#world’s heaviest hinged door

[mudwerks]

(via The Door of Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory In California, USA. : interestingasfuck)

More info:

This photo from 1979 shows a Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory employee opening the world’s heaviest hinged door, which was eight feet thick, nearly twelve feet wide, and weighed 97,000 pounds. A special bearing in the hinge allowed a single person to open or close the concrete-filled door, which was used to shield the Rotating Target Neutron Source-II (RTNS-II) -- the world’s most intense source of continuous fusion neutrons.

[mutant-what-not]

This 1979 photo shows an employee at Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory opening the world's heaviest hinged door, which was eight feet thick

nearly twelve feet wide, and weighed 97,000 pounds A special bearing in the hinge allowed a single person to open or close the door. The door protected

the Rotating Target Neutron Source Il (RTNS-l), the world's most intense source of continuous fusion neutrons.

Source:

The Vault of the Atomic Space Age

[driftingqueer]

entropy by andrea rinard is mafuyu coded and shows the intensity of mafuyu's identity suppression and her mother's overbearing presence

"I need to make myself smaller. I need to not take up so much room."

mafuyu's self suppressing and drowning deeper down the lake, is shrinking in presence, she couldn't let it take much room inside her when the room, her intrinsic feelings were crumbling and crafted into ones that she could let on surface.

"I suck the oxygen out of the house, this family. I'm busy shrinking myself when she comes into the only room in the house with empty hinges."

mafuyu felt like her self expression was a burden and bother and something that made others worrisome, she apologizes to her mother anytime she puts forward a piece of her mind. the 'she', the mother who barges in, in a room with empty hinges,it's mafuyu's mother's invasion of privacy and obsessive control over her without a regard to provide mafuyu true and free choice

"Mom has those eyes, and I know she's about to say again (and again, and again) "Did you take your meds?"

Yes. It's always yes. I swallow the pills every morning, round like a buoy. I do what I'm supposed to do even though nothing keeps me afloat."

the question about medication, while radiates as concerned and caring facade, something mafuyu's mother also implements for more effective manipulation, she too brings up the question about (studying) medicine, the answer is always in accordance to obedience, mafuyu does everything she could to fit into the illusion of her mother's image of the daughter she thinks she has, while mafuyu's identity sinks deeper and deeper down the lake

"Those eyes walk away, but they've rent my skin, and I seep, the blood rising. I try to unfurl my wings to fly away because the window still works, but my wings are sticky, and I can't rise. A single feather falls. More will follow unless I'm very still, so I fold in on myself and try not to look up."

even when the mother is not physical present and her surveillance is not actually there, the mother's huge presence lingers over mafuyu from the skin that looks like hers to the same blood that runs in both of their veins, she can't extend her wings when they're tied by the marionette strings, her wings are sticky, just like the mother's huge presence sticky into her way of being, the falling feathers, is how mafuyu's self falls deeper down the abyss, there's nothing visible, it's an empty world down below, with each feather falling her wings are dying and mafuyu's descending closer and closer to never being able to hope to fly, she'd disappear..

"I need to make myself smaller. I need to not take up so much room. There's not enough space, enough air for me in this house, in this family. Mom walks through the doorway to the open portal to where I live, the only room without a door.

Her eyes swallow me, and she digests me at a glance; I'm getting better at being small.

"Did you take your meds?" she asks. I nod because I need to take away the sadness, a darkness over the hope and the love. If I'm smaller. I won't cast a shadow.

Besides, it's always yes. I swallow the pills every morning, but I'm still the heaviest thing in the house, in the world. I will sink us all, and Mom's eyes say she knows that, but she will always reach out her hand and let me drown her."

mafuyu's self is getting smaller, drowning deeper down the lake, twisting the key harder to keep the door locked, she cannot let her true feelings burden and bother and worry her parents, the house is stifling it cannot contain both mafuyu, the true self and the image of what her mother sees her to be, the true self needs to die. when her mother intrudes her privacy her personal space into her room, the solitary place which connects mafuyu to niigo, her place where she can say she lives, that place too is constantly invaded by her mother's surveillance. the swallowing and digestion in one glance is like as the true self gets smaller and as mafuyu displays a convincing illusion of her mother's desired image the easier living in the surveillance and heightened presence of mother will be.

the meds question comes again just like the mother's demands for mafuyu to be the daughter that the mother believes her to be. If the true self gets smaller it'll surely not cast a shadow, that is leave a single trace to be caught as something that diverges the mother's desired image

the answer as always is yes and with every yes, with the swallowing of everything said and asked from her, her heart is heavy with all the whirlwinds of confusing feelings, her wings can't lift her up and now the weight of expectations and darkness over her reduces the chances of ever flying even more, she'll just let her many huge suppressed feelings sink her heart deep down just like the true self.

"Mom's eyes walk away, and I look at my window. I will be able to fly away, far, far, far, and Mom's eyes won't see me. I imagine I have wings, but I'm not a bird. I'm an anchor. My only view is the bottom, and I will sink down, down, down.

I need to make myself smaller. I need to not take up so much room. I am a vacuum that takes every breath meant for others. Mom pauses where my door used to be."

the eyes walking away and shifting focus to the window, for mafuyu that window is her device screen which is a portal between her and niigo, here she can feel a sense of what it'd like to be if she could fly away breaking free from the marionette strings tying her down.

the view beneath the surface is dark and nothingness, the true feelings that are a burden only stay underneath the surface deep down where they wouldn't be expressed and bother others. like a vaccum that sucks every breath meant for others, mafuyu's true self is something that is better suppressed, everyone around is happier when she isn't who she truly is.

"They all stop when they pass, but Mom is the one whose eyes hurt. She asks me in the only language we now speak, "Did you take your meds?"

Yes. It's always yes. The pills are round like a seashell, but I can't hear my own voice no matter what I press my ear to."

the only language they speak is when her mother demands or ask her for something and she answers a yes. their connection is completely faulty. the loss of hearing her own voice, mafuyu's self is soo deep down the lake that sounds don't reach herself, in yoko ogawa's words, "when you lost your voice, you lost the ability to make sense of yourself", after losing herself and then the power of making sense with a self that isn't herself, she is lost, the tides of suppression have devoured her whole.

"Mom walks away, and I'm tired. So, so tired. I think of sun. The beach. A single gull that circles the sky. I want to find that child who collected shells, holding them out to her mother who put them in a bucket like treasure. It's too far away to see clearly, but I keep looking out the window."

mafuyu too had a special memory of her mother taking care of her when she fell ill, it's too far away, she has a long way and their relationship is only crumbling, yet mafuyu can feel that similar sense of warmth through the window, the screen that connects her to niigo

[vadania-alcide]

Experience Smooth and Secure Lid Operation with Heavy Duty Support Hinges

 Introduction

In our daily lives, we often overlook the small components that contribute significantly to our comfort and convenience. One such component is the hinge. Reliable and durable hinges are crucial in ensuring the smooth operation of various household items, from kitchen cabinets to wardrobe lids. Yet, many people face common issues with traditional hinges, such as slamming lids, inadequate support, and frequent wear and tear. These problems not only cause inconvenience but can also lead to safety hazards and damage to your furniture.

Imagine a world where your cabinet doors and storage box lids open smoothly and stay securely in place until you decide to close them. This is where Heavy Duty Support Hinges come into play. Designed to address and eliminate the frustrations associated with conventional hinges, these innovative support hinges offer a seamless and secure solution for your home and DIY projects. With their robust construction and advanced features, Heavy Duty Support Hinges promise to revolutionize the way you interact with your everyday furniture, providing a perfect blend of functionality and peace of mind. Discover how these hinges can transform your home experience by ensuring that your lids operate smoothly and securely, every time.

 Features and Benefits

When it comes to ensuring the smooth and secure operation of lids in your home, the features and benefits of Heavy Duty Support Hinges stand out remarkably. These hinges are meticulously designed with high-quality zinc alloy, known for its extreme corrosion resistance and durability. This robust construction ensures that the hinges not only withstand daily wear and tear but also remain functional and aesthetically pleasing over time. The durability of the zinc alloy material means you can rely on these hinges for long-term performance without worrying about rust or degradation.

One of the standout features of these heavy duty hinges is their impressive load capacity. Each hinge can support up to 40kg, making them ideal for heavy lids found in kitchen cabinets, wardrobe tops, wooden boxes, and other furniture. This high load capacity ensures that even the heaviest lids are securely held in place, preventing sudden slams and potential injuries.

Another significant advantage is the adjustable opening angles. These hinges can be set to open at 75°, 90°, and 110°, providing flexibility to fit a variety of applications and user preferences. Whether you need a lid to open fully or just partially, these hinges can be easily adjusted to meet your specific needs.

Installation is a breeze with Heavy Duty Support Hinges. They can be mounted on either the left or right side, as well as on the top or side of a lid. The package includes all necessary screws and a hexagonal spanner, simplifying the installation process. Additionally, the soft-closing tension of the hinges can be adjusted using the provided Allen spanner, allowing you to fine-tune the mechanism to accommodate lids of different weights. This adjustability ensures that the lids close softly and securely, enhancing both safety and user experience.

In summary, the Heavy Duty Support Hinges offer a perfect combination of strength, durability, and versatility. They are designed to enhance the functionality and safety of your home furnishings, providing a reliable solution for smooth and secure lid operation.

 Ease of Installation

Installing Heavy Duty Support Hinges is a breeze, offering unmatched versatility and convenience. Whether you’re a seasoned DIY enthusiast or a novice homeowner, you’ll appreciate the simplicity of the installation process. These hinges can be mounted on the left or right side, as well as for side or top mounting, ensuring compatibility with a wide range of applications. With just a few simple steps, you can have your hinges securely in place, ready to support heavy lids with ease.

Using the included Allen spanner, adjusting the soft-closing tension to accommodate lids of different weights is straightforward. Simply tighten the mechanism into the Allen spanner hole located in the middle of the arm, ensuring proper pressure and preventing abrupt lid closures. With Heavy Duty Support Hinges, you’ll spend less time fussing over installation and more time enjoying the smooth and secure operation of your cabinets, boxes, and other furniture pieces.

Practical Applications

Heavy Duty Support Hinges offer a myriad of practical applications, making them indispensable components for various household and DIY projects.

**Home Use**: In the realm of home furnishing, these hinges serve as the backbone of functionality and safety. Kitchen cabinets, often laden with heavy cookware and utensils, require hinges that can withstand frequent opening and closing without succumbing to wear and tear. Heavy Duty Support Hinges excel in this regard, providing sturdy support and ensuring smooth operation for cabinet doors. Additionally, wardrobe lids, which often bear the weight of clothing and accessories, benefit from the reliable performance of these hinges, keeping your belongings secure and accessible.

**DIY Projects**: Beyond traditional home applications, Heavy Duty Support Hinges unleash a world of creative possibilities for DIY enthusiasts. Whether you’re building custom storage solutions, crafting wooden boxes, or designing unique furniture pieces, these hinges elevate the functionality and aesthetic appeal of your creations. Their high load capacity and adjustable angles offer versatility, allowing you to tailor their use to suit your specific project requirements. With Heavy Duty Support Hinges, you can embark on DIY endeavors with confidence, knowing that your finished products will boast seamless operation and enduring quality.

**Safety and Convenience**: Above all, the practical applications of Heavy Duty Support Hinges extend to enhancing safety and convenience in your daily life. By providing smooth and secure lid operation, these hinges minimize the risk of accidents, such as lids unexpectedly slamming shut. Whether you’re cooking in the kitchen, organizing your wardrobe, or accessing items stored in wooden boxes, you can rely on these hinges to deliver a hassle-free experience, ensuring that your interactions with household items are both safe and convenient.

 Conclusion

In conclusion, Heavy Duty Support Hinges offer a transformative solution for enhancing the functionality, safety, and convenience of your home furnishings and DIY projects. By addressing common issues associated with traditional hinges, such as slamming lids and inadequate support, these hinges revolutionize the way you interact with everyday items. With their sturdy construction, adjustable angles, and high load capacity, Heavy Duty Support Hinges provide a reliable foundation for your cabinets, wardrobe lids, and custom creations. Invest in these hinges for your next project and experience the seamless operation and enduring quality they bring to your home. Upgrade your hinges, upgrade your experience.

Product link：2Pcs Heavy Duty Support Hinges, 88lb/40kg – Vadania | Home Upgrader

[astaroth1357]

Demonic Pregnancy (But It Makes the MC… Problematic)

Okay, so hear me out. I know the prevailing idea is that a human getting pregnant with a supernatural kid would sap their strength and what not… But what if the opposite happened? So basically, getting pregnant by the brothers would make the MC physically stronger, but more susceptible to their sin… Oh this is going to be fun. 😈

Trigger Warning: Pregnancy

Lucifer

First noticed something was up when the MC came into his office to bring him coffee and casually ripped the door of its hinges… with one hand… by the handle…

He didn’t even have time to be mad about it because he was already frantically texting Diavolo and Barbs that there was something very wrong with the human. They’re not supposed to do that.

Meanwhile MC is in the background marveling at the newly freed door in their hand… They hadn’t even thought about it! Is this what having power is like?? Are they actually dangerous now??? Better not let it go to their head…

*it is totally going to go to their head*

Lucifer learns two things pretty quickly, (1) The human is pregnant with his child and (2) They’ve just been given access to a whole lot of power and they’re mind is set on one thing: Domination.

The next nine months for him are spent practically having to leash the MC or else they’ll go out to pick fights with anything that moves to prove their “superiority”… His brothers and even Diavolo included!

It wouldn’t be so bad if their body wasn’t still very human and very breakable… and also they’re PREGNANT, so please STOP!!

This baby, honestly, could not come fast enough… Good thing demons don’t develop grey hairs… Poor guy…

Mammon

Noticed something was up when they were chatting out at RAD and they dodged a stray ball from Beel. 

They dodged a ball. From Beel. And he throws at, like, Mach 7 speed… And it didn’t even look hard!

… But being the dumbass that he is, he just thought they had gotten a lot better at their magic. It was Lucifer who saw something wasn’t right when the MC was actually holding their own against Mammon and Beel in a race.

Was thrilled by the news at first but then quickly learned that he must have infected them with Greed somehow…

They wouldn’t stop begging for new stuff! Sometimes for him or the baby, but mostly just whatever struck their fancy the second that they saw it.

