would consider returning."

You have to bite your tongue in order not to laugh out loud. Your hard stare tells him everything, and he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

"I'm going to tell Ellie about what happened at the hospital."

You raise an eyebrow. "Why are you here telling me that?"

"Because when I do, she's going to hate me, and I can't stand losing both of you."

"It's a little too late for that, Joel."

He nods, wets his lips. Looks away and draws a wet breath. Rests his hands on his hips, purses his lips. You realize he's fighting against unwanted yet inevitable tears.

Joel crying. That's a new one.

Moments pass, minutes, maybe hours, days, you have no idea, but you keep staring at Joel as he stubbornly looks to the forest, as if there was an answer or saving grace to be had between the trees. You are relentless in the midst of the rising sun, the singing birds, the soft shush of the wind through the budding treetops. He has to make the first move, show something, say something. Offer an explanation to why he stopped listening. Where did the apathy in his eyes come from? Why did he suddenly decide to show no concern for you?

He brings his hand to his eyes, rubs them quickly with forefinger and thumb. He then turns back to you.

"Ellie misses you."

You stand your ground, implacable as you wait for him to continue. Finally, he confesses:

"I miss you. The minute you left I started missing you."

"Then why did you let me leave?" you ask flatly.

"I wasn't going to stop you if that's what you wanted."

You refuse to engage, even though you want to scream at him: Do you think I wanted to leave?

"Was it Deion?"

"What?" Your eyebrows meet in a surprised frown. "What about Deion?"

"You spent so much time with him. Did you... was there anything between you?"

Unable to play it cool anymore, you take a step closer.

"How fucking dare you? You have no right!" Your horse and Joel's shift their weight, ears twitching nervously.

He's a little taken back with your raised voice, but he doesn't match it.

"Sorry," he mutters instead, and now it's your turn to drop your jaw. For a moment, both of you just stand there, looking at each other, trying to find some common ground to share so that things can be resolved.

It's Joel who finally finds that little patch of soil to sow the seeds of reconciliation.

"You remember how I tried to make Tommy take Ellie to the Fireflies?" he asks, and you nod mutely. Of course you remember. The tension in the house had been so thick you could have cut it with a knife.

"But I took her. And everything that happened after that... happened. I have to live with the consequences. I just had to keep her."

He shakes his head, something desperate filling his features. "If I get to keep her, I can't keep you."

"What do you mean?" you ask quietly, not following. The long look he gives you is anguished, but he stays quiet, as if he has said too much. Your brain is working at full capacity until it has connected the dots.

"Is this some kind of 'can't have too much good shit in my life' bullshit?" you ask hoarsely, almost afraid of the answer. "Because that is just... Joel, you are an idiot."

You're shaking by now, and Joel bristles a little.

"Look, Ellie has nobody else. She's stuck with me, for better or for worse. She's a kid. But you are not. You can have someone better."

"What if I don't want anyone better, what if I happen to love a complete fucking idiot who doesn't deserve me but is stuck with me because I chose it myself!?" you scream, tears filling your eyes and escaping down your cheeks. Joel winces, as if you just slapped him, but when he sees your tears, he closes the gap between the two of you with a few long strides. The next thing you know, you're crushed against his broad chest, smelling his sweat and slightly woodsy scent with leather and horse and melting snow. He holds you so tightly it's almost constricting your breathing, but you don't fight back. You've fought back for long enough.

"Darlin'," he murmurs throatily. "Darlin'. You love me?"

"I did," you sob. "But I don't know if I still do."

He's quiet, his hand moving in slow, comforting caresses over your back. Something is broken in you and the splinters are pressing against your internal organs, making breathing near impossible. Your face against Joel's chest, you think you can sense something break in him as well.

"You're right," he finally whispers. "I am an idiot and an asshole."

Your only response is more tears because now he gets it, now the milk is flowing from that goddamn stone, and it just might be too late. You don't know if you can trust him to handle your broken pieces right, or if there is a second chance for him in you.

There is no telling how long you stand like that, entwined in a sad, desperate embrace. The sun's rays start to feel warm even when you're cold inside. When your tears finally dry up, you shift in Joel's arms, and he releases you. You can't look at him, can't let him see you like this, but he gently places his finger under your chin, and raises your face to his.

"Am I too late?" he asks. His eyes are red and there are wet trails on his cheeks. You swallow hard, try to navigate between your desires and needs.

"What would change?" you finally ask. He places his warm, slightly sweaty palm against your cheek and brushes his thumb just under your eye, catching a lingering tear.

"I would love you."