He’d try to tell them no but then they’d look all sad or whine about hard it was to be pregnant and how they couldn’t do things like tie their shoes or stand for long periods of time or…

(Never mind the fact that they could bench-press Beel if they wanted to, no no, that didn’t matter.)

His nine months were pretty much spent pandering to Lucifer and Levi for more loans to keep his MC happy… and praying they’d snap out of it after the baby finally came because he CANNOT keep paying for their crap…! 😥

Leviathan

MC and Levi playing games in his room and one of their online matches got particularly heated… The MC may or may not be prone to gamer rage, but that night they got so frustrated that they snapped his controller in half like a toothpick…

They were too busy trying to frantically apologize to take notice of their sheer strength, but HE did. And he was thrilled!!

Like, sure, it sucks that he’d have to buy a new controller but that was So. Cool. Their strength was like something out of a shonen!! He was honestly fanboying too hard to question, “Wait a minute, how did they even get that strong??” The MC later went to Lucifer themselves to get it all got sorted out (really Levi was no help whatsoever) and man was he shocked by the news…

Though he was even more shocked by the sudden spike of jealousy that they seemed to exhibit afterward… Like, extreme “You better not leave my sight” level jealousy… 😣

One the one hand, he’s kind of into it because being alone with the MC is all he’s ever wanted!… but on the other hand, dude really wants some space… 

He tolerates the next nine months for three reasons: (1) He does honestly love the MC, (2) Watching them break (other people’s) stuff and fight demons with their bare hands will never stop being cool, and (3) He’s somewhat afraid of what they’d do if he tried to leave so…  😥

Let’s hope the effects are temporary…

Satan

Found out something was wrong when he and the MC went to the park. He saw an old acquaintance of his and left to go say hi but came back to find that the MC had uprooted an entire park bench to squash a nosy lesser demon…

Nothing, absolutely NOTHING, he’d ever read about humans told him that they were capable of that!

Figuring this has some kind of magic origin, he doesn’t bring them to Lucifer but to their resident human sorcerer instead, Solomon…

…and THAT bright idea ended up getting the MC magic tag-along throughout their pregnancy since Solomon wanted to make "a few” observations, the lying bastard… 🙄

Even more unfortunate though, is that the introduction of Wrath into their system also gave the MC an utterly monstrous temper which didn’t help their newfound strength at all…

Poor Satan gets saddled with caring for what amounts to a hair-triggered glass cannon… (though really it’s less protecting them from the world and the world from them 😣).

Needless to say, he’s lost quite a few bookcases over the next several months…

Asmodeus

It was another night with Asmo, so another night out clubbing. He and MC were together for most of the time, but they had left him briefly to get another round of drinks… and somehow got dragging into a straight up brawl in the process.

And they WON…

Asmo brought them right to Lucifer after that. Like, he loves you sweetie, but there were like ten lesser demons there and no way a little human like yourself could pull that off without something being up.

Oh he was overjoyed by the news, but the real test was yet to come… Who would give out first? The Avatar of Lust or a very, very, astronomically horny MC…?

In truth, no one in the House ever wants to talk about what happened for those next nine months ever again… The things they saw… The things they heard… Filthy, filthy things….. 😖

And more broken beds than anyone could care to count…

Let’s just say that they’re all happy the MC was already pregnant, otherwise they’d be dealing with a LOT more demon babies running around… What a hellscape that would be…

Beelzebub

The MC was helping him move some of his weights between rooms. They were only supposed to carry the lighter ones (which really weren’t that light) but they were carrying them so easily that the two got suspicious… They tried to lift one of his heaviest barbells and, to their amazement, they picked it up even easier than he could!

They both just kind of stared at each other for a few seconds before calmly agreeing to go find Lucifer. This probably wasn’t normal…

What pregnancy even was had to be explained to Beel since he doesn’t really understand humans and he only needed one thing confirmed…

So, they’re eating for two now?

And boy did they act like it! The MC’s appetite practically tripled as the months went on and he did his best to keep up for them. He even missed a meal or two for the first time in his life because he was so preoccupied making sure his MC had enough to eat… 😣

Their tastes also got weirder as time went on… At one point they asked for Solomon’s cooking which nearly had him “Nope-ing” out of the relationship right there. He stuck through it to make them happy, but he couldn’t watch them eat it… Even he has his limits, MC… 😟🤢

Wants the baby to come out already if for no other reason than he can finally go back to being the biggest eater of the House again. Having to work around two is a nightmare for everyone…

Belphegor

Would you believe he straight up didn’t know for weeks?

Like, they told him they were pregnant a while ago but all the pregnancy seemed to do was make them really sleepy…

Combine their naps with how often he’s dead to the world and it just never got brought up. 🤷‍♀️

That was until the day it was his turn to vacuum the common room and the MC was resting on the couch…

“MC, can you move? I need to get under there.”

“Hm? Oh, sure. Let me help.”

They then proceeded to get up and lift the couch with one hand like they were Beel or something!

He was, perhaps, slightly miffed that they didn’t think it was necessary to mention they had gotten a butt ton stronger for like a month, but you know…

Belphie has probably the easiest time managing his MC anyway because ALL they want to do is sleep. At most he just has to take on the responsibility to remind them to eat and move around a little.

Lucky bastard always gets off easy… 😖

[lethargicsunlight]

Dabi X SpookyQuirk!Reader "Post-Mortem" (Part 14)

For those of you still along for the ride, thank you for Reading!

If you're interested, I now have a tag-list started for this series! You can comment below, on the taglist here: LINK, or DM me if you would like to be added!

Read the other parts of this series here: LINK

WARNINGS: SFW. Ghosts/Spirits, spooky, slow burn

He's stumbling closer, loose at the seams, spilling over.

It had all hinged on the slight possibility, the smallest chance, that you might actually come back.

And you did.

But now as he moves, he feels stranded in a sea. He swears there's water up to his knees and he's wading through it--you must be a mirage, an island he can't reach. He'd done everything with hope in his lungs, but somehow he still doubted you were real.

Except--

Why were you looking at him like that?

"Dabi.."

There's a warning tone to your voice and it tightens his chest. Did you not want to be here?

"Dabi I need you to run."

Did you not want to see hi--wait, run?

He turns back once he realizes your eyes had actually been locked behind him. He sees nothing.

"RUN!"

The breaking pitch of your voice jolts his heart and pulses adrenaline through his veins. His exhaustion is left in the wake of his pounding feet as he weaves through the tombstones to your side, where he grabs ungracefully at your waist and pushes you both forward.

He can't see what he's running from, but there wasn't a lie in the fear that captured in your eyes.

"Twice!" He yells out, not even slowing down. A masked face then pops up from behind a row of graves, sleepy but bright-eyed once he realized the occasion.

Well, until he realized Dabi had meant for him to run too.

And you? Well, you felt heavy. Working your physical form after an almost five hour out-of-body experience was.. An experience.

It felt like your legs were made of the heaviest jell-o in existence.

"Go, go, I'll catch up--" You go to plead with Dabi as you fall behind, but the glare you receive is world stopping. He slows to your pace and settles in at your side, using the broad of his arm to corral you forward.

"My ass." He growls.

"GuYs, WhAt ArE we RuNninG From?!" Twice calls out, making ground as you and Dabi (And Haga) make it to the road outside the cemetery. You don't answer him, too occupied by the need to breathe--returning much needed oxygen into your post-mortem body.

----

"I think it's gone.."

You hear him as he peeks at you from around the corner, bangs in his eyes. Haga had been kind enough to volunteer as look out while the three of you rested in an alley, thankful the car that was unceremoniously parked there had been unlocked.

Everyone was still taking their deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth, but the cold still felt like daggers in your sternum.

Dabi sat in the driver's seat, but after having tried to start the engine manually and realizing the wiring (and probably the engine) had been removed from the chassis, he now had his boots on the dash and his head leaning back and over his seat's head-cushion; stretching his throat like it could bring in more air.

You give Haga and appreciative look, "Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

"Guys, I think we're safe.." You announce, but you don't move for the car door. The thought of walking absolutely stunk.

"What was it?" Dabi asks, voice even more hoarse than standard.

Twice's head and shoulders appear from the backseat, eyes dead on you. It mounts a great deal of pressure--how do you explain this?

"It, um.." You look to Haga for some help, but he just looks off somewhere else. You remember, then, that talking about it in their world could make it appear. Thank goodness he's a smart kid. "It's not a ghost. It's something else. Something they're afraid of, but we aren't sure what it is or what it's originally called. They're really superstitious about them. Like monsters superstitious."

"Ghosts are superstitious?" Dabi asks with a hint of laughter in his voice. The sound causes a squeeze to your stomach.

"Can it hurt us?" "So it can't hurt us?"

You give Twice an apologetic look. "Honestly, I don't know if it can or not. But I didn't want to take that chance. It looks.. pretty scary."

"Either way, I'm glad you're--"

Before Twice can finish what he wants to say, his cell phone rings. His shoulders visually slump as he reaches for it, looking at the I.D.. "It's Shigaraki, I'll tell him you're back." He announces, pulling himself back into his seat and reaching for the car door. "Thank goodness for the interruption!" "What poor timing."

As the door closes with Twice's exit, the air in the car suddenly grows thick.

"So," you look down, picking at your hands so as to avoid peeking the colors of Dabi's aura. "Sounds like everyone's okay?"

"Yeah."

You clear your throat awkwardly.

"Dabi.. Thank you. For what you did."

"Yeah, don--"

"I mean really, because I--I don't think I would have made it back. No one knew where you guys went and, and I did see the heroes but they didn't know anything either, I walked around for hours and hours and hou--"

He silences you with a palm on your jaw, forcing your face towards his.

"Hey."

Despite having been rambling, you were suddenly choked for words. You stare at him openly, catching the vibrancy of his cerulean, crimson, velvety aura.

He looks like roses on fire.

"Everything's fine." He reassures you, and maybe him too, considering your choice of words hinted that there could have been a much less favorable outcome. Yet, now as the moment presses in, he remembers some of the more.. finite details.

Suddenly a finger is shoved towards your face.

"But you are not allowed to risk your life like that ever again."

Despite the fact he was totally serious, you snicker.

"Wha--I mean it!" He growls, voice thick. "Especially not for me."

"He was going to kill you."

"Yeah, and that's my business. Not yours."

"Seeing you die is my business."

"And how do you think I feel?!"

"I didn't know that was going to happen!"

He exaggerates a sigh, pressing a thumb into his temple and turning away like he's upset.

But you can see his hidden smile in the way the staples along his face rise up to meet his cheek bones. It makes you grin too.

"...I heard what you said." He says quietly, eyes glued to the cracked glass of his car window.

"Hm?"

"To my father. You know, before the... Walking Dead thing that you did."

You process that for a moment. What was it--

Oh.

'Because I love your son.'

Suddenly, everything was hot. Pretty sure your physical body was getting plenty of oxygen right now, as blood rushed through just about all of it. You could feel sweat beading on your forehead.

"O-oh." You verbalize the realization, finally, clearing your throat a second time.

A few moments of silence pass, both of you unsure of what to say. No longer reserved about it, you watched his aura--but it only flickered with the same colors.

It's the missing colors that made you relax. No regret, no disdain, no displeasure.

"I meant it." You choke out.

"I know."

You give him a droll stare. Once he finally catches it--he laughs.

"Wha--I literally died, and you're laughing?"

"Woah, hey, don't joke about that, I was just teasing."

"Oh? I mean, I figured a declaration like that, you could at least give me some kind of a--"

This time when he silences you, it's with a kiss.

And every kiss before paled in comparison.

The glass had been too full for too long, and now the surface finally ruptured over the glass's edge; pouring out the emotions between you as he slides you over the armrest and cup-holders. He folds you against him, bruising close,  and you react in kind with cold hands that slide down the collar of his burnt and torn coat. There's desperation in the quickening breaths and digging fingers that had tingles rolling down your spine, and a growl rolling from his tongue before you find it in your mouth.

And he stops for a moment, palm pressed to the side of your face, where he finally, breathlessly, whispers: "I love you too."

It's not very ceremonious--it's in the front of a broken down car after all.

But you were going to think about that for weeks.

"Hey guys?" It's Twice's voice, somewhere outside the car.

The trance was effectively broken; but as your embarrassed eyes search over the dash, Dabi greedily leans in to nibble at your lip. You sheepishly try to push him away, but he grins and nuzzles at you anyway.

Despite yourself, you giggle feverishly. Embarassed, overwhelmed, giddy.

Dabi finally stops when Twice literally leans into your window. Either the streetlight across the way had managed to disguise your little make-out, or he was pretending not to notice.

"We need to head back, boss wants to talk to you."

You nod, adjusting your clothes and sliding back into your seat. You give Dabi a little warning look, like an inside joke between you, and his lidded eyes are cat-like as he watches you leave.

"I think that was it." "Oh, he said something else!"

You and Dabi (and Haga, you notice, lingering at the corner) give Twice full attention. While his voices spoke essentially in opposites, one of them still had something else to say.

Even before he spoke, there seemed to be a pit in your stomach.

"According to the news, you've been given a new name!"

"Uh oh," Dabi drolls, but he's grinning. "Hope it's a good one.."

You swallow, "What is it?"

"They're calling you the Necromancer."

[andrearrrrr]

Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory, California.

Here is the heaviest swing door in the world, which in wartime had the task of protecting the entrance to the local nuclear weapons development laboratory.

Today, however, he has the task of locking the entrance to the rooms where the STARR is under construction, a nuclear reactor designed to provide electricity.

A special bearing in the hinge allowed one person to open or close the door

[officialleehadan]

Snow Fall Heavy

Hello darlings! Here it is! The last Prompt of this Prompt Month! Wow, this has been so much fun,a nd I’m thrilled to fill so many awesome prompts! Can’t wait to see what you come up with in December!

Today’s story was brought to you by Kateland! Darling, you are a joy and a delight. Thank you for all your support!

Prompt: “If I can reach out my hand to someone and maybe help, then, well, that’s what I’ve decided to do for the rest of my life. Sometimes all people need is a hand.”

+++

The storm took them both by surprise, cold, sideway sleet that went through both cloak and coat with almost no hesitation, and was so cold that it immediately caused a headache as it chilled them both to the bone.

So over all, Jasmin was not having an especially good day.