He has never said that word to you before, and you want to ask for a detailed description of what it entails. How will he love you? Will he listen, help, support, share?

If Ellie decides to hate him, will he hate you in return? Will Ellie?

On the other side is a vast wilderness of no coordinates, the unknown with all its dangers. What are your chances of survival, of finding decent people? Jackson is full of decent people, and now also Joel and Ellie. Joel, who hurt you. Ellie, who is torn between the two of you.

He waits for your answer, and you find that you don't have a definite one to give him. But you know what direction to take.

"We'll talk about it on the ride back."

If that direction is a way forward or a way back, you don't know. You just feel that it would be wrong not to try.

[dreamingofep]

Sinned Awakening pt. 11 🩸

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/Vampire Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Request: No

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond belief and your undeniable attraction makes you fear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, tension, angst, mentions of blood/gore 🩸

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.8K

A/N: Hello everyone!

Welcome to part 11! I couldn't stop writing these last few days and needed to share with you all what happens next🤭 It's a bit shorter but I wanted to break up this part up accordingly. I love this pic of him here and the red glare makes me giggle.

A reminder, this is Vampire!Elvis so there is going to be mentions of blood/gore from here on out. If that's not your thing, sorry but it's needed for the story.

If you'd like to start from the begining, start here 🩸

I hope you enjoy and message and comment what you think!🖤

The crunch of leaves under your feet breaks the stillness of the forest. The wind whistles through the trees and brings a slight shiver to you but you don’t mind. The trees break away and a sparse area comes into view. There you see a lone white piano in the middle of the clearing and you grow curious. 

You walk closer to it and that’s when you can hear it playing music with no accompaniment. It’s a familiar tune but you can’t seem to remember the name. The song becomes louder and you look around for any other people around. The wind picks up and you bring your arms up to your chest, hugging them tightly as the temperature begins to drop. 

The notes on the piano become distorted and jumbled no longer the melodious sounds a moment ago. You hear a whisper behind you and snap your body in the direction of the sound, not seeing anything though. You look back at the piano and the keys are slamming down violently, blood starting to come streaming out of the keyboard and the top board. 

You stumble backward, frightened at the sight before you. The blood keeps flowing and reaches your feet, making you scream out in horror. As you’re retreating, your back hits something hard and you grunt at the feeling. 

You turn around to see Elvis’ bright eyes stare down at you and grab onto your shoulders. 

"Run." he growls.

You gasp as you pop open your eyes and revive back into consciousness. You grab at the bed sheets, unaware of where you are. Anna quickly comes rushing to your side and holds your hand. 

“Woah, it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m right here,” she assures. “Are you okay?”

You’re not exactly sure how to answer that. The last few hours were a blur for you and you hardly remember getting to Anna’s apartment. You realize you’re in her bedroom with blankets covering your body. 

Your body feels exhausted and soreness spreads along it when you try to move. 

“Woah let’s take it easy. You took quite a fall,” she says softly. 

“What time is it?” You grumble, rubbing your eyes. 

“Uhh, one o clock. Honey, what happened? You scared the hell out of me and-and your neck…. What’s going on?” She asks concerned. 

You put your hand over your neck and feel it’s been bandaged. 

“I’m okay. I really can’t tell you about this but I’m fine,” you say referring to your neck. 

“No, you’re not! You come in here bloody and collapse on my floor! When was the last time you slept?!” She presses. 

You stay silent for a moment, trying to figure out when you did get a good night's sleep. 

“Umm, a few days ago…” you say embarrassed. 

Anna covers her eyes and worry shrouds her face. 

“That’s not good! You need to take care of yourself. Does Elvis have something to do with this?” She accuses. 

You look at the ceiling, frustrated with the entire situation. 

It has everything to do with Elvis. 

“It’s not about him. I just need some time and figure things out.”

Anna sighs, frustrated at how you’re deflecting everything. But it’s the only way you know how to. You sure as hell couldn’t tell her that he’s a Vampire and he lost control. It felt wrong to lie to your best friend but this was necessary. You knew you had to protect Elvis’ secret. 

“Did you call out of work?” You ask. 

“Yes of course I did, I was worried sick. I’m not going anywhere til you get better and rest,” she says firmly. 

You nod in agreement, not in the mood to fight. She hands you a glass of water and you take a few sips. 

“Can I take a shower to freshen up? I’ll be fine, I promise I feel a lot better,” you assure her. 

“Yeah, I’ll grab you a towel from the closet,” she says before walking to the other room. 

You shut the bathroom door behind you and flip on the light. There's a full-length mirror in front of you and you unwrap the blanket from yourself. You didn’t want to look at your body at first, you knew what you’d see. 

You look anyway and see the welts that he sucked onto both of your breasts and the marks his hands left as he squeezed your hips tight riding him. 

The more you look at the marks he left behind, the more you can see and feel how those talented hands felt on your body, making you ache for more from him. How he knew just where to touch you and make you feel things you’ve never experienced before. And that mouth of his, it must have been one of your favorite things about him. How it can turn you on with a kiss or eat you out like he was starving for it. 

You snap yourself out of the memories surrounding him and turn on the shower, needing a distraction from your aimless thoughts of him. You’re about to step in when you realize you still have the bandage on your neck. You take a deep breath to rip it off quickly so it doesn’t hurt as much. You close your eyes and rip the bandage off in one swipe. The idea of how your neck looked terrified you, knowing it wasn’t going to be a pretty picture. You open your eyes anyway and assess the damage. 

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion at what you see. The bruise has grown but the bite mark was visibly gone. You lean closer to the mirror to get a better look and swear you could be going crazy. 

There wasn’t even a scab. He never told you how or if a bite from a vampire could heal so quickly. It scared you either way and you wanted answers. You knew that wasn’t going to happen any time soon with Elvis’ lack of control. But you honestly didn’t care. You needed to know. 

You take your time in the shower and let the hot water run down your body. You had to figure out a time to see Elvis and see how he is. You’re sure he felt bad about what he did but there was a lot to talk about like the next steps to get out of your apartment and somewhere away from Daniel.

Everything that’s been going on with Elvis, it felt like part of you was stalling from fully moving out from Daniel’s. For a time, you thought you’d stay with Elvis and have him help you figure things out but now, a lot has changed. You found out the truth about him and you weren’t sure if he could handle you around him all the time. 

But every part of you didn’t want to give up on him. There was no way you could leave him so broken and lonely. He tried so hard to be good. And it was all because of you. He found a reason to try and not be so ravenous. In a way, he made you see more clearly how awful Daniel treated you and how you do deserve better. You borrow some clothes from Anna but you know you need to go to your apartment and pack your stuff up. You also ask her for a scarf, not wanting her to stare at the huge bruise that's sitting there.

You join Anna in the living room and she starts fixing you lunch. She makes you a sandwich and you eat it quickly, not realizing how starving you were. 

You small talk about things and she convinces you to go to a bar with her. She thought it would be a good idea to get your mind off things and honestly, she wasn’t wrong. A distraction was exactly what you needed. 

Her phone suddenly rings and she walks over to answer it. 

“Hello?” She says cheerfully. Her eyebrows suddenly furrow and she shakes her head. 

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

She looks at you confused. 

“It’s for you,” she whispers, taking the receiver off her ear and offering it to you. 

You sit there in shock, not understanding what is going on as you haven’t given anyone Anna’s number to call you on. You take the phone from her and raise it to your ear.

“Hello?” You say unsure. 

“Mr. Presley needs to see you,” the familiar voice grumbles. 

“How did you get this number?” You snap.

“He will not be kept waiting, I suggest you hurry.” The click of the phone ends the call and you look up at Anna perplexed.

“I uh, can you take me to work?” You ask.

“What? Are you insane? No! You really want to go back there and see him?” She accuses.

“Please, I need to go. I’ll be fine I swear,” you assure her.

She huffs in protest, rubbing her temple and shaking her head at you, “let me get my shoes on,” she says frustrated.

You both get in the car and she drops you off in the back of the hotel. Something about it seemed so eerie. You couldn’t quite pinpoint it but deep down, you knew you should not be here. You know you should trust your instincts and stay in the car, but you open the car door anyway and hug Anna.

“Thank you. I’ll be okay and I’ll call you if I need you,” you say, squeezing her hand gently. She nods her head at you and gives you a quick smile.

You make your way through the locker room and up to the elevator. The amount of times this elevator has made you anxious is becoming too much of a regular occurrence.

You get to the penthouse floor and the elevator doors open. You’re scowled at by the same men in the hallway and quickly rush to the suite’s doors. The man standing in front of the door steps aside and opens the door for you. You cautiously step inside and see Elvis at the piano, his back turned away from you. A flashback from your nightmare earlier flashes in your mind and you squeeze your eyes shut to try and get that out of your memory. You continue to stand by the door as you hear it get shut behind you. He’s wearing a midnight blue shirt and black pants with his hair tussled out of place.

His fingers lightly press the keys, not making any particular music but aimlessly touching the key to distract himself from something. You don’t want to say anything, he called for you, not the other way around. You thought for a second he couldn’t stand the sight of you after what happened early this morning. 