Nav, of course, was generally furious at all times and was worse when he was cold, in pain, and didn’t have a useful target for his ire. After all, the storm clouds didn’t care a whit about his blasting.

Not that he didn’t try anyway, but the clouds remained impassive.

By the time they found a farmhouse, long abandoned as the residents died or fled from the war that raged through the kingdom, they were both past complaining and well into stony, shivering, silence.

The farmhouse had a small barn, and Jasmin dismounted beside it.

“Give me your Monster,” she said through chattering teeth. “I’ll rub down the horses if you’ll get a fire going inside.”

Nav hesitated, but he was as cold as she was, and still nursing broken ribs and a broken arm. He could ride, but the care of the horses had mostly fallen to Jasmin. His horse, aptly named Monster, was a beast to care for, but Jasmin was slowly winning the bad-tempered stallion over with treats and a careful eye to his itchy spots.

Horses were much easier to tame than Nav, who was as bad-tempered as his horse and substantially more dangerous.

All the same, they were slowly figuring out how to work together.

“Take my cloak,” he said once he had managed to slide out of his saddle, much less gracefully than usual, and with a snarl of pain when he jarred his arm on the way. “It’s wet, but it should help.”

“Are you sure?’ Jasmin was reluctant. He had to be as cold as her, and they were both soaked.

“I’m of Northern stock originally. I don’t mind the cold like you do, Desert Rat.”

He proffered the wet mass of wool and fur with a glare, but some of the tension left his shoulders when she took it and slung it around her shoulders. It was too long, but she doubled it around her shoulders, and had to admit that she was substantially warmer with the additional layer. Nav only looked satisfied with himself, and grabbed his pack off his saddle before heading to the sad little farm house to get them set up for the night. Their bond pulled uncomfortably, but they had been working at it for the last several days, and could get a solid thirty paces apart now, where before even sixwas too much.

By the time Jasmin got the horses settled, she was chilled to the bone despite the extra warmth of Nav’s cloak, and could barely feel her fingers. She patted her beloved mare, named Lily for the lily-shaped mark on her brow, and slung her pack over her shoulder.

With any luck, Nav had a fire going by now, and maybe even a pot of tea.

Honestly, it was only the thought of the tea that got Jasmin to the house at all. The sleet was rapidly turning to thick, heavy snow, and Jasmin profoundly hoped it would taper off overnight. She had the sinking feeling that it wouldn’t.

When she opened the tired door, careful not to yank it off the cracking hinges entirely, it was to a blessed wave of warmth and the sound of a whistling kettle. She ducked inside and closed the door quickly so as not to lose too much of the precious warmth, and staggered towards the fire, almost drunk with exhaustion and cold. For once, Nav didn’t comment on her bedraggled appearance, and even kept his eyes on the fire as she stripped out of her wet clothes and dug hopefully for something, anything, in her pack that wasn’t wet all the way through.

Unfortunately, her bags weren’t especially good, and that meant that every stitch of clothing she had was also soaked.

“Thake one of my shirts,” Nav said, breaking the quiet. “My pack is spelled to stay dry.”

“Maybe you’re not as bad as I thought,” Jasmin told him tiredly. He didn’t answer, but did send her a half-thought about where his shirts were in his pack. “Thanks.”

The shirt was nearly a dress on her, and certainly covered more than one of hers would, so Jasmin decided that she really didn’t care about her modesty. Nav had already seen everything she had on offer, anyway, and it didn’t get much more intimate than being tied together by the mind.

All the same, she was cold-dumb, and didn’t even realize he had made a pile of their blankets beside the fire until she stumbled over, lured by the smell of tea. Nav didn’t comment at her surprise, but he did lift one side of the blanket, and let her huddle under it.

“Don’t fall asleep yet,” he told her when she started to do exactly that. “Here, tea. You’re too cold to sleep.”

“Am not,” Jasmin muttered defensively, but he was probably right. It wasn’t like she knew much about the cold, or how to live in it. Sand, yes, but not snow. He must have been following her thought, because he leaned over and bundled another blanket around her shoulders. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he murmured, surprisingly genial, despite their situation. “We got lucky. This place has a little pump inside, and whoever lived here died, or left in a hurry. There were some blankets in the bedrooms, and the kitchen isn’t stocked well, but I think I saw some dry goods in there. If we get snowed in, we can last a while.”

“I hate the snow,” Jasmin muttered into her tea. “I hate the cold. I hate the north. Give me sandstorms and cactus and rock wyrms any day, but seven hells take the snow.”

Nav laughed, and left her his almost-warm blanket as he vanished through a door that Jasmin hadn’t even noticed. There was the sound of splashing water, and he returned with a worn metal pot of water. He hung it over the fire, and returned to their nest. To Jasmin’s surprise, he edged over until she was pressed against his side, and tossed the heaviest of the blankets over them both.

“You know, I’ve never asked why you left your desert,” he said after a while of quiet, as they waited for the pot to boil so they could make something to eat. “You’ve more than enough power to make a life for yourself. The great magic schools would have taken you in a heartbeat.”

“They offered,” Jasmin said, mostly asleep and fighting it because she was hungry. Old habits died hard, though, and she was long accustomed to trying to sleep off starvation whenever it gnawed at her ribs. “But they cane more me. Only for me. All that wealth. All that power. There didn’t have be a single person sleeping, starving, dying, on the streets, but the only person they cared about was me, and only because I had a power they wanted.”

“The way of the rich and powerful,” Nav said, but something in his voice made Jasmin suspect that he knew what she was talking about a little too well. “So you rode off to be a rebel instead?”

“It was less about the rebellion and more about what they’re trying to do.”

“Oh?”

They had never actually talked like this before, and Jasmin took a moment to chose her words carefully.

“If I can reach out my hand to someone and maybe help,” she said slowly, the words heavy on her tongue as Nav looked down at her, dark eyes curious. “Then, well, that’s what I’ve decided to do for the rest of my life. Sometimes all people need is a hand.”

Nav was silent for long enough that their water boiled, and Jasmin leaned over to pour a packet, made up of rice, beans, spices, and dried meat, into the pot. It was better with something fresh to add to the soup, but she wasn’t about to go outside into the snow in the hopes that the previous owners of this farm left a garden too. For tonight, she was grateful enough to eat at all.

“Maybe you’re right,” he told her as she stirred the soup and sat back into their nest, finally, almost, feeling human. “You’ve warmed up enough to be out of danger. Go ahead and doze, Desert Rat. I’ll wake you in a bit when the soup is ready.”

+++

Cross Our Blades:

Nav is a warlord, determined to rule the world.

Jasmin is a hero, determined to stop him.

Roof Cave In (Subscriber Only!)

Sand and Robes

East to the Mountains

+++

More Stories!

+++

[writemarvelousthings]

Motivate

PAIRING - Bucky Barnes x Reader 

WORD COUNT- 2.7K

WARNINGS- Swearing, Smut, (do not read if you are under 18) mentions of human trafficking. 

AN - Ya girl is back with another fic inspired by a Little Mix song, at this rate I’m going to be writing fics based on songs from the whole album. This pure sin fic was inspired by Motivate which I highly recommend you listen to HERE! Enjoy everyone! Also a big big thank you to @bucky-plums-barnes  for legitimately keeping me motivated to write this fic. The irony is not lost on me haha! 

GIF not mine 

“Sweet baby Jesus, can he not?” You grumbled under your breath as you came up from what felt like your one hundredth sit up. Wanda let out a snort of amusement as she followed your eye line. James Buchanan Barnes was making it his mission to ruin and torture your life. That you were sure of. Strutting into the gym in an obviously too tight black shirt and low hanging grey shorts he looked like sin personified. And you were ready to throw all your morals out of the window.

“He’s just walking” Wanda reasoned as she held your feet, your muscles burned as you reluctantly did another rep.

“Yeah, well can he not be so distracting when he does” Wanda rolled her eyes, signalling that your push-ups were over.

“Looking good Ladies” Bucky flashed you that one thousand watt smile as he picked up the heaviest dumbbells like it weighed nothing, your mind raced of what it would feel being held in his arms.

“You’re staring again” Wanda pointed out as you slowly stood, stretching your arms above your head as you went. You pointedly ignore her as you crossed the gym, grasping for your water bottle your movements were stopped by the sound of your name followed by Buckys. Turning you saw Steve at the doorway, his eyebrows pinched slightly.

“Debriefing room five minutes, something just came through about Mendoza” Your eyes flicked to Bucky, he looked thunderous. Sergio Mendoza was a known human trafficker and a case Bucky had been trailing ever since he had arrived from Wakanda. This should be fun.

“There’s been a lead, apparently Mendoza is going to be hosting a very grand and expensive gathering, at the Met” Steve pulled up the relevant files, you felt your skin prickle at the thought of this bastard out there flaunting how he got his wealth and position in the world.

“How do you want us to play this?” Bucky’s voice was low, his black and gold arm reflecting the light almost distracting you from the mission ahead of you. Almost.

“We want you two to pose as a new money couple from Europe. Tony’s got all the equipment ready for you to use. We just need evidence that Mendoza is the leader of the trafficking ring and then we can pull him in. He likes to collect buyers as well” Steve’s face was grim as you made a noise of disgust.

“Anyone who attends this fucking shit show deserves to rot in hell” You threw the file down on the table in disgust, Bucky’s eyes flick to you in murderous agreement.

“Both of you suit up, the town car leaves at eighteen hundred sharp”

“Now you remember the basics?” Natasha handed you your earpiece, smoothing a flyaway hair from the perfect curls she had created on your head.

“Act with cool indifference, make small talk. Press for information when appropriate, I know Nat. This ain't my first rodeo” You smirk as Nat rolls her eyes.

“Alright smart ass, now turn. Let me get one last look at you” rolling your eyes you spin as elegantly as you can in the red-soled Louis Vuitton’s. The maroon silk skirt of the dress flared out around your legs. The high slit up your right leg paired with the black bodice of the dress left little to the imagination.

“You look stunning” The deep baritone voice definitely didn't belong to Natasha, turning around you gulp at the sight of Bucky, the fucker was in an all black suit. A red pocket square the only source of colour on his body. His long hair was half pulled back, leaving the ends grazing against the top of his shoulders. Swallowing was suddenly a very difficult bodily function to do.

“You’re not breathing” Natasha smoky voice was in your ear and you let our a rush of air you hadn't realised you were holding.

“You scrub up well Barnes” Nat grinned at Bucky who rolled his eyes pointedly ignoring the redhead’s knowing look between the two of you.

“Let’s go doll” the innocent nickname had your stomach doing backflips, taking his flesh arm that was offered to you, you let him lead you to the sleek black town car.

The smell of rich leather and the deep woodsy scent of Bucky’s cologne made your head spinning, you knee bounces on the spot out of habit as you watched the scenery fly by you. The sound of your voice causes your head to turn and suddenly you found yourself drowning in blue-grey eyes.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just hope we can get this fucker” Bucky nods, his eyes flicking down your body. There was a dark look that passed over his face as his lips up turned into a small smirk.

“You really do look stunning sugar, it’s going to be hard to concentrate” feeling a sudden rush of confidence you lean in slightly. You and Bucky had always played this game, toying and flirting shamelessly. But never acting on it, always skirting around the thick sexual tension that followed the two of you around.

“You look very handsome, I think I’ll have my hands full keeping any bored rich housewife away from you” you purred, batting your eyelashes. You felt a shiver of pride as a low rumble emitted from the man in front of you.

“I’d like to see any of them try and get past you, I’m glad to see I motivate you this much doll. Makes a man’s mind race” You feel the momentum of the car slow slightly, flitting your fingers across his thigh you pull you red painted lips across your teeth in a sly grin.

“You motivate me in a lot of way James, maybe I’ll show you later” pulling away from him you swear you hear a soft wine mixed with a groan as Bucky shakes his head looking at you with predatory amusement.

“Oh doll, you’ve got no idea what you’ve got yourself in for” Throwing open the door, Bucky slides out with enviable grace. You sit back for a moment, chest heaving as your mind races at the possibilities before an extended hand appears before you and you slip on the mask you had trained most of your life to perfect. First, you had a job to do.

The loud crash of the room practically swinging off its hinges barely registers in your mind, all you can focus on are the large warm and cool hands roaming every inch of your body they can find. Every touch and kiss you matched with equal enthusiasm, James Barnes defiantly had you hooked. All he had to do was look at you once you had stepped out of the car and you caved.

“Do you know how difficult you made tonight for me?” The low growl almost made your knees buckle, combined with Bucky pressing his body against your effectively pinning you to the wall you were sure you’d have melted into the floor. The motion brought back something from your subconscious that made your heart pound.  

“Entering the building now” you murmured knowing Steve and Natasha could hear you observation, gripping Bucky’s arm as he leads you up the steps to the Met. The room was grand and slightly overdone for your tastes but you had bigger issues to worry about.

“Any sign of him?” you direct your question to the brunette who shakes his head.

“Not yet, but I’m sure he’ll appear soon enough” nodding you allow Bucky to lead you around the crowd. You were too busy scanning the area as Bucky suddenly pulled you off to the side, his body pressing up against yours as his head dipped down to your neck.

“What the hell are you doing?” You hiss into his ear, your hands gripping the lapels of his jacket ready to fling him off you.

“Target at three o’clock” turning your head you find yourself looking directly into the eyes of the target who looks you up and down and smiles.

“Didn’t realise I had that effect on you James” leaving hot open mouth kisses to his neck you were rewarded with the roll of his hips against your thigh. Bucky’s hands found yours holding them up above your head as he pressed his lips against yours. The slight scratch of his stubble only added to the delicious danger of the whole situation.

“Making that scum rat of a human drool all over you, putting his hands on what's mine”

“What’s yours?” you choked on your own words as Bucky kicked your legs out with his foot, his body impossibly close to you it felt like you were one person. His hot breath fanned over your face, it smelt like whiskey and something that could only be described as Bucky only made you ache for more.

“That’s right darlin, mine. You’re mine” If you had known how hot it was to see Bucky so riled up you would have asked Steve to pair you on more undercover missions sooner.

You let out a fake bark of laughter as you sat at the bar, the target hanging off your every word. It was almost too easy to lure him in, desperate and rich. It almost made you gag thinking about what this man was doing behind closed doors. Before you could think too much about punching the man’s teeth in a large hand on the small of your waist made you refocus.