He turns his head slightly, his back still facing you, “come here,” he says shortly, his voice raspy.

You can feel your heartbeat grow louder and louder with each footstep you make closer to him. Your instincts told you to run away, there was danger here, but the other side of you knew there wasn’t. You had this unwavering trust in him, one you couldn’t quite explain. You knew there was good within him. He needed someone to help him see that. And you really think you might be able to do it.

You reach the side of him and stop there, waiting for him to say anything else. He’s wearing his sunglasses and is puffing on a cigar. You pinch yourself from staring at him for too long. He was always looking so tempting and your brain always threw the danger out the window when it came to being so close to him. He pulled you in every time even without trying. You notice how abnormally pale he looks today, sickly almost. It was pretty dark in the room so you weren’t sure if your eyes were seeing things. 

“Thank you for coming… how do you feel?” He asks gently, still not looking at you.

“Fine.” You say shortly.

“Don’t lie to me.” He grumbles.

“I’m not, you don’t need to question me like that,” you snap.

He finally snaps his head to you, looking at you with hunger. Your heart leaps out of your chest as he looks at you, not making a move.

“I will do whatever I want.”

“What did you call me in here for?! I don’t think it was to berate me with stupid questions,” you scathe.

He stands up quickly and and points a finger at you.

“When are you going to learn to not speak to me like that?! I will not tolerate it,” he reprimands.

You stay silent, staring at him with a scowling stare.

“What. Did. You. Need.” You say again, “And how did you get Anna’s number?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m not that inconsiderate,” he growls.

“I’m fine, just a bit sore.” You quip.

He hums to himself lightly and circles you slowly, making you wary.

“I called you up here to let you know I won’t need your services for a while,” he explains.

You’re confused and shocked, this felt like he was firing you in a way?

“What? I don’t understand. I-I-I work solely for you. I have no other way of income,” you tell him not understanding what is happening.

“I’ll pay you still don’t worry,” he says shortly.

And then it hits you, his Vegas engagement is going to end soon. He won’t be back til the summer. You didn’t want to wait that long to not see him. You figured you were more to him than just some hook-up.

“Well, how long do you not want me to come by? You leave in a few weeks…” you trail off, not wanting the answer.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly.

You look at him annoyed, shocked he’s treating you like this.

“What do you mean?! Elvis, why does this feel like you’re just pushing me away?” You spat.

“Because I can’t stand to be around you! I can’t do it anymore y/n! Every time I am, I risk hurting you and losing control. Just like I did this morning. I’m not good for you,” he scowls.

Your heart races out of your chest and you look at him in disbelief. You feel the tears well in your eyes and wish you could wake up from such a bad dream.

“Elvis- you, you can’t do this. Not after everything you’ve said and done to me. I wanted to help you become better because I see it in you. But now I don’t know what to believe in anymore,” you snap at him.

“Don’t waste your time. It’s not worth it,” he says walking away from you and pacing the room in frustration. 

“You haven’t let me even help you! Why do you always do this! You always block me out and wallow in self-pity. No wonder you’ve been so miserable all these years!” You yell at him.

You can see him fuming, looking at you like he could attack you at any moment.

“You better watch it,” he says through his teeth.

“So that’s it. You want me gone,” you say bluntly.

“Yes. I can’t hurt you again. I’ll never touch you again,” he says weakly, regret coming out of those words.

It feels like a punch in the gut. His words cut you like a knife and you felt like all of this was for nothing. The way he can just toss you aside like you are nothing. Your entire life felt like it was in shambles now with nothing going right. The men in your life have ruined it beyond comprehension and there was no clear exit route.

There suddenly comes a harsh knock on the door and makes you jump. Elvis quickly goes to answer it and opens the door. 

“What is it Jerry,” he spat.

He looks down as he speaks to Elvis, “Sir your um… meal is waiting for you,” he says quietly but you can hear him loud and clear. 

You stare craters into the back of Elvis’ head, fuming with anger.

“Your what.” You yell, feeling your cheeks redden.

In comes walking in a long-legged blonde, hair piled high and enough makeup on to cover you twice over. You realize this is the same girl from the party that was sitting on his lap. That’s why she looked so familiar. She looks at you and scoffs, putting her attention on Elvis and reaching up to kiss him. She makes a spectacle of it, making sure to press her body into his as much as she can to make you jealous and moan into his mouth.

You know he can hear your heart leaping out of your chest and you hope he can smell the rage that is boiling off of you. He looks at you for a brief moment, seeing the hurt on your face.

“Wait for me in the bedroom honey, “ he whispers in her ear.

She giggles and nods up at him, going to the bedroom before staring you down like you’re a piece of trash. You hear the click of the door behind you close and you rush up to Elvis, not giving a damn whether he can’t control himself around you.

“Are you fucking kidding me?! You couldn’t have waited an extra minute so I could leave?!” You yell, pounding your hands on his chest in anger. He doesn't move an inch as you try to push him and feel stupid for even trying to.

"I don't understand why you're so upset..." he scoffs.

"Are you kidding me?! Because I know what you're going to do to her in there! Did you forget I've walked in on you before! You're probably going fuck her and wish it was me!" you say spitefully. "But the only difference is you can compel her to forget it all so that makes her your dream girl doesn't it?" you rasped.

He looks down at you with regret on his face and you can tell he doesn’t like to see you like this. He doesn’t answer you, just keeps breathing shallowly. He looks down at you hungrily, smirking as he looks you once over.

"Hmm... maybe I will," he snarls.

“Why?! Why did you tell me that you wanted to change and then go around doing this! Falling back on your old ways because that’s what’s easy,” you snarl in his face. “I thought you had blood vials, I thought you’d feed from those,” you ask.

“They’re not enough,” he rasped.

“What- I’m not understanding I thought-.”

“You make me starved! Having tasted your blood makes everything else not enough! Nothing is fulfilling like yours! That’s why I need to feed from something… alive!” He yells, sending chills through you. 

You couldn’t hide how this scared you. It took his possessiveness to a whole different level. You didn’t need to know much about vampires to know that this was not normal. You thought all blood was the same to him. But it seems he is ruined now and any blood won’t do. 

You stand there trembling, unsure what to say. 

“What does that mean-,” you ask and watch as he starts to walk away from you. 

“I don't have time for this,” he bellows. 

“Don’t walk away from me! I deserve answers!” You snap. “What happened to my neck?! What do you call this?” You ask as you pull the scarf off your neck and show him. 

“What do you-,”

He doesn’t look right away until you step closer to him and he does a double take, furrowing his eyebrows together. His eyes grow large, shocked at what he is seeing.

You watch as he fights the urge to touch you, clenching his hands into fists on the side of him. 

“I… I have no idea. I’d call it luck that I didn’t bite any deeper," he says menacingly, "I need you to leave now so you don’t also become my next meal,” he growls, heading for the door of his bedroom. He gives you one last look before entering, a look of astonishment and hurt. 

You too make it quickly out of the suite doors and rush to the elevator. You feel sick to your stomach and wish you could actually talk to him and get the answers you need. You’ve never felt so low in your life. It was bad enough you saw Daniel be unfaithful to you but you never thought Elvis would do something like this to you. You truly believed it when he said how much he needed you in his life. That you weren’t just anyone to him. 

You decide to not call Anna and just take a cab instead back to your apartment, you needed to pack your stuff up eventually and tonight seemed like the perfect night to do so. You feel like you lost all sense of direction in your life. Nothing made sense with or without Elvis in your life and you wanted to erase it all. In a way, you wish you could be compelled and forget all the memories you two had. But for whatever reason, you couldn’t and now you have to figure out a way to move on.

You get to the apartment and thankfully, Daniel isn’t home. The place looks disheveled but you don’t care, you just had to focus on your stuff so you don’t have to come back here.

You lock the bedroom door and get the suitcases down from the closet and start piling everything in, you didn’t care how much of a mess it was. You’re moving too fast and you stop to take a breath, feeling the tears fall from your eyes.

You realize you have nothing now. You’re completely on your own and have to start from scratch. It all scared you and made you regret some of the decisions you’ve made. You lay on the bed and let all the events that happened sink in. It’s time for a change and you were the one to make it. Maybe you should look for other jobs in the area. You had plenty of experience and you were sure that another hotel would hire you. The room feels like it’s spinning and you close your eyes, praying that this was all a bad dream.

*

You slowly wake up groggy, rubbing your eyes and trying to get your bearings. The sun was starting to come up and was lighting the room a bit. You look at the clock and it is four-thirty already. You decided to put your two weeks in today and start looking for another job, it was probably for the best. Getting as far away as possible from Elvis might be the best thing for you both.

You sit up in bed and feel a set of eyes on you coming from the side of the room. Your heart pounds away, not wanting to look because you know what you'll find You quickly look over anyway seeing Elvis standing there motionless.

“What are you doing here?” You say coldly.

“I told you, I can’t stay away from you,” he says weakly.

*

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