“Who’s your new friend Darlin?” the nickname made your stomach flip for the second time tonight, leaning back into his touch you smile at him. Watching as Bucky ordered a scotch you leaned up to kiss his jaw. You didn't miss the dark look that passed over his eyes as he smirked down at you.

“This is our lovely host for the evening baby, this is my fiance” you the two men who shook hands smiling politely at each other. It was way too easy.

“Bucky” you didn’t realise how desperate you were for him until you heard the needy pitch in your voice.

“Yeah sugar?”

“Fuck me… please” the dark wicked grin that bloomed across Bucky’s features sent shivers of pleasure down to your spine to your aching core. You didn’t wait for his answer before you lunged for him, you knew he could overpower you in a second but he let your momentum move you from the wall stumbling into the middle of the room. Your legs wrapped around his waist as his hands palmed your ass causing you to moan hot and heavily into his mouth, fingers ripped at fabric in desperate need to feel his skin against yours. To somehow feel closer than humanly possible. Cool air flowed suddenly around you as your world titled as Bucky lay you out on the bed, clad only in your bra and panties the look on Bucky's face as his eyes roamed your body was animalistic.

“So fuckin beautiful” in one fluid moment that you barely had time to register he threw your panties far across the room leaving you open. Your whole body felt like an exposed nerve, the anticipation building in your chest as you gazed up at Bucky. He inched closer and closer to your core, blowing hot air across your skin you jerked upwards. A giggle pearling from your lips as you whined out his name. He hushed you gently as he settled down between your legs.

“Let me see what other pretty noises I can motivate from those lips” the sharp witty comment that sprung to your mind as a comeback died on your tongue as Bucky flicked his across your clit. You moaned and writhed under his ministrations, large hands held your hips keeping you in place as your right hand held his locks in a vice grip. Not that Bucky was planning on leaving his current position, sucking your clit into his mouth he moaned around the sensitive bud. The motion caused you to cry out, arching your back as you felt the pleasure shoot right to the base of your spine.

“Holy shit... Buck... James..” you tried to warn him of what was about to happen but like he has a sixth sense to the female orgasm he only increased his movements. Moaning and licking like a man starved, diving right into the ocean with no regrets. Colour burst behind your eyelids as you felt your soul explode into a million fragments before being pieced back together by the sound of Bucky’s moan as he lapped up all you had to offer him.

“Mmm, now that..might be my favourite sight in the world” Bucky growled as he crawled back up your blushing body, pulling down one of your bra straps to kiss the soft skin of your shoulder.

“How about we see what else you can do sugar?” you laughed, glancing at the clock.

“It’s already two am, Steve will want us at the debriefing early tomorrow”

“Baby, we’ve just begun” You bite your lip as Bucky lines himself up at your entrance, the coolness of his metal hand on your sternum grounds you as you feel the air leave your lungs. The feel of Bucky pushing inside you was something you were never going to forget in a hurry, he was thick and pushed you to your limits. The slight burning made you whine gasping for breath as Bucky kissed you sweetly swallowing your moans.

“I got ya darlin, I got ya” the thick Brooklyn accent was in full swing causing your pleasure-fogged brain to beg for more.

“Move… please... James. I need more” your fingers clawed at his back, desperate to get any purchase, your pleas were met as Bucky finally moved. Long slow thrusts had you mewling, your fingers roamed up to his chestnut locks. Holding firmly you tug his head back exposing his neck as you latch your lips to his salty skin, your ministrations we’re rewarded with a low growl and a snap of his hips punching the air out of you.

“So. Fucking. Tight” Bucky grunts with every thrust, the force causes you to move up the bed taking one had out of his hair to grip the headboard steadying yourself. Your skin feels like it’s on fire, the feeling of Bucky thrusting hitting your g-spot repeatedly makes your toes curl up in anticipation.

“Bucky… ‘m close” was all you could manage as a warning, closing your eyes you feel Bucky's hand cup your cheek tilting your head down slightly.

“Look at me” his voice was low and left no room for disobedience, your eyes snapped open. You could feel your body hanging just on the edge, desperate for one last push.

“Cum” and there it was, with a loud wail you cum, back arching up into Bucky’s chest you momentarily forget to breathe. Your second orgasm of the night sets off Buckys, with a roar and three final thrusts he spills into you, his hips roll against yours lazily as he drops his head to your shoulder kissing any inch of skin he can reach. You weren’t sure how long you lay like that, your fingers gently caressing every inch of Bucky’s back. Committing every dip and curve to memory, eventually, Bucky slipped out of you causing both of you groaning at the loss of each other. Rolling onto his back Bucky grinned up at the ceiling reaching out to pull you flush against his side. You rest your head on his shoulder, looking up at him. You never did notice the specks of grey in his beard.

“You’re really pretty” your word vomit causes Bucky to laugh richly, kissing your temple as he rubs your lower back with his vibranium hand.

“Nah I’m not doll, you’re the pretty one” smiling into his shoulder you press a kiss to the scar tissue around the metal appendage. Your eyes rake over his features, faint scars litter his face but to you, it was like he was carved from Greek marble. Perfect in every way. You were definitely catching feelings for James Buchanan Barnes and it made your heart sing.  

“Hey Buck?” the faint sound of Bucky humming in response made you smile as your hand splayed over his lower stomach.

“Do you think we could do that again?” Bucky cracks an eye open looking down at you.

“Babydoll, if you think I’m letting you do that with anyone else your mistaken”

“I guess I’ll just have to keep you motivated then”

The way that he touch me, no, I can't get enough He keeping me up all night long He motivate me, yeah, that's my baby He really hit me with my body talk

[sasorikigai]

Send “NO! reversed” for my muse to find your dying muse || @sonxflight​ || accepting 

Love wasn’t supposed to be pain; for it was meant to be soft. Love doesn’t hurt, for love is warm, and true love is healthy, kind, understanding, patient and considerate. Love implies making mistakes, but it’s also about acknowledging them, being mature enough to apologize and compromising to become a better human being for the person while staying true to oneself. However, Hanzo does not find love to become the once-strengthened backbone bolstering up to brace his body, as it threatens to crumble and shatter. Hanzo Hasashi is never a blank page before Jack, for all the windows that his lover had opened - and some doors, too - still need illumination as print scripts itself of flesh, his eyes trailing speaking volumes of what is still moist and intact. Memories so powerful that they must have moved the heaviest unseen in the reverie of his mind, spilled drops acting like a harbinger of oceans as the words, yet to spill from his lips like corked and bottled-up salvations readies to surf and traverse waves. Waves of two realms he carries. 

As encoded desires gradually vanish from the color-relinquishing haze beneath the Jack’s non-vocalized entrapment, the webs of Hanzo’s finger continue to coat with feverous smolder of Jack’s lifefluid, constituting such critical loss as he continues to exsanguinate further and further. Hanzo’s own severing sanity remains hinged, yet unconnected, with nothing making sense or filling him up in the same way everything used to. He let more eloquent silence speak the words for themselves for while. Broad palm searching for the contact with Jack’s ashen flesh, his smoldering imprint burning through what used to be relatively unmarred, lush skin as the affectionate gesture further anchors him firmly to the ground, and then descends beyond the crusted layers of the earth. It’s such an awful sensation, as such heart that used to warmly glow like a petalled rose disintegrates, as the Demons in his mind ominously, and stealthily observe his gradual breaking. And once ignited and with direction, the flood begins. 

Jack’s chin is tilted and eyelids are fluttered close, Hanzo’s mind sinks down to the unfathomable pit of the samurai’s scents; rust, sweat, and the decisive finality of looming death, its carried judgment. The sensation alone defies gravity, like the shooting star spanning through his brain and befuddling the tender tissues residing there, just like how ancient Greeks believed - rising and falling of human souls. His own soaring through the sky, bright and burning eternally across the vast celestial sphere. Instead of pressing Jack against the metal door or the bricked surface, Hanzo lifts him slightly off the ground with his gaze alone, steadying his lover as he could literally feel him crashing into the heap of liquid below, dipping his cheek as hopelessness returns instantly. Jack was the means to color him whole, painting his shades of gray with flamboyant pigments, yet now, the onslaught of long-forgotten revenge and saturated ire screams and echoes through the eternal night of Hanzo’s subconscious. 

How he wants to taste the shiny promise of success on his tongue until the feeling taints his soul with a renewed glory; for he wants to breathe a newly-branded darkness into the world and make his mark in the nightmares of a whole generation. Until he could chase fantasies of revenge and succeed, Hanzo will live life so overwhelming that he would burst; beyond the pain and the suffering and the sorrow of humanity. 

[monsieur-de-paris]

𝕽𝖊𝔟𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔥

𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝗋 » @bourreau-de-roi

What a foolish, hypocritical man. He’d believed, that all it took was to lock the door of his heart and throw away the key, and then he’d become a different man, a much stronger man, whose authority would never be questioned and who’d be respected for his martyrlike service to his King. He’d then walk this world confidently and pay those who cursed him no mind, for he’d finally become what he was born to be and never feel shame for it. He’d serve justice and justice alone. He had forgotten that every door ( even the thickest and heaviest one ) only needed enough force to be demolished and torn from its hinges. He’d forgotten, that she possessed enough force to demolish the world.

Marie was still there, and his whole body ached too much. He couldn’t persuade himself that the events from last night had only been a bad dream. He had completely lost his senses back then, deep grief and fear had overwhelmed him, and he felt the aftermath even now. Somehow, she had managed to so utterly break his will, that he found no strength in getting up from the bed. He wanted to remain under the warm blanket forever and hide from the horrors she had unleashed upon his fragile world. He was Pandora’s box, and she had opened him on that night, but there was no hope left in him now. There had been nothing but filth inside him, and with the filth gone, he felt empty.

If it was not for Anne and his two beloved sons, he would leave all behind and become a monk, he thought. He’d devote his life to prayer and try to repent for his countless sins. He’d never known true repentance, he’d misused the meaning of it and turned it into something twisted. There was no doubt Marie would be a better Monsieur de Paris. She was going to burn down the world, but for once, he couldn’t find enough strength to oppose her. She, who knew his deepest secrets, should have shown him some mercy and killed him on that night.

He lay on bed, sobbing silently and waiting for her to wake up, and yet fearing she would any moment. The sun was shining too bright outside, but instead of standing up and drawing the curtains, he buried his face into the wet pillow and wept. What a tainted existence. He belonged dead.

[atqh16]

I’d Rather Be With You

Matt and Foggy get trapped under a collapsed building after an earthquake and there's nothing they can do but keep each other company as they wait for the Emergency Crew to arrive. But Foggy might not have much time left to wait.

AO3

The building was falling apart. Dust and debris were raining the air in a thick hazardous cloud and Foggy has to duck his head to inhale a clean rush of air into his lungs. The earth beneath them continued to violently shake the structure above them apart. The wood and steel panels of the warehouse creak and groan and seconds later he can hear the glass windows shatter at the pressure of the walls start to give in.

He could her other people screaming and crying in horror from other parts of the building and even people from the higher floors. He felt his stomach drop at having to accept that he was in no condition to help any of them except for his partner who was currently passed out in front of him after pushing Foggy away from a large chunk of falling wood that would've thrown him to the floor and had instead hit Matt on the head hard enough to knock him out.

"Matt. Matt come on wake up. Come on Matt I can't do this alone. You gotta give me some help here bud", Foggy shakes his best friend as vigorously as he can while leaning his broken arm as close to his chest as possible. "Come on Matty. Come on wake up please. I can't save you alone. I need you. Come on Matt I need you"

But his partner doesn't stir. There was a small puddle of blood slowly trickling down his temple from his head wound, his hair matted in wet clumps with it.

A large chunk of the roof caves in and Foggy screams. He jumps to his feet, terror for both his and Matt's life helping him ignore how his broken arm swayed painfully at his side and grabs Matt collar by the other.

"Come on. Come on Nelson"

It's slow and tedious but slowly Foggy manages to inch Matt away from the falling chunks of steel and wood to the underground basement a few feet away.

Foggy's panting and whimpering in pain by the time to they reach the open hatch door but the sound chunks of metal and wood keep falling around them and the roaring sound they make as they whistle pass and slam against the ground - like creatures waiting to devour them both - keep him moving despite how much the pain wanted to make him cry out.

Tugging Matt down the wooden stairs was a lot easier but still slow because Foggy was trying to make sure neither of them would slipped and fall. The sound of the building falling around them was muffled underneath the roof of the basement.

Foggy is racing back up the stairs to close the hatch door when a loud thunderous moan of straining wood rattles above him. Foggy doesn't make it upstairs far enough to reach the latch and pull the hatch close. A large metal beam falls merely inches away from him and breaks the hatch door right of its hinges while another large chunk of the roofing falls through the entryway onto the basement stairs and collapses it right beneath him.

Foggy screams as he falls and the last thing he sees before his head hits the cement floor is the sight of the entire roof caving in above him before everything goes black.

Foggy wakes up slowly to the pain of something rough and heavy shifting on his stomach. Feeling thankful for once for the flab covering his abdominal muscles that help push back the weight slightly as to not cave in his abdomen entirely.

"Come on. Move. Move! Argh. Fuck. "

He blinks a few times before his eyes and ears manage to decipher the voice and form of his best friend beside him who was trying to push away the heaviness that was weighing Foggy down.

He moans when the rough edges of the debris dig deeper into his skin.

"Ok this hurts a lot more than that time when I got punched by Brett for destroying his bike."

Matt stops and reaches out to touch his face. "Foggy? Hey try to stay still ok buddy. I'll get this stuff off of you."

The small slabs of rock and metal continue to move as Matt tries his hardest to gingerly haul the heaviest of them off of him.

Foggy tries to regain his faculties enough to take note of his surroundings.

The wreckage and remains of the warehouse were scattered around them in a hazardous mess but the roof of their small place of refuge was still intact and from what Foggy can tell, Matt seemed to be uninjured enough to move with little pain. Though the unfocused look in his eyes told him that Matt was probably hiding some injuries and holding back a severe headache from a major concussion. Blood was still running down his face in narrow rivulets that continuously dripped off his chin. Foggy couldn't help but remember that head wounds tended to bleed a lot and he wondered worriedly how much blood Matt had lost during the time that lapses between his unconscious state and his current one.

And judging from how 'six pack, I can beat 10 people at once' Murdock was finding it difficult to muster enough strength to move the rubble above him, it was definitely affecting him more than he would probably like to admit.

The one time his suit and helmet would've been useful in protecting his best friend and they get trapped in a situation while they were both just civilians. Of all the random things in the world it was an earthquake that caught them both off guard.

He raises his uninjured arm - thank god it wasn't buried as well - to tug at Matt's sleeve.

"Matt. Matt, I think you need to take a breather. You're losing a lot of blood. If you keep at it, you're gonna pass out"

Matt was panting heavily but he didn't stop his efforts of digging Foggy out. "I can keep going. I just need to move a little more of this and get you free first"

Knowing that his best friend was going to continue to ignore anything he had to say on the matter, he let his hand drop but glued his eyes to his friends face to make sure he wasn't going to overexert and pull himself back to unconsciousness.

A pretty large bit of debris moves on top of him and suddenly the cement held up by what little was left of the wire rods above them both shift with a groan that sent large chunks of rubble raining down on them, threatening to crush them both.

Foggy immediately held his hand up to cover his face but Matt instead curled himself protectively around Foggy and took the brunt of the damage.

The sound of falling cement tapered off after a while and Matt shook off the dust and rocks that had fallen onto his back.

The both shared a look of horrified understanding that was only broken when Foggy gave what he hoped was a nonchalant shrug.

"Looks like I'm gonna be stuck here for a while"

Hours passed - Matt keeping track of the time using his watch that had miraculously survived with nothing but some scratches - and they both got worried that no one was coming for them at all until Matt's head jerked up at something that only he can hear.

"The emergency crew is getting closer. I can hear them digging through the wreckage nearer than before. But it's sounding like it's getting harder to dig out the bigger slabs of debris. They're trying to be careful to make sure they don't shift anything that might fall on any survivors and hurt or kill them. There's some talk about bringing in some heavy machinery soon."

Foggy wiggle's a bit where's he's lying on the hard floor, trying to get comfortable. Well as comfortable as you can be when you're buried under a literal building.

He leans his back on the palm of his working arm that's he's managed to move up to cushion the back of his head. "Sounds fantastic. Took them long enough"

Matt's head turns towards him in the way it does when he's about to talk to him. Knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around them. "You doing ok?"

Foggy tries not to think about how his lower limbs are starting to feel numb, though Matt can probably tell that his breathing was starting to get more laboured. "Peachy. A little hungry though"

Matt can't help but smile. "I could go for some Thai later on the way home. I haven't had anything all day except half of that bagel you stole from me"

"In my defence it was a really good bagel. It's not fair. You always know where to find the best food. Oh my god! Matt, you're a foodie! You're one of those hipster 'influencers' that go around looking for picture perfect foods even if it's on the other side of town cause you have no sense of just making your life easier. Do you have an Instagram Matty? Is it full of pictures of your workout routine and disgustingly healthy green smoothies?"

"Nah, just some pictures of my abs, the occasional bragging and showing off my model hot dates. Not that I actually know what they look like of course."

"I can't believe I'm best friends with a handsome little duckling hipster. You've probably got all your followers swooning every time you post a selfie."

"You literally dressed like a hobo in college Foggy. Forgive me if I don't take your perspective on self-grooming seriously. But sure, I get a few dozen swooning followers every now and then"

"Must be such a pain to have to turn them all down"

"Excruciating" Matt says with an upturn of his lips.

Foggy's about to tease him about it a little more when suddenly Matt stiffens. Fingers curling into a loose fist that rub against each other in an agitated manner and his shoulders hunch up like he's trying hard not to cup his palm over his ears.

"Hey," Foggy calls out soothingly, "are they getting louder?"

Matt shakes his head. A part of him wants to keep himself from talking about it entirely. Half because he just wants to ignore it and half because he wants to spare Foggy the gruesome details.

But he knows that ignoring what he's hearing is a futile endeavour and it would actually be more helpful to just talk about it rather than hide it. Not to mention Foggy's always urging him to be more honest in opening up to him. Appreciating how Matt's is learning to curl back the habit of hiding himself behind his walls.

"It's getting quieter" he says.

"How many of them are left?"

Matt cocks his head to the side, focusing on his surroundings. "30 I think. The heartbeat of 5 of them from before have sort of become muted. I don't know if they've passed out or the aid crew managed to dig them out.", Matt's not sure if he wants to know which is it.

"Can you still tell which of them are still sticking around?"

Matt goes silent again for a moment, "The lady on the fifth floor stopped crying a while ago, I think the kids on our right are sleeping but their dad is still awake, the two teenagers in our left are talking about sports - I think they're trying to distract themselves- and the rest that are close by are talking in hushed tones and I can't really tell what they're saying. About 8 of them are too far for me to hear what they're doing but I can still hear their heart beats"

Foggy nods appreciatively, "That's good. They're all trying to keep each other company. That's probably gonna help them stay strong for the next few hours till the paramedics can get to them"

Foggy shimmy's a little bit more, trying to ease the weight that's crushing down on his pelvic bone. But winces when the movement jostles his broken arm.

Matt instantly inches himself closer, hand flitting forward to grip Foggy's shoulder, "Hey, how you're doing?"

"Not great but still kicking. You?"

"I'm fine." Matt assures him but Foggy gives him a sceptical look.

Matt is swaying a bit from the dizziness, blood still running down the side of his face though it's slowed to a trickle. They'd pressed Matt's jacket over it at first but when their surroundings got darker and the air around them got colder Matt had put it back on and scuttled even closer to Foggy. Not that it really helped either of them stay warm since it's hard to share body heat when the other person has half his body buried away. Matt's wincing with every breath he takes from his bruised ribs and he was leaning most of body on his right side to leave his left broken ankle from being weighted down. Foggy can tell that he would prefer stretching it out completely if there was actually any room for it.

"You know I have eyes, right?" Foggy retorts.

Matt raises an eyebrow, "I think that's ableism. Reminding a blind man of what he doesn't have", he makes a tutting sound of faux disapproval, "I expected more from a cum laud graduate of Columbia"

"It's not ableism if said disabled is a masochistic asshole who parkours over rooftops for fun"

"Touché"

"How many are them are left?"

"23"

"The kids?"

".... I can't hear them"

Foggy's peripheral vision is starting to darken. He finds it hard to hear much unless he's concentrating and his attempts at banter with his best friend is getting slower.

"Hey Foggy, stay awake ok. They're getting really close and it's not gonna take much longer now"

Foggy wheezes out a breath, "It's ok, I'm just daydreaming about the pizza I'm gonna order when we're back home. Large all meat pizza with extra onions and cheese"

"Tell me more about it"

"About the pizza?"

"Sure. I'm going to order that fresh basil mozzarella and pepperoni from El-Salvador's"

"There you go again with that hipster food. That pizza cost almost twice the price of the take away near my place."

"They use 100% percent fresh ingredients and it's completely worth the price. Besides, when we get out of here it's totally an occasion worthy of fancy pizza. I'll treat you"

"Deal. You get the pizza and I'll pay for the Thai"

"We're still getting the Thai?"

"We are still definitely getting the Thai"

"Sometimes I don't know whether to be amazed by your appetite or horrified"

"You complain enough about the Cheetos I buy to snack on at the office"

"Those things are drenched in chemicals and preservatives and I will continue throwing them away when I find your stash"

"The game isn't fair when you can smell it with your super powers"

It's too dark to tell but Foggy thinks he can make out Matt's silhouette tapping the bridge of his nose, "The nose knows"

That's startles a chuckle out of Foggy but the rumble of his chest aggravates the rubble above them and send dust into the air. Triggering a coughing fit that racks horribly in his chest.

Matt's grip on his shoulder tightens.

"Just a bit more Fog. We're going to get out of here soon"

Foggy nods because really that's the only thing he can do.

"Hey Matty?"

"Yeah Foggy?"

"I could sure use a toilet right now"

Matt chuckles, " me too"

"Matt?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm getting... really sleepy"

"Come on buddy, you gotta keep me company."

"Ok"

"Hey Matt?

"Hmmm..."

"I'm just gonna.... gonna close my eyes for a bit ok"

Foggy can hear Matt scramble forward and wincing when it pushes his injured ankle against the ground. "Hey stay with me Fog. Keep your eyes open ok", he sounds lethargic. Foggy feels bad for thinking about letting himself rest when Matt is busy worrying about him.

But he's so tired and it's getting really hard to breath.

"Just for a little while Matty. Just a short nap"

He can hear Matt calling his name but his eyes are already closed and the sound of his voice slowly tapers off before going completely silent as Foggy lets himself go to sleep.

[writingismyhappytime]

Good Little Girl (Part 8)

Ricky Horror x Reader

Warnings: Language, Violence, Smut, Angst, mention of cheating, torture, thoughts of suicide, murder

Angelo and Horror grapple for control, slinging themselves around the study and destroying half the furniture. You flinch where you sit in front of the desk, cradling your bitten arm against your stomach, doing your best to not bleed out while they fight. Your legs are too weak for you to make it to the door, that or you're in so much shock you can't move.

You squeeze your eyes shut as you hear Horror bellow, and this time there's the sound of glass shattering, no doubt the large, gold-rimmed mirror that hangs against the far wall. They're shouting at each other, but it's their voices, so guttural --- more demon than human.

You need to get out of here!

You look at the doorway, the door halfway off its hinges at this point. Angelo had thrown Horror into it earlier and knocked it so far back it'll never hang right now. You'll never forget the twisted look on Horror's face, how he'd rebounded off of it and went right back into the fight.

He's tough, that's for sure.

Scrappy.

Right, you should be leaving.

You cast an anxious look behind you, your fingers digging into the desk as you use it to stand. You waver dangerously, the demons just blurs before your eyes. Occasionally you can see the spatter of black blood through the air, the acrid scent making your stomach churn dangerously. Demon blood is on your fingers where you stabbed Angelo with a pen earlier, and you're pretty sure your dress is ruined, too.

Again, you need to leave.

You know it, and yet --- you're reluctant to leave Horror. You know you can't help, but you're afraid for him; his brother is so much older, so much stronger, he's just going to hurt Horror! You want to help, do something, distract the older demon so that Horror can get some kind of advantage!

But what?

What can you do?

"What in the goddamn hell is going on here?" Someone snarls inches from behind you, and you shriek in alarm, whirling around.

Your eyes go wide as you stare into a pair of black ones, finding them annoyed. You shrink back instantly, your eyes flicking over the pale man in front of you. Black curls, tall stature, broad shoulders and a scowling face --- is he another brother?

You twist as you hear yelps, seeing Horror and Angelo being torn from each other, as if something was dragging them to opposite sides of the room.

Horror hisses, black blood covering the lower half of his face, and it's obvious he's been taking the worst of the fight. He writhes against the invisible hold on him, pressed up against the wall opposite Angelo, who's just glowering at him.

"What the hell is wrong with you two?" The new demon hisses, looking irritated as he looks back and forth. "What the fuck is going on?"

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Angelo demands, wiping at the blood smearing his cheek. "Shouldn't you and that whore of yours be in China?"

"I would like to be, yes. But I can't exactly enjoy myself when I can feel the pain of you two morons hurting each other! Where's Christopher?"

"How the hell should we know?"

"Richard," the demon looks at Horror pointedly, still able to feel the younger brothers pain the strongest. He's used to the two of them fighting, especially since Angelo had started helping finance Horror, but it's never been like this. Last time they'd fought, Christopher had arrived pretty quickly, putting an end to it.

Ghost is content to let Christopher handle them all. However, when the pain had just worsened, Ghost had had no choice but to come and intervene himself.

He finds it the oddest situation.

You're obviously a pet, bleeding severely out of your wrist, demon blood on you. Horror's scent is heaviest on your skin, although it's obvious Angelo is the one who bit you. Odd, considering he's usually content with his witch, what is he doing going after Horror's pet?

Ghost gives it a few seconds, black eyes narrowing when he doesn't get an answer.

He reaches for you, his hand curling around your shoulder. Horror immediately starts, straining against the invisible force holding him back.

"Get your fucking hand off of her!"

Ahuh.

Ghost isn't hurting you, in fact, his touch is very light. He's testing your energy, which at the moment is seriously lacking. You're exhausted, two different demon venom's running through your veins, making you woozy. He's quite surprised you've not collapsed already.

"Angelo, did you attack his pet?"

"Yes." Angelo is irritated he can't move. He's older then Ghost, he shouldn't be stuck to a fucking wall!

"Why?"

"Because Richard is a little bitch and I wanted her!"

Huh.

Ghost glances at you again, at the blood dripping all across the now ruined carpet. Why does Angelo want you? You're not his type, and your brown hair is now limp and clinging to your skin. You're hunched, as if waiting for him to strike you down, of which he has no intention.

Serena is waiting for him, he'd said he'd  only be a few minutes and he meant it. He has to get back to her before the dumbass gets herself into trouble, which she always does when there's no one looking out for her. Chibs just follows right along with her like a good little puppy, and Ghost has already had to butcher some humans who tried to kidnap her once.

At least she's immortal now, thanks to Angelo's witch.

Which, of course, makes Ghost that much more curious.

"Why are you over here trying to take Richard's pet when that witch of yours is still around? Did she leave you?"

"Red's fine." Angelo's voice is suddenly dark, livid; he doesn't want to hear the mention of her name.

"Then what's this bullshit about? I don't have time for this."

Horror twitches; of course Ghost doesn't have time, no one ever has time for him! It's no big deal Angelo is trying to steal his woman, trying to take the one thing he's grown to care about. No, of fucking course not.

As long as everyone else is happy, no one cares about Horror.

Horror growls softly in frustration, and with one harsh jerk, frees himself of Ghost's telekinetic hold. Ghost arches a brow, a little surprised, but merely watches as Horror immediately goes to you. He curls you to his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he moves the two of you over to a corner, sitting you down in the one remaining chair.

Both brothers watch, tilting their heads as Horror takes your arm, immediately closing his lips over it. He heals the wound the best he can, feeling your entire frame shaking, your eyes bloodshot and dilated from the abuse of the last hour. He feels immediate shame that he couldn't protect you, despite what he'd said before. He shouldn't have trusted Angelo, and he never will again.

Ghost and Angelo look at each other.

"R-Rick---."

"Shh, it's fine now," Horrors murmurs, curling you into his shoulder. You shudder against him, curling your arms tightly around his neck and burying your face against it. You'd been so afraid for him and yourself!

"That bitch deserved what she gets, she stabbed me!" Angelo snaps, stepping forward now that Ghost isn't holding him back.

"She stabbed you?" Ghost arches a black brow, amused.

"Yes. With a pen."

"Because you attacked her."

"Yes."

"Then you deserved it." Ghost dismisses him, withholding a chuckle. So Horror found him a pet capable of taking care of herself, huh?

Stabbing Angelo is definitely impressive; the pain demon is never caught by surprise.

Angelo huffs indignantly, crossing his arms, covered in red and black blood. He's scowling, eye twitching thanks to the long scratch from Horror's nails. He's very displeased, but after taking his frustration out on you and his brother, he feels a little better. He's pissed at Red, but the two of you have been a nice outlet.

Horror pats your hair, feeling the dampness against his shoulder. You're crying, you've probably never been subjected to anything like this before and it's all his fault! You're not afraid of him, despite his appearance, which is some relief to him; you're clinging onto him like he's your lifeline, and he very might well be.

"I want you out," he says after a moment, eyes going to Angelo. "I want you the fuck out and to never come back!"

"Out?" Angelo scoffs. "I'm fucking paying for this club, Richard."

"No, you're not. I've already made enough money to offset the costs, and I'll give it to Red. I don't need you here, I don't want you here, and I never want to see you again!"

"Oh, are we breaking up?" Angelo sneers, Horror twitching at the tone. "How sad."

"I'm not fucking kidding!" Horror snarls, and he detangles himself from you, rising angrily to his feet; he'll fight again if he has too! "I don't fucking want anything to do with you anymore! I helped you save Red, and this is how you fucking return the favor? Attacking my girl and trying to kill her? Fuck you!"

"Your girl? Your girl? She's just a pet!"

Horror clenches his jaw, his black eyes never wavering from his older brother. He's serious, he doesn't ever want him around again, not for any amount of money in the world. Angelo is nothing but egotistical, cruel, even to his own family! Horror will never forgive him for this, not in a million years!

Right now, you mean more to him then his brothers, who've always treated him like shit. He might be young, but he's not going to tolerate it anymore; he's a demon just like they are, and he's finally found his footing in the world.

"I. Don't. Need. You. Anymore." He says, making sure to enunciate each word perfectly. "Either of you." His eyes flick between both brothers, seeing Ghost merely leaning back on his heels, watching everything go down with the tiniest amused smile. "I don't need your money, I don't need you dropping by --- I don't want anything from you!"

"You don't need my money? That's all you've ever wanted," Angelo snorts, not taking Horror seriously at all. "You're always leeching off the rest of us."

"Not anymore. I know what I'm doing." Horror is confident in that at least. The club is doing fantastic, it's flooded with people each night, he can finally make his own way in the world.

His family can fuck off, including Christopher, who hasn't been around in years now.

Horror doesn't need them, despite the twinge of pain in his chest. He wants family, he wants people to care about him and be proud of him, but he's never going to get that from his brothers. Even his human family was dismissive of him, too preoccupied with what was happening in their own lives to acknowledge his.

Even family can be disappointing.

Well, Horror's going to have to get over it, he knows that. He has you now, what else does he need? He'll keep contact with Red because she's his friend, but that's it; he tried to kill Serena once, plus the blonde bimbo of Ghost's is the biggest idiot he's ever met. At least you and Red can hold intelligent conversations!

Well, alright, so he also went to manhandle Red once, too, if he remembers correctly. So the fact Angelo is returning the favor, perhaps Horror shouldn't be so upset over it, but --- well, Ghost should be mad at him.

So he's made some mistakes, he was a different demon then!

"You're choosing a pet over me then?" Angelo challenges, clenching his fists. "You're choosing some human you fuck over your own brother?"

"I'm choosing someone who at least doesn't treat me like shit!" Horror hisses, not backing down like he usually would. He stands his ground, eyes black as night, glowering. "She might be a pet, but she's been kinder and more helpful to me then any of you ever have!"

"Oh, please. That's because of your venom, not because she gives a shit about you!"

"So? None of you ever have regardless!"

"True," Angelo snorts, seeing Horror stiffen at the admission. "You're blood, we have to take care of you."

That shouldn't hurt Horror's feelings, but it does.

"Well, you don't anymore. I don't want it!" He spits, glancing at Ghost once more. "From any of you!"

"Yeah, we'll see how long you go without calling on one of us for help."

"Angelo," Ghost sighs, shaking his head. His brother is older, and Ghost used to hate him for how much stronger he was, more powerful; now, however, Ghost is tired, of all of their antics, and he just wants to spend the rest of his lifetime with his human while he has her. She won't live forever, and neither will he, and honestly he expects her to go before him, she's fragile.

If Horror likes his new pet, if he feels so strongly about her, let him have her. He's already seeming more mature then Ghost has ever seen, although the bitterness in his voice is new. He's used to Horror being childish, sulky, but he used to never stand up to himself, always whined instead.

It's impressive.

Perhaps you're good for him.

Ghost's eyes trail to you where you're sitting, seeing your eyes are alert as they rove the room. Despite the double dose of venom in you're blood, you're completely coherent, whereas most would be comatose. You're still clutching your arm, although he can see the wound is gone, healed by Horror's saliva.

You're an interesting creature; is it the fairy blood? It should be so diluted that it's nearly nonexistent, unless Horror's meddling has brought it out of sleeping. The Queen of Fairies is a powerful and ancient creature, so her blood, no matter how latent, will always come forth if bothered enough.

Could be Horror is getting himself a fairyborn he won't know what to do with.

How interesting.

"Come, Angelo," Ghost says after a moment, interrupting their squabbling. "Let's go."

"What? Hell no! I'm not done with the little bastard and that ----."

"Angelo," Ghost's voice is sharp, leaving no room for argument, and Angelo stiffens; he remembers what Ghost did to him the last time they had a fight over a pet, and he doesn't want to go through it again. "Let's go. You've done enough damage here."

"Not enough!"

"Don't make me drag you out of here kicking and screaming."

"You can fucking try, Devin."

Ghost narrows his eyes; Angelo is just spoiling for a new fight, isn't he?

"Do we need to call your witch here?" Ghost asks coolly, finally striking a nerve. "I'm sure she would love to know what you've been doing tonight."

"Don't you fucking dare!"

"Then leave, or I'll send for her and let you deal with the consequences!" Ghost figured mentioning the witch would motivate Angelo, he can't imagine the rage she'll bring down on him where she inevitably does find out.

Angelo seethes for a moment, glaring at everyone before he storms out of the room, Ghost stepping smoothly out of his way. He waits, making sure that the cranky demon is gone before he looks at Horror and you.

Horror's slumping now, a defeated look on his face. He looks very unhappy, and it's not a look Ghost is used to seeing. Usually it's indignant, scowling, or miffed, or a combination of the three. Never quite like that.

He watches as you hesitantly reach forward, curling your fingers around Horror's black stained ones. Horror turns, and he gives you a weak smile, letting himself turn to kneel down in front of you, pressing his lips against your forehead before squeezing your hands.

Interesting.

Has Horror finally found someone to be attached too?

Ironic it's a fairyborn.

"If you need anything, or Angelo bothers you again, call me." Ghost says after a moment, checking his cuff links. If Horror has found someone who makes him feel better about himself, Ghost doesn't want him to lose that; he knows how he was before Serena, how miserable despite himself. It's the human part of them, the part that clings despite all the horrible things they do, that craves someone at their side, someone to care for them.

All demons have it.

Angelo finally found himself someone, and since then has been rather calm. After his recent actions, Ghost figures the relationship is starting to sour.

Not surprising; pain demons are hard creatures to stand.

"I don't need your help." Horror mutters, looking over his shoulder; he'll never call on any of them again.

"Nevertheless, I advise you call me to avoid a situation such as this." Ghost gestures around the room. "Next time your pet might not survive such an episode."

Horror tenses, but you just look resigned.

How much do you know? After this, you must have some inkling the man you're with isn't human, but Ghost has the feeling you already do.

Has Horror told you everything?

~~~~~~~~

Horror's quiet, standing by the window gazing out into the city. The curtains are moving with the cool breeze, the window open to allow fresh air to circulate. You're asleep on your bed, completely out, exhausted after your horrible day.

Ghost had left, and Horror had immediately taken you from the office and to your room. You'd cried the entire time, and he'd let you. You'd nearly choked him as you sat curled in his lap, shuddering in his arms, your fear pouring into his body and healing his injuries.

He hates himself.

He doesn't want to be a demon anymore, someone who feeds off the misery of others. He doesn't want to feel good when you're hurting or sad, he just --- he wants to be normal again! He leans his head against the wall, watching the city lights twinkle in the distance, the sounds of the city reaching his ears.

He hates this place.

He hates his family.

He hates himself.

He's a terrible excuse for a demon, and he knows that. He shouldn't be upset with himself or his brothers because his pet is hurt, but he is. What demon is that weak?

He shouldn't have been born.

He'd give anything to go back in time, stop his father from seducing his mother. Of course, if he'd been born a human then, he never would have met you in this time.

He looks over at you, blue eyes dark as they rove your form.

He'd helped you undress, helped you wash the blood from your body and settle into comfortable clothes. He'd soothed you into sleep, laying behind you, stroking your hair and whispering comforting words into your ear until the venom finally got the best of you, letting you rest.

He hopes you sleep for a while.

The sun will be up soon, Horror can already feel it's effects. A few hours and he would be resting, however fitful it may be.

He's proud of you, though, for defending yourself against Angelo, for stabbing him with that pen. The fact you had it in you, to attack a demon, it's... amazing.

You're amazing.

Horror wants to treasure you for all eternity.

He wants to keep you in a box, somewhere safe where no one can touch you. He wants to give you anything you want, from jewels to animals, from cars to houses or sweets or just --- anything. You ask, and he will give it to you.

He's guilty, ashamed, and he hasn't felt this way before. He's never been that upset over anything, he's never had a reason to physically fight his brothers, at least not over someone before.

He's never cared.

But he would have died to keep Angelo off of you, and that sort of scares him. He doesn't understand the fierce protectiveness he feels towards you, it confuses him. You're just... you're unlike anyone else he's ever met.

You're sweet, and genuine, and always so helpful. You give him soft giggles and warm kisses, and you make him smile even when he doesn't want too. You might hate your ex and feel vindictive towards him, but you're not that way with other people, you seem to want to help all of them, like those old humans and their diner.

You're... good, in every sense of the word.

And Horror isn't.

Being with him is causing you pain you don't deserve, and that means... well, maybe you shouldn't be around him. He needs to send you away, set you up somewhere you'll be happy and content. He can't see you again, not if it's going to lead to situations like this.

Just the thought though... Horror's pretty sure it breaks his heart.

The pain in his chest, it's deep, sharp and heavy, and squeezing. He raises a shaky hand, pressing it against his skin, shoulders slumping.

Is he... does he....?

No, no that's impossible.

His brothers took centuries, nearly a millenia, to find their mates. He's barely two centuries old, and he doesn't deserve to care about someone like he does you. He doesn't deserve you in general, actually, after what he's done.

He has to send you away, put you somewhere that no demon will ever find you. He'll buy you some kind of animal shelter where you can look after all the little ones you want too, and maybe you'll find someone to spend the rest of your years with.

Someone to love you like they should.

His throat tightens, and he forces his gaze away from you and out the window again. His eyes are burning in an unfamiliar manner, he doesn't like it. How is he supposed to be tough and imposing if he's like this?

He can't be a demon with you here!

He can't!

You have to go, you have too!

"Ricky?" Your soft voice catches him off guard, and he turns hastily, seeing you're awake. You've rolled over onto your side facing him, pushing up onto your elbows as your hair trails down your body.

"You should be resting," he says, immediately going to the bed and pressing one knee into it. "You need to sleep."

"Are you okay?" You ask, ignoring his words as you reach for him, pulling him closer. You tug until he's lying down beside you, dressed in nothing but some green-checked sleeping pants you'd actually gotten him the other day. You like him better when he's dressed down in more casual clothing then his suits.

"I should be asking you that," he mutters, a terseness to his voice that bothers you. You frown at him, and reach forward, brushing his dark hair behind his ear, faint teeth marks still visible on your wrist. You don't hurt anymore, you're just tired; Horror took more of a beating then you did, so it's natural you're concerned for him.

"No, you shouldn't. You were hurt worse." You disagree gently, cupping his pale jaw. He's not meeting your eyes, instead looking at the sheets as he picks at them. "Are you hurting any? Why aren't you resting?"

"I can't sleep until the sun is up, you know that." He shrugs away from you, and you sigh, propping your chin on your hand as you gaze at him.

"It wasn't your fault," you say after a moment, and you finally shuffle, sitting up completely. You're just in a t shirt, and it pools around your thighs as you gaze at him. "You couldn't stop him."

"But I should have been able too!" Horror says, restlessly rising as well. He gets to his feet, pacing back to the window, his hands slipping into his hair. "I should have known better!"

"Ricky, he's a demon, one that's older than you. He hurt you worse then he did me when you came to my rescue." You say, slipping hastily to the edge of the bed. You're feeling a little stronger, your legs aren't shaking anymore. "You saved me."

"No, I let my brother bite you." his voice is bitter. "I can't save anyone."

You bite your lower lip, staring at him; you want to comfort him, get him to listen to you in some way. He did his best, he could have been killed!

"Risking your life for someone, saving them, is what counts. You did what you could, and that was more than enough," you say firmly, and reach forward. Your fingertips brush his hand, he's too far away from you for any other touch. You turn your palm upwards, urging him to take it. "Please, Ricky."

He sighs, and reluctantly his fingers close over yours, letting you pull him back to you. The bed is high, so he steps easily between your knees, they just at his hips. You gaze at him, your hands rising to cup his jaw, wanting him to look at you. The room is dark, moonlight seeping in through the open window, casting a pale glow across both of your skins.

"You saved me," you say firmly, making sure his eyes are on yours. "You saved me, and I'm still right here."

"But he hurt you." His hands rise shakily, closing over your upper arms. "He bit you."

"So? You made sure he regretted it."

Horror isn't so sure.

"But he..."

"Ricky, it doesn't matter now." You shake your head, pulling until his forehead is resting against yours, your arms slipping around his still bruised neck. "Everything is okay now, we're okay. You're safe, and so am I, and ---."

"You'll never be safe so long as you're with me," Horror whispers, cutting you off. You blink, hesitating. "As long as you're with me, you're going to be a target for my brothers, pets always are. Other demons, not in the family, won't mess with you, but they will."

"That can't be helped, nothing is ever perfect." You say before you can stop yourself; you don't know why, but you have no intention of going anywhere. Horror's family is terrible, and it's no wonder he turned out the way he did if they raised him. You don't want him to be alone, and they're certainly not going to run you off, either. "But it's alright, you know. We'll deal with it."

"We?" Horror shakes his head, starting to pull away from you. "I won't put you through that again ---."

"It's not your choice." You tighten your arms on him, refusing to let go. "If I want to stay, that's my decision. And I want too."

"You should be running for the hills."

"I know." You say simply. "But I'm not going too."

"Why not? Why do you want to stay here with me?" Horror stares at you, his heart beating faster against his chest. "You'll get hurt again, because I can't keep you safe, tonight proved that. I can't defend you ---."

"Don't," you cut him off, your eyes on his and refusing to waver; you're honestly not sure why, but you know you're supposed to stay right where you are. You don't want to run, despite it would be in your best interest to do just that. "I don't want you to defend me. I'm not going to live forever, Ricky," you sigh, stroking your fingers through his long hair. "I'm human, and my years are numbered anyway. These are my best ones, and so far, you've made them more enjoyable."

Enjoyable?

He doesn't see how.

His lips tremble.

You lean forward, capturing them in a kiss before he can think of another argument. Your tighten your grip again, and after a moment he responds, deepening the kiss as his hands curl around your waist.

You smell so good, as if he's standing in the Garden of Eden, a paradise. The way your fingers caress his skin, causing shivers to race down his spine, he knows without doubt he can't do without you. He'd be fooling himself if he thought otherwise.

"Ricky," you breathe against his lips, hands drawing down his bare back, smooth and careful. You don't know how hurt he might still be, if his body is sore, and you don't want to make it worse. Your fingers are warm against his cool skin as they curve around his hips, tugging them deeper between your thighs.

You don't want him to think about today, you want to distract him in the only way you know how.

He sighs into your kiss, letting you pull him closer, already sensing what you want from him. His body is responding to what you want before he can stop it, and he lowers you back onto the bed, crawling over your barely-clad form.

Your eyes close as his lips leave yours, leaving butterfly kisses along your jaw, the softest brush of his lips against your skin as they make their way to your neck. He merely kisses you there, you never feel the brush of his teeth as his hand closes around your thigh, drawing it up around his hips as he settles himself between your legs. His fingers brush at the hem of your large t shirt, slipping it up around your waist, out of his way.

"Rosie, love," he murmurs against your throat, guilt pinching his chest a moment as he sees the faint circle of bruises there; he can still smell Angelo on you, despite he washed your skin. He hates the scent, it makes an angry bundle of heat in his chest at the thought of you being touched by anyone else. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," you whisper, gentle fingers tilting his jaw, bringing his eyes back to yours. "Don't ever apologize to me for something that's not your fault."

His heart shatters.

This time when he kisses you, it's fervent, fueled with more emotion then he knows that to do with. His fingers lace in yours as the heat in his chest explodes throughout his entire body, and he pins your hands by your head, his body pressing more into yours.

You wind your legs around his waist, kissing him just as strongly, your tongue parting his lips and causing him to groan; your fingers tighten around his, you love the sounds he makes; Horror enjoys sex, you can always tell. He enjoys every touch, every thrust and brush of your skin against his. It's not just about showing off to him, he wants you to feel just as good as he does during the moment.

It's what always makes it feel so amazing.

Your teeth tug gently at his lower lip, just sharp enough to make his blood race quicker, the pressure against your thigh increasing as he grinds down into you. It's a wonderful friction that makes you shift, arching up into him as you feel that familiar feeling between your legs. He always makes you want him, he always makes sure there's a buildup that has you squirming and begging for his touch.

He cares about your pleasure.

No one else ever has.

You tug at his hands, wanting to touch him, run your nails down his back and pull at his hair just as he likes it. He relents, fingers slipping to caress your outer thighs, his lips heavy and demanding against your own now. Your fingers tangle in his thick hair, tugging gently, your nails raking down his spine to his hips, stopping there to urge him closer.

He makes you feel beautiful, attractive --- he worships every inch of your body, murmurs soft words that make you blush; you don't feel so self-conscious about yourself, you feel pretty and more confident when you go out with him. You're not as uncomfortable in the dresses he picks, because you feel you look good in them.

He makes you feel cared about, loved.

Tom never did that.

He only ever brought you down.

His cold hands are beneath your shirt, and you lift your arms, allowing him to draw it over you head, leaving your bare body for his darkening eyes. His lips are immediately on your naked skin, feathering wet kisses down your shoulders and chest, finally settling over one sensitive breast. Your breath hitches as his tongue curls around one mound, his other hand stroking your side, causing goosebumps to rise along your skin.

Your head falls back, your eyes closing as it feels good. Your body is sore from being tossed around, but he's careful with you, as if he knows exactly where to touch, how to make your breathing hitch.

He's never been like this with you before.

"Ricky," you moan his name, sending electricity racing through his body. His eyes flick up, tongue lazily tracing down your stomach. He know's you're aroused, he can smell it on your skin, sense it through your blood. You're already wanting him and he's barely touched you. He knows you're wet, that your body is craving his touch, but that's the venom.

He's not going to bite you again, he's made up his mind.

He wants your affection for him to be real, for you to mean the words you say. Maybe if your mind isn't clouded, you can make the decision to run or stay.

He wants this to be real.

You groan, fingers going taut in his hair as his lips settle between your thighs; he knows how much you like this, and he loves the taste of you. You're always so responsive, your hips shifting, soft pants leaving those swollen red lips.

It should always be like this for you.

He wants it to be.

"Ricky!" You gasp, your hips suddenly bucking against his delving tongue, the swirling heat in your stomach starting to peak. His arm slips across your hips, holding you down as his tongue continues to dart through your desire, suckling and swirling until you're shuddering, thighs attempting to close instinctively. He almost smirks at how good he is at getting you worked up, one finger slowly slipping inside you, twisting until you let out a loud moan that makes him inhale sharply.

He wants you louder.

"Fuck," you manage, feeling yourself already on the verge, your skin rippling. The tight knot in your lower half is about to snap, your skin flushing, white dots already forming on the edges of your vision. Horror is taking his time, as if knowing exactly you're on the verge and wanting to build it up.

His tongue feels so good inside of you, on your sensitive bud. His fingers are teasing, a second one finally joining the first. He keeps them slow and deep until you're whimpering, jerking at every thrust. Your nails dig into the sheets, fingers knotted and pulling desperately as you writhe, on the peak but unable to go any farther. You're a complete, wet mess, unable to do anything but let him tease you, the tension starting to become too much.

"Ricky, please." You finally whimper, your dilated eyes flashing open. "Please!"

He chuckles slightly, his lips closing around your bundle of nerves and sucking hard. Your hips buck off the bed immediately, and you cry out as that's the final straw, your body losing control. You cum against his lips, just as he wants you too. His arm is like iron across your lower stomach, keeping you against the bed as you shake and shudder in pleasure.

He loves how you sound.

He reluctantly lifts his lips from your body, watching the rise and fall of your chest, how heavy your breathing is. It's going to take you a few moments to come back from that, and he's pleased. He presses his mouth against your trembling inner thigh, giving you time. The hand in his hair is now limp, although his scalp still stings, and he knows his eyes are black.

He's hard, his shaft is aching within the confines of his pants, and he wants nothing more then to ravage you, take you until you're screaming his name over and over. He wants to hear you say it, the name you've given him, whispering it in his ear as he fucks you.

His lips work their way up your body, fingers trailing up your sides until he's propping himself over you, brushing your hair out of your eyes.

Your lids flutter, long lashes brushing your cheeks before they open, finding his. You stare into the inky depths hovering over you, and your hands rise, bringing his lips to yours once more. You don't mind how his eyes change, it's just part of who he is. His tongue parts your lips, and you can taste yourself, your hips shifting against his once more.

You can feel how hard he is, how turned on his body is in response to your own. Your hands draw down his sides, curling around the hem of his pants and tugging, slipping them down so he can finish kicking them off. Your fingers dig into his hips, urging them into yours, squirming beneath his hot kisses. You're so ready for him, you want him so badly.

"Ricky," you murmur, feathering your lips along his jaw, his eyes closing at your touch. He digs his nails into the sheets beside your shoulder, trying to control himself. He wants this to be gentle and easy, to not hurt you, but his body is wanting something completely different. He clenches his fist, your hot fingers pulling on him, urging him against you as you squirm.

Fuck!

He reaches between your bodies, catching your swollen bud and making your breath hitch instantly. You moan, nails abruptly digging into his flesh, causing him to shudder over you. You're sensitive right now, you can't help it, and still very wet. Your want for him has only increased, you're throbbing and you can't hold still, not until you have him inside of you.

"Ricky," you breathe in his ear, and his eyes close at the whisper.

How can he control himself when you sound like that?

He groans into your neck, tugging on your hips until they're properly in place beneath him. He catches himself, aligning himself at your soaked entrance. He swallows, already able to feel your heat, your fingers pulling desperately on him.

In one deep thrust, he's inside of you, and the cry that leaves your throat is pure pleasure as he fills you. You shift instantly, pressing into him, grinding your hips until into his until a guttural groan is leaving his throat. You barely hear the shred of sheets as his nails rake into them, as he begins to move inside of you.

You're already tensing, arms wrapping around his back, nails digging into his shoulder as he fucks you into the bed, your legs curled around his waist. His lips are on your throat, sucking hard and leaving marks against your skin, his free hand tight around your hip, bringing you up to meet his thrusts, making sure he goes as deep as possible.

You're already panting, sweat gleaming on your moonlit skin as you writhe beneath him, clinging to him. It feels so good to have him inside of you, filling you, taking you higher and higher in your pleasure. Your body is tingling, twitching and squirming, heat flushing and biting your skin.

You feel like heaven, or as close as a demon can get to it. You're hot, squeezing and clamping around his cock until he's groaning into your throat, moving faster, harder and harder until you're gasping. He can't  help himself, his body has taken control, his mind going blank except for the need to make you cum around him, for your body to milk the seed out of him. He wants to wash his brothers sent away, make you smell like him, claim you as his own again.

Forever.

"Harder," you suddenly moan, his skin slick against your own. His eyes flash up to yours, lips parting in an almost grin as he complies, thrusting into you at a pace that's impossible to stand. You cum instantly, his lips capturing your shriek as your body takes you by surprise. Your walls clamp around him, your desire flooding forward to cover your thighs and his. He doesn't relent, he continues to move inside of you as you orgasm around him, your climax causing your eyes to roll and head to fall back this time.

That's his good girl.

He shifts, rolling until you're on top of him, your hands bracing onto his shoulders. Your rich dark hair falls to curtain your face as you lean over him, arms shaking. His hands are on your hips, urging you to move, and you do your best, grinding your hips down onto his despite the tremble in your legs. His lips rise to cover your breast, one hand grasping your ass and squeezing.

"Ricky," you groan, your walls flexing around him again. You can still feel the aftershocks of your climax, and already it's building again,  threatening to overtake you. It's ridiculous, you shouldn't feel this good, but with Horror it ---. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum!"

"Cum," he breathes, fingers tangling in your hair and dragging your swollen lips back to his, his hips rising up to meet yours, the sound of your fucking filling your ears. "Cum on top of me!"

You do, as if on command, you're body immediately quaking. Your nails dig deep into his shoulders, hard enough to draw blood as you nearly scream against his lips.

Fuck, you're amazing! His head falls back as you squeeze his throbbing cock, his skin prickling with heat the longer he keeps going. Still, he's not done, he's not quite there ---. You moan as he forces himself to sit up, causing you to rock back down.

Fuck!

You're shaking against him as you straddle him, your head against his shoulder. You're not sure you can keep going!

"Don't tire out on me yet, love," he says breathlessly, your arms looping around his neck, chest slick as it moves against his. You moan, shuddering as he urges you to move again, the sensitivity of your lower half almost painful at this point. You cling to him, doing your best to move, but letting him take the lead, rocking your hips against his, letting you sink down to the hilt on him over and over.

"Ricky," you moan into his ear, shivering. "Ricky!"

Fuck!

He groans as he hears his name from your panting lips, the sound finally enough to push him over the edge. He shudders, his arms curling tightly around you as your body squeezes him, finally reaching his own release. You sigh as you feel him cum inside of you, flooding your body with heat, filling you and claiming you as his own once more.

He can't smell his brother on you at all now.

All he can smell is himself and sex, the scent potent as he holds you against him tightly, refusing to let go of you just yet.

Your fingers lightly caress the hair at the nape of his neck as you rest your face against his shoulder, breathing hard. You're too hot, your skin is prickling, but you don't want to move. You're content curled around him like this, wrapped around his body, him still inside of you. You know the two of you have made a mess of the sheets, you can see where his nails shredded them down to the mattress.

It doesn't matter.

"Are you alright?" He asks after a moment, leaning back on one arm, your full weight on him. You nod your head, pressing your lips lightly into his throat.

"Mhmhmm."

He smiles slightly, liking the soft stroking of his hair.

It should always be this way with you, you should always feel good during sex, you should always be worshiped.

He leans back, just enough to see your face, his fingers rising to caress your flushed cheek. Your eyes are half-closed, dilated, and your lips are full from his rough kisses. You give him a slight smile, leaning forward to lightly brush your mouth against his own.

He thinks he loves you.

Tags: @isaxhorror   @lucifersnudes @allthepeppercorn. @iknightwriter. @miss-mcbotty.  @my-gothic-doctor.  @little-h0rr0r @imaginemiw.  @lilybellsworldchris miw@deepeststarlightemo @imaginemiw   @bigdaddyfairywinkle @riegan @lucifersnudes    @horrorshow365    @imjustareject99    @nikkihorrorxx   @miss-evil-one   @itstrashleydude.  @kapowski-sitkowski.    @the-angriest-angel     @tokyoghoulyz

[poorquentyn]

What do you think will happen to Aeron Greyjoy in the following books?

I think he dies when Euron sacrifices both the Redwyne and Greyjoy fleets in the name of apocalyptic apotheosis. @racefortheironthrone pointed out that tying priests to the prows of his ships, as Euron orders his men to do at the end of “The Forsaken,” suggests that he is trying to channel some intense metaphysical energy as part of a massive blood sacrifice, all towards the end of joining, conquering, and replacing the gods:

“No, I’ll not kill you tonight. A holy man with holy blood. I may have need of that blood…later. For now, you are condemned to live.”

“The bleeding star bespoke the end,” he said to Aeron. “These are the last days, when the world shall be broken and remade. A new god shall be born from the graves and charnel pits.”

“Kneel, brother,” the Crow’s Eye commanded. “I am your king, I am your god. Worship me, and I will raise you up to be my priest.”

“Never. No godless man may sit the Seastone Chair!”

“Why would I want that hard black rock? Brother, look again and see where I am seated.”

Aeron Damphair looked. The mound of skulls was gone. Now it was metal underneath the Crow’s Eye: a great, tall, twisted seat of razor sharp iron, barbs and blades and broken swords, all dripping blood.

Impaled upon the longer spikes were the bodies of the gods. The Maiden was there and the Father and the Mother, the Warrior and Crone and Smith…even the Stranger. They hung side by side with all manner of queer foreign gods: the Great Shepherd and the Black Goat, three-headed Trios and the Pale Child Bakkalon, the Lord of Light and the butterfly god of Naath.

And there, swollen and green, half­-devoured by crabs, the Drowned God festered with the rest, seawater still dripping from his hair.

There’s a prophetic infrastructure at work here that suggests it’s going to work, linked through the imagery of an ocean of blood, whether via Moqorro…

“Have you seen these others in your fires?” he asked, warily.

“Only their shadows,” Moqorro said. “One most of all. A tall and twisted thing with one black eye and ten long arms, sailing on a sea of blood.”

…or Melisandre…

Then the towers by the sea, crumbling as the dark tide came sweeping over them, rising from the depths.

“I saw towers by the sea, submerged beneath a black and bloody tide. That is where the heaviest blow will fall.”

…or Aeron himself.

The dreams were even worse the second time. He saw the longships of the Ironborn adrift and burning on a boiling blood­-red sea. He saw his brother on the Iron Throne again, but Euron was no longer human. He seemed more squid than man, a monster fathered by a kraken of the deep, his face a mass of writhing tentacles. Beside him stood a shadow in woman’s form, long and tall and terrible, her hands alive with pale white fire. Dwarves capered for their amusement, male and female, naked and misshapen, locked in carnal embrace, biting and tearing at each other as Euron and his mate laughed and laughed and laughed…

This horror-soaked religious arc ties directly into Aeron’s own story, which from “The Prophet” through “The Drowned Man” to “The Forsaken” is largely about how he filters and faces down his abuser through the lens of his faith. Aeron was reborn as Damphair, and keeps telling himself that this has allowed him to escape the fear and shame and self-loathing that have gripped him since childhood thanks to Euron (and the death of Urrigon as well, a trauma Euorn oh-so-cruelly exploits multiple times in “The Forsaken”). But then:

“The king is dead,” he said, as plain as that. Four small words, yet the sea itself trembled when he uttered them.

Aeron Greyjoy had built his life upon two mighty pillars. Those four small words had knocked one down. Only the Drowned God remains to me. May he make me as strong and tireless as the sea.

And then: 

Aeron was almost at the door when the maester cleared his throat, and said, “Euron Crow’s Eye sits the Seastone Chair.”

The Damphair turned. The hall had suddenly grown colder. The Crow’s Eye is half a world away. Balon sent him off two years ago, and swore that it would be his life if he returned. “Tell me,” he said hoarsely.

The Crow’s Eye strides into the text to look Damphair dead in the face and tell him that he has seen through every god and every prayer, and none of them matter, because they did not stop Euron from abusing him and they did not stop Euron from spending his entire life getting ready to end the world:

“We shall have no king but from the kingsmoot.” The Damphair stood. “No godless man—”

“—may sit the Seastone Chair, aye.” Euron glanced about the tent. “As it happens I have oft sat upon the Seastone Chair of late. It raises no objections.” His smiling eye was glittering. “Who knows more of gods than I? Horse gods and fire gods, gods made of gold with gemstone eyes, gods carved of cedar wood, gods chiseled into mountains, gods of empty air…I know them all. I have seen their peoples garland them with flowers, and shed the blood of goats and bulls and children in their names. And I have heard the prayers, in half a hundred tongues. Cure my withered leg, make the maiden love me, grant me a healthy son. Save me, succor me, make me wealthy…protect me! Protect me from mine enemies, protect me from the darkness, protect me from the crabs inside my belly, from the horselords, from the slavers, from the sellswords at my door. Protect me from the Silence.” He laughed. “Godless? Why, Aeron, I am the godliest man ever to raise sail! You serve one god, Damphair, but I have served ten thousand. From Ib to Asshai, when men see my sails, they pray.”

The priest raised a bony finger. “They pray to trees and golden idols and goat-headed abominations. False gods…”

“Just so,” said Euron, “and for that sin I kill them all. I spill their blood upon the sea and sow their screaming women with my seed. Their little gods cannot stop me, so plainly they are false gods. I am more devout than even you, Aeron. Perhaps it should be you who kneels to me for blessing.”

Aeron takes refuge, as always, in the sea:

Only when his arms and legs were numb from the cold did Aeron Greyjoy struggle back to shore and don his robes again.

He had run before the Crow’s Eye as if he were still the weak thing he had been, but when the waves broke over his head they reminded once more that that man was dead. I was reborn from thesea, a harder man and stronger. No mortal man could frighten him, no more than the darkness could,nor the bones of his soul, the grey and grisly bones of his soul. The sound of a door opening, the scream of a rusted iron hinge.

But then Euron triumphs at Damphair’s own kingsmoot, starting with the cosmic-horror unveiling of Dragonbinder (Damphair calls it “the horn of hell”), and as Aeron is forced to crown his abuser, he experiences a profound crisis of faith. 

Even a priest may doubt. Even a prophet may know terror. Aeron Damphair reached within himself for his god and discovered only silence. As a thousand voices shouted out his brother’s name, all he could hear was the scream of a rusted iron hinge.

Here we find the multi-layered meaning of the name of Euron’s ship. Silence refers not only to the tongues he removes, but the silence of the gods:

“Harlon was my first. All I had to do was pinch his nose shut. The greyscale had turned his mouth to stone so he could not cry out. But his eyes grew frantic as he died. They begged me. When the life went out of them, I went out and pissed into the sea, waiting for the god to strike me down. None did.”

And now Aeron is tied to Silence, sailing into the storm he spent AFFC dreading. I think his religious arc ends with Euron’s divine ascension, and Sam takes over as our POV on the Crow’s Eye.

…although if I’m right that Euron reanimates his followers after sacrificing both fleets, maybe Sam spots Wight Damphair? Euron did say he would raise Aeron up to make him his priest…

[firesurfer4]

https://www.energy.gov/articles/photo-week-how-open-worlds-heaviest-door

For 35 years, the Energy Department has pursued an all-of-the-above energy strategy — and the critical work done at the National Labs has helped put America at the top of the global clean energy race. This photo from 1979 shows a Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory employee opening the world's heaviest hinged door, which was eight feet thick, nearly twelve feet wide, and weighed 97,000 pounds. A special bearing in the hinge allowed a single person to open or close the concrete-filled door, which was used to shield the Rotating Target Neutron Source-II (RTNS-II) -- the world’s most intense source of continuous fusion neutrons. Scientists from around the world used it to study the properties of metals and other materials that could be used deep inside fusion power plants envisioned for the next century. | Photo courtesy of Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory.

[artisticvicu]

“I didn’t mean it.”

“No! Please! I didn’t mean it!” she hollered, struggling against the grip around her wrist. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the others shrinking away and being left alone. Good. She could take this far better than they could. “Please! I’m sorry!” she screamed, putting on such an act that she had everyone fooled.

“Shut up,” the one dragging her along growled, shaking her. “You did this to yourself so you will pay for your mistakes.”

Her hands were shoved into the basin of scalding water and she let out the loudest pain filled scream she could struggling against the grips holding her hands under the water. Mentally detached from the act she was putting on, she noted that while the water was hot it wouldn’t actually leave a mark. In fact, the sensation of the hot water on her cold hands was fascinating and she used it to keep her sanity as she led them all by their nose believing she was breaking.

She was shoved back with the others and while she wanted to assure them all she was alright, she shied away from them, cowering as was expected.

It was hours later when one of the other captives came to her side, a familiar empty bowl in hand. They must have been fed while she dozed.

“We have food for you,” the one that had approached her whispered.

“Give it to the ones that need it most,” she ordered softly. “I’ll be fine till the next meal.”

The other nodded and walked away, taking the bowl with them. It was dangerous behaving as such with one that could betray her to those that held them but she trusted them, as foolish as that was. She trusted them to behave as needed and she would lead them out like the sheep they were.

It was just a matter of time, after all.

The next round of meals came and she made the act of shoveling food. It was rather easy seeing as they weren’t given utensils to use. She just pushed more off her hand than she actually took in her mouth.

It was working. Those that watched over them were watching her less and less while those she was trapped with watched her more and more.

The alarm came when they had all managed to get to sleep.

She was up and moving towards the bars, three others joining her. She pressed against the bars of the cell, gesturing for those that had joined her to be quiet, and waited.

A moment later, guards rushed passed.

“-breach of the northern wing. All personnel! Breach to the northern wing. Lock down commen-”

She turned, facing the three with her as the guards disappeared. “Gather everyone quickly. We’re leaving.”

Two of the three dashed off to round everyone up while the third passed her several small items. Turning, she popped the electronic lock’s cover and got to work. By the time the entire group was situated, the lock clicked open and the door swung freely on its hinges.

“Keep together and keep quiet,” she directed. “Those set to release the other rooms, do it now. Meet up at the designated place.”

A few branched off as she let another lead the masses through the halls at a run. She brought of the rear end to help those that couldn’t keep the pace not get left behind.

A rumbled rolled through the building as another group joined them. The now larger group spilled out into the receiving hall even as the group kept together. She ran around the edge, shouting orders. “Keep tight together! We’re not leaving a soul behind if we can help it!”

Another group joined them, adding to the mass of bodies clustered in the middle of the room. She kept running perimeter with a few others, keeping everyone in a relatively circular shape even as the third and fourth groups were added.

The building shook and a number screamed. She came to a stop, gaze snapping to the ceiling. Almost there.

She looked to one of the ones helping her. “Keep them clustered and as calm as possible. I’ll get our ride.”

“Be safe,” they responded, nodding.

She didn’t get very far.

The outside wall was blown in as she reached the door and the entire mass of bodies quickly moved towards the opposite side of the space pressing tight against the far wall. Several tripped and a few fell but none were left behind. Many stopped to grab and drag along. They had been in this together for too long for one of them to be left behind.

She turned, catching someone before setting them upright. She took a few steps forward as the dust cleared and the debris settled. Beyond the destroyed wall was a vessel that had them all on edge till the gangways were lowered, revealing that those on board were not those they needed to fear.

There, standing at the edge of the middle gangway was a figure that she was immensely grateful to see. He locked eyes with her in an instant and before the ramp had been completely extended, he was running across it towards her. She ran to meet him.

He leapt the gap. landing hard and rolling but never losing his momentum. They collided, armed wrapping around each other and shifting weights to keep themselves upright. She pressed her face into his shoulder as she cried out, not sure if it was his name she was calling or simply exclaiming her utter joy and relief to have him there. He buried a hand in her overgrown hair, the other gripping the measly fabric between her shoulder blades as he held her tight, any words he was saying going unheard till he pulled back enough to look at her, his hand dragging along her scalp to cup her cheek.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice calm and familiar. She nodded, watching, waiting. He relaxed, letting out a breath. He slipped his hand from her cheek to the side of her neck. “Good. I would have been here sooner but I ran into a few political issues.”

“Your timing worked well enough,” she assured him. She looked to those that were being herded into the craft. “What will happen to them?”

His gaze followed hers as his thumbed rubbed over her skin slowly, She suppressed the shudder at the sensation, appreciating the comfort he was giving her with the contact. “The Association has created a small town for them to all live in. If any want to return to their Masters or go elsewhere, we’ll help as best be can.”

She turned, resting her forehead on his shoulder. “Can we go home?” she asked weakly.

“As soon as I can pull us away.” He pinned her against him and she reveled in the sense of security as he pressed his face into her hair. “I am never letting you out of my sight again.”

She chuckled and he pulled back. Her smile fell away instantly, ready for an order. Instead, he stared at her and she grew confused.

“If I kissed you now, would you push me away?”

She blinked, staring at him. “I-You can’t. I’m your Collared. It would be improper.”

“You were never registered as such and the Association is willing to get you your honorable discharge as well as a badge of some sort for your part in this.”

She lost all her strength at that. His arms tight around her kept her upright. She couldn’t think, couldn’t seem to find a reaction. She knew he was calling her name, could hear it, but it wasn’t really registering as she realized that the heaviest thing she had carried for so long was the one thing she didn’t want to let go of now. She looked to him, her eyes pleading. “I don’t have anywhere to go. All I have is that status. I don’t-”

His lips covered hers, stilling her words. She was shaking as she lost her composure but he was there, he was solid, and he was clinging to her as if he didn’t want to let go. She prayed he never would as she clung to him in turn.

He broke the kiss, his breath hot on her face. “You don’t have to leave. You can stay. With me. At my side.”

She looked at him confused but she was able to stand again so she counted that as something.

“I want you to be my life partner.”

He was pulling away but he didn’t brush her hands away. Instead, he took hers in his, pulling off the red control ring of his own finger and putting it on hers. It wasn’t a wedding band but the symbology was so much more.

“If you will have me,” he continued, “I would love nothing more than to see this world burn with you at my side, whether as my life partner or simply my partner till we go our separate ways.”

She pulled her hand from his only to grab his face and kiss him. It was short as she pulled away enough to say, “If you will have me as your life partner, then I don’t intend to be anything else but such.”

He kissed her at that and she felt like she was drowning in both of their joy and did not want to be saved.